The state funeral for Emperor Ran Borune XXIII of the Third Borune Dynasty took place a few days later in the Temple of Nedra, Lion God of the Empire. The temple was a huge marble building not far from the Imperial Palace. The altar was backed by a vast fan of pure, beaten gold, with the head of a lion in its center. Directly in front of the altar stood the simple marble bier of Ce'Nedra's father. The late Emperor lay in calm repose, covered from the neck down by a cloth of gold. The column-lined inner hall of the temple was filled to overflowing as the members of the great families vied with one another, not so much to pay their respects to Ran Borune, but rather to display the opulence of their clothing and the sheer weight of their personal adornment.
Garion and Ce'Nedra, both dressed in deepest mourning, sat beside General Varana at the front of the vast hall as the eulogies were delivered. Tolnedran politics dictated that a representative of each of the major houses should speak upon this sad occasion. The speeches, Garion suspected, had been prepared long in advance. They were all quite flowery and tiresome, and each one seemed to be directed at the point that, although Ran Borune was gone, the Empire lived on.
Many of the speakers seemed quite smug about that.
When the eulogies had at last been completed, the white-robed High Priest of Nedra, a pudgy, sweating man with a grossly sensual mouth, arose and stepped to the front of the altar to add his own contribution. Drawing upon events in the life of Ran Borune, he delivered a lengthy homily on the advantages of having wealth and using it wisely. At first Garion was shocked by the High Priest's choice of subject matter, but the rapt faces of the throng in the temple told him that a sermon about money was very moving to a Tolnedran congregation and that the High Priest, by selecting such a topic, was able thereby to slip in any number of laudatory comments about Ce'Nedra's father.
Once all the tedious speeches were completed, the little Emperor was laid to rest beside his wife under a marble slab in the Borune section of the catacombs beneath the temple.
The so-called mourners then returned to the main temple hall to express their condolences to the bereaved family.
Ce'Nedra bore up well, though she was very pale. On one occasion she swayed slightly, and Garion, without thinking, reached out to support her.
"Don't touch me!" she whispered sharply under her breath, raising her chin sharply.
"What?" Garion was startled.
"We cannot show any sign of weakness in the presence of our enemies. I willnot break down for the entertainment of the Honeths or the Horbites or the Vordues. My father would rise from his grave in disgust if I did."
The nobles of all the great houses continued to file past to offer their extensive and obviously counterfeit sympathy to the sable-gowned little Rivan Queen. Garion found their half-concealed smirks contemptible and their barbed jibes disgusting. His face grew more stern and disapproving as the moments passed. His threatening presence soon dampened the enjoyment of the Grand Dukes and their ladies and sycophants. The Tolnedrans were genuinely afraid of this tall, mysterious Alorn monarch who had come out of nowhere to assume Riva's throne and to shake the very earth with his footsteps. Even as they approached Ce'Nedra to deliver their poisonous observations, his cold, grim face made them falter, and many carefully prepared impertinences went unsaid.
At last, disgusted so much that even his Sendarian good manners deserted him, he placed his hand firmly on his wife's elbow. "We will leave now"' he said to her in a voice which could be clearly heard by everyone in the vast temple. "The air in this place has turned a trifle rancid."
Ce'Nedra cast him one startled glance, then lifted her chin in her most regal and imperious manner, laid her hand lightly on his arm, and walked with him toward the huge bronze doors. The silence was vast as they moved with stately pace through the throng, and a wide path opened for them.
"That was very nicely done, dear," Ce'Nedra complimented him warmly as they rode in the gold-inlaid imperial carriage back toward the palace.
"It seemed appropriate," he replied. "I'd reached the point where I either had to say something rather pointed or turn the whole lot of them into toads."
"My, what an enchanting thought," she exclaimed. "We could go back, if you want."
When Varana arrived back at the palace an hour or so later, he was positively gloating. "Belgarion," he said with a broad grin, "you're a splendid young fellow, do you know that? With that one word you mortally offended virtually the entire nobility of northern Tolnedra."
