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

breakfast at the moment. What does it look like?’

      ‘It looks to me like you’re living in sin.’

      ‘You sound like an Ulgo, Beldin. The definition of sin varies from culture to culture. The Marags don’t consider these informal arrangements sinful. How did you manage to find me?’

      ‘It wasn’t too hard,’ he growled. ‘You left a very wide trail.’ He came over to the table and sat down. Wordlessly, my hostess brought him some breakfast. ‘You’re a legend in Camaar, you know,’ he continued, still scowling at me. ‘They’ve never seen anybody who could get as drunk as you used to.’

      ‘I don’t do that any more.’

      ‘No. I noticed that you’ve found other entertainments instead. You disgust me. The very sight of you sickens me.’

      ‘Don’t look, then.’

      ‘I have to. This wasn’t my idea. For all of me you can drown yourself in cheap beer and roll around with every woman you come across. I came after you because I was sent after you.’

      ‘Give Aldur my apologies. Tell him that I’ve retired.’

      ‘Oh, really? You can’t retire, you clot. You signed on willingly, and you can’t go back on that just because you’re feeling sorry for yourself.’

      ‘Go away, Beldin.’

      ‘Oh no, Belgarath. Our Master sent me to take you back to the Vale, and I’m going to obey him, even if you aren’t. We can do it the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. It’s entirely up to you. You can come along peacefully – all in one piece – or I’ll take you back in chunks.’

      ‘That might take a little doing, brother mine.’

      ‘Not really. If all the childish tricks you played on your way here are any indication, you don’t have enough of your talent left to blow out a candle. Now stop wallowing in self-pity and come back home where you belong.’ He stood up.

      ‘No.’ I also stood up.

      ‘You’re disgusting, Belgarath. Do you really think that this past twelve years of dissipation and debauchery have changed anything? Poledra’s still dead, your daughters are still in the Vale, and you still have responsibilities.’

      ‘I’ll pass them on to you, brother. Enjoy them.’

      ‘I guess we’d better get started, then.’

      ‘Started with what?’

      ‘Fighting.’ And he promptly punched me in the belly.

      Beldin is enormously strong, and his blow knocked me completely across the room. I lay on the floor gasping and trying to get my breath back. He stumped after me and kicked me in the ribs. ‘We can do this all week, if you want,’ he growled. Then he kicked me again.

      My principles had been eroded by the years of what he chose to call dissipation and debauchery, but not so much that I was going to elevate our discussion from a physical one to something more serious, and he knew that. As long as he stuck to kicks and punches, I couldn’t respond with anything except kicks and punches. I finally got to my feet, and we pounded on each other for a while. Peculiarly, it made me feel better, and I rather think Beldin knew that it would.

      Finally, we both collapsed on the floor, half exhausted.

      With a great effort, he rolled his gnarled and twisted body over and hit me. ‘You’ve betrayed our Master!’ he bellowed at me. Then hit me again. ‘You’ve betrayed Poledra!’ He blackened one of my eyes. ‘You’ve betrayed your daughters!’ In a remarkable display of agility for a man lying on the floor, he kicked me in the chest. ‘You’ve betrayed the memories of Belsambar and Belmakor! You’re no better than Zedar!’ He drew back that massive fist again.

      ‘Hold it,’ I told him, weakly raising one hand.

      ‘Have you had enough?’

      ‘Obviously.’

      ‘Are you coming back to the Vale with me?’

      ‘All right – if it’s that important to you.’

      He sat up. ‘Somehow I knew you’d see it my way. Have you got anything to drink around here?’

      ‘Probably. I couldn’t vouch for it though. I haven’t had a drink since I left Camaar.’

      ‘You’ve probably worked up quite a thirst, then.’

      ‘I don’t think I should, Beldin.’

      ‘Don’t worry, you’re not like other drunks. You were drinking in Camaar for a specific reason. That part of it’s past now. Just don’t let it get ahead of you again.’

      The Marag lady whose kitchen we’d just wrecked brought us each a tankard of ale. It tasted awful to me, but Beldin seemed to like it. He liked it enough to have three more, at any rate. I didn’t even finish the first one. I didn’t want to go down that road again. Just in passing, I’d like to let you know that over the centuries I’ve spent far more time holding tankards than I have drinking from them. People can believe what they want to, but I’ve slept in enough gutters for one lifetime, thanks all the same.

      The next morning we apologized to my hostess for all the damage we’d done and left for the Vale. The weather was fine, so we decided to walk rather than assume other forms. There was no particular urgency about getting home. ‘What’s been going on?’ I asked Beldin when we were about a mile out of Mar Amon.

      ‘The Angaraks have been coming across the land-bridge,’ he replied.

      ‘Yes, so I understand. Salmissra told me about those scouting parties.’

      ‘It’s gone a little further than that. As closely as I’ve been able to tell, the entire population of Cthol Mishrak has been coming across. The soldiers came over to this side first, and they moved down the coast. They’ve been building a fortress at the mouth of one of those rivers that runs down to the Sea of the East. They call their fort Rak Goska, and they refer to themselves as Murgos. They’re still Angaraks, but they seem to feel a need to distinguish themselves from the people who stayed in Mallorea.’

      ‘Not exactly. Have you ever gotten around to learning Old Angarak?’

      ‘I don’t waste my time on dead languages, Belgarath.’

      ‘It’s not entirely dead. The people at Cthol Mishrak spoke a corrupted version of it. Anyway, the word “Murgo” meant nobleman or warrior in Old Angarak. Evidently these Murgos are the people who were the aristocrats in Cthol Mishrak.’

      ‘What does “Thull” mean?’

      ‘Serf – or maybe peasant. The distinction’s a little vague in Angarak society. You should know that, Beldin. You’ve spent more time in Mallorea than I have.’

      ‘I wasn’t there to socialize. The second wave of Angaraks settled to the north of the Murgos. They call themselves Thulls, and they’re supplying the Murgos with food. The third wave’s moving into what used to be eastern Aloria – that big forest up there. They’ve been calling themselves Nadraks.’

      ‘Townsmen,’ I translated for him, ‘the merchant class. Are the Alorns doing anything about this?’

      ‘Not really. You spread them a little thin. Bull-neck talks about expeditions in the east, but he doesn’t have the manpower. Algar probably couldn’t do very much about it, because the eastern escarpment blocks his access to that part of the continent.’

      ‘We’d better see if we can make contact with the Master when we get back to the Vale. This migration’s got a very specific reason behind it. As long as the Angaraks stayed in Mallorea, they weren’t any problem. They’re establishing a presence on this side of the Sea of the East so that they can bring in the Grolims. We might want to chase those Murgos, Nadraks,