I didn’t have time to stand around shivering, though, because I had to go to Boktor for the birth of one of the members of the extended royal family of Drasnia. They named him Prince Kheldar, though he was far down in the line of succession, but his birth and his name filled the air around him with those signs and portents which I’d so sorely missed at the birth of Geran. The Mrin refers to him as the ‘Guide,’ but the rest of the world knows him by the nickname his classmates at the academy of the Drasnian intelligence service gave him when he was a student there - Silk.
I was kept running for the next few years. The ‘Guide’ was born in 5335, and so was the ‘Blind Man’ - Relg the Ulgo zealot. Then, in 5336, the son of the Earl of Trellheim was born. They named him Barak, but the Mrin calls him the ‘Dreadful Bear.’ In the following year, the ‘Horse Lord’ and the ‘Knight Protector’ - Hettar and Mandorallen - came along. The ‘Companions’ were sprouting all around me, but where was the ‘Godslayer’?
Then in the spring of 5338, I received an urgent summons from Polgara. I hurried on up to Annath, thinking the worst, but there wasn’t any emergency that I could see. Pol seemed quite calm when she met me near a stone-quarry on the edge of town.
‘What’s the problem here, Pol?’ I asked her.
‘No problem, father,’ she replied with a slight shrug. ‘I just need somebody to fill in for me for a few months. I have something I have to take care of.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss it.’
‘Are we going to play that tired old game again, Pol?’
‘It’s not a game, father, and if you’re tired of it, I’ll call the twins instead.’
‘You can’t pull them out of the Vale now, Pol! There’s too much going on at the moment for them to go off and leave the Mrin!’
‘And uncle Beldin’s keeping watch over Torak. That’s important, too. I guess you’re elected, father - whether you like it or not. You’re not really doing anything important right now, are you? The midwives can deliver these various babies without your supervision. Look after Darral and the little boy, old man - and if you say, “Why me?” I’ll snatch out your beard.’
‘I’m not your servant, Pol.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re the servant of something far more important, and so am I. I have an errand to take care of, and you’re supposed to take over here while I’m gone.’
‘The Master didn’t say anything to me about this.’
‘He’s busy right now, so I’m passing the instructions on for him. Just do it, father. Don’t argue with me.’
Before I could think up any kind of reply, she blurred and was gone.
I swore for a while, and then I stamped down into the village. Geran, who was about nine or so, was waiting for me outside the solid house his father had built at the east end of Annath’s single street. ‘Hello, grandfather,’ he greeted me. ‘Did Aunt Pol talk with you?’
‘Talk to would come closer, Geran,’ I replied sourly. ‘Did she happen to mention to you where she’s going?’
‘Not that I remember, no, but there’s nothing unusual about that. Aunt Pol hardly ever tells us what she’s going to do - or why.’
‘You’ve noticed that, I see. Where’s your mother?’
‘She stepped on down to the baker’s shop for a minute. Aunt Pol said that you’d be staying with us for a while, and mother knows how fond you are of pastries.’
‘We all have our little weaknesses, I suppose.’
‘Mother should be back fairly soon,’ he said, ‘but as long as we’re waiting anyway, do you suppose you could tell me a story?’
I laughed. ‘I might as well,’ I said. ‘Your Aunt’s nailed me to the ground here until she gets back, so we’ll have lots of time for stories.’ I looked at him a bit more closely. Although, like most of the members of his family, he’d been born with that sandy-colored hair, Geran’s hair was beginning to turn dark. He’d never be as big as Iron-grip had been, but I could already see certain resemblances.
A little word of caution here, if you don’t mind. When you know that something’s going to happen, you’ll start trying to see signs of its approach in just about everything. Always try to remember that most of the things that happen in this world aren’t signs. They happen because they happen, and their only real significance lies in normal cause and effect. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you start trying to pry the meaning out of every gust of wind or rain-squall. I’m not denying that there might actually be a few signs that you won’t want to miss. Knowing the difference is the tricky part.
I’ve always enjoyed the company of my grandsons. There’s a peculiarly earnest quality about them that I find appealing. I’m not trying to say that they don’t occasionally do things that are a bit foolish and sometimes downright dangerous - Garion’s encounter with the wild boar in the woods outside Val Alorn sort of leaps to mind - but if you’re willing to follow their occasionally faulty reasoning, you’ll find that, in their own minds at least, most of the things they do are fully justified. The descendants of Iron-grip and Beldaran have always been very serious little boys. A sense of humor might have rounded out their personalities, but you can’t have everything.
Despite the fact that Polgara had ruthlessly dragooned me into watching over Geran, I’ll admit that I enjoyed those months I spent with him. I’ll never be the kind of fisherman Durnik is, but I know the basics - which is to say that I can bait a hook. But Geran was at that age in a young boy’s life when catching fish becomes an all-consuming passion. Years of observation have taught me that this particular passion crops up just before the boy suddenly realizes that there are two kinds of people in the world - boy people and girl people. In a general sort of way, most boys approve of that.
If only they wouldn’t behave as if they thought they’d invented it.
Anyway, Geran and I spent that spring and summer in search of the wily trout. There are other kinds of fish in the world, of course, but it’s always seemed to me that trout are the most challenging. Moreover, if you’re not too noisy about it, you can have some fairly serious conversations while you’re waiting for the fish to start biting.
I particularly remember one truly miserable, but at the same time absolutely wonderful day my grandson and I spent huddled on a makeshift raft in the center of a small mountain lake with a drizzling rain hissing into the water around us. I’m not sure exactly why, but the trout were in a positive frenzy. Geran and I caught more fish that day than we’d normally catch in a week.
About mid-afternoon, when we were both soaked to the skin and the wicker basket we’d brought along ‘just in case we got lucky’ was filled almost to the brim with silvery-sided trout, things began to slow down a bit. ‘This is really a lot of fun, grandfather,’ my fishing partner noted. ‘I wish we could do it more often.’
‘Geran,’ I replied, ‘we’ve been out fishing every day for the past three weeks. You can’t get much more often than that.’
‘Yes, but today we’re catching them.’
I laughed. ‘That always seems to help,’ I agreed.
‘We’re not the same as other people, are we?’ he asked then.
‘Because we both like to fish? There are a lot of fishermen in the world, Geran.’
‘That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about our family. It seems to me that there’s something sort of different about us - something a little odd and special.’ He made a small face and wiped the water off his nose on his sleeve. ‘I didn’t say that very well, did I? I’m not trying to say that we’re really important or anything like that, but we’re just not like other people - at least that’s the way it seems to me. Aunt Pol never talks to me about it, but sometimes at night I can hear her talking with my father down in the kitchen before I go to sleep. She knows a lot of people, doesn’t she?’
‘Your Aunt? Oh, yes, Geran. Your Aunt Pol knows people in just about every kingdom in the west.’
‘What I can’t understand is how she got to know all those kings and nobles and such. She almost never goes anywhere. You know what I think?’
‘What’s that, boy?’
‘I think Aunt Pol’s a lot older than she looks.’
‘She’s what they call “well-preserved”, Geran. I wouldn’t make a big issue of it, if I were you, though. Ladies are a little sensitive about how old they are.’
‘You’re old, and it doesn’t seem to bother you.’
‘That’s because I never really grew up. I still know how to have fun. That’s what keeps you young. Your Aunt thinks that having fun isn’t important.’
‘She’s very strange, isn’t she? Sometimes I think she’s the strangest woman in the world.’
I broke down and laughed at that point.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Someday I’ll explain it to you. You’re right, though. Our family is special, but it’s important right now for us all to behave as if we were ordinary. Your Aunt will explain it to you when you’re a little older.’