"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 enemies and 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 can we 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 would not 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 did that 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 are not barren, and I am not 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.