"The sailors refused to get into the longboat with him until we did."

"I didn't follow that at all," Zakath murmured to Garion.

"It's a hereditary sort of thing," Garion explained. "Barak's family members are the protectors of the Rivan King. When the situation demands it, they turn into bears. Barak did it several times when I was in danger. It appears that he passed it on to Unrak his son."

"Unrak's your protector now? He seems a little young, and you don't really need that much protection."

"No. He's probably Geran's protector, and Geran was in a certain amount of danger back there in the grotto.”

"Gentlemen," Ce'Nedra said then in a triumphant voice, "may I introduce the Crown Prince of Riva?" She held Geran up so that they could see him.

“He's going to forget how to walk if she doesn't put him down one of these days," Beldin muttered to Belgarath.

"Her arms should start getting tired before too much longer," Belgarath said.

Barak and the others crowded around the little queen even as the sailors who had been rowing reluctantly removed the chains from Barak's son.

"Unrak!" Barak roared, "Come here!"

"Yes, father." The boy stepped out of the boat and came forward.

"This young fellow is your responsibility," Barak told him, pointing at Geran. "I'll be very cross if you let anything happen to him.”

Unrak bowed to Ce'Nedra. "Your Majesty," he greeted her, "you're looking well."

"Thank you, Unrak." She smiled.

"May I?" Unrak asked, holding out his arm toward Geran. "His Highness and I should probably get to know each other."

"Of course," Ce'Nedra said, giving her son to the youthful Cherek.

"We've missed you, your Highness." Unrak grinned at the little boy he held in his arms. "The next time you plan one of these extended trips, you should let us know. We were a little worried."

Geran giggled. Then he reached out and tugged on Unrak's scarcely fledged red beard.

Unrak winced.

Ce'Nedra embraced each of their old friends in turn, bestowing kisses at random. Mandorallen, of course, was weeping openly, too choked up to even deliver a flowery greeting, and Lelldorin was in virtually the same condition. Relg, peculiarly, did not even shrink from the Rivan Queen's embrace. Relg, it appeared, had undergone certain philosophical modifications during the years of his marriage to Taiba.

"There seem to be a few strangers here," Hettar noted in his quiet voice.

Silk smacked his forehead with an open palm. "How remiss of me," he said. "How could I have been so forgetful? This is Lady Poledra, Belgarath's wife and Polgara's mother. The rumors about her demise appear to have been exaggerations."

"Will you be serious?" Belgarath muttered as their friends greeted the tawny-haired woman with a certain awe.