Guardians of the West

nibbling on an apple and watching her as she sewed.
    One of the things he loved about her was her ability to radiate a kind of calm contentment when she was engaged in simple domestic tasks. At such quiet times her very presence was soothing.
    The pretty Rivan girl who served as Polgara's maid tapped softly and entered the room. "Lady Polgara," she said with a little curtsy, "My Lord Brand asks if he might have a word with you."
    "Of course, dear," Polgara replied, laying aside her embroidery. "Show him in, please." Errand had noticed that Polgara tended to call all young people "dear," most of the time without even being aware that she was doing it.
    The maid escorted the tall, gray-haired Rivan Warder into the room, curtsied again, and then quietly withdrew.
    "Polgara," Brand greeted her in his deep voice. He was a large, bulky man with a deeply lined face and tired, sad eyes and he was the last Rivan Warder. During the centuries-long interregnum following the death of King Gorek at the hands of Queen Salmissra's assassins, the Isle of the Winds and the Rivan people had been ruled by a line of men chosen for their ability and their absolute devotion to duty. So selfless had been that devotion that each Rivan Warder had submerged his own personality and had taken the name Brand.
    Now that Garion had come at last to claim his throne, there was no further need for that centuries-old stewardship. So long as he lived, however, this big, sad-eyed man would be absolutely committed to the royal line -not perhaps so much to Garion himself, but rather to the concept of the line and to its perpetuation. It was with that thought uppermost in his mind that he came that quiet afternoon to thank Polgara for taking the estrangement of Garion and his queen in hand.
    "How did they manage to grow so far apart?" she asked him. "When they married, they were so close that you couldn't pry them away from each other."
    "It all started about a year ago," Brand replied in his rumbling voice. "There are two powerful families on the northern end of the island. They had always been friendly, but a dispute arose over a property arrangement that was involved in a wedding between a young man from one family and a girl from the other. People from one family came to the Citadel and presented their cause to Ce'Nedra, and she issued a royal decree supporting them."
    "But she neglected to consult Garion about it?" Polgara surmised.
    Brand nodded. "When he found out, he was furious. There's no question that Ce'Nedra had overstepped her authority, but Garion revoked her decree in public."
    "Oh, dear," Polgara said. "So that's what all the bitterness was about. I couldn't really get a straight answer out of either of them."
    "They were probably a little too ashamed to admit it," Brand said. "Each one had humiliated the other in public, and neither one was mature enough just to forgive and let it slide. They kept wrangling at each other until the whole affair got completely out of hand. There were times when I wanted to shake them both -or maybe spank them."
    "That's an interesting idea." She laughed. "Why didn't you write and tell me they were having problems?"
    "Belgarion told me not to," he replied helplessly.
    "Sometimes we have to disobey that kind of order."
    "I'm sorry, Polgara, but I can't do that."
    "No, I suppose you couldn't."
    She turned to look at Errand, who was closely examining an exquisite piece of blown glass, a crystal wren perched on a budding twig. "Please don't touch it, Errand," she cautioned. "It's fragile and very precious."
    "Yes," he agreed, "I know." And to reassure her, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back.
    "Well." She turned back to Brand. "I hope the foolishness is all past now. I think we've restored peace to the royal house of Riva."
    "I certainly hope so," Brand said with a tired smile. "I would definitely like to see an occupant in the royal nursery."
    "That might take a bit longer."
    "It's getting sort of important, Polgara," he said seriously. "We're all a bit nervous about the lack of an heir to the throne. It's not only me. Anheg and Rhodar and Cho-Hag have all written to me about it. All of Aloria is holding its breath waiting for Ce'Nedra to start having children."
    "She's only nineteen, Brand."
    "Most Alorn girls have had at least two babies by the time they're nineteen."
    "Ce'Nedra isn't an Alorn. She's not even entirely Tolnedran. Her heritage is Dryad, and there are some peculiarities about Dryads and