"Eventually, I suppose."
"I think I'll send for Arell. Maybe we can go down into the city and look around the shops."
"It's pretty wet out there, Ce'Nedra."
"I can wear a cloak, and a little rain won't make me melt. Would you give me some money?"
"I thought I gave you some just last week."
"I spent it. Now I need some more."
Garion put aside the report and went to a heavy cabinet standing against the wall. He took a key from a pocket in his doublet, unlocked the cabinet and pulled out the top drawer. Ce'Nedra came over and looked curiously into the drawer. It was about half-filled with coins, gold, silver, and copper, all jumbled together.
"Where did you get all of that?" she exclaimed.
"They give it to me from time to time," he answered. "I throw it in there because I don't want to carry it around. I thought you knew about it."
"How would I know about it? You never tell me anything. How much have you got in there?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"Garion!" Her voice was shocked. "Don't you even count it?"
"No. Should I?"
"You're obviously not a Tolnedran. This isn't the whole royal treasury, is it?"
"No. They keep that someplace else. This is just for personal expenses, I think."
"It has to be counted, Garion."
"I don't really have the time, Ce'Nedra."
"Well, I do. Pull that drawer out and bring it over to the table."
He did that, grunting slightly at the weight, and then stood smiling fondly as she sat down and happily started counting money. He had not realized just how much sheer pleasure she could take in handling and stacking coins. She actually glowed as the merry tinkle of money filled her ears. A few of the coins had become tarnished. She looked at those disapprovingly and stopped her count to polish them carefully on the hem of her gown.
"Were you going to go down into the city?" he asked, resuming his seat at the other end of the table.
"Not today, I guess." She kept on counting. A single lock of her hair strayed down across her face, and she absently blew at it from time to time as she concentrated on the task at hand. She dug another handful of jingling coins out of the drawer and began to stack them carefully on the table in front of her. She looked so serious about it that Garion started to laugh.
She looked up sharply. "What's so funny?" she demanded.
"Nothing, dear," he said and went back to work to the clinking accompaniment of Ce'Nedra's counting.
As the summer wore on, the news from the southern latitudes continued to be good. King Urgit of Cthol Murgos had retreated deeper into the mountains, and the advance of the Emperor Kal Zakath of Mallorea slowed even more. The Mallorean army had suffered dreadful losses in its first efforts to pursue the Murgos in that craggy wasteland and it now moved with extreme caution. Garion received the news of the near-stalemate in the south with great satisfaction.
Toward the end of summer, word arrived from Algaria that Garion's cousin Adara had just presented Hettar with their second son. Ce'Nedra went wild with delight and dipped deeply into the drawer in Garion's study to buy suitable gifts for both mother and child.
The news which arrived in early autumn, however, was not so joyous. In a sadly worded letter, General Varana advised them that Ce'Nedra's father, Emperor Ran Borune XXIII, was sinking fast and that they should make haste to Tol Honeth. Fortunately, the autumn sky remained clear as the ship which carried the Rivan King and his desperately worried little wife ran south before a good following breeze.
They reached Tol Horb at the broad mouth of the Nedrane within a week and then began rowing upriver to the Imperial Capital at Tol Honeth.
They had gone no more than a few leagues when their ship was met by a flotilla of white and gold barges, which formed up around them to escort them to Tol Honeth. Aboard those barges was a chorus of young Tolnedran women who strewed flower petals on the broad surface of the Nedrane and caroled a formal greeting to the Imperial Princess.
Garion stood beside Ce'Nedra on the deck of their ship, frowning slightly at this choral welcome. "Is that altogether appropriate?" he asked.
"It's the custom," she said. "Members of the Imperial Family are always escorted to the city."
Garion listened to the words of the song. "Haven't they heard about your wedding yet?" he asked. "They're greeting the Imperial Princess, not the Rivan Queen."
"We're a provincial people, Garion," Ce'Nedra said. "In a Tolnedran's eyes, an Imperial Princess is much more important than the queen of some remote island."
