David Eddings – The Seeress of Kell

“I know, Garion, but if I keep this one I’ll have two.”

He laughed, firmly took the diamond from her tightly clenched little fist, and returned it to its place under the step.

They mounted their horses and rode slowly away from the tower in the bright sunshine of a spring noon. Ce’Nedra held Geran, and the wolf scampered alongside, dashing out from time to time to chase rabbits.

After they had gone a little way, Garion heard a familiar whisper of sound. He reined Chretienne in. “Ce’Nedra,” he said, pointing back at the tower, “look.”

She looked back. “I don’t see anything.”

“Wait. They’ll be out in a moment.”

“They?”

“Grandmotherand Grandfather. There they come now.”

“W-

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THE HIGH PLACES OF KORIM

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Two wolves bounded out through the open door of the tower and ran across the grassy plain, matching stride for stride as they ran. There was a kind of unbridled freedom and an intense joy in the way they ran.

“I thought they were going to get started with the cleaning,” Ce’Nedra said.

“This is more important, Ce’Nedra. Much, much more important.”

They reached the cottage just as the sun was going down. Durnik was still busy in the fields, and they could hear Polgara singing softly in the kitchen. Ce’Nedra went inside, and Garion and the wolf crossed the field to join Durnik.

The meal that evening consisted of a roast goose and everything that went with it: gravy, dressing, three kinds of vegetables, and freshly baked bread, still hot from the oven and dripping with butter.

“Where did you get the goose, Pol?” Durnik asked.

“I cheated,” she admitted calmly.

“Pol!”

“I’ll explain it some other time, dear. Let’s eat it before it all gets cold.”

After supper they sat near the fire. They didn’t really need a fire—indeed, the doors and windows were even open—but fire and hearth were a part of home, sometimes necessary even when not, strictly speaking, needed.

Polgara held Geran, her cheek against his curls and a dreamy look of contentment on her face. “Just practicing,” she said quietly to Ce’Nedra.

“There’s no way you could ever forget that, Aunt Pol,” the Rivan Queen said. “You’ve raised hundreds of little boys.”

“Well, not quite that many, dear, but it never hurts to keep one’s hand in.”

The wolf lay sound asleep on the hearth before the fire. He was making small yipping noises, however, and his feet were twitching.

“He’s dreaming.” Durnik smiled.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Garion said. ‘ ‘He spent the whole time while we were coming back from Grandfather’s tower chasing rabbits. He didn’t catch any, though. I don’t think he was really trying.”

“Speaking of dreaming,” Aunt Pol said, rising to her feet. “You two and your son and your puppy will want an early start in the morning. Why don’t we all go to bed?”

They arose at first light the next morning, ate a hearty breakfast, and then Durnik and Garion went out to saddle the horses.

The farewells were not prolonged. There was no real need for extended farewells among these four, because they would never really be apart. There were a few brief words, a few kisses, and a gruff handshake between Durnik and Garion, and then the Rivan King and his family rode up the hill.

Halfway to the top, Ce’Nedra turned in her saddle. “Aunt Pol,” she called, “I love you.”

“Yes, dear,” Polgara called back, “I know. I love you, too.”

And then Garioii led the way on up the hill and toward home.

EPILOGUE

It was raid-autumn. The Alorn Council had taken place at Riva late that summer, and it had been boisterous, even rowdy. It had been attended by many who would not normally have been present. Non-Alorn rulers—and their queens—had virtually outnumbered the Alorn monarchs. Ladies from all over the west had descended upon Ce’Nedra and Polgara, showering them with congratulations, and young children had gathered about Geran, attracted by his sunny disposition—and by the fact that the little boy had somehow discovered a long-unused route to the pastry kitchen and all the treasures contained therein. If the truth were to be known, there was very little in the way of business conducted that year. And then, as always, a series of late-summer storms announced that the meetings were at an end and it was time for the visitors to begin thinking seriously about going home. This had always been the advantage of holding the council in Riva. Although guests might prefer to linger, the

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steady march of the seasons persuaded them mat it was time to depart.

Affairs had settled down in Riva. There had been a wild celebration when the king and his wife had at last returned with Crown Prince Geran, but no people, no matter how emotional, could celebrate forever, and after a few weeks things had returned to normal.

Garion spent most days closeted with Kail now. Many decisions had been made in his absence. Although, almost without exception, he approved of Kail’s handling of those matters, he still needed to be briefed on them and some of those decisions needed to be ratified by the royal signature.

Ce’Nedra’s pregnancy was proceeding along expected lines. The little queen bloomed and swelled and became increasingly short-tempered. The peculiar hungers for exotic foods that sometimes beset ladies in that delicate condition were not nearly as much fun for the Rivan Queen as they were for most other ladies. There has long been a suspicion in the male half of the population that these gastronomical yearnings are nothing more than a peculiar form of entertainment for their wives. The more exotic and unobtainable a given food might be and the more extreme the lengths to which a doting husband must go to put his hands on it, the more the ladies would insist that they would absolutely die if it were not provided in abundance. Gar-ion privately suspected that the whole business involved little more than a desire for reassurance. If a husband proved willing to disassemble the known world to obtain strawberries out of season or strange seafoods normally found only in waters half a world away, it was a sure sign that he still loved his wife, despite her disappearing waistline. It was not nearly as much fun for Ce’Nedra, because each time she made a seemingly impossible request, Garion simply stepped into the next room, created the foodstuff in question on the spot, and presented it to her— usually on a silver platter. Ce’Nedra grew increasingly sulky about the whole business and finally gave up on it entirely.

And then late on a very frosty autumn evening, an ice-coated Mallorean ship entered the harbor, and her captain delivered a packet of neatly folded parchment bearing the seal of Zakath of Mallorea. Garion thanked the seaman profusely, offered him and his crew the hospitality of the Citadel, and then immediately carried Zakath’s letter to the royal apartment. Ce’Nedra was sitting by the fire, knitting. Geran and the young wolf were lying togetheron the hearth, both of them dozing and twitching slightly

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as they dreamed. The two always slept together. Ce’Nedra had finally given up the idea of trying to keep them separate at night, since no door in the world could be effectively locked from both sides.

“What is it, dear?” she asked as Garion entered.

*’We just received a letter from Zakath,” he replied.

“Oh? What does he say?”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

“Open it, Garion. I’m dying to find out what’s happening in Mal Zeth.”

Garion broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. “For his Majesty, King Belgarion of Riva,” he read aloud, “Overlord of the West, Godstayer, Lord of the Western Sea, and for his revered Queen, Ce’Nedra, co-ruler of the Isle of the Winds, Princess of the Tolnedran Empire, and Jewel of the House of Borune—from Zakath, Emperor of all of Angarak.

“I hope this finds you both in good health and I send greetings to your daughter, whether she has already arrived or if her birth be still impending. (I have not, I hasten to assure you, become suddenly clairvoyant. Cyradis said once that she was no longer blessed with her vision. I have come to suspect that she was not entirely truthful on that score.)

“A great deal has happened here since we parted. The imperial court, I suspect, was more than a little pleased by the alteration in my personality which was the direct result of our journey to Korim and by what happened there. I must have been an impossible ruler to deal with. This is not to suggest that all here in Mal Zeth has become a fairy tale of good feeling and felicity. The general staff was mightily upset when I declared my intention to conclude a peace treaty with King Urgit. You know how generals are. If you take their favorite war away from them, they snivel and complain and pout like spoiled children. I had to step on a few necks quite firmly. Incidentally, I recently promoted Atesca to the position of commander-in-chief of the armies of Mallorea. This also enraged the other members of the general staff, but no one can please everybody.

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