Polgara the Sorceress

That sent a deathly chill through me, and I ran quickly to the twins’ tower. ‘I have to leave,’ I shouted up the stairs to them.

‘What’s wrong, Pol?’ Beltira called to me.

‘Beldaran’s ill – very ill. I have to go to her. I’ll keep in touch with you.’ Then I dashed back outside again before they could ask me how I knew that my sister was so sick. Mother’s secret absolutely had to be protected. I chose the form of a falcon for the journey. Speed was essential, and owls don’t fly very fast.

It was the dead of winter when I left the Vale and sped north along the eastern edge of the mountains of Ulgoland. I chose that route since I knew I’d encounter storms in those mountains, and I didn’t want to be delayed. I flew almost as far north as Aldurford, keeping a continual eye on the range of peaks that separated Algaria from the Sendarian plain. It was obvious that the weather was foul over those mountains. Finally, there wasn’t any help for it. I had to turn west and fly directly into the teeth of that howling storm. It’s sometimes possible to fly above a storm. Summer squalls and spring showers are fairly localized. Winter storms, however, involve great masses of air that tower so high that going over the top of them is virtually impossible. I pressed on with the wind tearing at my feathers and the stinging snow half blinding me. I was soon exhausted and had no choice but to swirl down into a sheltered little valley to rest and regain my strength.

The next day I tried staying down in those twisting valleys to avoid the full force of the wind, but I soon realized that I was beating my way through miles of snow-dogged air without really accomplishing anything. Grimly I went up into the full force of the wind again.

I finally passed the crest of the mountains and soared down the west slope toward the Sendarian plain. It was still snowing, but at least the wind had diminished. Then I reached the coast, and the fight started again. The gale blowing across the Sea of the Winds was every bit as savage as the wind in the mountains had been, and there was no place to rest among those towering waves.

It took me five days altogether to reach the Isle of the Winds and I was shaking with exhaustion when I settled at last on the battlements of the Citadel early on the morning of the sixth day. My body screamed for rest, but there was no time for that. I hurried through the bleak corridors to the royal apartments and went in without bothering to knock.

The main room of those living quarters was littered with discarded clothing and the table cluttered with the remains of half-eaten meals. Iron-grip, his grey clothes rumpled and his face unshaven, came out of an exhausted half-doze as I entered. ‘Thank the Gods!’ he exclaimed.

‘Aunt Pol!’ my nephew, who looked at least as haggard as his father, greeted me. Daran was about twenty now, and I was surprised at how much he had grown.

‘Where is she?’ I demanded.

‘She’s in bed, Pol,’ Riva told me. ‘She had a bad night, and she’s exhausted. She coughs all the time, and she can’t seem to get her breath.’

‘I need to talk with her physicians,’ I told them crisply. ‘Then I’ll want to look at her.’

‘Ah–’ Riva floundered. ‘We haven’t actually called in any physicians yet, Pol. I think Elthek, the Rivan Deacons’, been praying over her, though. He says that hiring physicians is just a waste of time and money.’

‘He tells us that mother’s getting better, though,’ Daran added.

‘How would he know?’

‘He’s a priest, Aunt Pol. Priests are very wise.’

‘I’ve never known a priest yet who knew his right hand from his left. Take me to your mother immediately.’ I looked around at all the litter. ‘Get this cleaned up,’ I told them.

Daran opened the bedroom door and glanced in. ‘She’s asleep,’ he whispered.

‘Good. At least your priest isn’t inflicting any more of his mumbo-jumbo on her. From now on, keep him away from her.’

‘You can make her well, can’t you, Aunt Pol?’

‘That’s why I’m here, Daran.’ I tried to make it sound convincing.

I scarcely recognized my sister when I reached the bed. She’d lost so much weight! The circles under eyes looked like bruises, and her breathing was labored. I touched her drawn face briefly and discovered that she was burning with fever. Then I did something I’d never done before. I sent a probing thought at my sister’s mind and merged my thought with hers.

