Firewalk (7 page)

Terralt burst out laughing.

“What did I tell you, little brother?” he said. “Speaks it like one of us. And you should see her ride.” He chuckled, making his comment an innuendo. “But doubtless you will.”

“Terralt!” Lord Randon scowled. “Enough of that. Go and find the priests, please, and see if they’re finished conferring. This is difficult enough for all of us.”

Terralt gave an exaggerated sigh, bowed extravagantly to Kayli, and stepped out without another word. Randon turned back to Kayli with an apologetic grin. Kayli noted for the first time that Randon had the same magnetic, sparkling eyes as Terralt, but his were brilliantly green without any of the brown in Terralt’s eyes. Kayli was relieved that Randon was more sun-browned than Terralt, probably because of his riding and hunting; it might be normal for Agronds to be so fair, but Kayli could not entirely shake off the impression that these pale folk looked sickly. At least he had a proper mustache, and no hair on his chin.

“Please pardon Terralt,” Randon said quietly. “The weeks since my father declared me Heir have been difficult for him. He feels he’s been cheated, and I’m inclined to agree. He served Father well for years, and I’m ill-prepared for ruler-ship—and no one knows that better than Terralt.” He stopped, signing and shaking his head. “Forgive me. I’m babbling like a fool. Please, sit down.” He saw Kayli’s hesitation and added, “Unless you need to send for one of your maids?”

In Bregond it would have been highly improper for Kayli to be alone in a closed room with a man, but that seemed silly when she’d traveled so far to marry him. She smiled and sat down in one of the chairs near the fireplace. Randon hesitated, then sat down in a chair facing hers.

“My instincts nag me to offer you something to drink,” Randon said ruefully. “But I’m told you’re fasting, much to Stevann’s—my healer, that is—disgust. May I ask how long you’re expected to-continue your fast?”

Kayli flushed. She had not expected to be asked about it.

“Until our wedding night,” she told him.

Randon raised an eyebrow, a gesture strikingly similar to Terralt’s.

“Do all Bregondish brides starve themselves, or only the noble ones?”

“Neither,” Kayli said. She had to smile. “It is a—a custom of my Order.”

“Then I trust you won’t object to a hasty wedding.” Randon cleared his throat. “In fact, it would be best if we were married immediately, if you don’t mind. The wedding, my succession, are unpopular with most of the nobility of Agrond, and Terralt has made a formal complaint. We have permission from the advisory council to be married immediately.”

Kayli was surprised.

“They have found me suitable without even meeting me?”

“You’re High Lord Elaasar’s daughter,” Randon said wryly. “That makes you suitable.” He hesitated, then said frankly, “Stevann examined you while you were unconscious—in the presence of your midwife, of course—and confirmed your virginity. I beg your pardon for that, but—”

“No. I would have expected as much under the circumstances, although in Bregond a midwife would have performed such a task.” Kayli flushed with embarrassment, but perhaps it was best; at least she had been spared the indignity of such an examination by a stranger—and a man!—while she was conscious. And at least her fast would soon end. “When would you like to have the wedding?”

“Tonight, if you don’t object.” Randon shrugged. “I know it’s short notice. But if you’re well enough—”

“I am well,” Kayli said quickly. “But are there no banns to be posted, none of the noble families to witness?”

Randon grimaced.

“We can’t be crowned until you’ve demonstrated that you can bear my heir,” he said. “Technically, until that time I could set you aside in favor of another woman, or pass the line of succession to Terralt. By our custom, we’d have a formal wedding when you became pregnant, inviting all the lords to witness both the wedding and the coronation. A private wedding now confirms the alliance between our countries and ensures the legitimacy of my heir.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to speak so plainly. As Terralt is ever reminding me, I’ve spent too much time among peasants.”

“Thank you, but I prefer your honesty.” Kayli took a moment to master herself. So, despite having left behind her life, her dreams, she could still be set aside, renounced as a failure if she failed to bear a child with expected promptness? But of course, if Randon’s Heirship required a successor, he could not afford a wife who would endanger his claim.

“Very well. I can be prepared for our wedding tonight.” Kayli spoke without emotion; in fact she felt empty and numb. “If it reassures you, my midwife Endra and my father’s healers have examined me and assure me that there is no reason I should not bear strong and healthy children.”

