Prologue
It was well past midnight and very cold. The moon had risen, and her pale light made the frost crystals lying in the snow sparkle like carelessly strewn diamonds. In a peculiar way it seemed to Garion almost as if the snow-covered earth were reflecting the starry sky overhead.
‘I think they’re gone now,’ Durnik said, peering upward. His breath steamed in the icy, dead-calm air. ‘I can’t see that rainbow any more.’
‘Rainbow?’ Belgarath asked, sounding slightly amused.
‘You know what I mean. Each of them has a different-colored light. Aldur’s is blue, Issa’s is green, Chaldan’s is red, and the others all have different colors. Is there some significance to that?’
‘It’s probably a reflection of their different personalities,’ Belgarath replied. ‘I can’t be entirely positive, though. My Master and I never got around to discussing it.’ He stamped his feet in the snow. ‘Why don’t we go back?’ he suggested. ‘It’s really cold out here.’
They turned and started back down the hill toward the cottage, their feet crunching in the frozen snow. The farmstead at the foot of the hill looked warm and comforting. The thatched roof of the cottage was thick with snow, and the icicles hanging from the eaves glittered in the moonlight. The outbuildings Durnik had constructed were dark, but the windows of the cottage were all aglow with golden lamplight that spread softly out over the mounded snow in the dooryard. A column of blue woodsmoke rose straight and unwavering from the chimney, rising, it seemed, to the very stars.
It had probably not really been necessary for the three of them to accompany their guests to the top of the hill to witness their departure, but it was Durnik’s house, and Durnik was a Sendar. Sendars are meticulous about proprieties and courtesies.
‘Eriond’s changed,’ Garion noted as they neared the bottom of the hill. ‘He seems more certain of himself now.’
Belgarath shrugged. ‘He’s growing up. It happens to everybody - except to Belar, maybe. I don’t think we can ever expect Belar to grow up.’
‘Belgarath!’ Durnik sounded shocked. ‘That’s no way for a man to speak about his God!’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What you just said about Belar. He’s the God of the Alorns, and you’re an Alorn, aren’t you?’
‘Whatever gave you that peculiar notion? I’m no more an Alorn than you are.’
‘I always thought you were. You’ve certainly spent enough time with them.’
‘That wasn’t my idea. My Master gave them to me about five thousand years ago. There were a number of times when I tried to give them back, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘Well, if you’re not an Alorn, what are you?’
‘I’m not really sure. It wasn’t all that important to me when I was young. I do know that I’m not an Alorn. I’m not crazy enough for that.’
‘Grandfather!’ Garion protested.
‘You don’t count, Garion. You’re only half Alorn.’
They reached the door of the cottage and carefully stamped the snow off their feet before entering. The cottage was Aunt Pol’s domain, and she had strong feelings about people who tracked snow across her spotless floors.
The interior of the cottage was warm and filled with golden lamplight that reflected from the polished surfaces of Aunt Pol’s copper-bottomed pots and kettles and pans hanging from hooks on either side of the arched fireplace. Durnik had built the table and chairs in the center of the room out of oak, and the golden color of the wood was enhanced by the lamplight.
The three of them immediately went to the fireplace to warm their hands and feet.
The door to the bedroom opened, and Poledra came out. ‘Well?’ she said, ‘did you see them off?’
‘Yes, dear,’ Belgarath replied. ‘They were going in a generally northeasterly direction the last time I looked.’
‘How’s Pol?’ Durnik asked.
‘Happy,’ Garion’s tawny-haired grandmother replied.
‘That’s not exactly what I meant. Is she still awake?’
Poledra nodded. ‘She’s lying in bed admiring her handiwork.’
‘Would it be all right if I looked in on her?’
‘Of course. Just don’t wake the babies.’
‘Make a note of that, Durnik,’ Belgarath advised. ‘Not waking those babies is likely to become your main purpose in life for the next several months.’
Durnik smiled briefly and went into the bedroom with Poledra.
‘You shouldn’t tease him that way, grandfather,’ Garion chided.