"Which word was that?"
"Rancid."
"I'm sorry about that one."
"Don't be. It perfectly describes them."
"It is a bit coarse, though."
"Not under the circumstances. Itdid manage to make you any number of lifelong enemies, however."
"That's all I need," Garion replied sourly. "Give me just a few more years, and I'll have enemies in all parts of the world."
" A king isn't really doing his job if he doesn't make enemies, Belgarion. Any jackass can go through life without offending people."
"Thanks."
There had been some uncertainty about which course Varana would follow once Ran Borune was gone. His 'adoption', by the late Emperor had clearly been a ruse with very little in the way of legality to back it up. The candidates for the throne, blinded by their own lust for the Imperial Crown, had convinced themselves that he would merely serve as a kind of caretaker until the question of the succession had been settled in the usual fashion.
The issue remained in doubt until his official coronation, which took place two days after Ran Borune's funeral. The gloating exultation among the contenders for the throne was almost audible when the general limped into the Temple of Nedra dressed in his uniform, rather than the traditional gold mantle which only the Emperor was allowed to wear. Obviously this man did not intend to take his elevation seriously. It might cost a bit to bribe him, but the way to the Imperial Palace was still open. The grins were broad as Varana, gleaming in his gold-inlaid breastplate, approached the altar.
The pudgy High Priest bent forward for a moment of whispered consultation. Varana replied, and the ecclesiast's face suddenly went deathly pale. Trembling violently, he opened the gold and crystal cask on the altar and removed the jewel-encrusted Imperial Crown. Varana's short-cropped hair was anointed with the traditional ungent, and the High Priest raised the crown with shaking hands. "I crown thee," he declared in a voice almost squeaky with fright. " -I crown thee Emperor Ran Borune XXIV, Lord of all Tolnedra."
It took a moment for that to sink in. Then the temple was filled with howls of anguished protest as the Tolnedran nobility grasped the fact that by the choice of his imperial name, Varana was clearly announcing that he intended to keep the crown for himself. Those howls were cut off sharply as the Tolnedran legionnaires, who had quietly filed into place along the colonnade surrounding the main temple floor, drew their swords with a huge, steely rasp. The gleaming swords raised in salute.
"Hail Ran Borune!" the legions thundered. "Hail Emperor of Tolnedra!" And that was that.
That evening as Garion, Ce'Nedra, and the newly crowned Emperor sat together in a crimson-draped private chamber filled with the golden glow of dozens of candles, Varana exclaimed. "Surprise is as important in politics as it is in military tactics, Belgarion. If your opponent doesn't know what you're going to do, there's no way he can prepare countermeasures." The general now openly wore the gold mantle of the Emperor.
"That makes sense," Garion replied, sipping at a goblet of Tolnedran wine. "Wearing your breastplate instead of the Imperial Mantle kept them guessing right up until the last minute."
"That was for a much more practical reason." Varana laughed. "Many of those young nobles have had military training, and we teach our legionnaires how to throw daggers. Since my back was going to be toward them, I wanted a good, solid layer of steel covering the area between my shoulder blades."
"Tolnedran politics are very nervous, aren't they?"
Varana nodded his agreement. "Fun, though," he added.
"You have a peculiar notion of fun. I've had a few daggers thrown at me and I didn't find it all that amusing."
"We Anadiles have always had a peculiar sense of humor."
"Borune, uncle," Ce'Nedra corrected primly.
"What was that, dear?"
"You're a Borune now, not an Anadile -and you should start acting like one."
"Bad-tempered, you mean? That's not really in my nature."
"Ce'Nedra could give you lessons, if you like," Garion offered, grinning fondly at his wife.
"What?"
Ce'Nedra exclaimed indignantly, her voice going up an octave or so.
"I suppose she could at that," Varana agreed blandly. "She's always been very good at it."
Ce'Nedra sighed mournfully, eyeing the pair of grinning monarchs. Then her expression became artfully tragic. "What's a poor little girl to do?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Here I am, maltreated and abused by both my husband and my brother."
