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Ce’Nedra and her husband rode into the snowy dooryard and swung down from their saddles.
‘Go inside, both of you,’ Durnik instructed. ‘I’ll see to your horses.’
‘I’ll help with that,’ Garion offered. ‘I can unsaddle a horse almost as well as you can, and I need to stretch my legs anyway.’ He took Ce’Nedra by the arm and guided her to the doorway. ‘I’ll be right back, Aunt Pol,’ he called inside. ‘I want to help Durnik with the horses.’
‘As you wish, dear,’ the Lady Polgara replied. Her voice was rich and filled with love. ‘Come in here, Ce’Nedra. Let’s get you warm.’
The Rivan Queen almost ran inside, hurled herself into the arms of Polgara the sorceress, and kissed her soundly.
‘Your nose is cold, Ce’Nedra,’ Polgara observed.
‘You should feel my feet, Aunt Pol,’ Ce’Nedra replied with a little laugh. ‘How can you stand the winters here?’
‘I grew up here, dear, remember? I’m used to the weather.’
Ce’Nedra looked around. ‘Where are the twins?’
They’re down for their afternoon nap. We’ll get them up for supper. Let’s get you out of those furs and over to the fireplace. As soon as you warm up a little, I’ve got water heating, and you can have a nice hot bath.’
‘Oh, yes!’ the Rivan Queen replied fervently.
Part of the difficulty with Alorn fur garments lies in the fact that they don’t have buttons, so they’re customarily tied on. Undoing frozen knots can be quite a chore, particularly if one’s fingers are stiff with cold. And so it was that Ce’Nedra was almost forced to simply stand in the center of the room with her arms outstretched while Polgara removed her outer garments. Then, once the furs were off, the Rivan Queen went to the fireplace and stretched her hands out to the crackling flames.
‘Not too close, dear,’ Polgara warned. ‘Don’t burn yourself. How does a nice hot cup of tea sound?’
‘Heavenly!’
After Ce’Nedra had drunk her tea and soaked in a tub of steaming water for about a half-hour, she actually began to feel warm again. Then she dressed in a plain gown and returned to the kitchen to help feed the twins. Polgara’s children were a year old now, and they’d begun to walk – although not very well. They also seemed to have some difficulty managing their spoons, and quite a bit of their supper ended up on the floor. The twins had flaxen, curly hair, and they were absolutely adorable. Their vocabulary was very limited – at least in any language Ce’Nedra could understand. They talked to each other extensively in some strange tongue, however.
They’re speaking “twin”‘, Polgara explained. ‘It’s not uncommon. Each set of twins develops its own private language. Beldaran and I spoke to each other in “twin” until we were about five. It used to drive poor uncle Beldin wild.’
Ce’Nedra looked around. ‘Where are Garion and Durnik?’
‘Durnik’s made some more improvements,’ Polgara replied. ‘I’d imagine he’s showing them off. He’s added several rooms at the back of the cottage, so at least you and Garion won’t have to sleep in the loft.’ She carefully wiped the chin of one of the twins. ‘Messy person,’ she chided gently. The child giggled. ‘Now then, what’s this all about, Ce’Nedra? Why did you make this trip in the dead of winter?’
‘Have you read Belgarath’s story yet?’ Ce’Nedra asked.
‘Yes. It was characteristically long-winded, I thought.’
‘You won’t get any argument from me about that. How could he possibly have written that much down in under a year?’
‘Father has certain advantages, Ce’Nedra. If he’d actually had to write it, it’d probably have taken him much, much longer.’
‘Maybe that’s why he left so many things out.’
‘I don’t exactly follow you, dear.’ Polgara gently wiped the face of the second twin and then set them both down on the floor.
‘For someone who pretends to be a professional storyteller, he certainly did a third-rate job.’
‘He more or less covered everything that happened, I thought.’
‘There are some awfully large gaps in that story, Aunt Pol.’
‘Father is seven thousand years old, Ce’Nedra. In that long a time there were bound to be periods when nothing was happening.’
