Guardians of the West

Reverence."
    "Glad to be of help, your Majesty."
    It was going to be hard to get away. This week was completely out of the question, since there was that meeting with the port authorities the day after tomorrow. And next week would be even worse. There were always so many official meetings and state functions. Garion sighed as he climbed back up the long stairs to the Citadel with his inevitable guard at his side. It somehow seemed that he was almost a prisoner here on this island. There were always so many demands on his time. He could remember a time, not really that long ago, when he started each day on horseback and seldom slept in the same bed two nights in a row. Upon consideration, however, he was forced to admit that even then he had not been free to do as he wished. Though he had not known it, this burden of responsibility had descended upon him on that windy autumn night so many years ago when he, Aunt Pol, Belgarath, and Durnik had crept through the gate at Faldor's farm and out into the wide world that lay before them.
    "Well," he muttered under his breath, "this is important too. Brand can manage here. They'll just have to get along without me for a while."
    "What was that, your Majesty?" the guard asked politely.
    "Just thinking out loud," Garion replied, a little embarrassed.
    Ce'Nedra seemed moody and out of sorts that evening. She held Geran almost abstractedly, paying scant attention to him as he played with the amulet at her throat with a look of serious concentration on his face.
    "What's the matter, dear?" Garion asked her.
    "Just a headache, that's all," she replied shortly. "And a strange sort of ringing in my ears."
    "You're tired."
    "Maybe that's it." She arose. "I think I'll put Geran in his cradle and go to bed," she declared. "Maybe a good night's sleep will make me feel better."
    "I can put him to bed," Garion offered.
    "No," she said with a strange look. "I want to be sure that he's safely in his cradle."
    "Safe?" Garion laughed. "Ce'Nedra, this is Riva. It's the safest place in the world."
    "Go tell that to Arell," she told him and went into the small room adjoining their bedchamber where Geran's cradle stood.
    Garion sat up and read until rather late that evening. Ce'Nedra's restless moodiness had somehow communicated itself to him, and he did not feel ready for bed. Finally, he put aside his book and went to the window to look out across the moon-touched waters of the Sea of the Winds lying far below. The long, slow waves seemed almost like molten silver in the pale light, and their stately pace was oddly hypnotic. Finally he blew out the candles and went quietly into the bedroom.
    Ce'Nedra was tossing restlessly in her sleep and muttering half-formed phrases -meaningless snatches of fragmentary conversation. Garion undressed and slipped into bed, trying not to disturb her.
    "No," she said in a peremptory tone of voice. "I won't let you do that." Then she moaned and tossed her head on the pillow.
    Garion lay in the soft darkness, listening to his wife talking in her sleep.
    "Garion!" she gasped, coming suddenly awake. "Your feet are cold!"
    "Oh," he said, "Sorry."
    She drifted almost immediately back into sleep, and the muttering resumed.
    It was the sound of a different voice that awoke him several hours later. The voice was oddly familiar, and Garion lay, still almost asleep, trying to remember exactly where he had heard it before. It was a woman's voice, low and musical and speaking in a peculiarly soothing tone.
    Then he suddenly realized that Ce'Nedra was not in the bed beside him and he came fully awake instantly.
    "But I have to hide him so that they can't find him," he heard Ce'Nedra say in a strangely numb voice. He tossed back the covers and slid out of bed.
    A faint light gleamed through the open door to the nursery, and the voices seemed to be coming from there. Garion moved quickly to that door, his bare feet making no sound on the carpet.
    "Uncover your baby, Ce'Nedra," the other woman was saying in a calm, persuasive voice. "You'll hurt him."
    Garion looked through the doorway. Ce'Nedra was standing by the cradle in her white nightdress, her eyes vacant and staring, with another figure beside her. On the chair at the foot of the cradle was a great heap of blankets and pillows. Dreamily, the Rivan Queen was methodically piling the bedclothes on top of her baby.
    "Ce'Nedra," the woman said to her. "Stop. Listen to me."
    "I have to hide him," Ce'Nedra replied stubbornly.