Varana blinked. "You know, I hadn't even thought of that. Youare my sister now, aren't you?"
"Perhaps you aren't quite as clever as I thought, brother dear," she purred at him. "Iknow that Garion's not quite bright, but I thought better of you."
Garion and Varana exchanged rueful glances.
"Would you gentlemen like to play some more?" Ce'Nedra asked them, her eyes twinkling and a smug smile hovering about her lips.
There was a light tap on the door.
"Yes?" Varana said.
"Lord Morin to see you, your Majesty"' the guard outside the door announced.
"Send him in, please."
The Imperial Chamberlain entered quietly. His face was marked by the sorrow he felt at the passing of the man he had served so long and faithfully, but he still performed his duties with the quiet efficiency that had always been his outstanding characteristic.
"Yes, Morin?" Varana said.
"There's someone waiting outside, your Majesty. She's rather notorious, so I thought I should speak to you privately before I presented her to you."
"Notorious?"
"It's the courtesan Bethra, your Majesty." Morin said with a faintly embarrassed look at Ce'Nedra. "She's been -ah- shall we say, useful to the crown in the past. She has access to a great deal of information as a result of her professional activities and she was a longtime friend of Ran Borune's. From time to time she kept him advised of the activities of certain unfriendly nobles. He made arrangements for there to be a way by which she could enter the palace unnoticed so that they could -ah- talk, among other things."
"Why, that sly old fox."
"I have never known her information to be inaccurate, your Majesty." Morin continued. "She says she has something very important to tell you."
"You'd better bring her in, then, Morin," Varana said, "With you permission, of course, dear sister," he added to Ce'Nedra.
"Certainly," Ce'Nedra agreed, her eyes afire with curiosity.
When Morin brought the woman in, she was wearing a light, hooded cloak, but when, with one smooth, round arm, she reached up and pushed the hood back, Garion started slightly. He knew her. He recalled that when he and Aunt Pol and the others had been passing through Tol Honeth during their pursuit of Zedar the Apostate and the stolen Orb, this same woman had accosted Silk for a bantering exchange.
As she unfastened the neck of her cloak and let it slide almost sensuously from her creamy shoulders, he saw that she had not changed in the nearly ten years since he had last seen her. Her lustrous, blue-black hair was untouched by any hint of gray. Her startlingly beautiful face was still as smooth as a girl's, and her heavy-lidded eyes were still filled with a sultry wickedness. Her gown was of palest lavender and cut in such a way as to enhance rather than conceal the lush, almost overripe body it enclosed. It was the kind of body that was a direct challenge to every man she met. Garion stared openly at her until he caught Ce'Nedra's green eyes, agate-hard, boring into him, and he quickly looked away.
"Your Majesty," Bethra said in a throaty contralto as she curtsied gracefully to the new Emperor, "I would have waited a time before introducing myself, but I've heard a few things I thought you should know immediately."
"I appreciate your friendship, Lady Bethra," Varana replied with exquisite courtesy.
She laughed a warm, wicked laugh. "I'm not a lady, your Majesty," she corrected him. "Most definitelynot a lady." She made a small curtsy to Ce'Nedra. "Princess," she murmured.
"Madame," Ce'Nedra responded with a faint chill in her voice and a very slight inclination of her head.
"Ah," Bethra said almost sadly. Then she turned back to Varana. "Late this afternoon I was entertaining Count Ergon and the Baron Kelbor at my establishment."
"A pair of powerful Honethite nobles," Varana explained to Garion.
"The gentlemen from the house of Honeth are less than pleased with your Majesty's choice of an official name," Bethra continued. "They spoke hastily and in some heat, but I think that you might want to take what they said seriously. Ergon is an unmitigated ass, all bluster and pomposity, but Baron Kelbor is not the sort to be taken lightly. At any rate, they concluded that, with the legions all around the palace, it would be unlikely that an assassin could reach you; but then Kelbor said, 'If you want to kill a snake, you cut off its tail -just behind the head. We can't reach Varana, but wecan reach his son. Without an heir, Varana's line dies with him."
