David Eddings: Belgarath the Sorcerer

DAVID AND LEIGH

EDDINGS

Belgarath the Sorcerer

Harper Voyager

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This edition 2006

Previous Voyager paperback edition 1996, reprinted 15 times

First published in Great Britain by Voyager 1995

Copyright © David and Leigh Eddings 1995

David and Leigh Eddings assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780007217090

Ebook Edition © APRIL 2015 ISBN: 9780007368006

Version: 2018-11-09

FOR OWEN

We have all been at this since April of 1982.

Your friendship, guidance and faith in us

has been greatly cherished.

One more to go!

LEIGH AND DAVID

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Map

Dedication

Prologue

Part One: The Vale

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Part Two: The Apostate

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part Three: The Time of Woe

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Part Four: Polgara

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Part Five: The Secret

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Part Six: Garion

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Keep Reading

About the Author

Other Books By

About the Publisher

It was well past midnight and very cold. The moon had risen, and her pale light made the frost crystals lying in the snow sparkle like carelessly strewn diamonds. In a peculiar way it seemed to Garion almost as if the snow-covered earth were reflecting the starry sky overhead.

‘I think they’re gone now,’ Durnik said, peering upward. His breath steamed in the icy, dead-calm air. ‘I can’t see that rainbow any more.’

‘Rainbow?’ Belgarath asked, sounding slightly amused.

‘You know what I mean. Each of them has a different-colored light. Aldur’s is blue, Issa’s is green, Chaldan’s is red, and the others all have different colors. Is there some significance to that?’

‘It’s probably a reflection of their different personalities,’ Belgarath replied. ‘I can’t be entirely positive, though. My Master and I never got around to discussing it.’ He stamped his feet in the snow. ‘Why don’t we go back?’ he suggested. ‘It’s really cold out here.’

They turned and started back down the hill toward the cottage, their feet crunching in the frozen snow. The farmstead at the foot of the hill looked warm and comforting. The thatched roof of the cottage was thick with snow, and the icicles hanging from the eaves glittered in the moonlight. The outbuildings Durnik had constructed were dark, but the windows of the cottage were all aglow with golden lamplight that spread softly out over the mounded snow in the dooryard. A column of blue woodsmoke rose straight and unwavering from the chimney, rising, it seemed, to the very stars.

It had probably not really been necessary for the three of them to accompany their guests to the top of the hill to witness their departure, but it was Durnik’s house, and Durnik was a Sendar. Sendars are meticulous about proprieties and courtesies.

‘Eriond’s changed,’ Garion noted as they neared the bottom of the hill. ‘He seems more certain of himself now.’

Belgarath shrugged. ‘He’s growing up. It happens to everybody – except to Belar, maybe. I don’t think we can ever expect Belar to grow up.’

‘Belgarath!’ Durnik sounded shocked. ‘That’s no way for a man to speak about his God!’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘What you just said about Belar. He’s the God of the Alorns, and you’re an Alorn, aren’t you?’

‘Whatever gave you that peculiar notion? I’m no more an Alorn than you are.’

‘I always thought you were. You’ve certainly spent enough time with them.’

‘That wasn’t my idea. My Master gave them to me about five thousand years ago. There were a number of times when I tried to give them back, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

‘Well, if you’re not an Alorn, what are you?’

‘I’m not really sure. It wasn’t all that important to me when I was young. I do know that I’m not an Alorn. I’m not crazy enough for that.’

‘Grandfather!’ Garion protested.

‘You don’t count, Garion. You’re only half Alorn.’

They reached the door of the cottage and carefully stamped the snow off their feet before entering. The cottage was Aunt Pol’s domain, and she had strong feelings about people who tracked snow across her spotless floors.

The interior of the cottage was warm and filled with golden lamplight that reflected from the polished surfaces of Aunt Pol’s copper-bottomed pots and kettles and pans hanging from hooks on either side of the arched fireplace. Durnik had built the table and chairs in the center of the room out of oak, and the golden color of the wood was enhanced by the lamplight.

The three of them immediately went to the fireplace to warm their hands and feet.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Poledra came out. ‘Well?’ she said, ‘did you see them off?’

‘Yes, dear,’ Belgarath replied. ‘They were going in a generally northeasterly direction the last time I looked.’

‘How’s Pol?’ Durnik asked.

‘Happy,’ Garion’s tawny-haired grandmother replied.

‘That’s not exactly what I meant. Is she still awake?’

Poledra nodded. ‘She’s lying in bed admiring her handiwork.’

‘Would it be all right if I looked in on her?’