Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress

by David Eddings

  ‘Sure enough to back it with money. Are we having some second thoughts, Rasak?’

  ‘All right. Ten it is.’

  The crowd cheered and stamped their feet. Then they began that rhythmic beat.

  I took a deep breath, rose to my feet and removed my outer dress. My dancing costume was closely modeled on the one Ayalla had worn in the tavern back in the forest. I briefly noticed that Rasak’s expression was just a little sick when he saw me in that flimsy blue costume.

  All right, let’s not make an issue of it. I’d long since outgrown knobby knees and adolescent gangliness. Moreover, the fact that I’d been dancing for hours every day for six months or more had put me in fighting trim – figuratively speaking, of course.

  Sorry about the pun. It was inadvertent.

  And so I danced for them. I’d been a little nervous about dancing in public – I think it’s called ‘stage-fright’ by professional performers – but once I began to dance, the nervousness translated itself into a heightened excitement, and I danced far better than I had during those long hours of practice. There’s nothing like an audience to encourage one to do one’s best. I may not have turned their bones to water, but I’m sure I softened a few.

  There was a stunned silence when I concluded my performance with that outrageous strut. I owned this crowd! The applause and cheering were absolutely deafening, and Rasak didn’t even bother to put the question to a vote. He paid up without so much as a whimper.

  I danced frequently after that. Gallak, who always kept his eye on the main chance, saw a way to use my gifts during his business dealings. ‘Why don’t we have Polanna dance for us while you mull over my offer?’ began cropping up rather frequently during assorted negotiations.

  It was probably inevitable, given the fact that most of my performances took place in taverns, that sooner or later I’d have to demonstrate my willingness to actually use my knives to remind some spectator that he was supposed to keep his hands to himself. Gallak had been negotiating with a wall-eyed fellow named Kreblar, and their haggling had reached an impasse. That’s when Gallak drew his weapon of choice – me. He’d grown very skilled at inserting me into his business negotiations by then, so his suggestion that I dance for them and the other patrons of the tavern where they’d been negotiating was smoothly slipped into the conversation. Kreblar had drunk a few too many tankards of the fruity Nadrak ale by then, and he seemed to assume that I was dancing for him alone.

  It was at the conclusion of my dance when I was strutting back to the table where the three of us were seated that he stepped across the line. His off-center eye was gleaming in the general direction of the far wall, and he roughly seized my arm. There’s a good girl!’ he half-bellowed. ‘Come on now, give us a kiss!’ and he began to paw at me.

  My training as a surgeon was very helpful at that point. I brought my knee up sharply and caught him on the point of the chin with it even as I drew my knife out of my boot-top. His head snapped back, but I ignored his exposed throat and neatly sliced him across the chest instead, reasoning that his ribs would keep my knife edge from going too deep.

  His squeal was piercing, and he gaped down in horror at the blood gushing through the neat gash I’d just sliced through his shirt. ‘You mustn’t do that, you know,’ I chided him, not even bothering to raise my voice. I wiped my knife clean on his shirt collar, slipped it back into its sheath, and then I looked around at the other tavern patrons. ‘Does anybody here happen to have a needle and thread?’ I asked them. ‘We’ll all be wading in blood if I don’t sew poor Kreblar here back together.’

  A cobbler provided what I needed, and I had Gallak and three or four others stretch Kreblar back over the table and hold him down. Then, humming softly to myself, I neatly stitched up the gash that ran from armpit to armpit across Kreblar’s chest, ignoring his squeals.

  I’m not sure exactly why, but I think the sewing chilled the blood of the onlookers far more than the gashing had. People are funny sometimes.

  In time, my fame spread in Yar Nadrak, and as I’d more or less anticipated, Gallak finally received an invitation to ‘stop by the palace, and bring Polanna with you’. My hours of practice and those public performances had finally paid off.

  King Drosta’s palace was in the center of Yar Nadrak, and as closely as I was able to determine, it was the only stone building in the entire city. Nadraks, however, aren’t very good at working with stone, so the palace was as lopsided as were all the other buildings in town. When Gallak and I entered the throne-room, I saw there the only Grolim I encountered during my entire stay. I warily sent an inquiring thought toward his mind and discovered that he didn’t really have one. He was a Grolim, right enough, but he was only marginally talented, and as nearly as I could determine, he hadn’t drawn a sober breath in the past ten years. Torak’s hold on the Nadraks was tenuous, to say the very least.

