The Rivan Codex: Ancient Texts of The Belgariad and The Malloreon

‘Perhaps,’ he said ‘but not mandatory. Thou hast much yet to learn, and one or ten or even a hundred lifetimes are not enough. How old art thou, my son?’

‘I think I am somewhat beyond three hundred years, Master.’

‘A suitable age, my son, and thou hast persevered in thy studies. Should I forget myself and call thee “Boy” again, pray correct me. It is not seemly that the Disciple of a God should be called “Boy”.’

‘I shall remember that, Master,’ I said, almost overcome with joy that he had finally called me his Disciple.

‘I was certain that thou wouldst,’ he said. ‘And what is the object of thy present study, my son?’

‘I would seek to learn why the stars fall, Master.’

‘A proper study, my son,’ he said, smiling.

‘And thou, Master,’ I asked. ‘What is thy study – if I be not overbold to ask.’

‘I am concerned with this jewel,’ he said, pointing at a moderate-sized grey stone on the table before him. ‘It may be of some curiosity in the fullness of time.’

(#litres_trial_promo)

‘I am certain it shall, Master,’ I assured him. ‘If be worthy of thine attention, it shall surely be a curiosity at least.’ And I turned back to my study of the inconstant stars.

In time, others came to us, some by accident, as I had come, and some by intent, seeking out my Master that they might learn from him. Such a one was Zedar. I came upon him one golden day in autumn near our tower. He had built a rude altar and was burning the carcass of a goat upon it. The greasy smoke from his offering was fouling the air, and he was prostrated before the altar, chanting some outlandish prayer.

‘What are you doing?’ I demanded, quite angry since his noise and the stink of his sacrifice distracted my mind from a problem I had been considering for fifteen years.

‘Oh, puissant and all-knowing God,’ he said, groveling in the dirt. ‘I have come a thousand leagues to behold thy glory and to worship thee.’

‘Puissant?’ I said. ‘Get up, man, and stop this caterwauling. I am not a God, but a man, just as you are.’

‘Art thou not the great God, Aldur?’ he asked.

‘I am Belgarath,’ I said, ‘his Disciple. What is this foolishness?’ I pointed at his altar and his smoking offering.

‘It is to please the God,’ he said, rising and dusting off his clothes. ‘Dost thou think he will find it acceptable?’

I laughed, for I did not like this stranger much. ‘I cannot think of a single thing you might have done which would offend him more,’ I said.

The stranger looked stricken. He turned quickly and reached out as if he would seize the burning animal with his bare hands to hide it.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ I snapped. ‘You’ll burn yourself.’

‘It must be hidden,’ he said desperately. ‘I would die rather than offend Mighty Aldur.’

‘Stand out of the way,’ I told him.

‘What?’

‘Get clear,’ I said, irritably waving him off. Then I looked at his grotesque little altar, willed it away and said, ‘Go away,’ and it vanished, leaving only a few tatters of confused smoke hanging in the air.

He collapsed on his face again.

‘You’re going to wear out your clothes if you keep doing that,’ I told him, ‘and my Master will not be amused by it.’

‘I pray thee,’ he said, rising and dusting himself off again, ‘mighty Disciple of the most high Aldur, instruct me so that I offend not the God.’

‘Be truthful,’ I told him, ‘and do not seek to impress him with false show.’

‘And how may I become his Disciple as thou art?’

‘First you become his pupil,’ I said, ‘and that is not easy.’

‘What must I do to become his pupil?’ the stranger asked.

‘You must become his servant,’ I said, a bit smugly I must admit.

‘And then his pupil?’

‘In time,’ I said, smiling, ‘if he so wills.’

‘And when may I meet the God?’

And so I took him to the tower.

‘Will the God Aldur not wish to know my name?’ the stranger asked.

‘Not particularly.’ I said. ‘If you prove worthy, he will give you a name of his own choosing.’ Then I turned to the grey stone in the wall and commanded it to open, and then we went inside.

My Master looked the stranger over and then turned to me. ‘Why hast thou brought this man to me, my son?’ he asked.

‘He besought me, Master,’ I said. ‘I felt it was not my place to say him yea or nay. Thy will must decide such things. If it be that he please thee not, I shall take him outside and bid him be no more and so put an end to him and his interruption.’

‘That is unkindly said, my son,’ Aldur said sternly. ‘The Will and the Word may not be used so.’

(#litres_trial_promo)

‘Forgive me, Master,’ I said humbly.

‘Thou shalt instruct him, Belgarath,’ my Master said. ‘If it should be that thou findest him apt, inform me.’

‘I will, Master,’ I promised.

‘What is thy study currently?’

‘I examine the reason for mountains, Master,’ I said.

‘Lay aside thy mountains, Belgarath, and study man instead. It may be that thou shalt find the study useful.’

‘As my Master commands,’ I said regretfully. I had almost found the secret of mountains, and I was not much enthused about allowing it to escape me. But that was the end of my leisure.