Shades of Gray (105 page)

She chuckled and held him close.

There was a polite knock on the door, and Zsurtul opened it.

Toueesut stood there, his swarm dancing in and out and around each other behind him in their usual fashion. The Touiban grinned, his mustaches bristling with pleasure.

“I am informed there is to be a wedding,” he said. “Most joyful news this is! Many congratulations, King Zsurtul and soon-to-be Queen Zhalmo! But first there are ceremonies, important ones, which must be conducted to propitiate the good favor of all the Gods so they are smiling on your union. Yes, indeed there are! Come, come,” he gestured to them as his swarm mates darted into the room and surrounded them, sweeping them out into the corridor amid the scent of fresh baked bread and flowers.

“Bathing there must be first and many beautiful oils and unguents have we with us. Lucky we have a fellow Sholan Clan member with us who be knowing the wedding ceremony as we have not yet experienced it ourselves.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Jurrel, backing off. “I’ve never really been involved in the priestly side of the Brotherhood!”

“Then be going to the comm and calling Brother Garras to find out,” said Toueesut, pointing in the direction of the Bridge.

As the Touiban turned to follow his happily trilling swarm and the couple they surrounded, he looked at Schiya. “You be organizing who is cooking the food. There must be a feast for a wedding! We will be getting the happy couple ready.”

Schiya watched them dart off down the corridor toward their own private quarters then turned to her siblings. “Isn’t this all too sudden and too soon for her, or am I the only one worrying?”

“Not if it’s what she wants,” said Chy’tu. “And from the look on her face, I’d say it is.” He linked arms with his sister, drawing her toward the mess. “Come on, Schiya, I’ll help you organize the catering.”

 

The actual service was to be a short version of the Sholan one, including the ritual of sharing blood, except they would exchange rings, not bracelets.

Bathed together in scented, steaming water that smelled to them of almost every scent in the rainbow—Touiban scents wakened other senses, they discovered—Zhalmo had balked totally at wearing any of the Touiban female clothing that was stored on the
Couana
.

“They’re way too short for me, and too bright,” she said. “They clash badly with my skin color.”

“It’s all right for you,” she grumbled at Zsurtul as they sat on cushions wrapped in huge warmed towels in the Touibans’ private quarters, waiting for them to come out of the huddle they’d formed to discuss clothing. “You get to wear your uniform! They refuse to let me wear mine.”

“Think of it like this,” said Zsurtul, grinning. “Imagine what we’re missing at home by getting married here: a State Wedding.”

She looked at him in horror. “Oh, no! My father won’t let us get away with this! We’ll have to have one as well!”

“We’ll have to give the people something,” he agreed. “But we should be able to get away with just a blessing and the signing of the Royal Register. Oh, and I insist on you having a coronation. You will be Queen, you know, in your own right.”

She groaned and pulled the towel over her face.

“Regretting this already?” he joked.

Her head popped out again with a look of consternation on it. “No, never! I forgot I’m marrying a dynasty, not just you.”

“We’ll start a new dynasty, of Kings, not Emperors,” he said, reaching out from the folds of the heated towel to touch her cheek as the Touiban huddle broke up.

Two of them disappeared into the adjacent female quarters to return with armfuls of soft gauzy drapes in gold and pastel colors.

“Solution we have,” said Toueesut. “Dress you wear as tunic, but over these scarves tucked into a band to make a long skirt. Beautiful and floaty you will look.” He nodded vigorously. “Yes, this will do. Jewelry we have too, rings for exchanging and earrings and necklaces. You choose from them. All we have is yours to choose,” he bowed.

Whisked off to the adjacent female quarters to be dressed, with Schiya accompanying her, Zhalmo finally emerged for the ceremony looking like a formal vision of the Prime Earth Goddess, La’shol, in gold spun pastels that drifted and swayed with her every movement. She’d chosen only a pair of bright blue ear studs for jewelry.

The main Touiban room had been draped in more of the gauzy materials. Incense burners had been lit, filling the room with the scent of oranges. Lighting had been reduced to a gentle glow from the colored glass lamps that hung down low from the ceiling.

It was like stepping into the opulence of a nomadic tent, and Zhalmo only had eyes for her surroundings when she entered. Chy’tu had to take her by the arm and call her name.

“We’re ready now, Zhalmo,” he said gently. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

Toueesut stood beside a small table with a bowl of incense, a knife, and two matching gold and gemmed rings sitting on it. To his other side was a small stand holding a brazier with glowing charcoal.

Chy’tu led her forward to kneel on the cushions beside Zsurtul. Behind them, the rest of the Primes and Jurrel were gathered. Ashay and Shaayiyisis hovered by the open doorway, their bulk preventing them from actually entering the crowded room.

“A wedding we celebrate today,” said Toueesut, resplendent in a fresh turquoise blue jacket edged in gold braid, as his swarm fell silent and still behind him. “Always joyous this is but more so since the bride was lost to us, and now we have her safely back among her family again. This wedding important for peace as King Zsurtul and Zhalmo one day will rule over beginning of unified Valtegan people. Will no longer be castes, but all combined as one.” He stopped, hearing exclamations of surprise from around him. “Legends of your people I hear,” he said, looking at Zsurtul. “When Zsadhi comes, so does end of castes.”

“Zsadhi?” asked Zsurtul.

“Jurrel be knowing,” nodded Toueesut, his mustaches wriggling from side to side. “Captain Kusac is your Zsadhi. He has the mark.”

Zsurtul swung around to look at Jurrel, who spread his hands.

“I only know what we all saw,” he said. “When he changed into a M’zullian Valtegan, he had a tattoo of a sword on his chest. The Ch’almuthians called him the Zsadhi.”

“Later, later. Wedding now!” said Toueesut as his swarm began to trill impatiently.