‘I wasn’t teasing, Garion. Sleep’s very rare in a house with twins. One of them always seems to be awake. Would you like something to drink? I think I can probably find Pol’s beer-barrel.’
‘She’ll pull out your beard if she catches you in her pantry.’
‘She isn’t going to catch me, Garion. She’s too busy being a mother right now.’ The old man crossed the room to the pantry and began rummaging around.
Garion pulled off his cloak, hung it on a wooden peg, and went back to the fireplace. His feet still felt cold. He looked up at the latticework of rafters overhead. It was easy to see that Durnik had crafted them. The smith’s meticulous attention to detail showed in everything he did. The rafters were exposed over this central room, but there was a loft over the bedroom, and a flight of stairs reaching up to it along the back wall.
‘Found it,’ Belgarath called triumphantly from the pantry. ‘She tried to hide it behind the flour barrel.’
Garion smiled. His grandfather could probably find a beer-cask in the dark at the bottom of a coal-mine.
The old man came out with three brimming tankards, set them down on the table, and moved a chair around until it faced the fireplace. Then he took one of the tankards, sat, and stretched his feet out toward the fire. ‘Pull up a chair, Garion,’ he invited. ‘We might as well be comfortable.’
Garion did that. ‘It’s been quite a night,’ he said.
‘That it has, boy,’ the old man replied. ‘That it has.’
‘Shouldn’t we say goodnight to Aunt Pol?’
‘Durnik’s with her. Let’s not disturb them. This is a special sort of time for married people.’
‘Yes,’ Garion agreed, remembering that night a few weeks ago when his daughter had been born.
‘Will you be going back to Riva soon?’
‘I probably should,’ Garion replied. ‘I think I’ll wait a few days, though - at least until Aunt Pol’s back on her feet again.’
‘Don’t wait too long,’ Belgarath advised with a sly grin. ‘Ce’Nedra’s sitting on the throne all by herself right now, you know.’
‘She’ll be all right. She knows what to do.’
‘Yes, but do you want her doing things on her own?’
‘Oh, I don’t think she’ll declare war on anybody while I’m gone.’
‘Maybe not, but with Ce’Nedra you never really know, do you?’
‘Quit making fun of my wife, grandfather.’
‘I’m not making fun of her. I love her dearly, but I do know her. All I’m saying is that she’s a little unpredictable.’ Then the old sorcerer sighed.
‘Is something the matter, grandfather?’
‘I was just chewing on some old regrets. I don’t think you and Durnik realize just how lucky you are. I wasn’t around when my twins were born. I was off on a business trip.’
Garion knew the story, of course. ‘You didn’t have any choice, grandfather,’ he said. ‘Aldur ordered you to go to Mallorea. It was time to recover the Orb from Torak, and you had to go along to help Cherek Bear-shoulders and his sons.’
‘Don’t try to be reasonable about it, Garion. The bald fact is that I abandoned my wife when she needed me the most. Things might have turned out very differently if I hadn’t.’
‘Are you still feeling guilty about that?’
‘Of course I am. I’ve been carrying that guilt around for three thousand years. You can hand out all the royal pardons you want, but it’s still there.’
‘Grandmother forgives you.’
‘Naturally she does. Your grandmother’s a wolf, and wolves don’t hold grudges. The whole point, though, is that she can forgive me, and you can forgive me, and you can get up a petition signed by everybody in the known world that forgives me, but I still won’t forgive myself. Why don’t we talk about something else?’
Durnik came back out of the bedroom. ‘She’s asleep,’ he said softly. Then he went to the fireplace and stacked more wood on the embers. ‘It’s a cold night out there,’ he noted. ‘Let’s keep this fire going.’
‘I should have thought of that,’ Garion apologized.
‘Are the babies still asleep?’ Belgarath asked the smith.
Durnik nodded.
‘Enjoy it while you can. They’re resting up.’
Durnik smiled. Then he too pulled a chair closer to the fire. ‘Do you remember what we were talking about earlier?’ he asked, reaching for the remaining tankard on the table.