“You should not have even listened to him.”
“When he’s trying to warn me that somebody might attempt to kill you? Ce’Nedra, be serious.”
“The thought is there now, Garion,” she said accusingly. “Now you know that you can get rid of me any time you want. I’ve seen you ogling those empty-headed Alorn girls with their long blonde braids and their overdeveloped bosoms. Now’s your chance, Garion. Which one will you choose?”
“Are you about finished with all of this?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I see,” she said. “Now I’m not merely barren, I’m also hysterical.”
“No, you’re just a little silly now and then, that’s all.”
“Silly?”
“Everybody’s silly once in a while,” he added quite calmly. “It’s part of being human. I’m actually a little surprised that you aren’t throwing things.”
She threw a quick, guilty glance in the direction of some of the broken fragments in the corner.
“Oh,” he said, catching the glance. “You did that earlier, I see. I’m glad I missed that part. It’s hard to try to reason with somebody when you’re dodging flying crockery and the other person is shrieking curses.”
Ce’Nedra blushed slightly.
“You didthat too?” he asked mildly. “Sometimes I wonder where you managed to pick up all those words. How did you ever find out what they mean?”
“You
swear all the time,” she accused.
“I know,” he admitted. “It’s terribly unfair. I’m allowed to, but you’re not.”
“I’d like to know who made up that rule,” she started, and then her eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to change the subject,” she accused him.
“No, Ce’Nedra, I already did. We weren’t getting anywhere with the other topic. You arenot barren, and I amnot going to divorce you, no matter how long somebody else’s braids are, or how -well, never mind.”
She looked at him. “Oh, Garion, what if I am?” she said in a small voice. “Barren, I mean?”
“That’s absurd, Ce’Nedra. We won’t even discuss that.”
The lingering doubt in the eyes of the Rivan Queen, however, said quite clearly that, even if they did not discuss it, she would continue to worry about it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The season made the Sea of the Winds extremely hazardous, and Garion was forced to wait for a full month before he could dispatch a messenger to the Vale of Aldur. By then the late autumn snowstorms had clogged the passes in the mountains of eastern Sendaria, and the royal messenger was obliged literally to wade his way across the plains of Algaria.
With all these delays, it was very nearly Erastide by the time Aunt Pol, Durnik, and Errand arrived at the snowy quay in the harbor at Riva. Durnik admitted to Garion that it had only been a chance meeting with the wayward Captain Greldik, who feared no storm that any sea could hurl at him, that had made the trip possible at all. Polgara spoke briefly with the vagabond seaman before they began the long climb up to the Citadel, and Garion noted with some surprise that Greldik slipped his hawsers immediately and sailed back out to sea.
Polgara seemed quite unconcerned about the gravity of the problem that had impelled Garion to send for her. She spoke with him only a couple of times about it, asking a few rather direct questions that set his ears to flaming. Her discussions with Ce’Nedra were a bit more lengthy, but only slightly so.
Garion received the distinct impression that she was waiting for someone or something before proceeding.
The Erastide celebration at Riva that year was somewhat subdued. Although it was very pleasant to have Polgara, Durnik, and Errand with them to join in the festivities, Garion’s concern over the problem Brand had raised dampened his enjoyment of the holiday.
Several weeks afterward, Garion entered the royal apartment one snowy midafternoon to find Polgara and Ce’Nedra seated by a cozy fire sipping tea and chatting together quietly. The curiosity which had been growing in him since the arrival of his visitors finally boiled to a head.
“Aunt Pol,” he began.
“Yes dear?”
“You’ve been here for almost a month now.”
“Has it been that long? The time certainly passes quickly when you’re with people you love.”
“There’s still this little problem, you know,” he reminded her.
“Yes, Garion,” she replied patiently. “I’m aware of that.”
“Are we doing anything about it?”
“No,” she said placidly, “not yet, anyhow.”
“It’s sort of important, Aunt Pol. I don’t want to seem to be trying to rush you or anything, but- ” He broke off helplessly.