‘He didn’t go into anything that happened to you, though. He didn’t say very much about those years you spent at Vo Wacune or what you did in Gar og Nadrak or any of those other places. I want to know what you did.’
‘What on earth for?’
‘I want the whole story, Aunt Pol. He left so much out.’
‘You’re as bad as Garion was. He always used to badger my father for more details every time the Old Wolf told him a story.’ Polgara broke off abruptly. ‘Away from the fireplace!’ she said sharply to the twins.
They giggled, but they did as they were told. Ce’Nedra gathered that it was a game of sorts. ‘Anyway,’ she picked up the thread of her thought, ‘Belgarath sent some letters when he had those last few chapters delivered to Riva. The letter he sent to me is what gave me the idea of coming here to talk with you. First he accused us all of getting together and bullying him into writing the history. He said that he knew there were gaps in the story, but he suggested that you could fill them in.’
‘How typical,’ Polgara murmured. ‘My father’s an expert at starting things and then tricking others into finishing them for him. Well, this time he’s out of luck. Forget it, Ce’Nedra. I don’t pretend to be a storyteller, and I’ve got better things to do with my time.’
‘But –’
‘No buts, dear. Now, go call Garion and Durnik in for supper.’
Ce’Nedra was shrewd enough not to raise the issue again, but a way around Polgara’s refusal had already begun to form in her devious little mind.
‘Garion, dear,’ she said when she and her husband were in bed later that night in the warm and comfortable darkness.
‘Yes, Ce’Nedra?’
‘You can reach out and talk to your grandfather, can’t you?’
‘I suppose so. Why?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to see him – and your grandmother? I mean, we’re this close anyway, and it’s not really very far from Belgarath’s tower to the cottage here, and they’d be terribly disappointed if we let this opportunity for a visit slip by, wouldn’t they?’
‘What are you up to, Ce’Nedra?’
‘Why must I always be “up to” something?’
‘You usually are.’
‘That’s not very nice, Garion. Isn’t it just possible that all I want is a family reunion?’
‘I’m sorry. Maybe I misjudged you.’
‘Well – actually, your Aunt Pol’s being a little stubborn about this. I’m going to need some help convincing her to write her story.’
‘Grandfather won’t help you. He already told you that in his letter.’
‘I’m not talking about help from him. I want to talk to Poledra. Aunt Pol will listen to her mother. Please, Garion.’ She said it in her most winsome and appealing tone.
‘All right. I’ll talk it over with Durnik and see what he thinks.’
‘Why don’t you let me talk with Durnik? I’m sure I can persuade him that it’s a good idea.’ She nuzzled at her husband’s neck affectionately. ‘I’m nice and warm now, Garion,’ she said invitingly.
‘Yes, I noticed that.’
‘Are you really very sleepy?’
‘Not that sleepy, dear,’ and he turned to embrace her.
This wouldn’t be terribly difficult, Ce’Nedra decided. She was an expert at getting her own way, and she was confident that she could get Garion and Durnik to agree with her plan. Poledra, on the other hand, might take a little more work.
Garion, as he usually did, slipped quietly out of bed before it was even light. The Rivan King had grown up on a farm, and farmers habitually rise early. Ce’Nedra decided that it might not be a bad idea to keep track of him for the next couple of days. A chance conversation between her husband and Durnik might disrupt her plan – Ce’Nedra deliberately avoided the word ‘scheme’. So she touched the fingertips of her right hand to Beldaran’s amulet and searched with her mind for Garion.
‘Oh, hush.’ It was Durnik’s voice, and it was peculiarly gentle. ‘It’s only me. Go back to sleep. I’ll feed you later.’
There was a muttering, some soft, grumbling sounds – birds of some kind, Ce’Nedra judged. Then they clucked a bit and settled back down again.
‘Do you always talk to them that way?’ It was Garion’s voice.
‘It keeps them from getting excited and flying off in the dark and hurting themselves,’ Durnik replied. ‘They insist on roosting in that tree right here in the dooryard, and I have to pass that tree every morning. They know me now, so I can usually persuade them to settle down again. Birds pick these things up fairly quickly. The deer take a little longer, and the rabbits are timid and very flighty.’