When he had their attention again, he continued. “This wedding unifies your people, King Zsurtul. Do you wish to have Zhalmo as your wife and share your life with her?”

“Yes, I do,” said Zsurtul, looking at her in such a way that she felt her heart skip several beats.

“Zhalmo, do you wish to be married to Zsurtul and share your life with him?”

She tried to say the words but couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded.

“You have to say it, love,” said Zsurtul quietly, reaching for her hand.

“No hands yet!” said one of the other Touibans, darting forward and smacking Zsurtul’s hand away, then darting back behind Toueesut.

Zsurtul grimaced and rubbed the top of his hand.

“Yes, I do,” she said in a rush, suddenly finding her voice.

“Good, good,” beamed Toueesut, picking up the knife and waving it about. “Many peoples, ours all included, are believing blood is life, so they share blood when they marry. Now you will share blood.” He handed it to Zsurtul, who looked apprehensively at it.

“Make a small cut in your palm,” hissed Jurrel from behind.

Zsurtul turned his other hand over, looking at the palm, then rapidly made a small cut in it. As the blood began to pool in his palm, he handed the blade to Zhalmo.

Without even looking at her hand, she made the small incision and handed the knife back to Toueesut.

He took the knife from her and then took hold of their hands, pressing them together. “The bowl,” he said to his swarm brothers.

The bowl was snatched up and held under their hands as Toueesut pressed them firmly together. Blood slowly trickled from between their palms and fell into the incense.

“Blood is mingled, so is life and love,” said Toueesut, letting their hands go and taking the bowl.

Na’qui swiftly handed small pads of absorbent material to them.

As Zhalmo pressed hers to the cut, she turned to look at the medic. “I’m sorry for earlier,” she whispered.

Na’qui smiled and shook her head. “Forget it,” she whispered back.

“Now we offer this to the Deities we all worship,” said Toueesut, tipping the resinous incense over the hot charcoal.

It sputtered for a moment then flared up in a bright flame before settling down to send out calming and uplifting scents, some of which Zsurtul remembered from Shola.

“Ahh,” said Toueesut, breathing in deeply. “A good omen, that flame, I am told. Now the rings. They shall be an outward sign that you two have exchanged vows to each other.”

He picked up the rings, and handed the larger to Zhalmo and the smaller one to Zsurtul.

Zsurtul reached for her hand and eased the ring onto her index finger, his eyes glowing with an inner light as he watched her face. “You look so lovely,” he said, “that I wonder at my good fortune every time I see you.”

Her color rose in a blush as she took his hand and placed the ring on his finger, her hands trembling slightly. “And I marvel at the love that caused you and your friends to come so far to rescue me,” she said.

“As Captain of the
Couana
, I now say you are legally married,” said Toueesut, clapping his hands, mustaches bristling in pleasure. “Let no one ever come between you from today.”

Zsurtul leaned forward to kiss her, loving the way she met his lips with a passion he’d guessed at but not yet explored.

The Touibans trilled in songs that rose and fell in pitch, weaving a magic of music about them as they got to their feet and turned around to face the others.

“Majesties,” said Jurrel, bowing to them. Then, “May I hug the bride?” he asked Zsurtul.

“Just a hug,” the young King grinned, wagging a finger at the Sholan amid laughter.

It wasn’t until after dark that Cheelar and M’yikku returned. They were ushered to the center of the cave to get warm, helped out of their damp clothing, and given hot drinks and instant hot meal rations to eat.

Around them, the team leaders and their Seconds gathered to hear their reports.

“It isn’t nearly as far in the snow as we thought,” said Cheelar as he shoveled the food into his mouth, alternating with gulps of the hot maush. “Only about an hour’s walk, and most of it is among the trees.”

M’yikku nodded, eating more slowly. “We were able to walk in animal tracks most of the way. Some kind of hoofed herd beast like those we hunted on that other world—the time the M’zullian half-breeds attacked us.”

“I remember,” said Kusac. “What did you find out about them?”

“They’re not all soldiers,” said Cheelar, scraping his spoon around the plastic container for the last scraps. “There’s a farming community outside the city, some five miles from here. They allocate the less able to farm. We saw people who were mainly older, and some who seemed less mentally alert, which was strange. They seem to be unable to ensure they breed healthy sons, perhaps too much inbreeding. There were some able-bodied farmers too, but not many. It was a market day when we were there.” He stopped to drain his cup, then reached out for more from the pot nearest to him.

“Seems they’re allowed to keep some of what they farm, and they sell or trade it for other goods,” said M’yikku. “There are also people in mountain settlements, though not as high up as we are. They’re more self-sufficient in that they have females of their own. Sounds like they actually live as families. Only the males come to trade, though. Everyone else looks down on them as decadent. There were a couple in the village.”

“Did you go to the city?” asked Carrie, pouring more maush for herself and Kusac from the other jug. She offered some to Kaid, but he shook his head.

“Yes, there’s a transport system to the city from the farms. A train runs twice a day. We caught it there and back,” Cheelar said. “There’re huge interactive maps at the main station where you can find the location of various buildings, from shopping areas to government offices.”

“The money we took from the soldiers on Ch’almuth is worth very little,” said M’yikku. “Bought us the train trips and that’s all. We found out that they do use the old Empire coins that we use on our world, though, and they are more valuable here.”

“Were they suspicious of you?” asked Kaid.

“Strangely, no. They assumed we were mountain folk because of our coloring,” said Cheelar. “The city, now, it was quite different. More modern, full of soldiers, though the stores were a mix of civilian and military. They do earn enough to eat at restaurants and buy personal goods, so it isn’t a completely repressive lifestyle. We saw a few drones about on errands. They’re a much lighter color than any of us or the Primes, but we’ll fit right in as far as everyone else goes.”