Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress: 2-Book Collection

‘I’m not enjoying this, old man.’ She looked around at the huge, mossy trees with distaste. ‘It’s damp, it’s dirty, and there are bugs. I haven’t had a bath for four days.’

‘You don’t have to bathe when you’re in the woods, Pol. The squirrels don’t mind if your face is dirty.’

‘Are we going to argue about this?’

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Why walk when we can fly?’

I stared at her. ‘How did you know about that?’ I demanded.

‘Uncle Beldin does it all the time. You’re supposed to be educating me, father. This seems to be a perfect time for me to learn how to change my form into one that’s more useful. You can suit yourself, of course, but I’m not going to plod through this gloomy forest all the way to Darine just so you can look at the scenery.’ Pol can turn the slightest thing into an ultimatum. It’s her one great failing.

There was a certain logic to what she was saying, however. Wandering around in the woods is enjoyable, but there were other things I wanted to do, and the art of changing form is one of the more useful ones. I wasn’t entirely positive that her talent was that far along yet, though, so I was a little dubious about the whole idea. ‘We’ll try it,’ I finally gave in. It was easier than arguing with her.

‘When?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’

‘Why not now?’

‘Because it’s getting dark. I don’t want you flying into a tree and breaking your beak.’

‘Whatever you say, father.’ Her submissive tone was fraudulent, naturally. She’d won the argument, so now she could afford to be gracious about it.

She was up the next morning before it got light, and she’d crammed my breakfast into me before the sun came up. ‘Now, then,’ she said, ‘let’s get started.’ She really wanted to try this.

I described the procedure to her at some length, carefully going over all the details while her look of impatience grew more and more pronounced.

‘Oh, let’s get on with it, father,’ she said finally.

‘All right, Pol,’ I surrendered. ‘I suppose you can always change back if you turn yourself into a flying rabbit.’

She looked a little startled at that.

‘Details, Polgara,’ I told her. ‘This is one case when you really have to pay attention to details. Feathers aren’t that easy, you now. All right. Don’t rush. Take it slowly.’

And, of course, she ignored me. Her eyebrows sank into a scowl of intense concentration. Then she shimmered and blurred – and became a snowy white owl.

My eyes filled with tears immediately, and I choked back a sob. ‘Change back!’

She looked a little startled when she resumed her own form.

‘Don’t ever do that again!’ I commanded.

‘What’s wrong, father?’

‘Any shape but that one.’

‘What’s wrong with that one? Uncle Beldin says that mother used to do it all the time.’

‘Exactly. Pick another shape.’

‘Are you crying, father?’ she asked with a certain surprise.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.’

‘I didn’t think you knew how.’ She touched my face almost tenderly. ‘Would some other kind of owl be all right?’

‘Turn yourself into a pelican if you want to. Just stay away from that shape.’

‘How about this one?’ She blurred into the form of a tufted owl instead. She was a mottled brown color, and the sprigs of feathers sprouting from the sides of her head altered that painful appearance enough so that I could bear to live with it.

I drew in a deep breath. ‘All right,’ I told her, ‘flap your wings and see if you can get up off the ground.’

She hooted at me.

‘I can’t understand you, Pol. Just flap your wings. We can talk about it later.’

Would you believe that she did it perfectly the first time? I should have had suspicions at that point, but I was still all choked up, so I didn’t think about it. With a few strokes of those soft wings she lifted herself effortlessly off the ground and circled the clearing a few times. Then she landed on a tree-branch and began to preen her feathers.

It took me a while to regain my composure, and then I went over to her tree and looked up at her. ‘Don’t try to change back,’ I instructed. ‘You’ll fall out of the tree if you do.’

She stared down at me with those huge, unblinking eyes.

‘We’re going in that direction.’ I pointed northeasterly. ‘I’m not going to turn myself into a bird because I don’t fly very well. I’ll take the shape of a wolf instead. I’ll probably be able to keep up with you, but don’t get out of sight. I want to be close enough to catch you if something goes wrong. Keep an eye on the sun. We’ll change back about noon.’

She hooted at me again, that strange hollow cry of the tufted owl.

‘Don’t argue with me, Polgara,’ I told her. ‘We’re going to do this my way. I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Then, to avoid any further argument, I slipped into the form of the wolf.

Her flights were short at first. She drifted from tree to tree, obediently staying just ahead of me. I didn’t have any difficulty keeping up with her. By mid-morning, however, she began to extend the distance between perches, and I was obliged to move up from a sedate trot to a lope. By noon I was running. Finally, I stopped, lifted my muzzle, and howled at her.

She circled, swooped back, and settled to earth. Then she shimmered back into her own form. ‘Oh, that was just fine!’ she exclaimed with a sensuous shudder of pure pleasure.

I was right on the verge of an oration at that point. She’d pushed me fairly hard that morning. It was her smile that cut me off before I even got started, though. Polgara seldom smiled, but this time her face actually seemed to glow, and that single white lock above her forehead was bright as a sun-touched snowbank. Dear Gods, she was a beautiful girl! ‘You need to use your tail-feathers just a bit more,’ was all I said to her.

‘Yes, father,’ she said, still smiling. ‘What now?’

‘We’ll rest a bit,’ I decided. ‘When the sun goes down, we’ll start out again.’

‘In the dark?’

‘You’re an owl, Polgara. Night’s the natural time for you to be out flying.’

‘What about you?’

I shrugged. ‘Night or day – it doesn’t matter to a wolf.’