“I said some nasty things, as I recall. That he was odious and sneaky. That she didn’t love him. That she was only marrying him for his money and because her mother was insisting.” Inos smiled. “That was before you taught me to be more discreet, Aunt. But at least I just said them to you, not to anyone else.”
Kade bit her lip. “What about her?”
“You told me that she would learn to love him. That unless a man was a real horror, a woman could learn to live with him and be happy, and often love had to come later.”
A sickly little smile appeared on Kade’s lips and vanished like a melting snowflake. “I may have said something like that. But—”
“And in this case, the God told me to trust in love. What Azak did for me—has been doing for me . . . he is doing for me. For love.” She had seen Azak only twice, and briefly, in the past week. Both meetings had been very public and formal, and the two of them had hardly spoken to each other. His face had been unreadable, stern and wooden. The sacrifice he was making for her was a strange and cruel one, but no less a sacrifice for that. “No man enjoys losing, Aunt. Abject surrender is hard for anyone. From a proud man like Azak it almost ranks as a miracle! It proves his love, don’t you see? We must trust in love.”
Inos had been repeating that sentiment for a week now—to Kade by day and to herself by night—so she must really believe it. Mustn’t she?
Kade nodded, slightly pink. “I wish you both all happiness, my dear.” She meant it; she did not expect it.
At the height of their quarrel, Kade had said some very painful things, but Inos would forgive them and forget them. Today she could not hold a grievance against anyone, for today was her wedding day. Today she was to be happy. Wasn’t she?
Every girl must feel nervous on her wedding day. Every bride must know this feeling of a lump of ice in her belly.
She had not told Kade about the sculleries. Rasha had been serious in her threats, and only Azak’s surrender had stopped her from carrying them out. The sculleries alone made the marriage inevitable, to save Kade from being worked to a quick death scrubbing out acres of stone floors.
Unthinkable.
Ladylike banter? “A rather brief betrothal, Aunt.”
“Yes, dear?”
“But longer than my last one, I believe.”
“A great improvement. As I recall, we hadn’t opened the wine to toast your engagement before you were lining up in front of the bishop.”
“And then Rap—” Inos shrugged. The conversation wasn’t going anywhere. But if Rap had not burst in and stopped the wedding, what would have happened then?
“I still feel that perhaps there has been too much haste in . . .” Kade trailed into silence, and in that hall of mirrors it was impossible to tell whether she had stopped because of Inos’s expression, or because what she was about to say was much too late now, or because a dozen black-clad Zanas had suddenly appeared. Zana had mysteriously returned to the palace the day after Inos did, and had again taken charge of the royal guests’ comforts. Without Zana, today would have collapsed into chaos long since.
“His Largeness is here?” Inos moved hands expansively. Zana nodded, eyes atwinkle. With deft fingers she pulled down the veils to make Inos respectable. Inos peered out at the world through a mist of fine lace, seeing icebergs in all directions.
Suddenly the mirrors had a new reflection to play with as the massive green form of grizzled Prince Gutturaz filled the doorway, swaying stiffly forward in a bow. He advanced three paces and bowed again. Then two lines of excited young pages came sweeping into sight from behind his eclipsing bulk.
Chattering and giggling, the boys headed for Inos and their allotted places. Most of them were very small, but all twelve were princes, clad in green, come to bear the bride’s train to their father’s wedding.
3
God of Fools!
Running, running, he kept running. Hills were steep, and stairs were steeper. Not like home, where both were covered—open here, but steep and winding.
Lith’rian . . . The Evil take him. Must have known it! “Let me by, please! ”
Too close to call, that’s how he’d put it. Maybe. Maybe. Just romantic? Just keep running. Sweat romantic, smell romantic? Dodge round corners . . . Push past donkeys, keep on running. Sword kept bouncing, people looking. Royal wedding, flags and banners. Inosolan getting married? Inosolan leave her homeland? Didn’t sound like Inosolan!
God of Fools, he should have waited, just a moment. Should have stayed for just a moment, stayed to tell the other two. Then they’d both have started running, running up the hill like him. He could run a great deal faster; the way he ran would surely kill them, they would burst their hearts for sure. Trouble was, he should have told them, told them he was going to Inos, not just dashed off like a crazy, leaving them to mind the boat. Sword kept bouncing, people looking. No one else was armed at all. If he didn’t get to Inos; then he’d quickly be arrested, and the others wouldn’t know. Gathmor, Darad couldn’t help him, even so he should have told them; maybe now they’d come to find him—and that wouldn’t help at all. He’d be dead by then for certain and that wouldn’t help at all.
“Let me by, please!”
Worst of all was indecision just what could he hope to do? Even if he got to Inos, what in heaven could he do? Tell her maybe that he loved her, put it into words just once? If that was all, he’d better hurry—get there while she still was single, even if she was engaged. Talk of love to married women likely made their men enraged.
Royal wedding in the palace, palace at the very crest. Palace didn’t show on farsight! Sorceress was there for certain, hidden in that palace—blank. If a man climbed in a window, then the guards would surely kill him—all intruders in a palace were most surely put to death.
What a warren! It kept winding. Steeper, steeper grew the stairs. Heart was straining, breath was labored, and it didn’t feel romantic. If he hadn’t had his farsight, he’d have never found a way.
Now the palace loomed above him, but the gate was leagues ahead, and the scrimmage in the forecourt was the local population, being feasted by the sultan in a wedding celebrationthere were thousands in the courtyard at the wedding jubilee. So the gates were being guarded, extra-guarded from the crowd. If a stranger with a saber tried to enter by the forecourt, then the guards would want to argue and provide some entertainment for the wedding jubilee.
The wall that ran beside him . . . it was high but it was old, and the mortar in the stonework had been weathered very deep. A criminal like Thinal could just scramble up the stonework, could just clamber like a fly; and an adept could do anything that anyone could do.
Stop!
Heart . . . lungs . . . legs shaking . . . head swimming . . .
Don’t know . . . what’s on other side . . . was that a whinny?
What have I got to lose?
4
The trumpets blared. Through the white mist of lace, Inos watched the great doors swing open before her. With one hand resting on the well-padded arm of Prince Gutturaz, she floated forward very slowly, mindful always of the stumpy legs of the tiny trainbearers behind her . . . mindful also of icebergs drifting through the pack, visible sometimes from the castle windows in Krasnegar. Never again.
She entered the Great Hall. She had not seen—had not even heard mention of—the Great Hall until the rehearsals began. She would believe anyone who told her it was the largest covered space in Pandemia.
Head up. No need to smile. No one could see.
On either hand stood the massed commonfolk worthies of Arakkaran in their finest finery; up ahead were the princes, from very young to very old, in green. The young outnumbered the old. All held their eyes forward, not turning around to gape at her. There was nothing to see but an iceberg.
The sun’s sharp glare stabbed in through windows high overhead, to be diverted by filigree of marble and reflected from rib and pier and slab until it floated down upon the congregation like a mist of milk. All men. Kade would be on the platform, being official mother of the bride, and a side section had been reserved for Azak’s sisters, few of whom Inos had ever met. Women played little part in even domestic affairs here, and the marriage of a sultan was not a domestic affair, it was state business. Kar had explained that. By rights this should be a political marriage—Azak should be wedding the daughter of some neighbor state, to cement an alliance. He was breaking a tradition and taking a risk by marrying an outsider, a homeless nobody. The official proclamation had named her as a queen, but who had been deceived?