Sorceress of Darshiva

by David Eddings

  ‘She was making a funny little noise,’ Sadi replied. ‘I wanted to see if she was all right, and she hissed at me.’

  ‘She does that every now and then, doesn’t she?’

  ‘This was a bit different. She was actually warning me to stay away from her.’

  ‘Could she be ill?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so. She’s a fairly young snake, and I’ve been very careful about what I feed her.’

  ‘Perhaps she needs a tonic.’ Ce’Nedra looked questioningly at Polgara.

  Polgara laughed helplessly. ‘I’m sorry, Ce’Nedra,’ she said, ‘but I have no experience with the illnesses of reptiles.’

  ‘Do you suppose we could talk about something else?’ Silk asked plaintively. ‘Zith is a nice enough little animal, I suppose, but she’s still a snake.’

  Ce’Nedra whirled on him, her eyes suddenly flashing. ‘How can you say that?’ she snapped angrily. ‘She’s saved all our lives twice—once in Rak Urga when she nipped that Grolim, Sorchak, and again at Ashaba when she bit Harakan. Without her, we wouldn’t be here. You might show at least a little bit of gratitude.’

  ‘Well . . .’ he said a little uncertainly. ‘You could be right, I suppose, but hang it all, Ce’Nedra, I can’t abide snakes.’

  ‘I don’t even think of her as a snake.’

  ‘Ce’Nedra,’ he said patiently, ‘she’s long and skinny, she wriggles, she doesn’t have any arms or legs, and she’s poisonous. By definition, she’s a snake.’

  ‘You’re prejudiced,’ she accused.

  ‘Well—yes, I suppose you could say that.’

  ‘I’m bitterly disappointed in you, Prince Kheldar. She’s a sweet, loving, brave little creature, and you’re insulting her.’

  He looked at her for a moment, then rose to his feet and bowed floridly to the earthenware bottle. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry, dear Zith,’ he apologized. ‘I can’t think what came over me. Can you possibly find it in your cold little green heart to forgive me?’

  Zith hissed at him, a hiss ending in a curious grunt.

  ‘She says to leave her alone,’ Sadi told him.

  ‘Can you really understand what she’s saying?’

  ‘In a general sort of way, yes. Snakes have a very limited vocabulary, so it’s not all that difficult to pick up a few phrases here and there.’ The eunuch frowned. ‘She’s been swearing a great deal lately, though, and that’s not like her. She’s usually a very ladylike little snake.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m actually involved in this conversation,’ Silk said, shaking his head and going off down the hall toward the back of the house.

  Durnik returned with Toth and Eriond. They were carrying the packs containing Polgara’s utensils and the food. Polgara looked critically at the fireplace and its facilities. ‘We’ve been eating some rather sketchy meals lately,’ she noted. ‘We have a fairly adequate kitchen here, so why don’t we take advantage of it?’ She opened the food pack and rummaged through it. ‘I wish I had something besides travel rations to work with,’ she said half to herself.

  ‘There’s a hen roost out back, Pol,’ Beldin told her helpfully.

  She smiled at him. ‘Durnik, dear,’ she said in an almost dreamy tone of voice.

  ‘I’ll see to it at once, Pol. Three, maybe?’

  ‘Make it four. Then we’ll be able to carry some cold chicken with us when we leave. Ce’Nedra, go with him and gather up all the eggs you can find.’

  Ce’Nedra stared at her in astonishment. ‘I’ve never gathered eggs before, Lady Polgara,’ she protested.

  ‘It’s not hard, dear. Just be careful not to break them, that’s all.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I thought I’d make a cheese omelette for breakfast.’

  Ce’Nedra’s eyes brightened. ‘I’ll get a basket,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Splendid idea, dear. Uncle, are there any other interesting things about this place?’

  ‘There’s a brewhouse at the back of the building.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have time to look into it.’

  Belgarath rose to his feet. ‘Why don’t we do that right now?’ he suggested.

  ‘People in farm villages don’t make very good beer, Belgarath.’

  ‘Maybe this one’s an exception. We’ll never know until we try it, will we?’

  ‘You’ve got a point there.’

  The two old sorcerers went off toward the back of the house while Eriond piled more wood on the fire.