“Stevann said the same.” Randon sighed ruefully. “You have no idea how I resent the businesslike nature of this whole arrangement. When Terralt was married to Ynea, at least they’d met a few times at feasts and festivals, and there was no real need for Terralt to hurry about fathering an heir. Not that he was slow about it anyway.” He sighed again. “Forgive me, lady. I’m sure Terralt’s told you what a dreadful husband I’ll make. I can only promise my best effort, and my respect, which will be all the greater if you can bear with me through this nastiness.”

He said this in such an earnest, almost pleading manner that under other circumstances Kayli might have laughed. How different he was from the cocky, self-assured Terralt! As it was, she couldn’t quite keep a smile from her lips.

“I have no doubt that there will be harsher tests of our mettle than a hasty wedding,” she said quietly. “Nonetheless I have spent my life learning to accept and meet challenges presented to me. When failure is unacceptable, the motivation to success is greatest.” She chuckled to herself; she’d repeated that adage over and over as she prepared for her first firewalk.

Then she glanced at the door again.

“Where is Brother Santee?” she asked. “I thought you sent Terralt for him.”

“Not for him,” Randon said. “Your priest was injured in the raid. He’ll recover, Stevann says, but he’s not well enough to perform the ceremony.”

Kayli’s heart sank. She’d fully expected to be wed in a proper Bregondish bloodbonding; would her people even recognize some outlandish Agrondish rite? Would her children be considered illegitimate in Bregond?

“I sent our priest to see him,” Randon continued. “He’ll perform both rituals so that we can be wed by your customs as well as ours. Your Brother Santee insisted that he be carried down for the wedding so he could at least prompt the priest if he forgot anything. Is that acceptable?”

“More than acceptable,” Kayli said, relieved. She hadn’t realized how much she’d counted on a proper bloodbonding, her one assurance that this marriage was a true one, not merely political prostitution. “I thank you for your consideration.”

“And I thank you for the horses,” Randon said quickly. “They’re wonderful beasts. If not for the circumstances of your arrival, I’d have been in the saddle long before now. I couldn’t have asked for a nobler gift. Were they your choice?”

Kayli couldn’t suppress a flush of pride at his words.

“They were the finest in my father’s stables,” she said. “I was so pleased by the beautiful hawk you sent.” She sighed. “I fear he was lost in the raid and is likely seeking a mate of his own somewhere between our two countries.”

“No matter,” Randon said quickly. “I’ll take you to the mews and you can choose another.” He hesitated. “Lady Kayli, I want to make this as easy for you as I can. Of course I need an heir, but you may keep your own rooms and—”

Kayli chuckled a little bitterly, remembering her own hopes that her husband, like Jaenira’s, might not trouble her overmuch. Somehow her attitude had changed in the intervening days. She had given up too much in the name of this alliance. If this marriage must be, she would not let Randon or anyone else make a mere travesty of it.

“In Bregond,” she said gently, “it is the custom for husband and wife to share their quarters. I thank you for your kindness, but although I was no more prepared for this marriage than you, it is my intention to honor my vows in every way, and strive to be the best wife and High Lady that I can be.”

Randon smiled in relief.

“Thank you, lady. I begin to believe the Bright Ones have blessed me with a most exceptional bride.”

Kayli had to smile again. No, she was not so exceptional. But given time, hard work and Brisi’s grimoires, she would be.

“I thank you,” she said quietly. “Is there time to change my clothing before the ceremony? I had a gown made from the fabric you sent, and I would wear it for our wedding.”

“Of course, there’s time,” Randon assured her. “I’ll speak to the council and have everything prepared for the ceremony. It’s midafternoon now; can you be ready at sunset?”

In Bregond, weddings would have been performed at dawn or moonrise; a sunset wedding would be considered inauspicious. Obviously the Agrondish thought differently.

“I will be ready at sunset,” Kayli said. “Where will the ritual be held?”

“In the great hall,” Randon told her. “Ordinarily it would be held on the front steps; it’s our custom that the bride and groom step over the threshold of their home together. But that’s best saved for the large ceremony later.”

Or perhaps best avoided in case the bride must be set aside for another. Either Randon truly believed that Kayli would be the wife to bear his heirs, or he was trying to spare her feelings; either way, Kayli was warmed by the gesture.

