And then he picked me up, tearing my attention away from what I was working on. I tried to get away from him, but he was stronger than I was. I was hardly more than a baby, after all, although I felt much older. Stop that, he told me, and his tone seemed irritable. You may not care much for the idea, Pol, but Im your father, and youre stuck with me. And then he kissed me, which hed never done before. For a moment only a moment I felt his pain, and my heart softened toward him.
No, mothers thought came to me, not yet. At the time, I thought it was because she was still very angry with him and that I was to be the vessel of her anger. I know now I was mistaken. Wolves simply dont waste time being angry. My fathers remorse and sorrow had not yet run their course, and the Master still had many tasks for him. Until he had expiated what he felt to be his guilt, hed be incapable of those tasks. My misunderstanding of mothers meaning led me to do something I probably shouldnt have done. I struck out at him with the puzzle.
Spirited, isnt she? he murmured to uncle Beldin. Then he put me down, gave me a little pat on the bottom, which I scarcely felt, and told me to mind my manners.
I certainly wasnt going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that his chastisement in any way had made me change my opinion of him, so I turned, still holding the puzzle like a club, and glared at him.
Be well, Polgara, he told me in the gentlest way imaginable. Now go play.
He probably still doesnt realize it, but I almost loved him in that single instant almost, but not quite. The love came later, and it took years.
It was not long after that that he turned and left the Vale, and I didnt see him again for quite a number of years.
Chapter 2
Nothing that ever happens is so unimportant that it doesnt change things, and fathers intrusion into our lives could hardly be called unimportant. This time the change was in my sister Beldaran, and I didnt like it. Until my father returned from his excursion to Mallorea, Beldaran was almost exclusively mine. Fathers return altered that. Now her thoughts, which had previously been devoted to me, became divided. She thought often of that beer-soaked old rogue, and I resented it bitterly.
Beldaran, even when we were hardly more than babies, was obsessed with tidiness, and my aggressive indifference to my appearance upset her greatly.
Cant you at least comb your hair, Pol? she demanded one evening, speaking in twin, a private language that had grown quite naturally between us almost from the time we were in the cradle.
What for? Its just a waste of time.
You look awful.
Who cares what I look like?
I do. Sit down and Ill fix it for you.
And so I sat in a chair and let my sister fuss with my hair. She was very serious about it, her blue eyes intent and her still-chubby little fingers very busy. Her efforts were wasted, of course, since nobodys hair stays combed for very long; but as long as it amused her, I was willing to submit to her attentions. Ill admit that I rather enjoyed what became an almost nightly ritual. At least when she was busy with my hair she was paying attention to me instead of brooding about our father.
In a peculiar way my resentment may have shaped my entire life. Each time Beldarans eyes grew misty and distant, I knew that she was brooding about our father, and I could not bear the separation implicit in that vague stare. Thats probably why I took to wandering almost as soon as I could walk. I had to get away from the melancholy vacancy in my sisters eyes.
It almost drove uncle Beldin to the brink of insanity, Im afraid. He could not devise any latch on the gate that blocked the top of the stairs in his tower that I couldnt outwit. Uncle Beldins fingers have always been large and gnarled, and his latches were bulky and rather crude. My fingers were small and very nimble, and I could undo his devices in a matter of minutes whenever the urge to wander came over me. I was still am, I suppose of an independent nature, and nobody is ever going to tell me what to do.
Have you noticed that, father? I thought I noticed you noticing.
The first few times I made good my escape, uncle Beldin frantically searched for me and scolded me at some length when he finally found me. Im a little ashamed to admit that after a while it even became a kind of game. Id wait until he was deeply engrossed in something, quickly unhook his gate, and then scamper down his stairs. Then Id find someplace to hide where I could watch his desperate search. In time I think he began to enjoy our little entertainment as well, because his scoldings grew progressively less vehement. I guess that after the first several times he came to realize that there was nothing he could do to stop my excursions into the outside world and that I wouldnt stray too far from the foot of his tower.
My adventuring served a number of purposes. At first it was only to escape my sisters maudlin ruminations about father. Then it became a game during which I tormented poor uncle Beldin by seeking out hiding places. Ultimately, though its very unattractive, it was a way to get someone to pay attention to me.
As the game continued, I grew fonder and fonder of the ugly, gnarled dwarf whod become my surrogate parent. Any form of emotionalism embarrasses uncle Beldin, but I think Ill say this anyway. I love you, you dirty, mangy little man, and no amount of foul temper or bad language will ever change that.
If you ever read this, uncle, Im sure that will offend you. Well, isnt that just too bad?
Its easy for me to come up with all sorts of exotic excuses for the things I did during my childhood, but to put it very bluntly I was totally convinced that I was ugly. Beldaran and I were twins, and we should have been identical. The Master changed that, however. Beldaran was blonde, and my hair was dark. Our features were similar, but we were not mirror images of each other. There were some subtle variations many of them existing only in my own imagination, Im sure. Moreover, my excursions outside uncle Beldins tower had exposed my skin to the sun. Beldaran and I both had very fair skin, so I didnt immediately develop that healthy, glowing tan so admired in some quarters. I burned instead, and then I peeled. I frequently resembled a snake or lizard in molt. Beldaran remained indoors, and her skin was like alabaster. The comparison was not very flattering.
Then there was the accursed white lock in my hair which fathers first touch had bestowed upon me. How I hated that leprous lock of hair! Once, in a fit of irritation, I even tried to cut it short with a knife. It was a very sharp knife, but it wasnt that sharp. The lock resisted all my sawing and hacking. I did manage to dull the knife, however. No, the knife wasnt defective. It left a very nice cut on my left thumb as my efforts to excise the hideous lock grew more frantic.
So I gave up. Since I was destined to be ugly, I saw no point in paying any attention to my appearance. Bathing was a waste of time, and combing merely accentuated the contrast between the lock and the rest of my hair. I fell down frequently because I was awkward at that age, and my bony knees and elbows were usually skinned. My habit of picking at the resulting scabs left long streaks of dried blood on my lower legs and forearms, and I chewed my fingernails almost continually.