Guardians of the West

"Nothing's happening, Aunt Pol."
    "Don't stop."
    He began pushing on Ce'Nedra's ribs again. He was about ready to despair, but then she coughed, and he almost wept with relief. He continued to push at her back. She coughed again, and then she began to cry weakly. Garion put his hand on the amulet. "She's crying, Aunt Pol! She's alive!"
    "Good. You can stop now. What happened?"
    "Some woman tried to kill her here in the baths. Silk and Brand are chasing the woman now."
    There was a long silence. "I see," Aunt Pol said finally. "Now listen, Garion -carefully. Ce'Nedra's lungs will be very weak after this. The main danger right now is congestion and fever. You've got to keep her warm and quiet. Her life -and the baby's- depend on that. As soon as her breathing is stronger, get her into bed. I'll be there as soon as I can." Garion moved quickly, gathering up every towel and robe he could find to make a bed for his weakly crying wife. As he covered her with a cloak, Silk returned, his face grim, and Brand, puffing noticeably, was right behind him.
    "Is she all right?" the big Warder asked, his face desperately concerned.
    "I think so," Garion said. " I got her breathing started again. Did the woman get away?"
    "Not exactly." Silk replied. "She ran upstairs until she reached the battlements. When she got up there, I was right behind her. She saw that there was no way to escape, so she threw herself off."
    Garion felt a surge of satisfaction at that. "Good," he said without thinking.
    "No. Not really. We needed to question her. Now we'll never find out who sent her here to do this."
    "I hadn't thought of that."
    Brand had gone sadly to the silent body of his niece. "My poor Arell," he said, his voice full of tears. He knelt beside her and took hold of the dagger protruding from her back.
    "Even in death, she served her queen," he said almost proudly.
    Garion looked at him.
    "The dagger's stuck," Brand explained, tugging at it. "The woman who killed her couldn't get it out. That's why she was trying to drown Ce'Nedra. If she'd been able to use this knife, we'd have been too late."
    "I'm going to find out who's responsible for this," Garion declared from between clenched teeth. "I think I'll have him flayed."
    "Flaying is good," Silk agreed. "Or boiling. Boiling has always been my favorite."
    "Garion," Ce'Nedra said weakly, and all thoughts of vengeance fled from Garion's mind as he turned to her. While he held his wife close to him, he dimly heard Silk speaking quietly to Brand.
    "After somebody picks up what's left of our would-be assassin," the little man was saying in a terse voice, "I'd like to have all of her clothing brought to me."
    "Her clothing?"
    "Right. The woman isn't able to talk anymore, but her clothing might. You'd be surprised at how much you can learn about someone by looking at his undergarments. We want to find out who was behind this, and that dead woman out there is our only clue. I want to find out who she was and where she came from. The quicker I can do that, the quicker we can start heating up the oil."
    "Oil?"
    "I'm going to simmer the man who was behind this -slowly and with a great deal of attention to every exquisite detail."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Polgara arrived late that same afternoon. No one saw fit to raise the question of how she had crossed the hundreds of intervening leagues in the space of hours instead of weeks.
    The sentry who had been standing watch atop the battlements and who escorted her to the sickroom, however, had a slightly wild look in his eyes, as if he had just seen something about which he would prefer not to speak.
    Garion, at the moment she arrived, was in the midst of a discussion with one of the court physicians about the therapeutic value of bleeding, and the conversation had reached the point where he had just picked up a sword to confront the startled medical man who was approaching the bed with lancet in hand.
    "If you try to open my wife's veins with that," the young king declared firmly, "I'm going to open yours with this."
    "All right," Polgara said crisply, "that will do, Garion." She removed her cloak and laid it across the back of a chair.
    "Aunt Pol," he gasped with relief.
    She had already turned to face the four physicians who had been tending the little queen. "Thank you for your efforts, gentlemen," she told them. "I'll send for you if I need you." The note of dismissal in her voice was final, and the four quietly filed out.
    "Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra said