Guardians of the West

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.
    Polgara seemed quite unconcerned about the gravity of the problem that had impelled Garion to send for her. She spoke with him only a couple of times about it, asking a few rather direct questions that set his ears to flaming. Her discussions with Ce'Nedra were a bit more lengthy, but only slightly so.
    Garion received the distinct impression that she was waiting for someone or something before proceeding.
    The Erastide celebration at Riva that year was somewhat subdued. Although it was very pleasant to have Polgara, Durnik, and Errand with them to join in the festivities, Garion's concern over the problem Brand had raised dampened his enjoyment of the holiday.
    Several weeks afterward, Garion entered the royal apartment one snowy midafternoon to find Polgara and Ce'Nedra seated by a cozy fire sipping tea and chatting together quietly. The curiosity which had been growing in him since the arrival of his visitors finally boiled to a head.
    "Aunt Pol," he began.
    "Yes dear?"
    "You've been here for almost a month now."
    "Has it been that long? The time certainly passes quickly when you're with people you love."
    "There's still this little problem, you know," he reminded her.
    "Yes, Garion," she replied patiently. "I'm aware of that."
    "Are we doing anything about it?"
    "No," she said placidly, "not yet, anyhow."
    "It's sort of important, Aunt Pol. I don't want to seem to be trying to rush you or anything, but- " He broke off helplessly.
    Polgara rose from her chair, went to the window, and looked out at the small private garden just outside. The garden was clogged with snow, and the pair of intertwined oak trees Ce'Nedra had planted there at the time of her betrothal to Garion were bowed slightly beneath the weight on their limbs. "One of the things you'll learn as you grow older, Garion," she said to him, gravely looking out at the snowy garden, "is patience. Everything has its proper season. The solution to your problem isn't all that complicated, but it's just not the proper time to come to grips with it yet."
    "I don't understand at all, Aunt Pol."
    "Then you'll just have to trust me, won't you?"
    "Of course I trust you, Aunt Pol. It's just- "
    "Just what, dear?"
    "Nothing."
    It was late winter before Captain Greldik returned from the south. A storm had sprung one of the seams of his ship, and she was taking water as she wallowed heavily around the headland and made for the quay.
    "I thought for a while there that I might have to swim," the bearded Cherek growled as he limped across to the quay. "Where's the best place to beach this poor old cow of mine? I'm going to have to chalk her bottom."
    "Most sailors use that inlet there," Garion replied, pointing.
    "I hate to beach a ship in the winter," Greldik said bitterly. "Is there someplace where I can get a drink?"
    "Up at the Citadel," Garion offered.
    "Thanks. Oh, I brought that visitor Polgara wanted."
    "Visitor?"
    Greldik stepped