‘You feed them all, don’t you, Durnik?’
‘They live here, too, Garion, and this farm produces more food than Pol and I and the babies can possibly eat. Besides, that’s one of the reasons we’re here, isn’t it? The birds and the deer and the rabbits can look out for themselves in the summer, but winter’s a lean time, so I help them out a bit.’
He was such a good man! Ce’Nedra’s eyes almost filled with tears. Polgara was the pre-eminent woman in all the world, and she could have chosen any king or emperor for a husband and lived in a palace. She’d chosen a simple country blacksmith instead and lived on this remote farmstead. Now Ce’Nedra knew why.
As it turned out, Durnik was fairly easy to manipulate. Ce’Nedra’s suggestion of ‘a little family reunion, since we’re all here anyway’, brought him over to her side almost immediately. Durnik was too innocent to suspect ulterior motives in others. It was so easy that Ce’Nedra was almost ashamed of herself.
Garion was not nearly so innocent. He had lived with his wilful little Dryad wife for quite a while now, after all. With both Durnik and Ce’Nedra urging the reunion, though, he didn’t really have any choice. He did cast a few suspicious looks in Ce’Nedra’s direction before he sent his thought out to his grandfather, however.
Belgarath and Poledra arrived a day or so later, and the old man’s expression when he greeted the Rivan Queen clearly indicated that he knew that she was ‘up to something’. That didn’t really concern Ce’Nedra very much, though. What she was ‘up to’ didn’t involve Belgarath. She concentrated on Poledra instead.
It was several days before Ce’Nedra had the chance to get her husband’s grandmother off to one side for some serious talk, family reunions being what they are and all. Polgara’s twins, of course, were the center of everyone’s attention. The twins enjoyed that, and Ce’Nedra was patient. The right moment would come, she was sure of that, so she simply enjoyed the closeness of the peculiar family into which she had married and bided her time.
There was a strange quality about the tawny-haired Poledra that made Ce’Nedra a little hesitant about approaching her. Ce’Nedra had read Belgarath’s story several times, and she was fully aware of Poledra’s peculiar background. She frequently caught herself studying Belgarath’s wife, looking for wolfish traits. They were probably there, but Ce’Nedra was Tolnedran, and wolves are not so common in Tolnedra that she’d have recognized the traits even if they’d been more obvious. The thing that disturbed Ce’Nedra the most was the disconcertingly direct way Poledra had of looking at people. Cyradis had called Poledra ‘the Woman who Watches’, and the Seeress of Kell had been right on that score. Poledra’s golden eyes seemed quite capable of seeing through all of Ce’Nedra’s defences and concealments into that secret place where the Rivan Queen stored her motives. The tiny queen really didn’t want anybody snooping around in there.
Finally she screwed up her courage one morning and approached Polgara’s golden-eyed mother. Garion, Belgarath, and Durnik were outside, conducting one of their endless surveys of the farmstead, and Polgara was bathing the twins. ‘I need to ask a favor of you, Lady Poledra.’ Ce’Nedra was not certain of the proper form of address, so she fell back on a somewhat inappropriate usage.
‘I rather suspected you might,’ Poledra replied quite calmly. ‘You went to a great deal of trouble to arrange this gathering, and you’ve been watching me for the last several days. I was fairly certain that you’d eventually get to the point. What’s bothering you, child?’
‘Well – “bother” might not be the exact term,’ Ce’Nedra amended, averting her eyes slightly. Those penetrating golden eyes made her nervous. ‘There’s something I need from Polgara, and she’s being stubborn about it. You know how she can be sometimes.’
‘Yes. It’s a family trait.’
‘I didn’t say that very well, did I?’ Ce’Nedra apologized. ‘I love her, of course, but –’
‘What do you want from her? Don’t run in circles, Ce’Nedra. Get to the point.’
Ce’Nedra was not accustomed to being addressed so bluntly, but she chose not to take offence. She sidetracked slightly instead. ‘Have you read the history book your husband just finished writing?’ she asked.