The singing continued as they moved on upriver. As the gleaming white city of Tol Honeth came into view, a huge brazen fanfare greeted them from the walls. A detachment of burnished legionnaires, their scarlet pennons snapping in the breeze and the plumes on their helmets tossing, awaited them on the marble quay to escort them through the broad avenues to the grounds of the Imperial Palace.
General Varana, a blocky-looking professional soldier with short-cropped, curly hair and a noticeable limp, met them at the palace gate. His expression was somber.
"Are we in time, uncle?" Ce'Nedra asked with an almost frightened note in her voice.
The general nodded, then took the little queen in his arms. "You're going to have to be brave, Ce'Nedra," he told her. "Your father is very, very ill."
"Is there any hope at all?" she asked in a small voice.
"We can always hope," Varana replied, but his tone said otherwise.
"Can I see him now?"
"Of course." The general looked gravely at Garion. "Your Majesty," he said, nodding.
"Your Highness," Garion replied, remembering that Ce'Nedra's wily father had "adopted" Varana several years back, and that the general was heir apparent to the Imperial Throne.
Varana led them with his limping gait through the marble corridors of the vast palace to a quiet wing and a door flanked by a towering pair of legionnaires in burnished breastplates.
As they approached, the heavy door opened quietly, and Lord Morin, the brown-mantled Imperial Chamberlain emerged. Morin had aged since Garion had last seen him, and his concern for his failing Emperor was written clearly on his face.
"Dear Morin," Ce'Nedra said, impulsively embracing her father's closest friend.
"Little Ce'Nedra," he replied fondly. "I'm so glad you arrived in time. He's been asking for you. I think perhaps the fact you were coming is all he's been hanging on to."
"Is he awake?"
Morin nodded. "He dozes a great deal, but he's still alert most of the time."
Ce'Nedra drew herself up, squared her shoulders and carefully assumed a bright, optimistic smile. "All right," she said. "Let's go in."
Ran Borune lay in a vast canopied bed beneath a gold-colored coverlet. He had never been a large man, and his illness had wasted him down to a near-skeleton. His complexion was not so much pale as it was gray, and his beak-like nose was pinched and rose from his drawn face like the prow of a ship. His eyes were closed, and his thin chest seemed almost to flutter as he struggled to breathe.
"Father?" Ce'Nedra said so softly that her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
The Emperor opened one eye. "Well," he said testily, "I see that you finally got here."
"Nothing could have kept me away," she told him, bending over the bed to kiss his withered cheek.
"That's hardly encouraging," he grunted.
"Now that I'm here, we'll have to see about getting you well again."
"Don't patronize me, Ce'Nedra. My physicians have given up entirely "
"What do they know? We Borunes are indestructible."
"Did someone pass that law while I wasn't looking?" The Emperor looked past his daughter's shoulder at his son-in-law. "You're looking well, Garion," he said. "And please don't waste your time on platitudes by telling me how well I look. I look awful, don't I?"
"Moderately awful, yes," Garion replied.
Ran Borune flashed
him a quick little grin. Then he turned back to his daughter. "Well, Ce'Nedra," he said pleasantly, "what shall we fight about today?"
"Fight? Who said we were going to fight?"
"We always fight. I've been looking forward to it. I haven't had a really good fight since you stole my legions that day."
"Borrowed, father," she corrected primly, almost in spite of herself.
"Is that what you call it?" He winked broadly at Garion. "You should have been there," he chuckled. "She goaded me into a fit and then pinched my whole army while I was frothing at the mouth."
"Pinched!" Ce'Nedra exclaimed.
Ran Borune began to chuckle, but his laughter turned into a tearing cough that left him gasping and so weak that he could not even raise his head. He closed his eyes then and dozed for a while as Ce'Nedra hovered anxiously over him. After a quarter of an hour or so, Lord Morin quietly entered with a small flask and a silver spoon. "It's time for his medicine," he said softly to Ce'Nedra. "I don't think it really helps very much, but we go through the motions anyway."
"Is that you, Morin?" the Emperor asked without opening his eyes.
"Yes, Ran Borune."
"Is there any word from Tol Rane yet?"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"What did they say?"
"I'm afraid the season's over there, too."
"There has to be one tree somewhere in the world that's still bearing fruit," the emaciated little man in the imperial bed said exasperatedly.
