CHAPTER
18
OTHUR SMILED AS IAIN,
THE YOUNG PRIEST ASSIGNED to the castle chapel, stood his ground
before the hardened Plains warriors. Keir sat before the hearth,
and the other warriors clustered around, their faces intent and
questioning.
“No,” Iain said
firmly. “We do not worship people.”
Othur had to give the
lad credit. Although learned, Iain was barely out of his initiate,
and he was a thin rail of a lad compared to the Plains warriors. He
was pale, with a shock of curly, red-brown hair that seemed to rise
straight up off his head. Othur had thought Iain would pass out
when he’d entered the room and the Warlord had asked for his token.
But Iain had stood straight and firm under the eyes of the Warlord
and his people and told them they were wrong.
Of course, only Othur
could see that his hands were clenched white and trembling behind
his back.
“But there are people
in the chapel,” Atira said. “I have seen the statue of the woman
there and—”
“No,” Iain replied,
shaking his head. He took a breath and tucked his hands up into the
sleeve of his white-and-gold robes. “We worship the Sun God, who is
the god of purity and strength, and the Goddess, the Lady of the
Moon and Stars, who is the goddess of healing and mercy.” He held
up a thin, pale hand. “Yes, we personify them in pictures, glass,
and statuary, but in truth, that is more to offer reassurance than
the powers that control our lives . . .” Iain blinked. “Well,
that’s probably more than you need at the moment.”
“We do not turn the
elements into people,” Prest said.
“Nor do we.” Iain
paused, staring at the floor for a moment. “Perhaps a better way to
understand it is . . .” His voice trailed off for a
moment.
To Othur’s surprise,
the Plains warriors waited quietly, respectfully,
even.
Iain nodded to
himself and looked up at Keir. “When a child starts to learn, we
give the child lessons about our faith. We teach them about the Sun
God and the Goddess, the Lady of the Moon and Stars. We start
simply, with simple images. You understand?”
“The wind makes the
grass dance,” Prest said suddenly.
The other Plains
warriors started to nod.
“A child’s song,”
Keir explained. “One of the first they are taught about the
elements.”
“So,” Iain said. “As
we grow and learn, our understanding grows as well. And as our
understanding grows larger and deeper, so does the Sun God. Grows
beyond the pictures, the images.” Iain stopped and flushed a bit.
“Perhaps I am not explaining this well, but—”
“No,” Keir said
slowly. “I think I understand better.”
“Still, it is . . .
unsettling,” Atira said.
Iain nodded. “Each
has his own way. Who is to say which one is right?”
“The Archbishop,”
Othur said.
Iain glanced his way.
“True,” he said. “The church establishes our doctrines, and every
faith has its rituals. I’ve been reading some older texts in the
chapel archives, and I’m learning fascinating things
about—”
“The ceremony,” Keir
interrupted with an apologetic smile. “Can you tell me of the
marriage ceremony?”
The lad drew a deep
breath and went through the marriage ceremony word for word, with
Keir listening intently.
Finally, Keir leaned
back in his chair. “Those pledges seem little different to me than
any promise between a bonded couple.”
“What words are
spoken in your ceremony?” Iain asked.
There was some
stiffening at that question. But Keir raised a hand at the silent
protest. “The words of a bonded couple are private. Not to be
shared easily with others.”
“I understand your
desire for privacy,” Iain said. “But if you wish to be certain that
there is no conflict, I’d ask to hear that pledge before making a
final decision.” He hesitated for a moment. “I would treat those
words as if I heard them while bells were ringing,” Iain said
slowly, in the language of the Plains.
That brought muffled
laughter and an outright smile from the Warlord. “Under the bells,”
Keir corrected the young man.
“Ah,” Iain nodded,
then continued in Xyian. “For now, let us assume that the promises
are the same.”
“Except that they are
said in a stone tent and witnessed by people,” Atira pointed out,
the laughter gone from her face. “What matter the ceremony? The
pledge is between two. Their words are enough between
them.”
“There are reasons,
good reasons, for a marriage to be sanctified by the church, beyond
the binding of two souls,” Iain asserted. “Among our people, it
establishes the rights of the offspring and aids in the
determination of property and inheritance. Further, we track our
bloodlines through the male line, with the distaff a secondary
consideration.” Iain continued, “To some, the emotional
considerations of marriage are outweighed by the legal
considerations. In this time, it seems almost more of a contractual
method of doing business than the bringing together of two souls.
This has not always been the case.”
Othur watched as a
few pairs of eyes got a glazed look.
