"I had one tankard with Greldik."

“Would you please sit over there on the other side of the room then? One's sense of smell is quite acute, and the odor of ale turns one's stomach."

"Is that why you disapprove of drinking?"

"Of course. What other reason could there be?"

"I think Aunt Pol disapproves on some sort of moral grounds."

"Polgara has some obscure prejudices. Now then," she went on seriously. "My daughter is in no condition to travel just now, so I'm here to deliver Ce'Nedra's baby. Pol gave me all sorts of instructions, most of which I intend to ignore. Giving birth is a natural process, and the less interference the better. When it starts, I want you to take Geran and this young wolf here and go to the extreme far end of the Citadel. I'll send for you when it's all over."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"He's a nice boy," Poledra said to the Rivan Queen.

"I rather like him."

"I certainly hope so. All right, then, Garion, just as soon as the baby's born and we're sure everything's all right, you and I are going to return to the Vale. Polgara's a few weeks behind Ce'Nedra, but we really don't have too much time to waste. Pol wants you to be there when she gives birth."

"You have to go, Garion," Ce'Nedra said. "I only wish I could."

Garion was a bit dubious about leaving his wife so soon after she was delivered, but he definitely did want to be in the Vale when Aunt Pol had her baby.

It was three nights later. Garion was having a splendid dream that involved riding down a long, grassy hill with Eriond. "Garion," Ce'Nedra said, nudging him in the ribs. "Yes, dear?" He was still about half asleep.

"I think you'd better go get your grandmother."

He was fully awake immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I’ve been through this before, dear," she told him.

He rolled quickly out of bed.

"Kiss me before you go," she told him.

He did that.

"And don't forget to take Geran and the puppy when you go off to the other end of the building. Put Geran back to bed when you get there."

"Of course."

A strange expression came over her face. “I think you'd better hurry, Garion," she suggested.

Garion bolted.

It was nearly dawn when the Queen of Riva was delivered of a baby girl. The infant had a short crop of deep-red hair and green eyes. As it had for so many centuries, the Dryad strain bred true. Poledra carried the blanket-wrapped baby through the silent halls of the Citadel to the rooms where Garion sat before a fire and Geran and the wolf slept in a tangle of arms, legs, and paws on a divan.

"Is Ce'Nedra all right?" Garion asked, coming to his feet.

"She's fine," his grandmother assured him, "a little tired is all. It was a fairly easy delivery."