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.
To put it rather simply, I was a mess and I didnt really care.
I gave vent to my resentment in a number of ways. There were those tiresome periods when I refused to answer when Beldaran talked to me, and my infantile practice of waiting until she was asleep at night and then neatly rolling over in our bed to pull all the covers off her. That one was always good for at least a half-hour fight. I discarded it, however, after uncle Beldin threatened to have Beltira and Belkira build another bed so that he could make us sleep apart. I was resentful about my sisters preoccupation with our father, but not that resentful.
As I grew older, my field of exploration expanded. I guess uncle Beldin had grown tired of trying to find me after Id escaped from his tower either that or the Master had advised him to let me wander. The growth of my independence was evidently important.
I think I was about six or so when I finally discovered the Tree which stands in the middle of the Vale. My family has a peculiar attachment to that Tree. When my father first came to the Vale, it was the Tree that held him in stasis until the weather turned bad on him. CeNedra, who is a Dryad, after all, was absolutely entranced by it, and she spent hours communing with it Garion has never spoken of his reaction to the Tree, but Garion had other things on his mind the first time he saw it. When Eriond was quite young, he and Horse made a special trip just to visit with it.
It surprised me the first time I saw it. I could not believe that anything alive could be that huge. I remember the day very well. It was early spring, and a blustery wind was bending the grass in long waves atop the knolls in the Vale and scudding dirty grey clouds across the sky. I felt very good and oddly free. I was quite some distance from uncle Beldins tower when I topped a long, grassy rise and saw the Tree standing in solitary immensity in the next valley. Ill not cast any unfounded accusations here, but it just so happened that a break in the clouds permitted a single shaft of sunlight to fall like a golden column upon the Tree.
That got my immediate attention.
The Trees trunk was much larger than uncle Beldins tower, its branches reached hundreds of feet into the air, and its lateral limbs shaded whole acres. I stared at it in amazement for a long time, and then I very clearly heard or felt it calling to me.
I somewhat hesitantly descended the hill in response. I was wary about that strange summons. The bushes didnt talk to me, and neither did the grass. My as yet unformed mind automatically suspected anything out of the ordinary.
When at last I entered the shade of those wide-spread branches, a strange sort of warm glowing peace came over me and erased my trepidation. Somehow I knew that the Tree meant me no harm. I walked quite resolutely toward that vast, gnarled trunk.
And then I put forth my hand and touched it.
And that was my second awakening. The first had come when father had laid his hand upon my head in benediction, but in some ways this awakening was more profound.
The Tree told me although told is not precisely accurate, since the Tree does not exactly speak that it was is, I suppose the oldest living thing in the entire world. Ages unnumbered have nourished it, and it stands in absolute serenity in the center of the Vale, shedding years like drops of rain from its wide-spread leaves. Since it pre-dates the rest of us, and its alive, were all in some peculiar way its children. The first lesson it taught me the first lesson it teaches everyone who touches it was about the nature of time. Time, the slow, measured passage of years, is not exactly what we think it is. Humans tend to break time up into manageable pieces night and day, the turning of the seasons, the passage of years, centuries, eons but in actuality time is all one piece, a river flowing endlessly from the beginning toward some incomprehensible goal. The Tree gently guided my infant understanding through that extremely difficult concept.
I think that had I not encountered the Tree exactly when I did, I should never have grasped the meaning of my unusual life-span. Slowly, with my hands still on the Trees rough bark, I came to understand that I would live for as long as necessary. The Tree was not very specific about the nature of the tasks which lay before me, but it did suggest that those tasks would take me a very long time.
And then I did hear a voice several, actually. The meaning of what they were saying was totally clear to me, but I somehow knew that these were not human voices. It took me quite some time to identify their source, and then a rather cheeky sparrow flittered down through those huge branches, hooked his tiny claws into the rough bark of the Tree a few feet from my face, and regarded me with his glittering little eyes.
