Guardians of the West

reaching out as if to pull the boy back, but Errand had already entered the stall with the wide-eyed animal. The horse snorted once and pranced nervously, his hooves thudding on the straw-covered floor. He stopped and stood quivering until Errand put out his hand and touched that bowed neck. Then everything was all right between them. Errand pushed the door of the stall open wider and, with the horse contentedly nuzzling at his shoulder, led the way out of the stable past the astonished groom.
    For the time being, it was enough for the two of them just to be together -to share the bond which was between them and had somehow existed even before they had met and, in a peculiar way, even before either of them was born. There would be more later, but for now this was enough.
    When the purple hue of evening began to creep up the eastern sky, Errand fed the horse, promised that he would come again the following day, and went back into the Citadel in search of his friends. He found them seated in a low-ceilinged dining hall. This room was smaller than the great main banquet hall and it was less formal. It was perhaps as close to being homey as any room in this bleak fortress could be.
    "Did you have a pleasant afternoon?" Polgara asked him.
    Errand nodded.
    " And was the horse glad to see you?"
    "Yes."
    "And now you're hungry, I suppose?"
    "Well-a little." He looked around the room, noting that the Rivan Queen was not present. "Where's Ce'Nedra?" he asked.
    "She' s a little tired," Polgara replied. "She and I had a long talk this afternoon."
    Errand looked at her and understood. Then he looked around again. "I really am sort of hungry," he told her.
    She laughed a warm, fond laugh. " All boys are the same," she said.
    "Would you really want us to be different?" Garion asked her.
    "No," she said, "I don't suppose I would."
    The next morning, quite early, Polgara and Errand were in front of the fire in the apartment that had always been hers. Polgara sat in a high-backed chair with a fragrant cup of tea on the small table beside her. She wore a deep blue velvet dressing gown and held a large ivory comb. Errand sat on a carpet-covered footstool directly in front of her, enduring a part of the morning ritual. The washing of the face, ears, and neck did not take all that much time, but for some reason the combing of his hair always seemed to fill up the better part of a quarter hour. Errand's personal tastes in the arrangement of his hair were fairly elemental. As long as it was out of his eyes, it was satisfactory. Polgara, however, seemed to find a great deal of entertainment in pulling a comb through his soft, pale-blond curls. Now and then at odd times of the day, he would see that peculiar softness come into her eyes and see her fingers twitching almost of their own will toward a comb and he would know that, if he did not immediately become very busy with something, he would be wordlessly seated in a chair to have his hair attended to.
    There was a respectful tap on the door.
    "Yes, Garion?" she replied.
    "I hope I'm not too early, Aunt Pol. May I come in?"
    "Of course, dear."
    Garion wore a blue doublet and hose and soft leather shoes. Errand had noticed that if he had any choice in the matter, the young King of Riva almost always wore blue.
    "Good morning, dear," Polgara said, her fingers still busy with the comb.
    "Good morning, Aunt Pol," Garion said. And then he looked at the boy who sat fidgeting slightly on the stool in front of Polgara's chair. "Good morning, Errand," he said gravely.
    "Belgarion," Errand said, nodding.
    "Hold your head still, Errand," Polgara said calmly. "Would you like some tea?" she asked Garion.
    "No, thank you." He drew up another chair and sat down across from her. "Where's Durnik?" he asked.
    "He's taking a walk around the parapet," Polgara told him. "Durnik likes to be outside when the sun comes up."
    "Yes," Garion smiled. "I seem to remember that from Faldor's farm. Is everything all right? With the rooms, I mean?"
    "I'm always very comfortable here," she said. "In some ways it was always was the closest thing I had to a permanent home -at least until now." She looked around with satisfaction at the deep crimson velvet drapes and the dark leather upholstery of her chairs and sighed contentedly.
    "These have been your rooms for a long time, haven't they?"
    "Yes. Beldaran set them aside for me after she and Iron-grip were married."
    "What was he like?"
    "Iron-grip? Very tall -almost as tall