Belgarath the Sorcerer by David Eddings Page B

Belgarath,’ Aldur chided.
    â€˜Forgive me, Master,’ I said humbly.
    â€˜ Thou shalt instruct him, Belgarath. Should it come to pass that he be apt, inform me.’
    I groaned inwardly, cursing my careless tongue. My casual offer to vegetabilize the stranger had saddled me with him. But Aldur was my Lord, so I said, ‘I will, Master.’
    â€˜What is thy current study, my son?’
    â€˜I examine the reason for mountains, Master.’
    â€˜Lay aside thy mountains, Belgarath, and study maninstead. It may be that the study shall make thee more kindly disposed toward thy fellow-creatures.’
    I knew a rebuke when I heard one, so I didn’t argue. I sighed. ‘As my Master commands,’ I submitted regretfully. I had almost found the secret of mountains, and I didn’t want it to escape me. But then I remembered how patient my Master had been when I first came to the Vale, so I swallowed my resentment - at least right there in front of him.
    I was not nearly so agreeable once I got Zedar back outside, though. I put that poor man through absolute hell, I’m ashamed to admit. I degraded him, I berated him, I set him to work on impossible tasks and then laughed scornfully at his efforts. To be quite honest about it, I secretly hoped that I could make his life so miserable that he’d run away.
    But he didn’t. He endured all my abuse with a saintly patience that sometimes made me want to scream. Didn’t the man have any spirit at all ? To make matters even worse - to my profoundest mortification - he learned the secret of the Will and the Word within six months. My Master named him Belzedar and accepted him as his pupil.
    In time Belzedar and I made peace with each other. I reasoned that as long as we were probably going to spend the next dozen or so centuries together, we might as well learn to get along. Actually, once I ground away his tendency toward hyperbole and excessively ornamental language, he wasn’t such a bad fellow. His mind was extraordinarily quick, but he was polite enough not to rub my nose in the fact that mine really wasn’t.
    The three of us, our Master, Belzedar, and I, settled in and learned to get along with a minimum of aggravation on all sides.
    And then the others began to drift in. Kira and Tira were twin Alorn shepherd boys who had become lost and wandered into the Vale one day - and stayed. Their minds were so closely linked that they always had the same thoughtsat the same time and even finished each other’s sentences. Despite the fact that they’re Alorns, Belkira and Beltira are the gentlest men I’ve ever known. I’m quite fond of them, actually.
    Makor was the next to arrive, and he came to us from so far away that I couldn’t understand how he had ever heard of my Master. Unlike the rest of us, who’d been fairly shabby when we’d arrived, Makor came strolling down the Vale dressed in a silk mantle, somewhat like the garb currently in fashion in Tol Honeth. He was a witty, urbane, well-educated man, and I took to him immediately.
    Our Master questioned him briefly and decided that he was acceptable - with all the usual provisos.
    â€˜But, Master,’ Belzedar objected vehemently, ‘he cannot become one of our fellowship. He is a Dal - one of the Godless ones.’
    â€˜Melcene, actually, old boy,’ Makor corrected him in that ultra-civilized manner of his that always drove Belzedar absolutely wild. Now do you see why I was so fond of Makor?
    â€˜What’s the difference?’ Belzedar demanded bluntly.
    â€˜All the difference in the world, old chap,’ Makor replied, examining his fingernails. ‘We Melcenes separated from the Dals so long ago that we’re no more like them than Alorns are like Marags. It’s not really up to you, however. I was summoned, the same as the rest of you were, and that’s an end on it.’
    I remembered the odd compulsion that had dragged