“The role of the
church in our world is an important one. The church is a source of
learning and education,” Iain continued. “We clerics have the time
to seek out and preserve knowledge. Not to mention that the church
deals with many of the problems of the poor, the sick, and the
aged.” Iain was warming to his theme. “We foster a sense of charity
to those less fortunate. And we encourage a sense of community by
our—”
“Do all clerics feel
as you do?” Keir’s eyes narrowed. “Or are there those that abuse
their positions?”
Iain drew himself up
and stared right at the Warlord. “Do all of the Plains think with
one mind and heart?”
“No,” Keir said
ruefully.
“We are no more and
no less than you,” Iain answered plainly, his face solemn and very
earnest.
Good for you, lad, Othur thought, as Keir slowly
smiled.
“If one who is not of
our faith wishes to marry one of the faithful, this can be done,”
Iain said. “There is no bar, and no need to convert. Not in the
church proper, mind.” Iain shrugged. “But traditionally, royal
marriages have taken place in the throne room, so that is not an
issue.”
“Unless the
Archbishop makes it one,” Heath spoke from the far corner where
he’d planted himself.
Iain sighed. “I would
like to believe that the Devoted One would not be swayed by others
in this matter.”
“But,” Keir
said.
“But,” Iain sighed,
“although he is the representative of the Sun God, he is also
human.”
“So if a marriage is
not performed, the child suffers? Is punished for something over
which it had no control?” Atira asked. “We do not do
that.”
“Yes, we do.” Amyu’s
voice was soft and bitter.
“If the Archbishop
forbids the marriage, would you perform the ceremony?” Heath asked
bluntly.
Othur caught his
breath.
“I have made my own
oaths,” Iain said simply, tucking his hands back into his sleeves.
“And one of them is obedience.”
Keir nodded and
stood. “I thank you for your truths, Cleric.” He held out the
leather book that Iain had used as a token. Keir looked at Othur.
“I just wish that Lara had spoken to me of this
sooner.”
“Spoken of what?”
Lara stood in the bedroom doorway, rumpled from her nap and looking
about in confusion.
ATIRA WATCHED AS LARA
LOOKED AT THEM WITH growing confusion and concern, and Atira’s
heart went out to her. The Warprize had dealt with much in the time
since she had met Keir. Going to his bed without an initiator,
dealing with the Council of Elders, and now life-bearing without a
thea to aid and advise her.
Some took
life-bearing in their stride, popping out their babes with ease.
But Atira remembered all too well the emotional side, like riding
an unwilling horse. One moment weepy, the next furious. Oh, the
Warprize was a healer, that was true, and Lara thought she knew the
ways of bearing. But experience is a hard teacher, and Atira
remembered all too well that until a babe was pressing on your
bladder, or your belly extended so far that you moved like an ehat,
you didn’t really know how your body or mind would
respond.
And the males were no
help, that was certain.
Keir moved toward
Lara, reaching to turn her slightly so that he could pull her into
his arms. “We were discussing the fact that Durst wishes to use our
lack of a Xyian bonding against us and the child you
bear.”
Lara shot Othur an
angry glare, but the older man shook his head and raised his hands
in defense.
Atira moved then, to
kneel before the Warlord and Warprize. “Warprize, I was the one
that told the Warlord of this. Heath explained it to me, and I
decided that the Warlord must know.”
The anger drained
from Lara’s face, and she started to cry. She pressed her face into
Keir’s chest.
“Why not speak of
this to me, beloved?” Keir’s voice was the barest
whisper.
Lara lifted her face
to look at him, with eyes filled with tears and fear. “I was
afraid, beloved. Your pledge to me as my bonded is all I ever need.
But our faith . . . and yours . . . I—”
She hiccupped and
sagged in his arms.
The love in Keir’s
face was so powerful that Atira had to look away. She dropped her
gaze to the floor and stayed, unmoving, unwilling to interrupt the
moment between them.
“Flame of my heart.”
The words were a soft rumble in Keir’s chest. “The words we pledged
between us were enough for us. But you marked yourself for my
people—can I do any less for yours?” He ran a soft finger over the
wires woven into Lara’s ear.
Lara wrapped her arms
around Keir’s neck and kissed him through her tears.
Iain coughed. Atira
glanced back to see the young man blushing, his own gaze on the
floor.
“Your Majesty,” Iain
said. “The Warlord has inquired about the nature of our ceremonies.
If you are willing, I am the cleric responsible for the castle
chapel and charged with the spiritual needs of those who live
within these walls. If you wish, I would offer you and your
intended counsel.”
Lara gave him a
wobbly smile and nodded.
“Well then,” Marcus
huffed. “Go within and talk. We will know that you speak under the
bells and will not interrupt.”
Keir turned Lara
toward the sleeping chamber. Lara resisted for a moment, pausing to
lay a hand on Atira’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Lara
whispered.
