Lord of the Fading Lands (20 page)

«I
will come to you soon, shei'tani,»
he sent when he could, accompanying the thought with the mental projection of a kiss that he placed with warm promise on her lips.

How did he do that?
Ellie touched her lips. The Spirit kiss had felt every bit as convincing as the real thing. She could even smell Rain's fresh, distinctive scent and feel the warmth of his arms pulling her close. "I hope the meeting with Father Celinor and the Archbishop doesn't take too long," she said. She glanced at her mother as they walked down Celieria's busy streets. "I promised the girls I'd meet them in the park for a game of Stones.”

"I still don't know why you made that promise, Ellie," Lauriana chided. "You knew how busy we were going to be today.”

"I knew," Ellie agreed. "But I suspected I'd need a break after dealing with the queen's craftsmasters. And I was right”

Four unpleasant bells in the company of haughty dressmakers, cobblers, and clothiers had left Ellie aching to leap into the nearest hermit hole. Who knew wealthy people spent so much time in pursuit of the perfect outfit, or that there were so many decisions to be made for so simple a task? Until today, Ellie had never realized that the number of buttons on a lady's boot held some particular social significance. Gods! What utter madness! Not to mention the fact that each and every one of the merchants had sniffed at her common appearance and made it clear they served her only because the queen had commanded them. The worst was Maestra Binchi, the queen's dressmaker, who had sized her up in one cold, calculating glance, sneered, and muttered something about silk purses and sowlet ears.

Lauriana shook her head. "You shouldn't have let them bother you, Ellie. They may be masters of their own crafts, and serving by appointment of the king or queen, but so is your father now. They're no better than you or I, even if they do have a bit more gold in their pockets. In fact—though I still think your father made a dreadful mistake—you're the betrothed of a king now. They should be thanking the gods for the opportunity to serve you”

Ellie didn't answer. Mama was very good at ignoring the opinions of others when it suited her. Ellie wasn't so lucky. She'd felt the dislike of those merchants crawling over her skin until she'd wanted to cry out that she had no more choice about being there than they did. Ahead, the road curved to the right, and Celieria's Grand Cathedral of Light came into view. Built entirely of gleaming, hand-carved white marble and gold leaf, the Grand Cathedral stood testament to both the glory of the Bright Lord and the mastery of ancient Celierian, Fey, and Elvian artisans. Situated on the small Isle of Grace in the middle of the Velpin River, it rose up from the clear blue depths of the river like a palace of white clouds and sunbeams. Four gilded, sun-bright bridges radiated from the four corners of the island, connecting the holy site to the more mundane streets of the city.

Thirteen spires adorned the cathedral's golden roof, one for each of the major gods. The largest of the spires rose up on six marble columns from the top of the central dome. An enormous statue of Adelis, Lord of Light, stood in the center of those columns, arms upraised, holding aloft a golden crystal globe that blazed an eternal beacon.

Every time Ellie saw the cathedral, it both awed and frightened her. Even now, as she crossed the golden northeast bridge and climbed the thirteen steps leading up to the cathedral's Grand Entrance, her stomach roiled and her palms went clammy. She loved the Bright Lord, but his priests would forever be tied in her memory with the terror of her childhood exorcism.

Father Celinor, the priest from her family's West End church, was waiting in the covered portico just outside the cathedral doors. A young man with bright blue eyes and sandy hair that always seemed mussed, Father Celinor was the first cleric who'd ever managed to get past Ellie's terror of priests after her childhood exorcism.

"Madam Baristani." He held out his hands and exchanged the kiss of peace with Ellie's mother, then turned to her, smiling with genuine affection and welcome. "And Ellysetta." His fingers squeezed hers. "I never dreamed the Most High had such plans in store for you. This is your opportunity to share the Word of Light with those who have not heard its call." Ellie gave a small laugh. "Let me find peace in my new life first, Father. But you may take comfort that the Fey already do follow the Bright Path.”

"Of course" He patted her hand and smiled. "Come meet the Archbishop." He glanced at the Fey warriors. "I'm afraid canon law forbids you from entering the cathedral bearing arms. You must leave your blades at the door. There is a room there to the left where you may check them with Brother Vericel before entering.”