  King Drosta was rather young to be occupying a throne, and he appeared to feel that his major responsibility was to enjoy himself. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and his face was splotched with angry purple eruptions and deeply indented scars. His hair was coarse, black, and rather sparse, and his obviously expensive yellow clothing was none too clean.

  Since being presented at court is a formal occasion, I was wearing my chain, and Gallak led me around by it in the socially approved manner. I wore my dancing costume, which was more or less concealed beneath a blue outer dress. Gallak led me up to the foot of the throne, and when we got there, he bowed to his king. ‘My name’s Gallak, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘You sent for me?’

  ‘Ah, there you are, Gallak,’ Drosta replied in a shrill, almost hysterical voice. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’ Then he eyed me up and down, and his look was insultingly obvious. ‘So this is the famous Polanna,’ he said. ‘She’s a looker, isn’t she?’ He giggled nervously. ‘Would you like to sell her, Gallak?’

  ‘Ah – no, your Majesty,’ Gallak replied. ‘I don’t think so.’ I thought that was a wise decision, since Gallak was only a chain’s length away from my daggers.

  ‘Maybe you might want to rent her to me then.’ Drosta seemed to think that was funny because he laughed uproariously.

  That would be my decision, Drosta,’ I told him coldly, ‘and I doubt that you’ve got enough money.’

  ‘Proud of yourself, aren’t you?’ he said.

  ‘I know how much I’m worth,’ I said, shrugging.

  They tell me you’re a dancer.’

  They weren’t wrong.’

  ‘Are you a good dancer?’

  The best you’ll ever see.’ Modesty’s not a Nadrak virtue, but that remark probably even exceeded ordinary Nadrak boastfulness.

  ‘You’ll have to prove that to me, Polanna.’

  ‘Whenever you wish, Drosta. Before we start, though, maybe you should look at these.’ I reached inside my dress, drew out my daggers, and showed them to him.

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ he demanded, his eyes bulging out even further.

  ‘It wasn’t intended as a threat, Drosta – just a statement of fact. This is what’ll happen to you if your appreciation gets the better of you.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a knife with a hook on its point before. What’s the purpose of that?’

  “The hooks pull things out – things that most people prefer to keep inside.’ I looked at the implements admiringly. ‘Aren’t they lovely?’ I said. ‘They’re designed to hurt more coming out than they do going in.’

  His face turned slightly green, and he shuddered. ‘This is a terrible woman, Gallak,’ he said to my owner. ‘How can you stand being around her?’

  ‘She’s good for me, your Majesty,’ Gallak replied. ‘She teaches me good manners. Not only that, she’s the best cook in Gar og Nadrak.’

  ‘In the world, actually, Gallak,’ I corrected him. ‘Well, Drosta,’ I said then, ‘what’s it to be? Did you want me to dance for you, or would you like supper?’

  ‘Dance fir
st, Polanna,’ he leered. ‘Let’s see if your dancing whets my appetite.’ Then he looked around his crowded throne-room. ‘Clear the floor!’ he commanded. ‘Give this girl some room! Let’s find out if she’s as good as she seems to think she is!’

  I took that to be a challenge, so I cast aside my customary restraint and added some elements I’d never tried in public before.

  No, I won’t describe them here – the children, you understand.

  King Drosta was trembling violently as I strutted back to reclaim my outer garment, and there was a somewhat awed look on his face. ‘Torak’s teeth!’ he swore. ‘I’ve never seen anything like that before!’

  ‘I told you I was the best, Drosta,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Are you positive you don’t want to sell her, Gallak?’ Drosta pleaded.

  ‘I think it’s my patriotic duty not to, your Majesty,’ my owner told him. ‘You have a reputation for excitability, and you might get carried away some day. I couldn’t in good conscience sell Polanna to you, since there’s no heir to the throne to succeed you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t really kill me, would you, Polanna?’ Drosta asked hopefully.