  Ce’Nedra returned, frowning and a little angry. ‘They won’t give me their eggs, Lady Polgara,’ she complained. ‘They’re sitting on them.’

  ‘You have to reach under them and take the eggs, dear.’

  ‘Won’t that make them angry?’

  ‘Are you afraid of a chicken?’

  The little queen’s eyes hardened, and she left the room purposefully.

  A root cellar behind the house yielded a store of vegetables, and Belgarath and Beldin had brought a cask of beer in from the brewhouse. While the chickens were roasting, Polgara rummaged through the canisters and bins in the kitchen. She found flour and a number of other staples, and she rolled up her sleeves in a businesslike way, mixed up a large batch of dough, and began to knead it on a well-scrubbed cutting board near the fire. ‘We can have some biscuits tonight, I think,’ she said, ‘and I’ll bake some fresh bread in the morning.’

  The supper was the best Garion had eaten in months. There had been banquets and adequate meals in inns and the like, but there was a certain indefinable quality to his Aunt Pol’s cooking that no other cook in the world could hope to match. After he had eaten more perhaps than was really good for him, he pushed his plate away with a sigh and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘I’m glad you decided to leave some for the rest of us,’ Ce’Nedra said in a slightly snippy tone.

  ‘Are you cross with me for some reason?’ he asked her.

  ‘No, I suppose not, Garion. I’m just a little irritated, that’s all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A chicken bit me.’ She pointed at the remains of a roasted hen lying on a large platter. ‘That one,’ she added. She reached out, wrenched a drumstick off the chicken and bit into it rather savagely with her small white teeth. ‘There,’ she said in a vengeful tone. ‘How do you like it?’

  Garion knew his wife, so he knew better than to laugh.

  After supper, they all lingered at the table in a kind of happy contentment as the storm outside abated.

  Then there was a light, almost diffident rap on the door. Garion sprang to his feet, reaching over his shoulder for his sword.

  ‘I don’t mean to disturb you,’ a querulous old voice came from the other side of the door. ‘I just wanted to be sure you have everything you need.’

  Belgarath rose from his chair, went to the door, and opened it.

  ‘Holy Belgarath,’ the man outside said with a bow of profoundest respect. He was very old, with snowy white hair and a thin, lined face.

  He was also a Grolim.

  Belgarath stared at him warily. ‘You know me?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course. I know you all. I’ve been waiting for you. May I come in?’

  Wordlessly, Belgarath stepped aside for him, and the aged Grolim tottered into the room, aided by a twisted cane. He bowed to Polgara. ‘Lady Polgara,’ he murmured. Then he turned to Garion. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said, ‘may I beg your forgiveness?’

  ‘Why?’ Garion replied. ‘You’ve never done anything to me.’

  ‘Yes I have, your Majesty. When I heard about what had happened in the City of Endless Night, I hated you. Can you forgive that?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. It was only natural for you to feel that way. You’ve had a change of heart, I take it?’

  ‘It was changed for me, King Belgarion. The New God of Angarak will be a kindlier, gentler God than was Torak. I live now only to serve that God and I abide against the day of his coming.’

  ‘Sit down, my friend,’ Belg
arath told him. ‘I assume you’ve had a religious experience of some kind?’

  The old Grolim sank into a chair with a beatific smile on his lined face. ‘My heart has been touched, Holy Belgarath,’ he said simply. ‘I had devoted all of my life to the service of Torak in the temple in this village. I grieved more than you can know when I learned of His death, for I served Him without question. Now I have removed His likeness from the Temple wall and I decorate the altar with flowers instead of the blood of sacrificial victims. Bitterly I repent the times when I myself held the knife during the rite of sacrifice.’

  ‘And what was it that so changed you?’ Polgara asked him.

  ‘It was a voice that spoke to me in the silences of my soul, Lady Polgara, a voice that filled me with such joy that it seemed that all the world was bathed in light.’

  ‘And what did the voice say to you?’

