Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress: 2-Book Collection. David Eddings

suggested something so horrible that we were all taken aback. ‘Belmakor,’ he said in that self-effacing tone of his, ‘do you think you can really devise something that would throw things long distances?’

      ‘Of course, old boy,’ Belmakor replied confidently.

      ‘Why should we throw things at the walls, then? We have no quarrel with the walls. Our quarrel’s with Torak. I’m an Angarak, and I know the mind of Torak better than any of the rest of you. He encourages his Grolims to sacrifice people because it’s a sign that they love him more than they love their fellow man. The more the victim on the altar suffers, the greater he views it as a demonstration of love for him. It’s the specific, individualized pain of the sacrificial victim that satisfies him. We can hurt him best if we make the pain general.’

      ‘Exactly what did you have in mind, brother?’ Belmakor asked him with a puzzled look.

      ‘Fire,’ Belsambar told him with dreadful simplicity. ‘Pitch burns, and so does naphtha. Why should we waste our time and the lives of our soldiers attacking walls? Use your excellent engines to loft liquid fire over the walls and into the cities. Trapped by their own walls, the Angaraks will be burned alive, and there won’t be any need for us even to enter their cities, will there?’

      ‘Belsambar!’ Beltira gasped. ‘That’s horrible!’

      ‘Yes,’ Belsambar admitted, ‘but as I said, I know the mind of Torak. He fears fire. The Gods can see the future, and Torak sees fire in his. Nothing we could do would cause him more pain. And isn’t that our purpose?’

      In the light of what happened later, Belsambar was totally correct, though how he knew is beyond explanation. Torak did fear fire – and with very good reason.

      Although Belsambar’s suggestion was eminently practical, we all tried to avoid it. Belmakor and Beldin went into an absolute frenzy of creativity, and the twins no less so. They experimented with weather. They spun hurricanes and tornadoes out of clear blue skies, hoping thereby to blow down the Angarak cities and towns. I concentrated my efforts on assorted illusions. I’d fill the streets of the walled cities of Angarak with unimaginable horrors. I’d drive them out from behind their walls before their mystical kinsman could roast them alive.

      Belzedar worked at least as hard as the rest of us. He seemed obsessed with the Orb, and his labor on means to reclaim it was filled with a kind of desperate frenzy. Through it all, Belsambar sat, patiently waiting. He seemed to know that once the fighting started, we’d return to his hideous solution.

      In addition to our own labors, we frequently traveled to the lands of our allies to see what progress they were making. Always before, the various cultures had been rather loose-knit, with no single individual ruling any of the five proto-nations. The war with Torak changed all that. Military organization is of necessity pyramidal, and the concept of one leader commanding an entire race carried over into the various societies after the war was over. In a way, I suppose you could give Torak credit – or blame – for the idea of kings.

      I suppose that I’m the one who was ultimately responsible for the royal house of the Alorns. By general consensus, my brothers and I had continued to serve as liaisons between the various races, and we more or less automatically assumed responsibility for the people of whichever God we had personally invited to that conference in the Vale after Torak stole the Orb. I think that my entire life has been shaped by the fact that I had the misfortune to be saddled with the Alorns.

      Our preparations for war took several years. The assorted histories of the period tend to gloss over that fact. There were border clashes with the Angaraks, of course, but no really significant battles. Finally the Gods decided that their people were ready – if anybody in those days could actually be called ready for war. The war against the Angaraks was like no other war in human history in that our deployment involved a general migration of the various races. The Gods were so intimately involved with their people in those days that the notion of leaving the women and children and old people behind while the men went off to fight simply didn’t occur to them.

      Mara and Issa took their Marags and Nyissans and started their trek southeasterly into the lands of the Dals, even as the Tolnedrans and Arends began their swing toward the west. The Alorns, however, didn’t move. It was perhaps the only time I ever saw my Master truly vexed about anything. He instructed me with uncharacteristic bluntness to go north and find out what was holding them up.

      So I went north again, and, as always by now, I didn’t go alone. I don’t know that we’d ever actually discussed it, but the young she-wolf had sort of expropriated me. Since she was along, I once again chose the shape of a wolf for the journey. She approved of that, I suppose. She was never totally satisfied with my real form, and she seemed much happier with me when I had four feet and a tail.

      We found out what was holding up the Alorns almost before we reached the lands of the Bear-God. Would you believe that they were already fighting – with each other?

      Alorn society – such as it was in those days – was clannish, and the bickering was over which clan-chief was going to take command of the entire army. The other Gods had encountered similar problems and had simply overruled the urges toward supremacy of the various factions and selected one leader to run things. Belar, however, wouldn’t do that. ‘I’m sure you can see my position, Belgarath,’ he said to me, when I finally found him. He said it just a little defensively, I thought.

      I took a very deep breath, suppressing my urge to scream at him. ‘No, my Lord,’ I said in as mild a tone as I could manage. ‘Actually, I don’t.’

      ‘If I select one clan-chief over the others, it might be construed as favoritism, don’t you see? They’re simply going to have to settle it for themselves.’

      ‘The other races are already on the march, my Lord,’ I reminded him as patiently as I could.

      ‘We’ll be along, Belgarath,’ he assured me, ‘eventually.’

      By then I knew Alorns well enough to realize that Belar’s ‘eventually’ would quite probably stretch out for several centuries.

      The she-wolf at my side dropped to her haunches with her tongue lolling out. Her laughter didn’t improve my temper very much, I’ll confess.

      ‘Would you be open to a suggestion, my Lord?’ I asked the Bear-God in a civil tone.

      ‘Why, certainly, Belgarath,’ he replied. ‘To be honest with you, I’ve been racking my brains searching for a solution to this problem. I’d hate to disappoint my brothers, and I really don’t want to miss the war entirely.’

      ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you, my Lord,’ I assured him. ‘Now, as for your problem. Why don’t you just call all your clan-chiefs together and have them draw lots to decide which of them will be the leader of the Alorns?’

      ‘You mean just leave it all in the hands of pure chance?’

      ‘It is a solution, my Lord, and if you and I both promise not to tamper in any way, your clan-chiefs won’t have any cause for complaint, will they? They’ll all have an equal chance at the position, and if you order them to abide by the way the lot falls, it should put an end to all this …’ I choked back the word ‘foolishness.’

      ‘My people do like to gamble,’ he conceded. ‘Did you know that we invented dice?’

      ‘No,’ I said blandly. ‘I didn’t know that.’ To my own certain knowledge, every other race made exactly the same claim. ‘Why don’t we summon your clan-chiefs, my Lord? You can explain the contest – and the rules – to them, and we can get on with it. We certainly wouldn’t want to keep Torak waiting, would we? He’ll miss you terribly if you’re not there when the fighting starts.’

      He grinned at me. As I’ve said before, Belar has his faults, but he was a likeable young God. ‘Oh, by the way, my Lord,’ I added, trying to make it sound like an afterthought, ‘if it’s all right with you, I’ll march south with your people.’