  ‘I’d regret it terribly, Drosta, but rules are rules, you understand. I’d try to make it as painless as possible, of course, but I’m sure there’d be some discomfort involved. My daggers aren’t designed for quickness – or neatness, for that matter. The process is usually very messy.’

  ‘You’re a cruel woman, Polanna. You flaunt something irresistible in front of me and then you tell me that you’ll yank out about twenty yards of my guts if I reach for it.’

  That fairly well sums it up, yes. What would you like for supper, your Majesty?’

  Gallak, Drosta, and I adjourned to the kitchens then, and I cooked supper for them.

  ‘We’ve got trouble, Gallak,’ Drosta said reflectively as he sprawled in a chair at the long table.

  ‘Oh?’ Gallak said.

  ‘How extensive are your contacts over in Drasnia?’

  ‘I’ve never been across the border personally, but I’ve got some people in Boktor.’

  There’ll be a new king over there before long, won’t there?’

  Gallak nodded. ‘The old one’s sinking fast. The Crown Prince’s name’s Rhodar. He’s fat, but he’s got a quick mind.’

  ‘I think I’d like to make some contacts with him. I’ve got a problem he might be able to help me with.’

  ‘Oh? Which problem is that?’

  ‘Its name is Taur Urgas, and it’s sitting on the throne in Rak Goska.’

  ‘The Murgos, you mean?’

  ‘It’s always the Murgos, Gallak. The world would be a much nicer place without the Murgos. Taur Urgas is crazy. Of course, that’s not too noticeable in Cthol Murgos. The whole race is crazy, but Taur Urgas raises it to an art form. I’m trying to establish some contacts with Zakath over in Mallorea. He’s the crown prince there, and he’s fairly civilized. I’m hoping that he’ll see the advantage of having an ally here on the western continent. Sooner or later, Taur Urgas is going to try to unify the western Angaraks, and I’d rather not be forced to bow down to a crazy Murgo.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it offend Taur Urgas if you made an alliance with Zakath?’

  ‘I don’t care if it offends him. If I’ve got Mallorea on my side, there won’t be much he can do about it. I’ve got a lot of territory, Gallak, but I don’t have very many people. If the Murgos march north, they’ll swallow us up. I have to form an alliance with somebody!’ He banged his fist down on the table.’

  ‘Is that why you want to get in touch with Rhodar?’ I broke in.

  ‘Of course. I’d ally myself with the Morindim if I thought it’d do any good. Have you got anybody we can trust to carry messages to Rhodar for me, Gallak?’

  ‘None that I’d trust that much, your Majesty.’

  I had a flash of inspiration at that point, and I have quite a few suspicions about its origin. ‘There’s a young man I’ve heard of here in town, and from what I’ve heard, he’s very shrewd – even though he doesn’t shave regularly yet. He’s got some rough edges, so you might have to train him a bit, but he’s quick, so he’ll pick it up in no time. He hasn’t had time to build up much of a reputation as yet, so with a little training, he’d probably make the perfect emissary. He’s quick, intelligent, and relatively anonymous.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Drosta asked.

  ‘Yarblek.’

  ‘Oh, that one,’ Gallak said. ‘I’ve heard of him myself. He brags a lot, but I don’t think he really expects people to believe his boasting.’ He considered it. ‘You know, he might just work out pretty well – if we can train him – and I can get him to Boktor more or less unobserved. I send caravans there a couple of times a year, and I could hide Yarblek among my ox-drivers.’ Then he snapped his fingers. ‘Here’s a thought,’ he added. ‘I know a fellow named Javelin at the Drasnian embassy. He’s supposed to be a clerk of some kind, but I’m fairly sure he’s a spy. I could talk with him, and he could pass the word back to Boktor that Yarblek’s carrying a message from you to Rhodar. That should get Yarblek into the palace.’

  Drosta chewed on one of his fingernails. ‘I’ll need to see him,’ he said. ‘If he’s as good as you both think he is, he might be the answer to my problem. Where do I find him?’

  ‘He frequents a tavern called the Rat’s Nest, your Majesty,’ I supplied. ‘It’s in the thieves’ quarter near the east gate.’