"His Majesty has expressed a desire for some fresh fruit," Morin told Ce'Nedra and Garion.
"Not just any fruit, Morin," Ran Borune wheezed. "Cherries. I want cherries. Right now I'd bestow a Grand Duchy on any man who could bring me ripe cherries."
"Don't be so difficult, father," Ce'Nedra chided him. "The season for cherries was over months ago. How about a nice ripe peach?"
"I don't want peaches. I want cherries!"
"Well, you can't have them."
"You're an undutiful daughter, Ce'Nedra," he accused her.
Garion leaned forward and spoke quietly to Ce'Nedra. "I'll be right back," he told her and went out of the room with Morin. In the corridor outside they met General Varana.
"How is he?" the general asked.
"Peevish," Garion replied. "He wants some cherries."
"I know," Varana said sourly. "He's been asking for them for weeks. Trust a Borune to demand the impossible."
"Are there any cherry trees here on the palace grounds?"
"There are a couple in his private garden. Why?"
"I thought I might have a word with them," Garion said innocently, "explain a few things, and give them a bit of encouragement."
Varana gave him a look of profound disapproval.
"It's not really immoral," Garion assured him.
Varana raised one hand and turned his face away. "Please, Belgarion," he said in a pained voice, "don't try to explain it to me. I don't even want to hear about it. If you're going to do it, just do it and get it over with, but please don't try to convince me that it's in any way natural or wholesome."
"All right," Garion agreed. "Which way did you say that garden was?"
It wasn't really difficult, of course. Garion had seen Belgarath the Sorcerer do it on many occasions. It was no more than ten minutes later that he returned to the corridor outside the sickroom with a small basket of dark purple cherries.
Varana looked steadily at the basket, but said nothing. Garion quietly opened the door and went inside.
Ran Borune lay propped on his pillows, his drawn face sagging with exhaustion. "I don't see why not," he was saying to Ce'Nedra. "A respectful daughter would have presented her father with a half-dozen grandchildren by now."
"We'll get to it, father," she replied. "Why is everyone so worried about it?"
"Because it's important, Ce'Nedra. Not even you could be so silly as to-" He broke off, staring incredulously at the basket in Garion's hand. "Where did you get those?" he demanded.
"I don't think you really want to know, Ran Borune. It's the kind of thing that seems to upset Tolnedrans for some reason."
"You didn't just make them, did you?" the emperor asked suspiciously.
"No. It's much harder that way. I just gave the trees in your garden a little encouragement, that's all. They were very co-operative."
"What an absolutely splendid fellow you married, Ce'Nedra," Ran Borune exclaimed, eyeing the cherries greedily. "Put those right here, my boy." He patted the bed at his side.
Ce'Nedra flashed her husband a grateful little smile, took the basket from him, and deposited it by her father's side. Almost absently she took one of the cherries and popped it into her mouth.
"Ce'Nedra! You stop eating my cherries!"
"Just checking to see if they're ripe, father."
" Any idiot can see that they're ripe," he said, clutching the basket possessively to his side. "If you want any, go get your own." He carefully selected one of the plump, glowing cherries and put it in his mouth. "Marvelous," he said, chewing happily.
"Don't spit the seeds on the floor like that, father," Ce'Nedra reproved him.
"It's my floor," he told her. "Mind your own business. Spitting the seeds is part of the fun." He ate several more cherries. "We won't discuss how you came by these, Garion," he said magnanimously. "Technically, it's a violation of Tolnedran law to practice sorcery anywhere in the Empire, but we'll let it pass -just this once."
"Thank you, Ran Borune," Garion said. "I appreciate that."
After he had eaten about half of the cherries, the Emperor smiled and sighed contentedly. "I feel better already," he said. "Ce'Vanne used to bring me fresh cherries in that same kind of basket."
"My mother," Ce'Nedra said to Garion.
Ran Borune's eyes clouded over. "I miss her," he said very quietly. "She was impossible to live with, but I miss her more every day."
"I scarcely remember her"' Ce'Nedra said wistfully.