"My son?" Varana said sharply.
"His life is in danger, your Majesty. I thought you should know."
"Thank you, Bethra," Varana replied gravely. Then he turned to Morin. "Send a detachment of the third legion to my son's house," he said. "No one is to go in or out until I've had time to make other arrangements."
"At once, your Majesty."
"I would also like to speak with the two gentlemen from the House of Honeth. Send some troops to invite them to the palace. Have them wait in that little room adjoining the torture chamber down in the dungeons until I have the time to discuss this with them."
"You wouldn't," Ce'Nedra gasped.
"Probably not," Varana admitted, "but they don't have to know that, do they? Let's give them a nervous hour or two."
"I'll see to it immediately, your Majesty"' Morin said. He bowed and quietly left the room.
"I'm told that you knew my father," Ce'Nedra said to the lushly curved woman standing in the center of the room.
"Yes, Princess," Bethra responded. "Quite well, actually. We were friends for years."
Ce'Nedra's eyes narrowed.
"Your father was a vigorous man, Princess," Bethra told her calmly. "I'm told that many people prefer not to believe that kind of thing about their parents, but it does happen now and again. I was quite fond of him and I'll miss him very much, I think."
"I don't believe you," Ce'Nedra said bluntly.
"That's up to you, of course."
"My father would not have done that."
"Whatever you say, Princess," Bethra said with a faint smile.
"You're lying!" Ce'Nedra snapped.
A momentary glint came into Bethra's eyes. "No, Princess. I don't lie. I might conceal the truth at times, but I never lie. Lies are too easily found out. Ran Borune and I were intimate friends and we enjoyed each other's company in many ways." Her look became faintly amused. "Your upbringing has sheltered you from certain facts, Princess Ce'Nedra. Tol Honeth is an extremely corrupt city, and I am fully at home here. Let's face a certain blunt truth. I'm a harlot and I make no apology for that fact. The work is easy -even pleasant at times- and the pay is very good. I'm on the best of terms with some of the richest and most powerful men in the world. We talk, and they value my conversation, but when they come to my house, it's not the talk they're interested in. The talk comes later. It was much the same when I visited your father. Wedid talk, Princess, but it was usually later."
Ce'Nedra's face was flaming, and her eyes were wide with shock. "No one hasever talked to me that way before," she gasped.
"Then it was probably overdue," Bethra said calmly. "You're much wiser now -not happier, perhaps, but wiser. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably leave. The Honeths have spies everywhere, and I think it might not be a good idea for them to find out about this visit."
"I want to thank you for the information you've just brought me, Bethra," Varana said to her. "Let me give you something for your trouble."
"That has never been necessary, your Majesty," she replied with an arch little smile. "Information isnot what I sell. I'll go now -unless you want to talk business, of course." She paused in the act of putting her cloak back on and gave him a very direct look.
"Ah -this might not be the best time, Bethra," Varana said with a faintly regretful note in his voice and a quick sidelong glance at Ce'Nedra.
"Some other time then, perhaps." She curtsied again and quietly left the room, the musky fragrance of the scent she wore lingering in the air behind her.
Ce'Nedra was still blushing furiously, and her eyes were outraged. She spun to face Garion and Varana. "Don't either of youdare say anything," she commanded. "Not one single word."
The sad visit to Tol Honeth ended a few days later, and Garion and Ce'Nedra took ship again for the voyage back to the Isle of the Winds. Though Ce'Nedra seldom gave any outward hints of her grief, Garion knew her well enough to understand that her father's death had hurt her deeply. Because he loved her and was sensitive to her emotions, he treated her with a certain extra tenderness and consideration for the next several months.
In mid-autumn that year, the Alorn Kings and Queen Porenn, Regent of Drasnia, arrived at Riva for the traditional meeting of the Alorn Council. The meeting had none of the urgency which had marked those meetings previously. Torak was dead, the Angaraks were convulsed by war, and a king sat upon the Rivan throne. The entire affair was almost purely social, though the kings did make some pretense at holding business sessions in the blue-draped council chamber high in the south tower of the Citadel. They gravely talked about the stalemated war in southern Cthol Murgos and about the troubles Varana was having with the Vordue family of northern Tolnedra.
