Playing truant

"….and so we strongly advise you to send a letter bearing the.."

"…the revenue from the sales of teak wood to the Chereks have since doubled as…"

"….Rivans complaining about the taxes charged by the …"

Garion nodded listlessly, trying in vain to present an understanding and wisely sage countenance as he listened to the counselors and ministers around him babble about the papers that needed signing and the rise and fall of the Drasnian stock market. Indeed, it was all he could do to keep from dropping off to sleep.

"…legal document….is imperative that it is signed and sent by messenger to …."

"….the traders insist that a new port be built near to the south-eastern region of Riva that…."

Garion's hand went to his tunic unconsciously and he tugged at the fabric. The weather was chilly and wet today, even more so than usual, and he felt the cold getting to him.

Maybe I could excuse myself and just head back to the bedroom. Stoke the fire and eat something warm. The weather's too flat to have to spend all day listening to things I don't really want to hear.

"Perhaps we could just send them our warmest regards and politely turn them down?" suggested a small, lanky man, seated on Garion's right. Kharon stuck out like a sore thumb in Riva, as all the native men were muscular and big by nature.

Garion nodded, not really understanding what the minister had been saying. "Yes. Send them a reply. I'll sign it."

The monotonous drone of constant chatter slowly faded in the background as Garion pretended to be slowly surveying some records of the Algarian cattle produce.

His eye caught a brightly woven tapestry hanging on the wall, which Ce' Nedra had recently gotten him to place there.

"This room needs to be redecorated. You men always say you aren't bothered by the lack of colour and furnishings but I know you are. So every time you feel bored out of your mind listening to all that political nonsense, you can look at this and remember that I put it there," Ce' Nedra said in a matter-of-fact tone, which quickly dropped to a low purr. "You can't get too bored if you think of me."

Kharon frowned at Garion, whose whole face was suffused with mauve up to his hairline. "My king, are you alright?"

Garion flushed even more, to be caught daydreaming of something so personal and waved Kharon back to his work. He firmly tucked the memory of Ce' Nedra and her impish smile in the back of his mind and settled in to his chair, determined to read through the thick sheaf of records he had been given.

As he was struggling manfully with the text, Ce' Nedra burst in the room, curls bouncing wildly.

"Garion! You have to come now. Something's wrong and you have to fix it now."

Garion shot out of his chair, half worried, and partly grateful to have an excuse to get out of the stuffy room.

"Can this not wait?" demanded one of the counselors impatiently.

Ce' Nedra ignored him. "Will you hurry Garion? You have to come now."

"Now, now," began a particularly florid looking minister, his face red despite the weather.

Ce' Nedra stamped her foot. "Don't now now me Dorhin. The only now now I'm interested is Garion coming now!"

Dorhin shut up at the queen's snap, and impending protests were cut off halfway from the other counselors' mouths. If they weren't careful it would blow to a full blast tirade.

Garion grabbed his sword up from where it was leaning against his throne; the orb was pulsing a bright red through the soft leather pouch that covered it and Garion felt a pang of sharp anxiety hit him.

Garion bothered with no excuse, and he raced out the door with Ce' Nedra leading the way, her tiny feet making small pitterpatter sounds against the flagstone floor and her red wild hair bouncing behind her.

"Ce' Nedra, tell me what's going on," managed Garion, who was panting as he manfully tried to keep up with his wife, who was speeding in front of him like a mad hare.

Ce' Nedra threw an unreadable look over her slim shoulder and said nothing.

They ran up a numerous flights of stairs and went round corners and through winding passageways. Garion knew where they were heading. The royal bed chamber.

He saw the ornate door with its gold trimmings ahead of him, and caught up after Ce' Nedra, who had just disappeared around the door.

He burst through the door, breathing hard, prepared to fight, or do something that required his man power. Ce' Nedra stood by her bedside table, also exhaling heavily from her run, her small hand held to her chest.

"Shut the door."

Garion kicked the door shut with the back of his foot with a slam, and made for the table.

"What is it?"

Ce' Nedra's face was solemn; her fingers twiddled with the edge of one elegant chiffon sleeve.

"You mustn't get angry Garion, or do anything rash if I tell you what's wrong."

Garion felt panicked. Something must be very wrong. Ce' Nedra always plunged straight in to the thick of the problem, not bothering to allay it, unless it was something very important. Usually something that would cause Garion to fly in to unreasonable rage.

"Well, tell me!"

"But you'll be upset. I don't like making you upset, Garion. You start breaking things."

Garion heaved a frustrated sigh. "I don't do that. Aunt Pol does that. Tell me, before I make you."

Ce' Nedra considered a moment, her tiny sharp face serious; she gave a sharp nod.

She opened her bedside drawer and rummaged inside it.

She came up with a brown plaster.

"Here."

She held it out to Garion, who took it, bewildered.

"What?"