"Fey protecting a
shei'tani
do not shed their steel," Bel replied.

"Then you must remain here, outside the sanctuary. Not even the King himself may carry weapons across this threshold. The Cathedral is a holy place, a haven of peace.”

Bel exchanged a glance with the rest of Ellie's quintet. Without another word, all five removed their Fey'cha belts, the curved
meicha
at their waists, and the twin
seyani
swords strapped across their backs. They handed the weapons to their Fey brethren. Bel gestured, and all but Ellysetta's quintet and five other Fey fanned out to surround the cathedral.

"We will observe your custom," he conceded, "but no one will be permitted to enter or leave this building or island so long as the Feyreisa remains within.”

Father Celinor's jaw went lax. He hurried to the top of the steps and gaped at the sight of Fey weaving magical barriers at the bridges. "You can't block access to the Isle of Grace! This is the Grand Cathedral of Light, a haven to all.”

"So long as Celierian custom dictates that Fey steel must remain outside the cathedral while the Feyreisa stands within,
Fey
custom dictates that all haven-seekers will have to wait until she departs." Bel held the priest's shocked gaze without wavering. "As we honor your customs, you shall honor ours.”

"I'm sorry, Father," Lauriana apologized in an aggrieved tone. "There is no reasoning with them when it comes to Ellie and what they perceive as ensuring her safety. I've concluded it's best to just humor their requests and ignore them as much as possible." She glowered at Bel.

"The Archbishop will not like this. He will not like this at all.”

Ellysetta cleared her throat. "Perhaps, Father, you should introduce us to the Archbishop. The sooner we're done, the sooner the cathedral can return to normal.”

The priest ran a hand through his hair, leaving the thick waves of gold-streaked brown in disarray. "Yes, well, I suppose you're right, Ellie. Follow me.”

Ringed by her quintet, Ellysetta followed Father Celinor and her mother down the nave towards the large, ornate altar, towering alabaster luminary, and dual pulpits at the center of the cathedral. Behind the altar, a large wedge-shaped portion of the cathedral was reserved for seating clergy and choir, and several doors led to clerical offices and ceremonial chambers.

As they neared the altar, one of the doors opened and a stocky older man emerged. He wore the spotless, ankle- length white tunic and sleeveless, gold-trimmed blue robes of a Church of Light Archbishop. A scowl rode low on his brow.

"Celinor, I distinctly saw Fey warriors weaving magic outside my window”

"Greatfather, Mistress Baristani and her mother have arrived. The Fey escorting her would not remove their weapons without weaving magic around the Isle of Grace.”

Bel bowed to the Archbishop. "The weaves are shields of protection, to ensure the safety of the Feyreisa, which you would not permit Fey steel to do," he explained.

If anything, Bel's comment only made the Archbishop's scowl deepen. "I do not approve. Rest assured, as soon as this meeting is over, I will request an audience with the king. I will not have cursed Fey magic stand between this church and the faithful.”

Ellie bit her lip. For years now the Church had been growing less and less tolerant of magic in all its forms, a direct result of the sharp increase in the numbers of northern priests moving into positions of power in the Church's hierarchy. But until now, she'd never heard any priest in Celieria City— let alone the city's most senior cleric—openly condemn Fey magic as cursed. As the king himself wielded Fey magic, such a statement bordered on treason.

Bel executed a stiff bow. His eyes had gone flat and cold. "As you will, Excellency. But not even King Dorian can prevent the Fey from protecting our queen”

"Yes, well … er …" Father Celinor rubbed his hands together briskly. "Let's get on with the introductions, shall we?" He coughed and cleared his throat. "Ellysetta, Madam Baristani, it's my honor to introduce you both to His Excellency, Greatfather Tivrest, Archbishop of Celieria. Greatfather, this is Mistress Ellysetta Baristani, the Tairen Soul's betrothed, and her mother, Madam Lauriana Baristani, wife of master woodcarver, Sol Baristani. As I mentioned to you earlier, their family has been in my West End congregation since I first assumed my appointment there ten years ago.”