  The old priest reached inside his black robe and withdrew a parchment sheet. ‘I took great care to inscribe the words exactly as the voice spoke them to me,’ he said, ‘for such was the instruction I received. A man may misconstrue what he is told, or change it if it is not to his liking or if he fails to understand.’ He smiled gently. ‘What I have written is for the benefit of others, though, for the words are engraved upon my heart far more indelibly than upon this sheet.’ He lifted the parchment and read from it in a quavering voice. ‘“Behold:”’ he read, ‘“In the days which shall follow the meeting of the Child of Light and the Child of Dark in the City of Endless Night shall a great despair fall over the Priests of the Dark God, for He shall have been laid low and shall come no more among His people. But lift up thine heart, for thy despair is but the night which shall be banished by the rising of a new sun. For verily I say to thee, Angarak shall have a new birth with the coming of her true God—He who was purposed to lead her since the Beginning of Days. For lo, the Dark God was born out of nothingness in the instant of the EVENT which divided all creation, and it was not He who was foreordained to guide and protect Angarak. In the last meeting of the Child of Dark and the Child of Light shall the true God of Angarak be revealed, and ye shall render up unto Him your hearts and your devotion.

  ‘“And the course which Angarak shall follow shall be determined by the CHOICE, and once the CHOICE is made, it may not be unmade and shall prevail eternally for good or for ill. For harken, two shall stand in the Place Which Is No More, but only one shall be chosen. And the Child of Light and the Child of Dark shall surrender up the burden of the spirits which guide them to the two who shall stand in expectation of the CHOICE. And should the CHOICE fall to the one hand, the world shall be drowned in darkness, but should it fall to the other hand, shall all be bathed in light, and that which was ordained since before the beginning of time shall come to pass.

  ‘“Abide in hope, therefore, and treat thy fellow creatures kindly and with love, for this is pleasing to the true God, and should He prevail and be chosen, He shall bless thee and shall lay but a gentle yoke upon thee.”’ The old Grolim lowered the sheet and bowed his head prayerfully. ‘Thus spoke the voice which filled my heart with joy and banished my despair,’ he said simply.

  ‘We’re grateful that you shared this with us,’ Belgarath told him. ‘Might we offer you something to eat?’

  The Grolim shook his head. ‘I do not eat meat anymore,’ he said. ‘I would not offend my God. I have cast away my dagger and will shed no more blood for all the days of my life.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I will leave you now,’ he said. ‘I came but to reveal to you the words the voice spoke to me, and to assure you that one at least in all of Angarak shall pray for your success.’

  ‘We thank you,’ Belgarath said sincerely. He went to the door and held it open for the gentle old man.

  ‘That was fairly specific, wasn’t it?’ Beldin said after the Grolim had left. ‘It’s the first time I heard a prophecy that got straight to the point.’

  ‘You mean to say that he’s really a prophet?’ Silk asked.

  ‘Of course he is. It’s an almost classic case. He had all the symptoms—the ecstasy, the radical change of personality, all of it.’

  ‘There’s something wrong here, though,’ Belgarath said, frowning. ‘I’ve spent eons reading prophecies, and what he said didn’t have the same tone as any that I’ve ever come across—either ours or the others.’ He looked at Garion. ‘Can you get in touch with your friend?’ he asked. ‘I need to talk with him.’

  ‘I can try,’ Garion replied. ‘He doesn’t always come when I call, though.’

  ‘See if you can reach him. Tell him that it’s important.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do, grandfather.’ Garion sat down and closed his eyes. ‘Are you in there?’ he asked.

  ‘Please don’t shout, Garion,’ the voice responded in a pained tone. ‘It hurts my ears.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Garion apologized. ‘I didn’t realize I was talking so loud. Grandfather wants to talk with you.’

  ‘All right. Open your eyes, Garion. I can’t see when they’re closed.’

  As had happened occasionally in the past, Garion felt himself shunted off into some quiet corner of his mind, and the dry voice took over. ‘All right, Belgarath,’ it said through Garion’s lips. ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘I’ve got a couple of questions,’ the old man replied.

  ‘There’s nothing new about that. You’ve always got questions.’

  ‘Did you hear what the Grolim said?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘Was it you? I mean, were you the voice that came to him?’

  ‘No, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t.’

  ‘Then it was the other spirit?’

  ‘No. It wasn’t him either.’

  ‘Then who was it?’

