"It"s the most important event in the history of the world."
"That depends on your point of view, I suppose. You need my help, though."
"I think we can manage, Vordai."
"Perhaps, but how do you expect to get out of the fens?"
He looked at her sharply.
"I can open the way for you to the dry ground at the edge of the swamp, or I can see to it that you wander around in these marshes forever - in which case this meeting you"re concerned about will never happen, will it? That puts me in a very interesting situation, wouldn"t you say?"
Belgarath"s eyes narrowed.
"I discovered that when men deal with each other, there"s usually an exchange of some kind," she added with a strange little smile. "Something for something; nothing for nothing. It seems to be a sensible arrangement."
"Exactly what did you have in mind?"
"The fenlings are my friends," she replied. "In a very special way, my children. But men look upon them as animals with pelts worth the taking. They trap them, Belgarath, and they kill them for their fur. The fine ladies in Boktor and Kotu dress themselves in the skins of my children and give no thought to the grief it causes me. They call my children animals and they come into the fens to hunt them."
"They are animals, Vordai," he told her gently.
"Not any more." Almost without seeming to think, Vordai put her arm about Poppi"s shoulders. "It may be that you were right when you said that I shouldn"t have tampered with them, but it"s too late now to change it back." She sighed. "I"m a witch, Belgarath," she continued, "not a sorceress. My life has a beginning and an end, and it"s approaching its end, I think. I won"t live forever, as you and Polgara have done. I"ve lived several hundred years already and I"m growing very tired of life. As long as I"m alive, I can keep men from coming into the fens; but once I"m gone, my children will have no protection."
"And you want me to take them into my care?"
"No, Belgarath. You"re too busy; and sometimes you forget promises you don"t care to remember. I want you to do the one thing that will make it forever impossible for men to think of the fenlings as animals."
His eyes widened as what she was suggesting dawned on him.
"I want you to give my children the power of speech, Belgarath," Vordai said. "I can"t do it. My witchcraft doesn"t reach that far. Only a sorcerer can make it possible for them to talk."
"Vordai-"
"That"s my price, Belgarath," she told him. "That"s what my help will cost you. Take it or leave it."
Chapter Nineteen.
THEY SLEPT THAT night in Vordai"s cottage, though Garion slept very little. The ultimatum of the witch of the fens troubled him profoundly. He knew that tampering with nature had far-reaching effects, and to go as far as Vordai wished might forever erase the dividing line between men and animals. The philosophical and theological implications of that step were staggering. There were, moreover, other worries. It was entirely possible that Belgarath could not do what Vordai demanded of him. Garion was almost positive that his grandfather had not attempted to use his will since his collapse months before, and now Vordai had set him an almost impossible task.
What would happen to Belgarath if he tried and failed? What would that do to him? Would the doubts then take over and rob him of any possibility of ever regaining his power? Desperately Garion tried to think of a way to warn his grandfather without arousing those fatal doubts.
But they absolutely had to get out of the fens. However reluctantly Garion had made the decision to meet Torak, he now knew that it was the only possible choice open to him. The meeting, however, could not be delayed indefinitely. If it were put off too long, events would move on, and the world would be plunged into the war they were all so desperately trying to head off, Vordai"s threat to trap them all here in the fens unless Belgarath paid her price threatened not only them, but the entire world. In a very real sense, she held the fate of all mankind in her uncaring hands. Try though he might, Garion could not think of any way to avoid the test of Belgarath"s will. Though he would reluctantly have done what Vordai wished himself, he did not even know where to begin. If it could be done at all, his grandfather was the only one who could do it-if his illness had not destroyed his power.
When dawn crept through the misty fens, Belgarath arose and sat before the fire, brooding into the crackling flames with a somber face.
"Well?" Vordai asked him. "Have you decided?"
"It"s wrong, Vordai," he told her. "Nature cries out against it."
"I"m much closer to nature than you are, Belgarath," she replied. "Witches live more intimately with her than sorcerers do. I can feel the turning of the seasons in my blood, and the earth is alive under my feet. I hear no outcry. Nature loves all her creatures, and she would grieve over the obliteration of my fenlings almost as much as I. But that"s really beside the point, isn"t it? Even though the very rocks shrieked out against it, I would not relent."
Silk exchanged a quick look with Garion, and the little man"s sharp face seemed as troubled as Belgarath"s.
"Are the fenlings really beasts?" Vordai continued. She pointed to where Poppi still slept, her delicate forepaws open like little hands. Tupik, moving stealthily, crept back into the house, carrying a handful of dew-drenched swamp flowers. With precise care, he placed them about the slumbering Poppi and gently laid the last one in her open hand. Then, with an oddly patient expression, he sat on his haunches to watch her awakening.