"Greatfather." Ellysetta and Lauriana sank into deep curtseys.

"Madam Baristani, Mistress Baristani." The Archbishop laid a hand on each of their heads and murmured a blessing, then extended a loosely clenched fist for them to kiss the ring of office on his right thumb. When they straightened, he graced them both with a tight smile. "Well, Mistress Baristani, for the last two days you've caused quite a stir in the city, and I see the commotion is going to continue.”

"So it seems, Greatfather," Ellie murmured.

"Hmph" The Archbishop straightened his robes. "First things first. The Bride's Blessing. The king has already informed me of your need for urgency. Though I emphatically do
not
approve of subverting Church protocol for personal whim, precedence does exist for … accelerating some of our lengthier ceremonies. It is not the preferred choice—the longer the devotions, the stronger the bond—but it can be done. I have agreed to perform the seven-day version of the Blessing. Six days of devotion, followed by the Blessing on the seventh day.”

"If you need more time, Greatfather, you must say so," Lauriana urged. "I would never forgive myself if any rush on our part weakened the effects of the Blessing.”

The Archbishop missed the silent plea shining in Lauriana's eyes. "I wouldn't worry too much, Madam Baristani. Seven is a godly number, full of protection and strength." He turned to Ellysetta. "Who will stand as your Honoria, Mistress Baristani?" Every bride was accompanied at the Blessing by her mother and her Honoria, a married female relative or friend, who served as her attendant and guide in the purification ceremony.

"Oh, no question there, Greatfather," Lauriana answered before Ellysetta could speak. "Selianne Pyerson. Ever since childhood, she and Ellie have been close as two feathers on the same wing.”

Ellie's eyes rounded. "Oh, urn, Mama, I don't know if she can" She flicked a glance back towards Bel and the others and lowered her voice. "She's a bit … intimidated … by the Fey.”

"Aren't we all," Mama muttered under her breath. Then a bit louder, "I'll send a boy round with a note later today. I'm sure she'll be honored to stand by you.”

Ellie opened her mouth to protest again, then saw Bel watching. If she continued to protest, she'd just call undue attention to Selianne. She swallowed the objection quickly and forced a smile. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather have. We always vowed that whoever married first would serve as the other's Honoria.”

"Excellent," the Archbishop said. "I'll need all three of you to meet me here at twelve bells on Kingsday for the initial consecration. You will continue to come at the same time every day until the six devotions are complete. On the seventh day, you will be ready for the Bright Bell. Please arrange to arrive no later than eleven bells, so you can begin the Bright Bell precisely at half eleven, when the Great Sun is approaching its zenith and the powers of the Solarus are at their height. If you are even a single chime late, the ceremony will have to be postponed for another day. Do you understand?”

"Yes, Greatfather.”

"Good. Now, about the wedding ceremony itself …"

Rain strode down the corridor to King Dorian's private office on the second floor of the palace, where Dax and the king were waiting for him to join them. Annoura was in court, as was Marissya, protected for the moment by her own quintet rather than her mate. This meeting with Dorian was one Dax and Marissya had prompted, and Rain had reluctantly agreed to. If
dahl'reisen
had begun murdering Celierians in the north, the Fey must help put an end to it.

A pair of Royal Guardsmen flanked the door to the king's office. They bowed as Rain approached and granted him entrance, closing the door behind him. The office was a spacious, wood-paneled room, designed more for comfort and efficiency than pomp. Tall windows overlooked a view of the south gardens, their partially open, slatted wooden shutters admitting plenty of light while obstructing unwanted observation from below. A matching pair of golden leather armchairs faced the large, heavily carved desk that dominated the room.

King Dorian, standing near one of the windows, smiled pleasantly as Rain entered. "Greetings, my Lord Feyreisen. I hope you have found your palace accommodations acceptable." Rain gave a brief nod. "I regret putting you through that circus in the courts yesterday, but it was necessary. We are a country of laws, and even noble visitors must live by them. I trust the girl, your
shei'tani,
is fine and suffered no ill effects from the excitement?”