“I will do that,” Kurt said.
“No,” said Kta gently. “It would be very difficult for her to hear such words from you. Believe me that I am right. I have known Mim long enough that I could speak with her of this. From her own betrothed it would be most painful. And perhaps we can give the matter a few years before we have concern for it. Our friend Hef is not terribly old. If his health fails or if years have passed without children, then will be the time to invoke iquun. I should in that case treat the honor of you and of Hef and of Mim with the greatest respect.”
“You are my friend,” said Kurt. “I know that you are Mim’s. If she is willing, let it be that way.”
“Then,” said Kta, “I will go and speak to Hef.”
The betrothal was a necessarily quiet affair, confirmed three days later at evening. Hef formally asked permission of lord Nym to give his daughter to the guest of Elas, and Kta formally relinquished his claim to the person of Mim before the necessary two witnesses, friends of the family. Han t’Osanef u Mur, father of Bel; and old Ulmar t’Ilev ul Imetan, with all their attendant kin.
“Mim-lechan,” said Nym, “is this marriage your wish?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And in the absence of your kinsmen, Kurt t’Morgan, I ask you to answer in your own name: do you accept this contract as binding, understanding that when you have sworn you must follow this ceremony with marriage or show cause before these families present? Do you accept under this knowledge, our friend Kurt t’Morgan?”
“I accept.”
“There is,” said Nym quietly, “the clause of iquun in this contract. The principals are of course Mim and Kurt, and thou, my son Kta, and Hef, to preserve the name of Hef. Three years are given hi this agreement before iquun is invoked. Is this acceptable to all concerned?”
One by one they bowed their heads.
Two parchments lay on the table, and to them in turn first Nym and then t’Osanef and t’Ilev pressed then: seals in wax.
Then lady Ptas pressed her forefinger in damp wax and so sealed both. Then she took one to the phusmeha, and with a bit of salt slipped it into the flames.
She uplifted her palms to the fire, intoning a prayer so old that Kurt could not understand all the words, but it asked blessing on the marriage.
“The betrothal is sealed,” said Nym. “Kurt Liam t’Morgan ul Edward, look upon Mim h’Elas e Hef, your bride.”
He did so, although he could not, must not touch her, not during all the long days of waiting for the ceremony. Mim’s face shone with happiness.
They were at opposite sides of the room. It was the custom. The nemet made a game of tormenting young men and women at betrothals, and knew well enough his frustration. The male guests, especially Bel and Kta, drew Kurt off in one direction, while Aimu and Ptas and the ladies likewise captured Mim, with much laughter as they hurried her off.
The bell at the front door rang, faintly jingling, untimely. Hef slipped out to answer it, duty and the normal courtesy of Elas taking precedence over convenience even at such a time as this.
The teasing ceased. The nemet laughed much among themselves, among friends, but there were visitors at the door, and the guests and the members of Elas both became sober.
Voices intruded, Hef-Hef, who was the soul of courtesy-arguing; and the heavy tread of outsiders entering the hall, the hollow ring of a staff on polished stone, the voices of strangers raised in altercation.
There was silence in the rhmei. Mim, large-eyed, clung to Ptas* arm. Nym went to meet the strangers in the hall, Kurt and Kta and the guests behind him.
They were the Methi’s men, grim-faced, in the striped robes that some of the townsmen wore, hair plaited in a single braid down the back. They had the narrowness of eye that showed in some of the folk of Nephane, like Bel, like Bel’s father Han t’Osanef.
The Methi’s guards did not take that final step into the rhmei, where burned the hearthfire. Nym physically barred their way, and Nym, though silver-haired and a senior member of the Upei, the council of Nephane, was a big man and broad-shouldered. Whether through reverence for the place or fear of him, they came no further.