Oh, don’t be so gullible. Of course I didn’t actually convert Baron and myself into those monsters. Ferdish and Selt weren’t worth that kind of effort, and illusion is just as effective as reality most of the time. Besides, to be perfectly honest about it, I hadn’t the faintest notion in those days of what an ogress or a dragon really looked like, so I just improvised.
We reached Muros the following day, and I purchased supplies. Then, the next morning at daybreak Baron and I struck out for the Sendarian mountains. If you absolutely must be alone in the wilderness, I strongly recommend the mountains. A kind of peace comes over me in high country that I feel in no other surroundings. To be perfectly honest, I loitered, frequently making my night’s encampment long before it was really necessary. I swam in icy mountain lakes, startling the local trout, I’m sure, and I browsed through thickets of berry-bushes when they presented themselves. It was with some regret that I came down out of the mountains and rode out onto that endless sea of grass that is the Algarian plain.
The weather held fair, and we arrived in the Vale a few days later. Father and the twins greeted me warmly, but uncle Beldin, as usual, was off in Mallorea keeping an eye on the enemy and trying to come up with a way to lure Urvon out of Mal Yaska.
It felt odd to be back in the Vale after the years I’d spent on the Isle of the Winds. I’d been at the center of things in the Citadel, and there was always something going on that needed my immediate attention. To be honest about it, I missed those affairs of state, and the remoteness of the Vale made it impossible for me to even know about them, much less take a hand. My father, who’s much more observant than he sometimes appears to be, noticed the signs of my discontent. ‘Are you busy, Pol?’ he asked me one autumn evening after supper.
‘Not really,’ I replied, setting aside the medical text I’d been reading.
‘You’re having problems, aren’t you?’ he asked me, his white hair and beard ruddy in the firelight.
‘I can’t seem to get settled back down,’ I admitted.
He shrugged. ‘It happens. It usually takes me a year or so to get my feet back on the ground after I’ve been out in the world for a while. Study’s something you have to do every day. If you put it aside, you have to learn how all over again. Just be patient, Pol. It comes back after a while.’ He leaned back, looking reflectively into the fire. ‘We’re not like other people, Pol, and there’s no point in pretending that we are. We’re not here to get involved in running the world. That’s what kings are for, and for all of me they’re welcome to it. Our business is here, and what’s going on out there doesn’t really mean anything to us – at least it shouldn’t.’
‘We live in the world too, father.’
‘No, Pol, we don’t – at least not in the same world as the people out there live in. Our world’s a world of first causes and that inevitable string of EVENTS that’s been growing out of those causes from the moment the Purpose of the Universe was divided. Our only task is to identify – and influence – certain incidents that are so minute and unremarkable that ordinary people don’t even notice them.’ He paused. ‘What are you studying right now?’
‘Medical texts.’
‘Why? People are going to die anyway, no matter how much you try to prevent it. If one thing doesn’t carry them off, something else will.’
‘We’re talking about friends and family here, father.’
He sighed. ‘Yes, I know. That doesn’t alter the facts, though. They’re mortal; we aren’t – at least not yet. Set your hobby aside, Polgara, and get down to business. Here.’ He handed me a thick, heavy scroll. ‘This is your copy of the Mrin Codex. You’d better get started on it. There’ll probably be tests later on.’
‘Oh, father,’ I said, ‘be serious.’
‘I am. The tests that’ll grow out of this course of study are likely to have far-reaching consequences.’
‘Such as?’
‘Oh, I don’t know – the end of the world, possibly – or the coming of the one who’ll save it.’ He gave me an inscrutable look. ‘Be happy in your work, Pol,’ he told me as he returned to his own copy of the ravings of that idiot on the banks of the Mrin.
The next morning I put on my grey Rivan cloak, saddled Baron, and rode out into the blustery autumn day. The Tree, standing deep in eternity, had begun to deck himself out in his autumn finery, and he was absolutely glorious. The birds, probable descendants of my cheeky sparrow and lyric lark, swooped down to greet me as I approached. I’m not sure why, but I’ve never encountered a bird who didn’t call me by name when he first caught sight of me.
Mother didn’t respond when I sent my thought out to her, but I don’t think I’d really expected her to reply. Mother was still mourning the death of my sister.
I didn’t press the issue, since it was the Tree I’d come to visit. We didn’t speak, but then we never do. Our communion couldn’t have been put into words. I immersed myself in his sense of timelessness, absorbing his eternal presence, and in a somewhat gentler manner he confirmed father’s blunt assessment of the previous night. Father, Beldin, the twins, and I were not like other people, and our purpose was not like theirs.
After a time, I simply reached out my hand, laid it on the rough bark of the Tree, sighed, and returned to father’s tower and the waiting Mrin Codex.
Father and I made periodic visits to the Isle of the Winds during the next half-century or so – usually for meetings of the Alorn Council. There were new kings in Cherek, Drasnia, and Algaria, but father and I weren’t as close to them as we’d been to Bear-shoulders, Bull-neck, and Fleet-foot. Because fairly extended periods of time passed between our visits, I was keenly aware of the fact that Daran and Kamion were visibly older each time we went to the Isle.
My father’s hinted at this, but one of us had probably better come right out with it. Our situation is most peculiar, and it requires certain adjustments. As those we’ve come to know and love grow older, it’s absolutely necessary for us to distance ourselves from them. The alternative is quite probably madness. Endless grief will eventually destroy the human mind. We’re not heartless, but we do have duties, and those duties oblige us to protect our ability to function. As I watched Daran and Kamion become crotchety, querulous old men, I knew they’d eventually leave us and that there was nothing I could do about it.