  ‘I’ll send for him.’ He looked at me. ‘How old did you say he is, Polanna?’

  ‘I didn’t say,’ I replied. ‘About fifteen or so, from what I’ve heard.’

  ‘That’s awfully young.’

  ‘That depends on the individual, Drosta,’ I disagreed. ‘And you will have time to train him. Taur Urgas hasn’t started to march yet, so you’ve got some time to play with.’

  ‘There’s something in that,’ Drosta conceded, ‘and young ones are easier to mold than the ones already set in their ways.’

  ‘And they usually work cheap,’ Gallak added. ‘If you give him a title of some kind – “special Emissary”, or something like that – he might even work for nothing.’

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ Drosta said enthusiastically.

  I’d assumed that mother’d sent me to Gar og Nadrak just to assess the characters of Yarblek and Drosta, but it’d gone a little further than that, obviously. Not only had I met them, but I’d brought them together, and that had been the real purpose of my visit. Drosta was enthusiastic about Yarblek right at first, but I understand that his enthusiasm wore off after Yarblek found out what his services to his king were really worth. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I suspect Yarblek’s price started going up shortly after he met Silk.

  This has been quite an evening,’ Drosta said expansively. ‘I got to watch the best dancer in my whole kingdom, and then she helps me to solve a problem that’s been nagging at me ever since I took the throne. Yes, quite an evening indeed.’

  ‘And you haven’t even tasted your supper yet,’ I added.

  ‘Will it be as good as the rest of the evening’s been?’

  ‘Better, probably,’ I promised.

  Chapter 39

  ‘Was that more or less what you had in mind, mother?’ I sent the thought out after Gallak and I got home.

  ‘Approximately, yes. You’re quick on your feet, Pol. Bringing the two of them together like that was a stroke of genius.’

  ‘I rather liked it myself. If we’re going to be using them somewhere out there in the future, I thought it might be more convenient if they were already hooked together. Am I more or less finished here?’

  ‘I think that covers just about everything.’

  ‘The next question is just exactly how I’m going to get out of town so that we can fly on back to Annath. Erasing the memory of everyone who’s seen me here in Yar Nadrak might be just a bit challenging.’

  ‘Why not just send word to your father? He’s not doing anyth
ing useful right now, and he’s got that stack of gold bars gathering dust in his tower. Tell him to come here and buy you from Gallak. He needs some exercise anyway, and he’s just a little too attached to that gold of his, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘That’s terrible, mother!’ It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud.

  ‘I’m glad you approve,’ she replied placidly.

  I waited for a couple of weeks, observing the progress of my ‘Yarblek scheme’, and then, when things seemed to be moving in the proper direction, I went across town to the Drasnian embassy to speak with Margrave Khendon, the man known as Javelin. A clerk carried my name into his office, and I was immediately admitted.

  ‘Polanna,’ he greeted me with a polite nod of his head, ‘I’m honored by this visit. Is there something I can do for you?’

  ‘I think you may know my father, Margrave,’ I said, looking around a bit cautiously for any peep-holes or listening posts. Spying is the national industry of Drasnia, after all.

  ‘I wouldn’t really think so, Polanna. I haven’t been in Yar Nadrak all that long, so I don’t know all that many Nadraks.’

  ‘My father’s not a Nadrak, Margrave. We haven’t as yet pinpointed his racial origins. Anyway, he’s in a Sendarian mountain village called Annath right at the moment, and I need to get word to him. It’s a matter of some delicacy, so I immediately thought of you. The Drasnian intelligence service is famous for its ability to keep secrets.’

  ‘And for finding them out,’ he added, looking rather directly at me. ‘I get the feeling that you’re not an ordinary Nadrak dancer, Polanna,’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m better than all the others.’

  ‘That’s not exactly what I meant. You’re not a Nadrak, for one thing. Your eyes are the wrong shape.’

  ‘I’ll speak with them about that. Anyway, I’d like to have you get word to my father in Annath. Let him know that I’ve done what I was supposed to do here in Yar Nadrak and that I’d like to have him come here and buy me back from my owner – a fur-trader named Gallak.’