"Books - David Eddings - Polgara the Sorceress" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

Even so, I could have devoutly maintained that my father's
longwinded version of the history of our peculiar world had already
filled in that obvious gap. I even went so far as to re-read father's
tedious story, trying very hard to prove to myself - and to my
mother - that I'd really have nothing to add. Soon father's glaring
omissions began to leap off the page at me. The old fraud hadn't
told the whole story, and mother knew it.

In father's defense, however, I'll admit that there were events that
took place when he wasn't present and others during which he
didn't fully understand what was really happening. Moreover, some
of the omissions which so irritated me as I read had their origin in his
desire to compress seven thousand years of history into something of
manageable length. I'll forgive him those lapses, but couldn't he at
least have gotten names and dates right? For the sake of keeping
peace in the family, I'll gloss over his imperfect memory of just who
said what in any given conversation. Human memory - and that's
assuming that my father's human - is never really all that exact, I
suppose. Why don't we just say that father and I remember things
a little differently and let it go at that, shall we? Try to keep that in
mind as you go along. Don't waste your time and mine - by
pointing out assorted variations.

The more I read, the more I came to realize that things I know
and father doesn't would be essential parts of Geran's education.
Moreover, a probably hereditary enthusiasm for a more complete
story began to come over me. I tried to fight it, but it soon conquered
me. I discovered that I actually wanted to tell my side of the
story.

I have a few suspicions about the origins of my change of heart,
but I don't think this is the place to air them.

The central fact of my early life was my sister Beldaran. We were
twins, and in some respects even closer than twins. To this very day
we're still not apart. Beldaran, dead these three thousand years and
more, is still very much a part of me. I grieve for her every day.
That might help to explain why I sometimes appear somber and
withdrawn. Father's narrative makes some issue of the fact that I
seldom smile. What's there to smile about, Old Wolf?
As father pointed out, I've read extensively, and I've noticed that
biographies normally begin at birth. Beldaran and I, however, began

just a bit earlier than that. For reasons of her own, mother arranged
it that way.
So now, why don't we get started?