Poppi stirred, stretched, and yawned. She brought the flower to her little black nose and sniffed at it, looking affectionately at the expectant Tupik. She made a happy little chirping sound, and then she and Tupik scampered off together for a morning swim in the cool water of the swamp.
"It"s a courting ritual," Vordai explained. "Tupik wants Poppi to be his mate, and as long as she continues to accept his gifts, he knows that she"s still fond of him. It will go on for quite some time, and then they"ll swim off into the swamp together for a week or so. When they come back, they"ll be mates for life. Is that really so different from the way young humans behave?"
Her question profoundly disturbed Garion for some reason he could not quite put his finger on.
"Look there," Vordai told them, pointing through the window at a group of young fenlings, scarcely more than babies, at play. They had fashioned a ball out of moss and were rapidly pa.s.sing it around in a circle, their large eyes intent on their game. "Couldn"t a human child join that group and not feel the slightest bit out of place?" Vordai pressed.
Not far beyond the game, a mature female fenling cradled her sleeping baby, rocking gently with her cheek against the little one"s face. "Isn"t motherhood universal?" Vordai asked. "In what way do my children differ from humans?-except that they"re perhaps more decent, more honest and loving with each other?"
Belgarath sighed. "All right, Vordai," he said, "you"ve made your point. I"ll grant that the fenlings are probably nicer creatures than men. I don"t know that speech will improve them, but if that"s what you want-" He shrugged.
"You"ll do it then?"
"I know it"s wrong, but I"ll try to do what you ask. I really don"t have much choice, do I?"
"No," she replied, "you don"t. Will you need anything? I have all the customary implements and compounds."
He shook his head. "Sorcery doesn"t work that way. Witchcraft involves the summoning of spirits, but sorcery comes all from within. Someday, if we have the leisure, I"ll explain the difference to you." He stood up. "I don"t suppose you"d care to change your mind about this?"
Her face hardened. "No, Belgarath," she replied.
He sighed again. "All right, Vordai. I"ll be back in a bit." He turned quietly and walked out into the mist-shrouded morning.
In the silence that followed his departure, Garion closely watched Vordai for some hint that her determination might not be as iron-hard as it seemed. It had occurred to him that if she were not blindly adamant, he might be able to explain the situation and persuade her to relent. The witch of the fens paced nervously about the room, picking things up absently and setting them down again. She seemed unable to concentrate her attention on any one thing for more than a moment.
"This may ruin him, you know," Garion told her quietly. Bluntness perhaps might sway her where other attempts at persuasion had failed.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded sharply.
"He was very ill last winter," Garion replied. "He and Ctuchik fought each other for possession of the Orb. Ctuchik was destroyed, but Belgarath nearly died too. It"s quite possible that his power was destroyed by his illness."
Silk"s gasp was clearly audible. "Why didn"t you tell us?" he exclaimed.
"Aunt Pol said that we didn"t dare," Garion said. "We couldn"t take any chance of word of it getting back to the Angaraks. Belgarath"s power is the one thing that"s held them in check all these years. If he"s lost it and they find out, they"ll feel free to invade the West."
"Does he know?" Vordai asked quickly.
"I don"t think so. Neither one of us said anything to him about it. We couldn"t let him think for a moment that anything might be wrong. If he has one single doubt, it won"t work for him. That"s the main thing about sorcery. You have to believe that what you want to happen is going to. Otherwise, nothing happens at all - and each time you fail, it gets worse."
"What did you mean when you said that this might ruin him?" Vordai"s face looked stricken, and Garion began to have some hope. "He may still have his power - or some of it," he explained. "But not enough to do what you"ve asked of him. It takes a tremendous effort to do even simple things, and what you"ve asked him to do is very difficult. It could be too much for him; but once he starts, he won"t be able to stop. And the effort may drain his will and his life energy until he cannot ever recover - or until he dies."
"Why didn"t you tell me?" Vordai demanded, her face anguished.
"I couldn"t - not without his hearing me, too."
She turned quickly toward the door. "Belgarath!" she cried. "Waitl" She spun back to Garion. "Go after him! Stop himl"
That was what Garion had been waiting for. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. As he swung it open and was about to call out across the rainy yard, he felt a strange oppression as if something were almost happening - almost, but not quite. The shout froze on his lips.
"Go on, Garion," Silk urged him.
"I can"t," Garion groaned. "He"s already begun to pull in his will. He wouIdn"t even hear me."
"Can you help him?"
"I don"t even know exactly what he"s trying to do, Silk," Garion replied helplessly. "If I went blundering in there now, all I"d do is make things worse."