“Warprize,” Atira
gave her a smile, feeling her own eyes go misty. “It is nothing to
what I owe you.”
Lara shook her head
as if to deny Atira’s words, but she let Keir pull her away without
protest. Iain followed them, and Atira rose and pulled the door
shut.
She caught a quick
glimpse of Keir and Lara as the door closed. They were standing
together, their arms around each other, their heads
together.
A pain lanced through
Atira’s heart. A shaft of pure envy . . . or perhaps longing was a
better word. To have that certainty in another . . . to love and
trust and bond. As much as she wished to deny it, she longed for
that with every bone in her body.
And to leave the
Plains? What else was there for one such as she? Or was that what
she really feared?
Atira pulled the door
shut with a click and turned to see Heath staring at
her.
She looked away,
confused, then angry at herself. What had she to fear? He was a
city-dweller, born and bred, and she was of the Plains. There was
no way—
She heard his step
then, and looked up to see him rise and stalk toward her, a look of
pure stubbornness on his face. As if—
The door opened and
Anna walked in, balancing a bundle of clothing and two pitchers of
kavage in her arms. Amyu went to take the kavage from
her.
“What’s this?” Anna
looked about the room. “The feast is about ready, and you stand
about like ninnys. Where’s Lara? Othur, you haven’t dressed yet?
Heath, you need to comb your hair.” She stopped in the middle of
the room and glared at them all. “Where is Lara? Still
abed?”
Marcus had taken the
kavage from Amyu. “You made this?” he asked of Anna.
Anna nodded. “I
ground the beans and drew the water. No one would dare try to
poison food in my kitchen,” Anna said. “There’s no need to taste
everything.”
“Mayhap,” Marcus
said. “But if I am seen tasting, there will also be no temptation
to try. We take no chances, as we agreed.”
“Come sit with me,
ladywife.” Othur patted the bench next to him. “Lara and Keir are
talking to Iain.”
Anna’s eyes went
wide. “Really? About—”
“Yes, yes,” Othur
said. “Come sit and wait with us.”
Anna sighed and sat
next to him. “Not for long, I trust. I’d not have that chicken
overcooked.”
Yveni nudged Ander
with a grin. “What’s this I hear, Amyu? About you and those
cackling women?”
Amyu flushed but
lifted her chin. “They waylaid me in the hall, taunting me about my
hair. They seemed to think it was not suitable, for reasons I could
not understand. I tried to take no offense, but they were . . .
annoying.”
“I heard you put them
to flight.” Yveni laughed.
“I pulled out a
dagger and offered to trim their hair like mine. They scattered
like gurtles, screaming, in all directions.” Amyu darted a glance
at Anna. “I might have done wrong in this, but I do not
apologize.”
Anna shook her head.
“No need to explain it to me, girl. Those flighty feathers have
never been my favorites. All flounce and giggles when their hearts
are as hard as diamonds. They hunt in their own way, trust me, and
they use clothing and hair as weapons.”
“Really?” Atira
asked.
“No, no,” Heath
laughed. “Not really.”
“Hunting for what?”
Amyu asked.
“Husbands,” Othur
said.
“Othur,” Anna
scolded, but then she turned to Amyu. “They do little more each day
than needlework and sewing, so their lives are measured in how they
look and present themselves. And yes, their goal is a marriage.
They mock you out of fear, and maybe out of jealousy.” She shook
her head, setting her chins shaking. “It will cause a problem for
the Queen, with the lords, that a Firelander threatened their
daughters.”
“We’ll manage,” Othur
took up Anna’s hand and kissed it. “You’ll sit with me in the hall,
ladywife? Protect me from the likes of lords and ladies wishing to
talk my ear off? The staff can see to the serving, just this
once?”
“Pah, I’ll be needed
in the kitchens,” Anna said. Then she laughed at the pleading
expression on his face. “Maybe once the meal starts. Now, off with
you to wash and dress. You need to be within the hall soon enough,
and there’s no time for this nonsense.”
The door to the
sleeping chambers opened. Lara stepped into the room, her face
radiant. She walked over to Othur and Anna and extended her hands
to each of them. “Othur, Anna, you have been as parents to me.
Would you stand in their place? Keir has a question he wishes to
put to you.”
Anna stood, starting
to cry as she hugged Lara.
“You are more than
capable of giving yourself away, Lara,” Othur said as he stood.
“But we would be proud and pleased to stand in their
stead.”
Iain cleared his
throat. “I can perform the ceremony here and now if you wish. It
would take but a moment to—
“Oh no.” Anna scowled
at the young man, her hands on her hips. “Over my dead
body.”