“Is there any hope at all?” she asked in a small voice.
“We can always hope,” Varana replied, but his tone said otherwise.
“Can I see him now?”
“Of course.” The general looked gravely at Garion. “Your Majesty,” he said, nodding.
“Your Highness,” Garion replied, remembering that Ce’Nedra’s wily father had “adopted” Varana several years back, and that the general was heir apparent to the Imperial Throne.
Varana led them with his limping gait through the marble corridors of the vast palace to a quiet wing and a door flanked by a towering pair of legionnaires in burnished breastplates.
As they approached, the heavy door opened quietly, and Lord Morin, the brown-mantled Imperial Chamberlain emerged. Morin had aged since Garion had last seen him, and his concern for his failing Emperor was written clearly on his face.
“Dear Morin,” Ce’Nedra said, impulsively embracing her father’s closest friend.
“Little Ce’Nedra,” he replied fondly. “I’m so glad you arrived in time. He’s been asking for you. I think perhaps the fact you were coming is all he’s been hanging on to.”
“Is he awake?”
Morin nodded. “He dozes a great deal, but he’s still alert most of the time.”
Ce’Nedra drew herself up, squared her shoulders and carefully assumed a bright, optimistic smile. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go in.”
Ran Borune lay in a vast canopied bed beneath a gold-colored coverlet. He had never been a large man, and his illness had wasted him down to a near-skeleton. His complexion was not so much pale as it was gray, and his beak-like nose was pinched and rose from his drawn face like the prow of a ship. His eyes were closed, and his thin chest seemed almost to flutter as he struggled to breathe.
“Father?” Ce’Nedra said so softly that her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
The Emperor opened one eye. “Well,” he said testily, “I see that you finally got here.”
“Nothing could have kept me away,” she told him, bending over the bed to kiss his withered cheek.
“That’s hardly encouraging,” he grunted.
“Now that I’m here, we’ll have to see about getting you well again.”
“Don’t patronize me, Ce’Nedra. My physicians have given up entirely ”
“What do they know? We Borunes are indestructible.”
“Did someone pass that law while I wasn’t looking?” The Emperor looked past his daughter’s shoulder at his son-in-law. “You’re looking well, Garion,” he said. “And please don’t waste your time on platitudes by telling me how wellI look. I look awful, don’t I?”
“Moderately awful, yes,” Garion replied.
Ran Borune flashed him a quick little grin. Then he turned back to his daughter. “Well, Ce’Nedra,” he said pleasantly, “what shall we fight about today?”
“Fight? Who said we were going to fight?”
“We always fight. I’ve been looking forward to it. I haven’t had a really good fight since you stole my legions that day.”
“Borrowed, father,” she corrected primly, almost in spite of herself.
“Is that what you call it?” He winked broadly at Garion. “You should have been there,” he chuckled. “She goaded me into a fit and then pinched my whole army while I was frothing at the mouth.”
“Pinched!”
Ce’Nedra exclaimed.
Ran Borune began to chuckle, but his laughter turned into a tearing cough that left him gasping and so weak that he could not even raise his head. He closed his eyes then and dozed for a while as Ce’Nedra hovered anxiously over him. After a quarter of an hour or so, Lord Morin quietly entered with a small flask and a silver spoon. “It’s time for his medicine,” he said softly to Ce’Nedra. “I don’t think it really helps very much, but we go through the motions anyway.”
“Is that you, Morin?” the Emperor asked without opening his eyes.
“Yes, Ran Borune.”
“Is there any word from Tol Rane yet?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“What did they say?”
“I’m afraid the season’s over there, too.”
“There has to beone tree somewhere in the world that’s still bearing fruit,” the emaciated little man in the imperial bed said exasperatedly.
“His Majesty has expressed a desire for some fresh fruit,” Morin told Ce’Nedra and Garion.
“Not justany fruit, Morin,” Ran Borune wheezed. “Cherries. I want cherries. Right now I’d bestow a Grand Duchy on any man who could bring me ripe cherries.”
“Don’t be so difficult, father,” Ce’Nedra chided him. “The season for cherries was over months ago. How about a nice ripe peach?”
“I don’twant peaches. I want cherries!”
“Well, you can’t have them.”