Ce' Nedra shook her head at Garion's simplicity.

"It's a plaster, darling. You use it to put on…"

Garion cut her off with a wave of his royal hand.

"I know it's a plaster, Ce' Nedra. I've seen a fair amount of bandages being used during wars. Why are you giving it to me?"

His wife forlornly held out her finger.

"I have a cut," she said sadly.

Garion's breath wheezed out in a huge puff of white steam in the cold air.

"A cut? You called me here to put a plaster on your cut?" His tone was incredulous at her lugubrious statement.

Ce' Nedra's face was utterly serious, but Garion could almost swear she was trying her hardest not to laugh at him. He stared at her.

A short silence.

"Well?"

Ce' Nedra shrugged. "You could open that jar of dhills on the dressing table. The lid seems to be stuck."

"Ce' Nedra!"

"What?"

"What is this all about? Your finger doesn't have a cut at all. It's perfectly fine. Look," he held up her finger and waved it in front of her eyes, "there's nothing."

Ce' Nedra looked down at the bedsheets, her finger busily tracing a pattern on the gold embroidery that ran like spiderwebs across the rims of the blanket.

"I thought you might want to take a day off. Algarian produce isn't the most scintillating subject on days like this; most days, actually. The wood export isn't very exciting either."

Her voice was hardly remorseful; in fact, it sounded very mischievous.

Garion chucked her chin up. "You promised not to listen in on council meetings like that. You promised."

Ce' Nedra lifted her face defiantly. "That was last year's resolution. It's January." Her fingers tugged at the metal pendant around her neck that Garion had given her before their wedding. On it was the most intricate and detailed picture of a tree, its branches spread wide. She'd been using it more often of late to her advantage to listen in on conversations when she felt she had nothing better to do.

Garion couldn't help laughing at his wife's innate sense of logic and reasoning.

Ce' Nedra looked indignant. "Stop laughing at me. I was trying to rescue you. I wasn't even listening properly yet hearing their droning made me want to fall asleep."

Garion's chuckles died down gradually until he'd finally gained some modicum of control.

"Nevermind. You saved me from having to listen to another hour's worth of nonsense. I forgive you."

"You forgive me? You should be thanking me!"

They laughed a while together, and Garion dragged a chair up to the bed side where his wife was sitting.

"Garion! Are you going to sleep?" Ce' Nedra demanded, when Garion's eyes started to droop shut. His head, which was lolling against the back of the armchair, came up.

"What else is there to do? If I go out, some stupid messenger will call me back to the meeting. I can't think of anything to do, seeing how I'm confined to the bedroom."

He shut his eyes again. A moment later, he felt the warm heaviness of his wife in his lap.

"Your imagination doesn't stretch very far, Garion. I can think of plenty of things to do here." His small wife nestled against him and Garion suddenly felt very alert.

"Is that so?" Even after years of marriage to Ce' Nedra, Garion could still barely master the art of speech when his wife tried to lure him in to bed. It was all he could do to get the words out of his mouth.

"Yes, it is so." Ce' Nedra lifted up her mouth and pressed it against Garion's and suddenly he felt that he didn't really need much verbal skills when it came to this particularly pleasurable pastime.

Her hair, which was soft and light, brushed against his face, and Garion closed his eyes once more, but this time, heady and thoroughly awake.

Ce' Nedra's mouth was very warm and delicious, and Garion was feeling altogether very happy. With a small nudge of his will, the lights flickered out and the logs laid ready in the fireplace burst in to bright flames.

Garion's head fell back on the arm chair with a thump rest as Ce' Nedra's lips wandered down south to his neck and rested on the spot where his pulse was racing. She nuzzled the skin there, and Garion made a helpless sound deep in the back of his throat. Her slender fingers played over his shoulders, and then disappeared to God know's where and Garion felt at that moment, clothes were about the biggest hindrance to mankind ever.

A flash of maroon startled Ce' Nedra out of her comfortable place in Garion's lap and she threw a highly embarrassed glance at Garion's sword on the floor, on which the orb was cheekily blazing.

"Take it out, Garion."

Garion was groggy and his mind wasn't too clear.

"What?"

"Take it out."

"Why? It's not doing anything."

"I know it isn't. But it's embarrassing me."

"Darling, it's going to know what we're doing whether it's in this room, the next or at the other end of the fortress."

"If you don't do it now, I'm going to call Dhorin and tell him that…."

Garion hastily got up. Taking the sword, he gave it a careless fling on to the settee in the sitting room which adjoined to the royal bedchambers and slammed the door shut.

He locked the door for good measure.

"Thank you, Garion."

Garion picked up his wife bodily and placed her back on his knee, where she belonged, anxious to resume his former occupation.

Halfway through a long kiss, Ce' Nedra pulled away.

"I told you Algarian produce was boring. Isn't this much more preferable?"