Polgara the Sorceress. David Eddings

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      She went to a cluttered area of uncle Beldin’s tower and began rummaging around through the empty wooden boxes uncle had stacked there.

      ‘I gather from the tone of things that you girls are having a little disagreement,’ uncle said to me mildly.

      ‘It’s more like a permanent rupture,’ I retorted. ‘Beldaran’s going to obey father, and I’m not’

      ‘I wouldn’t make any wagers, Pol.’ Uncle Beldin had raised us, after all, and he understood our little power structure.

      ‘This is right and proper, Pol,’ Beldaran said back over her shoulder. ‘Respect, if not love, compels our obedience.’

      ‘Respect? I haven’t got any respect for that beer-soaked mendicant!’

      ‘You should have, Pol. Suit yourself, though. I’m going to obey him. You can do as you like. You will visit me from time to time, won’t you?’

      How could I possibly answer that? Now perhaps you can see the source of Beldaran’s power over me. She almost never lost her temper, and she always spoke in a sweetly reasonable tone of voice, but that was very deceptive. An ultimatum is an ultimatum, no matter how it’s delivered.

      I stared at her helplessly.

      ‘Don’t you think you should start packing, dear sister?’ she asked sweetly.

      I stormed out of uncle Beldin’s tower and went immediately to my Tree to sulk. A few short answers persuaded even my birds to leave me alone.

      I spent that entire night in the Tree, hoping the unnatural separation would bring Beldaran to her senses. My sister, however, concealed a will of iron under that sweet, sunny exterior. She moved into father’s tower with him, and after a day or so of almost unbearable loneliness, I sulkily joined them.

      This is not to say that I spent very much time in father’s cluttered tower. I slept there and occasionally ate with my father and sister, but it was summer. My Tree was all the home I really needed, and my birds provided me with company.

      As I look back, I see a peculiar dichotomy of motives behind that summer sabbatical in the branches of the Tree. Firstly, of course, I was trying to punish Beldaran for her betrayal of me. Actually, though, I stayed in the Tree because I liked it there. I loved the birds, and mother was with me almost continually as I scampered around among the branches, frequently assuming forms other than my own. I found that squirrels are very agile. Of course I could always become a bird and simply fly up to the top-most branches, but there’s a certain satisfaction in actually climbing.

      It was about midsummer when I discovered the dangers involved in taking the form of a rodent. Rodents of all sorts, from mice on up the scale, are looked upon as a food source by just about every other species in the world with the possible exception of goldfish. One bright summer morning I was leaping from limb to limb among the very top-most branches of the Tree when a passing hawk decided to have me for breakfast.

      ‘Don’t do that,’ I told him in a disgusted tone as he came swooping in on me.

      He flared off, his eyes startled. ‘Polgara?’ he said in amazement. ‘Is that really you?’

      ‘Of course it is, you clot.’

      ‘I’m very sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I didn’t recognize you.’

      ‘You should pay closer attention. All manner of creatures get caught in baited snares when they think they’re about to get some free food.’

      ‘Who would try to trap me?’

      ‘You wouldn’t want to find out.’

      ‘Would you like to fly with me?’ he offered.

      ‘How do you know I can fly?’

      ‘Can’t everybody?’ he asked, sounding a bit startled. He was evidently a very young hawk.

      To be absolutely honest, though, I enjoyed our flight. Each bird flies a little differently, but the effortless art of soaring, lifted by the unseen columns of warm air rising from the earth, gives one a sense of unbelievable freedom.