Welcome, Polgara, he chirped. What took you so long to find us?
The mind of a child is frequently willing to accept the unusual or even the bizarre, but this went a little far. I stared at that talkative little bird in absolute astonishment.
Why are you looking at me like that? he demanded.
Youre talking! I blurted.
Of course I am. We all talk. You just havent been listening. You should really pay closer attention to whats going on around you. You arent going to hurt me, are you? Ill fly away if you try, you know.
N-no, I stammered. I wont hurt you.
Good. Then we can talk. Did you happen to see any seeds on your way here?
I dont think so. I wasnt really looking for seeds, though.
You should learn to watch for them. My mate has three babies back at the nest, and Im supposed to be out looking for seeds to feed them. Whats that on your sleeve?
I looked at the sleeve of my smock. It seems to be a seed of some kind grass, probably.
Well, dont just stand there. Give it to me.
I picked the seed off my sleeve and held it out to him. He hopped off the side of the Tree and perched on my finger, his head cocked and his bright little eye closely examining my offering. Its grass, all right, he agreed. Then he actually seemed to sigh. I hate it when all there is to eat is immature grass-seed. Its early in the season, and those seeds are so tiny right now. He took the seed in his beak. Dont go away. Ill be right back. Then he flew off.
For a few moments I actually thought Id been dreaming. Then my sparrow came back, and there was another one with him. This is my mate, he introduced her to me.
Hello, Polgara, she said. Where did you find that seed? My babies are very hungry.
It must have caught on my sleeve up near the top of that hill, I ventured.
Why dont we go up there and have a look, she suggested, brazenly settling on my shoulder. The first sparrow followed his mates lead and perched on my other shoulder. All bemused by this miracle, I turned and started back up the grassy hill.
You dont move very fast, do you? The first sparrow noted critically.
I dont have wings, I replied.
That must be awfully tedious.
It gets me to where Im going.
As soon as we find those seeds, Ill introduce you to some of the others, he offered. My mate and Ill be busy feeding the babies for a while.
Can you actually talk to other kinds of birds? That was a startling idea.
Well, he said deprecatingly, sort of. The larks always try to be poetic, and the robins talk too much, and theyre always trying to shoulder their way in whenever I find food. I really dont care that much for robins. Theyre such bullies.
And then a meadowlark swooped in and hovered over my head. Whither goest thou? he demanded of my sparrow.
Up there, the sparrow replied, cocking his head toward the hilltop. Polgara found some seeds up there, and my mate and I have babies to feed. Why dont you talk with her while we tend to business?
All right, the lark agreed. My mate doth still sit upon our eggs, warming them with her substance, so I have ample time to guide our sister here.
Theres a seed! the female sparrow chirped excitedly. And she swooped down off my shoulder to seize it. Her mate soon saw another, and the two of them flew off.
Sparrows are, methinks, somewhat overly excitable, the lark noted. Whither wouldst thou go, sister?
Ill leave that up to you, I replied. Id sort of like to get to know more birds, though.
And that began my education in ornithology. I met all manner of birds that morning. The helpful lark took me around and introduced me. His rather lyrical assessments of the varied species were surprisingly acute. As Ive already mentioned, he told me that sparrows are excitable and talky. He characterized robins as oddly aggressive, and then added that they tended to say the same things over and over. Jays scream a lot. Swallows show off. Crows are thieves. Vultures stink. Hummingbirds arent really very intelligent. If hes forced to think about it, the average hummingbird gets so confused that he forgets exactly how to hover in mid-air. Owls arent really as wise as theyre reputed to be, and my guide referred to them rather deprecatingly as flying mouse-traps. Seagulls have a grossly exaggerated notion of their own place in the overall scheme of things. Your average seagull spends a lot of his time pretending to be an eagle. I normally wouldnt have seen any seagulls in the Vale, but the blustery wind had driven them inland. The assorted waterfowl spent almost as much time swimming as they did flying, and they were very clannish. I didnt really care that much for ducks and geese. Theyre pretty, I suppose, but their voices set my teeth on edge.