‘Polgara?’ her sleeping thought came to me. ’I don’t feel well.’

‘Where is it, Beldaran?’ I asked gently.

‘My chest. It feels so tight.’ Then her half-drowsing thought was gone.

I’d more or less expected that. The accursed climate on the Isle of the Winds was killing my sister.

I probed further, deeper into her body. As I’d expected, the center of her illness was located in her lungs.

I came out of the bedroom and softly closed the door behind me. ‘I have to go down into the city,’ I told Riva and Daran.

‘Why?’ Riva asked me.

‘I need some medications.’

‘Elthek says that those things are a form of witchcraft, Pol,’ Riva said. ‘He says that only prayers to Belar can cure Beldaran.’

I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said at that point. Riva looked startled, and Daran dropped the clothing he’d been picking up. ‘Just as soon as my sister’s on the mend, I’m going to have a long talk with your precious Rivan Deacon,’ I told them from between clenched teeth. ‘For right now, tell him to stay away from Beldaran. Tell him that if he goes into her room again, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born. I’ll be back in just a little while.’

‘I’ll send Brand with you,’ Riva offered.

‘Brand? Who’s he?’

‘Baron Kamion. Brand’s sort of a title. He’s my chief advisor, and he carries a lot of the weight of my crown for me.’ Riva made a rueful face. ‘I probably should have listened to him this time. He said a lot of the things you’ve already said – about the Deacon, I mean.’

‘Why didn’t you listen to him? Tell him to catch up with me.’ Then I stormed out of the royal apartment and went along the grim, torchlit corridor toward the main entrance to the Citadel, muttering some of uncle Beldin’s more colorful epithets along the way.

Kamion caught up with me just as I reached the massive doors that opened out into the snowy courtyard. He was older, of course, and he seemed more sober and serious than he’d been the last time I’d seen him. His blond hair was touched at the temples with grey now, but I noted with approval that he hadn’t gone so completely Alorn as to grow a beard. He wore a grey woolen cloak and carried another over his arm. ‘It’s good to see you again, Pol,’ he said. Then he held out the extra cloak. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Put this on. It’s cold out there.’

‘I’m feeling very warm right now, Kamion,’ I told him. ‘Couldn’t you keep that idiot priest away from Riva?’

He sighed. ‘I tried, Pol. Believe me I tried, but his Majesty likes to get along with people, and Elthek waves his religious office around like a war-banner. He’s half-convinced most of the population that he speaks for Belar, and that’s very difficult to counter. His Majesty’s the keeper of the Orb, and that makes him a holy object in the eyes of the priesthood. In a peculiar way the priests seem to think they own him. They have no real understanding of the Orb, so they seem to believe that it’ll do anything Riva tells it to do. They don’t comprehend the limitations. Would you believe that Elthek even went so far as to suggest that his Majesty try to cure his wife by touching her with the Orb?’

‘That would have killed her!’

‘Yes, I know. I managed to persuade him not to try it without some guidance from either you or your father.’

‘At least he had enough sense to listen to you.’

‘Can you cure my queen, Pol?’ he asked as we went out into the courtyard.

I looked directly at his handsome face and knew that I could tell him a truth that I’d hidden from Riva and Daran. ‘I’m not sure, Kamion,’ I admitted.

He sighed. ‘I was afraid it was more serious than we thought at first,’ he admitted. ‘What’s causing the illness?’

‘The filthy climate of the God-forsaken island!’ I burst out. ‘It’s destroying my sister’s lungs. She can’t breathe here.’

He nodded. “The queen’s been falling ill every winter for quite a number of years now. What do we need from the city?’

‘I need to talk with Arell, and then I’m going to ransack the shop of a herbalist named Argak. I think I might want to talk with a man named Balten as well.’

‘I think I know him. He’s a barber, isn’t he?’

“That’s his day-job, Kamion. At night he’s a grave-robber.’