“You’re an undutiful daughter, Ce’Nedra,” he accused her.
Garion leaned forward and spoke quietly to Ce’Nedra. “I’ll be right back,” he told her and went out of the room with Morin. In the corridor outside they met General Varana.
“How is he?” the general asked.
“Peevish,” Garion replied. “He wants some cherries.”
“I know,” Varana said sourly. “He’s been asking for them for weeks. Trust a Borune to demand the impossible.”
“Are there any cherry trees here on the palace grounds?”
“There are a couple in his private garden. Why?”
“I thought I might have a word with them,” Garion said innocently, “explain a few things, and give them a bit of encouragement.”
Varana gave him a look of profound disapproval.
“It’s not really immoral,” Garion assured him.
Varana raised one hand and turned his face away. “Please, Belgarion,” he said in a pained voice, “don’t try to explain it to me. I don’t even want to hear about it. If you’re going to do it, just do it and get it over with, but please don’t try to convince me that it’s in any way natural or wholesome.”
“All right,” Garion agreed. “Which way did you say that garden was?”
It wasn’t really difficult, of course. Garion had seen Belgarath the Sorcerer do it on many occasions. It was no more than ten minutes later that he returned to the corridor outside the sickroom with a small basket of dark purple cherries.
Varana looked steadily at the basket, but said nothing. Garion quietly opened the door and went inside.
Ran Borune lay propped on his pillows, his drawn face sagging with exhaustion. “I don’t see why not,” he was saying to Ce’Nedra. “A respectful daughter would have presented her father with a half-dozen grandchildren by now.”
“We’ll get to it, father,” she replied. “Why is everyone so worried about it?”
“Because it’s important, Ce’Nedra. Not evenyou could be so silly as to-” He broke off, staring incredulously at the basket in Garion’s hand. “Where did you get those?” he demanded.
“I don’t think you really want to know, Ran Borune. It’s the kind of thing that seems to upset Tolnedrans for some reason.”
“You didn’t just make them, did you?” the emperor asked suspiciously.
“No. It’s much harder that way. I just gave the trees in your garden a little encouragement, that’s all. They were very co-operative.”
“What an absolutely splendid fellow you married, Ce’Nedra,” Ran Borune exclaimed, eyeing the cherries greedily. “Put those right here, my boy.” He patted the bed at his side.
Ce’Nedra flashed her husband a grateful little smile, took the basket from him, and deposited it by her father’s side. Almost absently she took one of the cherries and popped it into her mouth.
“Ce’Nedra! You stop eating my cherries!”
“Just checking to see if they’re ripe, father.”
” Any idiot can see that they’re ripe,” he said, clutching the basket possessively to his side. “If you want any, go get your own.” He carefully selected one of the plump, glowing cherries and put it in his mouth. “Marvelous,” he said, chewing happily.
“Don’t spit the seeds on the floor like that, father,” Ce’Nedra reproved him.
“It’s my floor,” he told her. “Mind your own business. Spitting the seeds is part of the fun.” He ate several more cherries. “We won’t discuss how you came by these, Garion,” he said magnanimously. “Technically, it’s a violation of Tolnedran law to practice sorcery anywhere in the Empire, but we’ll let it pass -just this once.”
“Thank you, Ran Borune,” Garion said. “I appreciate that.”
After he had eaten about half of the cherries, the Emperor smiled and sighed contentedly. “I feel better already,” he said. “Ce’Vanne used to bring me fresh cherries in that same kind of basket.”
“My mother,” Ce’Nedra said to Garion.
Ran Borune’s eyes clouded over. “I miss her,” he said very quietly. “She was impossible to live with, but I miss her more every day.”
“I scarcely remember her”‘ Ce’Nedra said wistfully.
“I remember her very well,” her father said. “I’d give my whole Empire if I could see her face just one more time.”
Ce’Nedra took his wasted hand in hers and looked imploringly at Garion. “Could you?” she asked, two great tears standing in her eyes.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he replied in some perplexity. “I think I know how it’s done, but I never met your mother, so I’d have to- ” He broke off, still trying to work it out in his mind. “I’m sure Aunt Pol could do it, but- ” He came to the bedside. “We can try.” he said. He took Ce’Nedra’s other hand and then Ran Borune’s, linking the three of them together.