The aristocrats of birds are the raptors. The various hawks, depending on their size, have a complicated hierarchy, and standing at the very pinnacle of bird-dom is the eagle.
I communed with the various birds for the rest of the day, and by evening they had grown so accustomed to me that some of them, like my cheeky little sparrow and his mate, actually perched on me. As evening settled over the Vale I promised to return the next day, and my lyric lark accompanied me back to uncle Beldins tower.
What have you been doing, Pol? Beldaran asked curiously after Id mounted the stairs and rejoined her. As was usual when we were talking to each other privately, Beldaran spoke to me in twin.
I met some birds, I replied.
Met? How do you meet a bird?
You talk to them, Beldaran.
And do they talk back? Her look was amused.
Yes, I answered in an off-hand manner, as a matter of fact, they do. If she wanted to be snippy and superior, I could play that game, too.
What do they talk about? Her curiosity subdued her irritation at my superior reply.
Oh, seeds and the like. Birds take a lot of interest in food. They talk about flying, too. They cant really understand why I cant fly. Then they talk about their nests. A bird doesnt really live in his nest, you know. Its just a place to lay eggs and raise babies.
Id never thought of that, my sister admitted.
Neither had I until they told me about it. A bird doesnt really need a home, I guess. They also have opinions.
Opinions?
One kind of bird doesnt really have much use for other kinds of birds. Sparrows dont like robins, and seagulls dont like ducks.
How curious, Beldaran commented.
What are you two babbling about now? uncle Beldin demanded, looking up from the scroll hed been studying.
Birds, I told him.
He muttered something I wont repeat here and went back to his study of that scroll.
Why dont you take a bath and change clothes, Pol, Beldaran suggested a bit acidly. Youve got bird-droppings all over you.
I shrugged. Theyll brush off as soon as they dry.
She rolled her eyes upward.
I left the tower early the next morning and went to the small storehouse where the twins kept their supplies. The twins are Alorns, and they do love their beer. One of the major ingredients in beer is wheat, and I was fairly sure they wouldnt miss a small bag or two. I opened the bin where they kept the wheat and scooped a fair amount into a couple of canvas bags Id found hanging on a hook on the back wall of the shed. Then, carrying the fruits of my pilferage, I started back for the Tree.
Whither goest thou, sister? It was my poetic lark again. It occurs to me that my affinity for the studied formality of Wacite Arendish speech may very well have been born in my conversations with that lark.
Im going back to the Tree, I told him.
What are those? he demanded, stabbing his beak at the two bags I carried.
A gift for my new-found friends, I said.
What is a gift?
Youll see.
Birds are sometimes as curious as cats, and my lark badgered me about what was in my bags all the way back to the Tree.
My birds were ecstatic when I opened the bags and spread the wheat around under the Tree, and they came in from miles around to feast. I watched them fondly for a time, and then I climbed up into the Tree and sprawled out on one huge limb to watch my new friends. I got the distinct impression that the Tree approved of what I had done.
I thought about that for quite a long time that morning, but I was still baffled about just exactly how Id come by this unusual talent.
Its the Trees gift to you, Polgara. It was mothers voice, and suddenly everything became clear to me. Of course! Why hadnt I thought of that?
Probably because you werent paying attention, mother observed.
In the years that followed, the Tree became like a second home to me. I spent my days on my favorite perch with my skinny legs stretched out on the huge limb and my back against the massive trunk. I fed my birds and we talked. We came to know each other better and better, and they brought me information about the weather, forest fires, and occasional travelers passing through the Vale. My family was always carping about my shabby appearance, but my birds didnt seem to mind.
As those of you who know me can attest, I have an occasionally sharp tongue. My family was spared all sorts of affronts because of my fondness for the Tree and its feathered inhabitants.