  ‘Sometimes I can’t believe that Aldur chose you as His first disciple. Are your brains packed in wool?’

  ‘You don’t have to be insulting.’ Belgarath sounded a bit injured, but Beldin laughed an ugly, cackling kind of laugh.

  ‘All right,’ the voice sighed, ‘I’ll go through it carefully. Try not to miss too much. My counterpart and I came into existence when Destiny was divided. Have you got that part?’

  ‘I knew that already.’

  ‘And you even managed to remember it? Amazing.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Belgarath said in a flat tone.

  ‘I’m working with Garion’s vocabulary. He’s a peasant, so he can be a little blunt sometimes. Now, doesn’t it seem logical that when Destiny is reunited, there should be a new voice? My counterpart and I will have served our purpose, so there won’t be any further need for us. Millions of years of enmity between us have warped our perceptions a bit.’

  Belgarath looked startled at that.

  ‘Think, old man,’ the voice told him. ‘I’m not suited to deal with a united universe. I’ve got too many old grudges. The new voice can start out fresh without any preconceptions. It’s better that way, believe me.’

  ‘I think I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Don’t get sentimental on me, Belgarath. I don’t think I could bear that.’

  ‘Wait a minute. This new voice will come into existence after the meeting, right?’

  ‘At the instant of the meeting, actually.’

  ‘Then how did it speak to the old Grolim, if it’s not in existence yet?’

  ‘Time doesn’t really mean that much to us, Belgarath. We can move backward and forward in it without any particular difficulty.’

  ‘You mean the voice was speaking to him from the future?’

  ‘Obviously.’ Garion felt a faint, ironic smile cross his lips. ‘How do you know I’m not speaking to you from the past?’

  Belgarath blinked.

  ‘Now we’ve got you,’ Beldin said triumphantly. ‘We’re going to win, aren’t we?’

  ‘We can hope so, but there’s no guarantee.’

  ‘The voice that spoke to the Grolim represents a kindlier God, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

&
nbsp; ‘If the Child of Dark wins, the New God isn’t going to be very kindly, is he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then the simple fact that the voice came to him from out of the future—after the choice—indicates that the Child of Light is going to win, doesn’t it?’

  The voice sighed. ‘Why do you always have to complicate things, Beldin? The voice that spoke to the Grolim is the possibility of the new spirit. It’s simply reaching back in time to make certain preparations so that things will be ready in the eventuality that it comes out on top. The Choice still hasn’t been made yet, you know.’

  ‘Even the possibility of existence has that kind of power?’

  ‘Possibility has enormous power, Beldin—sometimes even more than actuality.’

  ‘And the possiblity of the other spirit could be making its own preparations as well, couldn’t it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised. You have an enormous grasp of the obvious.’

  ‘Then we’re right back where we started from. We’re still going to have two spirits wrestling across time and the universe for dominance.’

  ‘No. The Choice will eliminate one of the possibilities once and for all.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Beldin confessed.

  ‘I didn’t think you would.’

  ‘What preparations was this new voice making?’ Polgara asked suddenly.

  ‘The Grolim who came to you here will be the prophet and the first Disciple of the New God—assuming that the Child of Light is chosen, of course.’

  ‘A Grolim?’

  ‘The decision wasn’t mine to make. The New God will be a God of Angarak, though, so it does make sense, I suppose.’

  ‘That might take a bit of getting adjusted to.’

  ‘You have as many prejudices as I do, Polgara,’ the voice laughed, ‘but I think in the long run, you’re more adaptable—and certainly more so than these two stubborn old men are. You’ll come to accept it in time. Now, if there aren’t any more questions, I still have some things to attend to—in another part of time.’

  And then the voice was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun was just going down, staining the purple cloudbank to the west with a jaundiced yellow as it broke through an opening in the approaching storm. Garion crested a long hill and looked down into the next valley. There was a complex of buildings there, a complex so familiar that he dropped onto his haunches and stared at it in amazement for a moment. Then he rose on all fours again and moved cautiously through the tall grass toward the farmstead. He saw no smoke, and the large gate was open, but he didn’t see any point in taking chances. Farmers have an automatic aversion to wolves, and Garion did not particularly want to dodge arrows shot at him from concealment.