‘I don’t read often,’ Poledra replied. ‘It’s hard on the eyes. Besides, he didn’t write it. He spoke it, and it just appeared on paper while he was talking. He cheats sometimes. I heard most of it while he was talking. It wasn’t too inaccurate.’
That’s what I’m getting at. He left quite a bit out, didn’t he?’
‘In places, yes.’
‘But your daughter could fill in those places, couldn’t she?’
‘Why would she want to do that?’
‘To complete the story.’
‘Stories aren’t really that important, Ce’Nedra. I’ve noticed that men-folk tell stories over their ale-cups to fill in the hours between supper and bedtime.’ Poledra’s look was amused. ‘Did you really come all this way just to get a story? Couldn’t you find anything better to do – have another baby, or something?’
Ce’Nedra changed direction again. ‘Oh, the story isn’t for me,’ she lied. ‘It’s for my son. Someday he’ll be the Rivan King.’
‘Yes, so I understand. I’ve been told about that custom. Peculiar customs should usually be observed, though.’
Ce’Nedra seized that advantage. ‘My son Geran will be a leader someday, and he needs to know where he is and how he got there. The story will tell him that.’
Poledra shrugged. ‘Why’s it so important? What happened yesterday – or a thousand years ago – isn’t going to change what happens tomorrow, is it?’
‘It might. Belgarath’s story hinted at the fact that things were going on that I didn’t even know were happening. There are two worlds out there running side by side. If Geran doesn’t know about both of them, he’ll make mistakes. That’s why I need Polgara’s story – for the sake of my children – and hers.’ Ce’Nedra bit off the term ‘puppies’ at the last instant. ‘Isn’t caring for our children the most important thing we do?’ Then a thought came to her. ‘You could tell the story, you know.’
‘Wolves don’t tell stories, Ce’Nedra. We’re too busy being wolves.’
‘Then it’s going to be up to Polgara. My son will need the rest of the story. The well-being of his people may depend on his knowing. I don’t know what Aldur has planned for Polgara’s children, but it’s very likely that they’ll need the story as well.’ Ce’Nedra was quite proud of that little twist. The appeal to Poledra’s innate sense of pack loyalty might very well be the one thing to turn the trick. ‘Will you help me persuade Polgara?’
Poledra’s golden eyes grew thoughtful. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.
That wasn’t exactly the firm commitment Ce’Nedra’d been hoping for, but Polgara brought out the twins at that point, so the Rivan Queen wasn’t able to pursue the matter further.
When Ce’Nedra awoke the following morning, Garion was already gone, as usual. Also, as usual, he’d neglected to pile more wood on the fire, and the room was decidedly cold. Shivering, Ce’Nedra got out of bed and went looking for warmth. She reasoned that if Garion was up, Durnik would be as well, so she went directly to Polgara’s bedroom and tapped lightly on the door.
‘Yes, Ce’Nedra,’ Aunt Pol replied from inside. She always seemed to know who was at her door.
‘May I come in?’ Ce’Nedra asked. ‘Garion let the fire go out, and it’s freezing in our room.’
‘Of course, dear,’ Aunt Pol replied.
Ce’Nedra opened the door, hurried to the bed, and crawled under the covers with Aunt Pol and the babies. ‘He always does that,’ she complained. ‘He’s so busy trying to sneak away that he doesn’t even think about putting more wood on the fire.’
‘He doesn’t want to wake you, dear.’
‘I can always go back to sleep if I want, and I hate waking up in a cold room.’ She gathered one of the twins in her arms and cuddled the little child close. Ce’Nedra was a mother herself, so she was very good at cuddling. She realized that she really missed her own children. She began to have some second thoughts about the wisdom of a journey in the dead of winter based on nothing more than a whim.
The Rivan Queen and her husband’s aunt talked about various unimportant things for a while, and then the door opened and Polgara’s mother came in carrying a tray with three cups of steaming tea on it. ‘Good morning, mother,’ Polgara said.