Warned perhaps by the failure of the Honeths in their attempts at assassination, the Vordues decided to try secession. Shortly after Varana's coronation as Ran Borune XXIV, the Vordue family declared that their Grand Duchy was no longer a part of Tolnedra but rather was a separate, independent kingdom -although they had not yet decided which of their number was to ascend the throne.
"Varana's going to have to move the legions against them," King Anheg declared, wiping the ale foam from his mouth with his sleeve. "Otherwise, the other families will secede too, and Tolnedra will fly apart like a broken spring."
"It's not really that simple, Anheg," Queen Porenn told him smoothly, turning back from the window out of which she had been watching the activity in the harbor far below. The Queen of Drasnia still wore deep mourning, and her black gown seemed to enhance her blonde loveliness. "The legions will gladly fight any foreign enemy, but Varana can't ask them to attack their own people."
Anheg shrugged. "He could bring up legions from the south. They're all Borunes or Anadiles or Ranites. They wouldn't mind trampling over the Vordues."
"But then the northern legions would step in to stop them. Once the legions start fighting each other, the Empire willreally disintegrate."
"I guess I really hadn't thought of it that way"' Anheg admitted. "You know, Porenn, you're extremely intelligent -for a woman."
"And you're extremely perceptive -for a man," she replied with a sweet smile.
"That's one for her side," King Cho-Hag said quietly.
"Were we keeping score?" Garion asked mildly.
"It helps us to keep track, sort of," the Chief of the Clan-Chiefs of Algaria answered with a straight face.
It was not until several days later that word reached Riva concerning Varana's rather novel approach to his problem with the Vordues. A Drasnian ship sailed into the harbor one morning, and an agent of the Drasnian Intelligence Service brought a sheaf of dispatches to Queen Porenn. After she read them, she entered the council chamber with a smug little smile. "I believe we can set our minds at rest about Varana's abilities, gentlemen," she told the Alorn Kings. "He appears to have found a solution to the Vordue question."
"Oh?" Brand rumbled. "What is it?"
"My informants advise me that he has made a secret arrangement with King Korodullin of Arendia. This so-called Kingdom of Vordue has suddenly become absolutely infested with Arendish bandits -most of them in full armor, oddly enough."
"Wait a minute, Porenn," Anheg interrupted. "If it's a secret arrangement, how is it that you know about it?"
The little blonde Queen of Drasnia lowered her eyelids demurely. "Why, Anheg, dear, weren't you aware of the fact that I know everything?"
"Another one for her side," King Cho-Hag said to Garion.
"I'd say so, yes," Garion agreed.
"At any rate," the Drasnian Queen continued, "there are now whole battalions of brainless young Mimbrate knights in Vordue, all posing as bandits and plundering and burning at will. The Vordues don't have what you could call an army, so they've been screaming for aid from the legions. My people managed to get their hands on a copy of Varana's reply." She unfolded a document. " 'To the government of the Kingdom of Vordue,"' she read, "'Greetings: Your recent appeal for help came as a great surprise to me. Surely the esteemed gentlemen in Tol Vordue would not want me to violate the sovereignty of their newly established kingdom by sending Tolnedran legions across their borders to deal with a few Arendish brigands. The maintenance of public order is the paramount responsibility of any government, and I would not dream of intruding my forces into so fundamental an area. To do so would raise grave doubts in the minds of reasonable men the world over as to the viability of your new state. I do, however, send you my best wishes in your efforts to deal with what is, after all, a strictly internal matter.' "
Anheg began to laugh, pounding his heavy fist on the table in his glee. "I think that calls for a drink," he chortled.
"I think it might call for several," Garion agreed. "We can toast the efforts of the Vordues to maintain order."
"I trust you gentlemen will excuse me then," Queen Porenn said. "No mere woman could ever hope to compete with the Kings of Aloria when it comes to really serious drinking."