“Is there any special preparation I should make for your ceremony?” Randon asked as Kayli rose to leave.

“In Bregond you would have a dagger specially made and consecrated, unless you belonged to an Order and had your own
thari,
”
Kayli said. “But we can share my
thari.
Such a minor infringement of custom is acceptable.”

“Very well, then.” Randon took her hand and bowed deeply over it. “Until sunset, lady.”

“Until sunset,” Kayli said, feeling awkward and stiff once more. She hurriedly retreated, glad to return to her room.

Endra was, to Kayli’s surprise, not dismayed to learn how soon the wedding was to take place.

“Better sooner than later,” she said practically. “Your gown’s loose on you now. Much longer and you’d have fasted yourself down to a pile of rattling bones. Best have it done.”

At the sudden realization that the waiting was over, that she was shortly going to marry a stranger and share her bed with him that very night, Kayli felt a flash of panic. Here truly was the end of all she’d known. She looked down; to her disgust, her hands were shaking. “Oh, Endra, what will I do?” she said quietly, although she wanted to scream. “I am so frightened.”

“Why, of course you’re frightened, pet,” Endra said soothingly, stroking Kayli’s hair. “I’ve never met a new bride who wasn’t, unless she’d had a few barn-loft tumbles beforehand. Your sister Jaenira cried and shook before her wedding until I potioned her to sleep. But I have an answer for new brides.”

”Oh, please, no more potions,” Kayli groaned as Endra set a cup in front of her.

“No potion, my lady, only a cup of broth with herbs to fortify you,” Endra said sternly. “Though I’ve often thought it might be a mercy to give bride and groom both a good dose of Midnight Dew in these arranged matches. Seems like lords and ladies lay a heavy enough burden on their children’s wedding nights. Of course they’d never agree to dosing their children with love potions; besides, I doubt if there’s enough Midnight Dew in the Three Kingdoms. No, the answer is simpler—just remember that however terrified you are, Lord Randon is just as frightened.”

“I fail to see how he could be afraid,” Kayli said irritably. “Lord Randon has had more than a ‘few barn-loft tumbles’ if the rumors are true.”

“Well, that’s all to the good, too,” Endra said placidly. “At least your husband knows the lay of the land, so to speak. A pity
you
couldn’t have had your Awakening before now, but there it is, and you’d have been every bit as nervous for
that.
So if it helps, imagine you’re going to your Awakening, but in a fancier gown. There you are.” She tied off the last lacing.

Kayli surveyed herself critically in the mirror. The rich red gown with its gold trim, the gold collar and earrings with their deep red stones made her dusky skin seem golden itself. The gold combs glistened against the loops of her shining black hair, but the golden glints in her deep brown eyes were brighter still. She took a deep breath and swallowed her fear.

“Is it nearly sunset?” she asked.

“Soon.” Endra glanced out the window. “I’ll move your things to the lord’s room as soon as you go down.”

“Oh, no,” Kayli said quickly, clutching the midwife’s hand. “Please, you must come to the ceremony. Please.”

Endra chuckled.

“Very well, then, lady, if you wish, though I don’t know how these folk will take to a servant at a private wedding. Go on, then, and I’ll give the girls their orders and come down.”

Kayli wished desperately that the midwife would walk down with her, but she said nothing. She clutched her
thari
in its sheath and felt a small measure of comfort.

I judge this blade well forged.

A guard waited outside the door to escort her down. She hoped that after the wedding that could be changed; guards waiting at her door and dogging her every footstep would be intolerable, and the need for them spoke poorly of security.

Kayli had not seen Agrond’s great hall before, and her first glimpse both impressed and disappointed her. The hall was far larger than that of her father’s castle and much more richly ornamented with tapestries, rugs, and expensive metals, but the ceiling was far lower and the room less brightly lit, too, making it seem somehow smaller and meaner. Half a dozen men and women sat at the large table, presumably the High Lord’s advisers.

Randon, Terralt, and a tiny, pale woman, heavily pregnant, waited by the door, standing near a litter holding Brother San-tee. Beside the litter stood a strangely dressed priest, and a younger fair-haired man, more plainly robed, knelt at Brother Santee’s side.