Polgara rose from her chair, went to the window, and looked out at the small private garden just outside. The garden was clogged with snow, and the pair of intertwined oak trees Ce’Nedra had planted there at the time of her betrothal to Garion were bowed slightly beneath the weight on their limbs. “One of the things you’ll learn as you grow older, Garion,” she said to him, gravely looking out at the snowy garden, “is patience. Everything has its proper season. The solution to your problem isn’t all that complicated, but it’s just not the proper time to come to grips with it yet.”
“I don’t understand at all, Aunt Pol.”
“Then you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
“Of course I trust you, Aunt Pol. It’s just- ”
“Just what, dear?”
“Nothing.”
It was late winter before Captain Greldik returned from the south. A storm had sprung one of the seams of his ship, and she was taking water as she wallowed heavily around the headland and made for the quay.
“I thought for a while there that I might have to swim,” the bearded Cherek growled as he limped across to the quay. “Where’s the best place to beach this poor old cow of mine? I’m going to have to chalk her bottom.”
“Most sailors use that inlet there,” Garion replied, pointing.
“Ihate to beach a ship in the winter,” Greldik said bitterly. “Is there someplace where I can get a drink?”
“Up at the Citadel,” Garion offered.
“Thanks. Oh, I brought that visitor Polgara wanted.”
“Visitor?”
Greldik stepped back, squinted at his ship to determine the location of the aft cabin, then went over and kicked the planking several times. “We’re here!” he bellowed. He turned back to Garion. “I really hate to sail with women on board. I’m not superstitious, but sometimes I really think theydo bring bad luck -and you’ve always got to watch your manners.”
“You have a woman aboard?” Garion asked curiously.
Greldik grunted sourly. “Pretty little thing, but she seems to expect deferential treatment; and when your whole crew is busy bailing seawater out of your bilges, you don’t have much time for that.”
“Hello, Garion,” a light voice said from up on deck.
“Xera?” Garion stared up into the small face of his wife’s cousin. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, Garion,” the red-haired Dryad replied calmly. She was bundled up to the ears in thick, warm furs, and her breath steamed in the frosty air. “I got here as quickly as I could when I received Lady Polgara’s summons.” She smiled sweetly down at the sour-faced Greldik. “Captain,” she said, “could you have some of your men bring those bales along for me?”
“Dirt,” Greldik snorted. “I sail two thousand leagues in the dead of winter to carry one small girl, two casks of water, and four bales of dirt.”
“Loam, Captain,” Xera corrected meticulously, “loam. There’ s a difference, you know.”
“I’m a sailor”‘ Greldik said. “To me, dirt is dirt.”
“Whatever you wish, Captain,” Xera said winsomely. “Now do be a dear and have the bales carried up to the Citadel for me -and I’ll need the casks as well.”
Grumbling, Captain Greldik gave the orders.
Ce’Nedra was ecstatic when she learned that her cousin had arrived in Riva. The two of them flew into each other’s arms and dashed off immediately to find Polgara.
“They’re very fond of each other, aren’t they?” Durnik observed. The smith was dressed in furs and wore a pair of well-tarred boots. Shortly after his arrival, despite the fact that it was in the dead of winter, Durnik had discovered a large, swirling pool in the river that dropped out of the mountains and ran just to the north of the city. With astounding self-restraint, he had actually stared at that ice-rimmed pool for a full ten minutes before going in search of a fishing pole. Now he happily spent most of each day probing those dark, churning waters with a waxed line and a bright lure in search of the silvery-sided salmon that lurked beneath the turbulent surface. The closest Garion had ever seen his Aunt Pol actually come to scolding her husband had been on the day when she had intercepted him on his way out of the Citadel into the very teeth of a screaming blizzard, whistling, and with his fishing pole over his shoulder.
“What am I supposed to do with all of this?” Greldik demanded, pointing at the six burly sailors who had carried Xera’s bales and casks up the long stairway to the grim fortress brooding over the city.