"Of course, Porenn," Anheg agreed magnanimously. "We'll even drink your share for you."
"You're too kind," she murmured and withdrew.
Much of the evening that followed was lost in a hazy fog of ale fumes for Garion. He seemed to remember weaving down a corridor with Anheg on one side and Brand on the other. The three of them had their arms about one anothers' shoulders, and they staggered in a peculiar kind of unison. He also seemed to remember that they were singing. When he was sober, Garion never sang. That night, however, it seemed like the most natural and enjoyable thing in the world.
He had not been drunk before. Aunt Pol had always disapproved of drinking, and, as he did in most things, he had deferred to her opinions about the matter. Thus, he was totally unprepared for the way he felt the next morning.
Ce'Nedra was unsympathetic, to say the very least. Like every woman who had ever lived since the beginning of time, she smugly enjoyed her husband's suffering. "I told you that you were drinking too much," she reminded him.
"Please don't," he said, holding his head between his hands.
"It's your own fault," she smirked.
"Just leave me alone," he begged. "I'm trying to die."
"Oh, I don't think you'll die, Garion. You might wish you could, but you won't."
"Do you have to talk so loud?"
"We all justloved your singing," she congratulated him brightly. "I actually think you invented notes that didn't even exist before."
Garion groaned and once more buried his face between his trembling hands.
The Alorn Council lasted for perhaps another week. It might have continued longer had not a savage autumn storm announced with a howling gale that it was time for the assembled guests to return to the mainland while the Sea of the Winds was still navigable.
Not too many days later, Brand, the tall, aging Rivan Warder, requested a private audience with Garion. It was raining gustily outside, and sheets of water intermittently clawed at the windows of Garion's study as the two men sat down in comfortable chairs across the table from each other. "May I speak frankly, Belgarion?" the big, sad-eyed man asked.
"You know you don't have to ask that."
"The matter at hand is a personal one. I don't want you to be offended."
"Say what you think needs to be said. I promise not to be offended."
Brand glanced out the window at the gray sky and the wind-driven rain. "Belgarion, it's been almost eight years now since you married Princess Ce'Nedra."
Garion nodded.
"I'm not trying to intrude on your privacy, but the fact that your wife has not yet produced an heir to the throne is, after all, a state matter."
Garion pursed his lips. "I know that you and Anheg and the others are very concerned. I think your concern is premature, though."
"Eight years is a long time, Belgarion. We all know how much you love your wife. We're all fond of her." Brand smiled briefly. "Even though she's a little difficult at times."
"You've noticed."
"We followed her willingly to the battlefield at Thull Mardu -and probably would again if she asked us to- but I think we'd better face the possibility that she may be barren."
"I'm positive that she's not," Garion said firmly.
"Then why isn't she having children?"
Garion couldn't answer that.
"Belgarion, the fate of this kingdom -and of all Aloria- hangs on your weakest breath. There's virtually no other topic of conversation in all the northern kingdoms."
"I didn't know that," Garion admitted.
"Grodeg and his henchmen were virtually wiped out at Thull Mardu, but there's been a resurgence of the Bear-cult in remote parts of Cherek, Drasnia, and Algaria. You knew that, didn't you?"
Garion nodded.
" And even in the cities there are those elements that sympathize with the cult's aims and beliefs. Those people were not happy that you chose a Tolnedran princess for your wife. Rumors are already abroad that Ce'Nedra's inability to have children is a sign of Belar's disapproval of your marriage to her."
"That's superstitious nonsense," Garion scoffed.
"Of course it is, but if that kind of thinking begins to take hold, it's ultimately going to have some unpleasant effects. Other elements in Alorn society -friendly to you- are very concerned about it. To put it bluntly, there's a rather widely held opinion that the time has come for you to divorce Ce'Nedra."
"What?"
"Youdo have that power, you know. The way they all see it, the best solution might be for you to put aside your barren Tolnedran queen and take some nice, fertile Alorn girl, who'll present you with babies by the dozen."
