know that most of you have seen Tol Honeth, but you wouldn’t have recognized it in its original state. The war with the Angaraks had taught the Tolnedrans the value of defensible positions, and the island in the center of the Nedrane – ‘the River of Nedra’ – seemed to them to be an ideal spot for a city. It may very well be now, but there were a lot of drawbacks when they first settled there. They’ve been working on it for five thousand years now, and I suppose they’ve finally ironed out most of the wrinkles.
When the wolf and I first went there, however, the island was a damp, marshy place that was frequently inundated by spring floods. They’d built a fairly substantial wall of logs around the island, and the houses inside were also built of logs and had thatched roofs – an open invitation to fire, in my opinion. The streets were narrow, crooked, and muddy; and quite frankly, the place smelled like an open cesspool. My companion found that particularly offensive, since wolves have an extremely keen sense of smell.
My major reason for being in Tolnedra was to oversee the beginnings of the Honethite family. I’ve never really liked the Honeths. They have an exalted opinion of themselves, and I’ve never much cared for people who look down their noses at me. My distaste for them may have made me a little abrupt with the prospective bridegroom’s father when I told him that his son was required to marry the daughter of an artisan whose primary occupation was the construction of fireplaces. The Honeths absolutely had to have some hereditary familiarity with working in stone. If they didn’t, the Tolnedran Empire would never come into existence, and we were going to need the empire later on. I wouldn’t bore you with all of this except to show you just how elemental our arrangements in those days really were. We were setting things in motion that wouldn’t come to fruition for thousands of years.
After I’d bullied the bridegroom’s father into accepting the marriage I’d proposed for his son, the wolf and I left Tol Nedrane – by ferry, since they hadn’t gotten around to building bridges yet. The ferryman overcharged us outrageously, as I recall, but he was a Tolnedran, after all, so that was to be expected.
I’d finally finished the various tasks my Master had given me, and so the wolf and I went eastward toward the Tolnedran mountains. It was time to go home to the Vale, but I wasn’t going to go back through Ulgoland. I wasn’t going to go near Ulgoland until I found out what had happened there. We tarried for a while once we got into the mountains, however. My companion entertained herself chasing deer and rabbits, but I spent my time looking for that cave our Master had told us about on several occasions. I knew it was in these mountains somewhere, so I took some time to do a little exploring. I didn’t plan to do anything about it if I found it, but I wanted to see the place where the Gods had lived while they were creating the world.
To be honest about it, that wasn’t the only time I looked for that cave. Every time I passed through those mountains, I’d set aside a week or so to look around. The original home of the Gods would be something to see, after all.
I never found it, of course. It took Garion to do that – many, many years later. Something important was to happen there, and it didn’t involve me.
Beldin had returned from Mallorea when the wolf and I got back to the Vale, but Belzedar wasn’t with him. I’d missed my ugly little brother during the century or so that he’d been in Mallorea. There were certain special ties between us, and though it may seem a bit odd, I enjoyed his company.
I reported my successes to our Master, and then I told him about what we had encountered in Ulgoland. He seemed to be as baffled as I’d been.
‘Is it possible that the Ulgos did something to offend your father, Master?’ I asked him, ‘something so serious that he decided to wash his hands of the lot of them and turn the monsters loose again?’
‘Nay, my son,’ Aldur replied, shaking that silvery head of his. ‘My father would not – could not – do that.’
‘He changed his mind once, Master,’ I reminded him. ‘He didn’t want any part of mankind when the original Gorim went to Prolgu, as I recall. Gorim had to badger him for years before he finally relented. It’s probably uncharitable of me to mention it, but the current Gorim isn’t very loveable. He offends me with a single look. The heavens only know how offensive he could be once he started talking.’
Aldur smiled faintly. ‘It is uncharitable of thee, Belgarath,’ he told me. Then he actually laughed. ‘I must confess that I find myself in full agreement with thee, however. But no, Belgarath, my father is most patient. Not even the one who is currently Gorim could offend him so much. I will investigate this troubling matter and advise thee of my findings.’
‘I thank thee, Master,’ I said, taking my leave. Then I stopped by Beldin’s place to invite him to come by for a few tankards and a bit of talk. I prudently borrowed a keg of ale from the twins on my way home.
Beldin came stumping up the stairs to the room at the top of my tower and drained off his first tankard without stopping for breath. Then he belched and wordlessly handed it back to me for a refill.
I dipped more ale from the keg, and we sat down across the table from each other. ‘Well?’ I said.
‘Well what?’ That was Beldin for you.
‘What’s happening in Mallorea?’
‘Can you be a little more specific? Mallorea’s a big place,’ The wolf had come over and laid her chin in his lap. She’d always seemed fond of Beldin for some reason. He scratched her ears absently.
‘What’s Torak doing?’ I asked with some asperity.
‘Burning, actually.’ Beldin grinned that ugly, crooked grin of his. ‘I think our Master’s brother’s going to burn for a long, long time.’
‘Is that still going on?’ I was a little surprised. ‘I’d have thought the fire would have gone out by now.’
‘Not noticeably. You can’t see the flames any more, but old Burnt-face is still on fire. The Orb was very discontented with him, and it is a stone, after all. Stones aren’t noted for their forgiveness. Torak spends a lot of his time screaming.’
‘Isn’t that a shame?’ I said with a vast insincerity.
Beldin grinned at me again. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘after he broke the world apart, he had his Angaraks put the Orb in an iron box so that he wouldn’t have to look at it. Just the sight of it makes the fire hotter, I guess. That ocean he’d built was chasing the Angaraks just as fast as it was chasing us, so they ran off to the east with the waves lapping at their heels. All their holy places got swallowed up when the water came in, and they either had to sprout gills or find high ground.’
‘I find that I can bear their discomfort with enormous fortitude,’ I said smugly.
‘Belgarath, you’ve been spending too much time with the Alorns. You’re even starting to sound like one.’
I shrugged. ‘Alorns aren’t really all that bad – once you get used to them.’
‘I’d rather not. They set my teeth on edge.’
‘What happened next?’
‘That explosion we saw when the water hit the lava boiling up out of the crack in the earth’s crust rearranged the geography off to the east rather significantly. There’s an impressive swamp between where Korim used to be and where Kell is.’
‘Is
