Guardians of the West

thoughtfully. "I do think that I'll take a trip up to Rheon and have a look around, however."
    As the chill of winter set in, Polgara finally declared that Ce'Nedra was out of all danger. "I think I'll stay, though," she added. "Durnik and Errand can manage at home for a few months, and I'd probably no sooner get home than I'd have to turn around and come back."
    Garion looked at her blankly.
    "You didn't actually think that I was going to let anybody else deliver Ce'Nedra's first baby, did you?"
    It snowed heavily just before Erastide, and the steep streets of the city of Riva became virtually impassable. Ce'Nedra's disposition soured noticeably. Her increasing girth made her awkward, and the depth of the snow in the city streets had rather effectively confined her to the Citadel.
    Polgara took the little queen's outbursts and crying fits calmly, scarcely changing expression, even at the height of the eruptions. "You do want to have this baby, don't you?" she asked pointedly on one such occasion.
    "Of course I do," Ce'Nedra replied indignantly.
    "Well then, you have to go through this. It's the only way I know of to fill the nursery."
    "Don't try to be reasonable with me, Lady Polgara," Ce'Nedra flared. "I'm not in the mood for reasonableness right now."
    Polgara gave her a faintly amused look, and Ce'Nedra, in spite of herself, began to laugh. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"
    "A bit, yes."
    "It's just that I feel so huge and ugly."
    "That will pass, Ce'Nedra."
    "Sometimes I wish I could just lay eggs -the way birds do."
    "I'd stick to doing it the old way, dear. I don't think you have the disposition for sitting on a nest."
    Erastide came and passed quietly. The celebration on the island was warm, but somewhat restrained. It seemed as if the whole population was holding its breath, waiting for a much larger reason for celebration. Winter ground on with each week adding more snow to the already high-piled drifts. A month or so after Erastide there was a brief thaw, lasting for perhaps two days, and then the frigid chill locked in again, turning the sodden snowbanks into blocks of ice. The weeks plodded by tediously, and everybody waited.
    "Would you just look at that?" Ce'Nedra said angrily to Garion one morning shortly after they had arisen.
    "At what, dear?" he replied mildly.
    "At that!" She pointed disgustedly at the window. "It's snowing again." There was a note of accusation In her voice.
    "It's not my fault," he said defensively.
    "Did I say that it was?" She turned awkwardly to glare at him. Her tininess made her swollen belly appear all the larger, and she sometimes seemed to thrust it out at him as if it were entirely his doing.
    "This is just absolutely insupportable," she declared. "Why have you brought me to this frozen- " She stopped in mid-tirade, a strange look crossing her face.
    "Are you all right, dear?" Garion asked.
    "Don't 'dear' me, Garion. I-" She stopped again. "Oh, my." she said breathlessly.
    "What is it?" He got to his feet.
    "Oh, dear," Ce'Nedra said, putting her hands to the small of her back. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."
    "Ce'Nedra, that's not very helpful. What's the matter?"
    "I think perhaps I'd better go lie down," she said almost absently. She started across the room, moving at a stately waddle. She stopped. "Oh, dear," she said with much more vehemence. Her face was pale, and she put one hand on a chairback to support herself. "I think that it might be a good idea if you sent for Lady Polgara, Garion."
    "Is it- ?, I mean, are you- ?"
    "Don't babble, Garion," she said tensely. "Just open the door and scream for your Aunt Pol."
    "Are you trying to say that- ?"
    "I'm not trying, Garion. I'm saying it. Get her in here right now." She waddled to the bedroom door and stopped again with a little gasp. "Oh, my goodness," she said.
    Garion stumbled to the door and jerked it open. "Get Lady Polgara!" he said to the startled sentry. "Immediately! Run!"
    "Yes, your Majesty!" the man replied, dropping his spear and sprinting down the hall.
    Garion slammed the door and dashed to Ce'Nedra's side. "Can I do anything?" he asked, wringing his hands.
    "Help me to bed," she told him.
    "Bed!" he said. "Right!" He grabbed her arm and began to tug at her.
    "What are you doing?"
    "Bed," he blurted, pointing at the royal four-poster.
    "I know what it is, Garion. Help me. Don't yank on me."
    "Oh." He took her hand, slipped his other arm about her, and lifted her off her feet. He stumbled toward the bed, his