"That's absolutely out of the question," Garion said hotly. "I won't do it. Didn't those idiots ever hear about the Accords of Vo Mimbre? Even if I wanted to divorce Ce'Nedra, I couldn't. Our marriage was agreed upon five hundred years ago."
"The Bear-cult feels that the arrangement was forced on the Alorns by Belgarath and Polgara," Brand replied. "Since those two are loyal to Aldur, the cult feels that it might have been done without Belar's approval."
"Nonsense," Garion snapped.
"There's a lot of nonsense in any religion, Belgarion. The point remains, however, that Ce'Nedra has few friends in any part of Alorn society. Even those who are friendly to you aren't very fond of her. Both your enemiesand your friends would like to see you divorce her. They all know how fond of her you are, so they'll probably never approach you with the idea. They're likely to take more direct action instead."
"Such as?"
"Since they know that you can't be persuaded to divorce her, someone may try to remove her permanently."
"They wouldn't dare!"
"Alorns are almost as emotional as Arends are, Belgarion -and sometimes almost as thick-headed. We're all aware of it. Anheg and Cho-Hag both urged me to warn you about this possibility, and Porenn has put whole platoons of her spies to work on it so that we'll at least have some advance warning if someone starts plotting against the queen."
"And just where do you stand in this, Brand?" Garion asked quietly.
"Belgarion," the big man said firmly, "I love you as if you were my own son, and Ce'Nedra is as dear to me as the daughter I never had. Nothing in this world would make me happier than to see the floor of that nursery next to your bedroom absolutely littered with children. But it's been eight years. Things have reached the point where we must do something -if for no other reason, then to protect that tiny, brave girl we both love."
"What can we do?" Garion asked helplessly.
"You and I are only men, Garion. How canwe know why a woman does or does not have children? And that's the crux of the whole situation. I implore you, Garion -I beg you- send for Polgara. We need her advice and help -and we need it now."
After the Warder had quietly left, Garion sat for a long while staring out at the rain. All in all, he decided that it might be wiser not to tell Ce'Nedra about the conversation. He did not want to frighten her with talk of assassins lurking in the dim corridors, and any hint that political expediency might compel consideration of divorce wouldnot be well received. After careful thought, he concluded that the best course would be just to keep his mouth shut and send for Aunt Pol. Unfortunately, he had forgotten something rather important. When he entered the cheery, candlelit royal apartment that evening, he wore a carefully assumed smile designed to indicate that nothing untoward had happened during the day.
The frosty silence which greeted him should have warned him; even had he missed that danger sign, he certainly should have noticed the scars on the door casing and the broken shards of several vases and assorted porcelain figurines that lay in the corners where they had been missed in the hasty clean-up following an explosion of some sort. The Rivan King, however, sometimes tended to be slightly unobservant. "Good evening, dear"' he greeted his icy little wife in a cheerful voice.
"Really?"
"How did your day go?"
She turned to regard him with a look filled with daggers. "How can you possibly have the nerve to ask that?"
Garion blinked.
"Tell me," she said, "just when is it that I am to be put aside so that my Lord can marry the blonde-headed brood sow who's going to replace me in my Lord's bed and fill the entire Citadel with litters of runny-nosed Alorn brats?"
"How-?"
"My Lord appears to have forgotten the gift he chained about my neck when we were betrothed," she said. "My Lord also appears to have forgotten just exactly what Beldaran's amulet can do."
"Oh," Garion said, suddenly remembering. "Oh, my."
"Unfortunately, the amulet won't come off," Ce'Nedra told him bitingly. "You won't be able to give it to your next wife -unless you plan to have my head cut off so that you can reclaim it."
"Will
you stop that?"
"As my Lord commands me. Did you plan to ship me back to Tolnedra -or am I just to be shoved out the front gate into the rain and left to fend for myself?"
"You heard the discussion I had with Brand, then, I take it."
"Obviously."
"If you heard part of it, then I'm sure you heard it all. Brand was only reporting a danger to you caused by the absurd notions of a group of frothing fanatics."
"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.