They stared at him in consternation.
Garion felt a strange echoing surge. It was not at all what he ex pected, and so he was totally unprepared for it. His grandfather was not trying to move anything or change anything, but instead he was calling out - reaching across some vast distance with the voice of his mind. The words were not at all distinct, but the one word, "Master," did come through once quite distinctly. Belgarath was trying to reach Aldur. Garion held his breath.
Then, from infinitely far away, Aldur"s voice replied. They spoke together quietly for several moments, and all the while Garion could feel the force of Belgarath"s will, infused and magnified by the will of Aldur, growing stronger and stronger.
"What"s happening?" Silk"s voice was almost frightened.
"He"s talking with Aldur. I can"t hear what they"re saying."
"Will Aldur help him?" Vordai asked.
"I don"t know. I don"t know if Aldur can use his will here any more. There"s some kind of limitation - something that he and the other G.o.ds agreed to."
Then the strange conversation ended, and Garion felt Belgarath"s will mounting, gathering itself. "He"s begun," Garion said in a half whisper.
"His power"s still there?" Silk asked.
Garion nodded.
"As strong as ever?"
"I don"t know. There"s no way to measure it."
The tension of it grew until it was almost intolerable. What Belgarath was doing was at once very subtle and very profound. There was no rushing surge or hollow echo this time. Instead, Garion felt an odd, tingling whisper as the old man"s will was unleashed with agonizing slowness. The whisper seemed to be saying something over and over - something Garion could almost understand, but which tantalizingly eluded him.
Outside, the young fenlings stopped their game. The ball dropped unnoticed as the players all stood, listening intently. Poppi and Tupik, returning hand in hand from their swim, froze in their tracks and stood with their heads c.o.c.ked as Belgarath"s whisper spoke gently to them, reaching down into their thoughts, murmuring, explaining, teaching. Then their eyes widened as if in sudden understanding.
Belgarath emerged finally from the misty willows, his step heavy, weary. He walked slowly toward the house, stopping just outside to look intently at the stunned faces of the fenlings gathered in the dooryard. He nodded then and came back inside. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, and his white-bearded face seemed drained.
"Are you all right?" Vordai asked him, her tone no longer neutral. He nodded and sank into a chair by the table. "It"s done," he said shortly.
Vordai looked at him, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"No tricks, Vordai," he said. "And I"m too tired to try to lie to you. I"ve paid your price. If it"s all right with you, we"ll leave right after breakfast. We still have a long way to go."
"I"ll need more than just your word, Belgarath. I don"t really trust you - or any human, for that matter. I want proof that you"ve paid."
But there was a strange new voice from the doorway. Poppi, her furry little face contorted with the effort, was struggling with something. "M-m.m-m-," she stammered. Her mouth twisted, and she tried again. "M-m-m-m-." It seemed to be the hardest thing she had ever tried to do. She took a deep breath and tried once more. "M-m-m-motherrr," Poppi said.
With a low cry, Vordai rushed to the little creature, knelt, and embraced her.
"Mother," Poppi said again. It was clearer this time.
From outside the cottage there came a growing babble of small, squeaky voices, all repeating, "Mother, mother, mother." The excited fenlings converged on the cottage, their voices swelling as more and more of them emerged from the swamps.
Vordai wept.
"You"ll have to teach them, of course," Belgarath said wearily. "I gave them the ability, but they don"t know very many words yet."
Vordai looked at him with tears streaming down her face. "Thank you, Belgarath," she said in a faltering voice.
The old man shrugged. "Something for something," he replied. "Wasn"t that the bargain?"
It was Tupik who led them from the fens. The little creature"s chirping to his fellows, however, now had words mixed in with it - faltering, often badly misp.r.o.nounced, but words nonetheless.
Garion thought for a long time before he spoke, wrestling with an idea as he pushed on his pole. "Grandfather," he said finally.
"Yes, Garion," the old man replied from where he rested in the stern of their boat.
"You knew all along, didn"t you?"
"Knew what?"
"That it was possible that you couldn"t make things happen any more?"
Belgarath stared at him. "Where did you get that idea?" he asked.
"Aunt Pol said that after you got sick last winter, you might have lost all your power."
"She said what?"
"She said that "
"I heard you." The old man was frowning, his face creased with thought. "That possibility never even occurred to me," he admitted. Suddenly he blinked and his eyes opened very wide. "You know, she might have been right. The illness could have had that sort of effect. What an amazing thing."
"You didn"t feel any - well - weaker?"
"What? No, of course not." Belgarath was still frowning, turning the idea over in his mind. "What an amazing thing," he repeated, and then he suddenly laughed.