"I remember her very well," her father said. "I'd give my whole Empire if I could see her face just one more time."
Ce'Nedra took his wasted hand in hers and looked imploringly at Garion. "Could you?" she asked, two great tears standing in her eyes.
"I'm not entirely sure," he replied in some perplexity. "I think I know how it's done, but I never met your mother, so I'd have to- " He broke off, still trying to work it out in his mind. "I'm sure Aunt Pol could do it, but- " He came to the bedside. "We can try." he said. He took Ce'Nedra's other hand and then Ran Borune's, linking the three of them together.
It was extremely difficult. Ran Borune's memory was clouded by age and his long illness, and Ce'Nedra's remembrance of her mother was so sketchy that it could hardly be said to exist at all. Garion concentrated, bending all his will upon it. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead as he struggled to gather all those fleeting memories into one single image.
The light coming in through the flimsy curtains at the window seemed to darken as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and there was a faint, far-off tinkling sound, as if of small, golden bells. The room was suddenly filled with a kind of woodland fragrance -a subtle smell of moss and leaves and green trees. The light faded a bit more, and the tinkling and the odor grew stronger.
And then there was a hazy, nebulous luminosity in the air at the foot of the dying Emperor's bed. The glow grew brighter, and she was there. Ce'Vanne had been a bit taller than her daughter, but Garion saw instantly why Ran Borune had always so doted on his only child. The hair was precisely the same deep auburn; the complexion was that same golden-tinged olive; and the eyes were of that exact same green. The face was willful, certainly, but the eyes were filled with love.
The figure came silently around the bed, reaching out briefly in passing to touch Ce'Nedra's face with lingering, phantom fingertips. Garion could suddenly see the source of that small bell sound. Ce'Nedra's mother wore the two golden acorn earrings of which her daughter was so fond, and the two tiny clappers inside them
gave off that faint, musical tinkle whenever she moved her head. For no particular reason, Garion remembered that those same earrings lay on his wife's dressing table back at Riva.
Ce'Vanne reached out her hand to her husband. Ran Borune's face was filled with wonder, and his eyes with tears.
"Ce'Vanne," he said in a trembling whisper, struggling to raise himself from his pillow. He pulled his shaking hand free from Garion's grasp and reached out toward her. For a moment their hands seemed to touch, and then Ran Borune gave a long, quavering sigh, sank back on his pillows, and died.
Ce'Nedra sat for a long time holding her father's hand as the faint, woodland smell and the echo of the little golden bells slowly subsided from the room and the light from the window returned. Finally she placed the wasted hand gently back on the coverlet, rose, and looked around the room with an almost casual air. "It's going to have to be aired out, of course," she said absently. "Maybe some cut flowers to sweeten the air." she smoothed the coverlet at the side of the bed and gravely looked at her father's body. Then she turned. "Oh, Garion," she wailed, suddenly throwing herself into his arms.
Garion held her, smoothing her hair and feeling the shaking of her tiny body against him and looking all the while at the still, peaceful face of the Emperor of Tolnedra. It may have been some trick of the light, but it almost seemed that there was a smile on Ran Borune's lips.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The state funeral for Emperor Ran Borune XXIII of the Third Borune Dynasty took place a few days later in the Temple of Nedra, Lion God of the Empire. The temple was a huge marble building not far from the Imperial Palace. The altar was backed by a vast fan of pure, beaten gold, with the head of a lion in its center. Directly in front of the altar stood the simple marble bier of Ce'Nedra's father. The late Emperor lay in calm repose, covered from the neck down by a cloth of gold. The column-lined inner hall of the temple was filled to overflowing as the members of the great families vied with one another, not so much to pay their respects to Ran Borune, but rather to display the opulence of their clothing and the sheer weight of their personal adornment.
Garion and Ce'Nedra, both dressed in deepest mourning, sat beside General Varana at the front of the vast hall as the eulogies were delivered. Tolnedran politics dictated that a representative of each of the major houses should speak upon this sad occasion. The speeches, Garion suspected, had been prepared long in advance. They were all quite flowery and tiresome, and each one seemed to be directed at the point that, although Ran Borune was gone, the Empire lived on.
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