by Pati Nagle
The weaving ceased. The ribbons' ends hung glimmering in the torchlight. Heléri smiled at Turisan and Eliani, then gently lifted their joined hands, drawing them to face each other.
“Raise your hands for all to see and make your pledges now before these witnesses.”
Pledges!
Eliani's look of dismay smote him. They had not discussed pledges; there had not been time.
Turisan drew a long breath and spoke the words that came to him. “I pledge you my eternal loyalty. My heart is already yours; my hand I give to you before our kindred here gathered. I am yours and yours alone from this day forward.”
Eliani gave him a wavering smile. “I pledge you my trust. I give you my heart and hand before these witnesses. I am yours and yours alone from this day forward.”
Heléri gave a slight nod. “Know all here present that these two are now one. Bring forth the emblem of this lady's craft.”
Turisan's gaze was drawn to Luruthin, who stepped forward bearing the sword that Felisan had given his daughter upon her majority. The sight brought Turisan's mind back to the threatening war and all that it might mean. Eliani was a guardian before all, or so her clan presented her this day. Theirs would be a union forged in strife. Already he rued the coming dawn that would separate them.
Luruthin's gaze brushed Turisan's as he knelt. Gently the Stonereach lowered the blade before the couple until Lord Felisan caught its tip in a piece of violet velvet just above the marble floor.
Heléri was speaking again, ceremonial words. He half heard them, but his thoughts were all on Eliani.
“The step you now take is the first of your journey together. May it bring you great joy and peace. Come forward into your new life.”
Eliani smiled at him. Together they stepped over the sword. As their feet touched the floor beyond, a shock went through him and through their joined hands, strong enough to make him catch his breath.
His awareness of Eliani deepened as the tingling of the ribbon spread along his arm and through his whole body. He set his other foot down and looked at her, feeling unsteady. Heléri's voice recalled him even as her hands turned him and Eliani to face the hall.
“Welcome, Turisan and Eliani of House Jharanin!”
Still dizzy, Turisan blinked and tried to catch his breath as the hall roared with cheers and sudden music from the gallery. Spots of glowing light ranged over the dome above. At first Turisan thought they were illusions, but they remained steady when he moved his head.
Eliani turned her head toward him. Do you see them?
Ye s —what are they?
Spirits, I think.
Spirits?
Turisan had no time to ponder it, for Heléri drew their bound hands to her and began the reweaving of the ribbons. Her hands moved too swiftly for him to follow in his giddy state, but as she worked, his head began to clear and he was able to look at Eliani without losing himself in her gaze. The tingle of the ribbon subsided to a low, steady glow on the edge of his awareness, a pleasant feeling, almost as if the ribbons now woven onto his forearm were merely a bit heavy.
Suddenly it was done: the ends of the ribbon had vanished into the weave, which was firm about his arm and felt as if it would not loosen. Eliani's arm bore a matching band, and her hand squeezed his as she looked up at him.
The music resolved from fanfares into a dance of celebration. Turisan glanced up to see the guests drawing back from the center of the hall, opening a space and revealing the central mosaic of leaves within a silver circle. The spots of light above had vanished, but his euphoria remained. He looked at his lady.
Shall we?
Her smile was her answer. He led her down from the dais, and as one they crossed into the circle and began to dance.
Luruthin stood apart from the cluster of councillors who gossiped as they watched Turisan and Eliani move gracefully through the figures of the dance. He knew it was unwise to stay and yet was unable to tear himself away.
“A handsome couple, even leaving all else aside.”
Turning, he saw Lady Jhinani smiling at him, soft brown eyes warm in the candlelight. “Do you care to join the dance?”
He bowed at once and offered her his arm, chagrined at his lapse of courtesy. “Of course, my lady. Forgive me. I would have remembered in another moment.”
“No need to apologize. If you do not wish to dance, I will not be offended.”
Luruthin summoned all his reserves of graciousness and matched her smile. “By no means. I claim a dance with you as my privilege.”
He led her onto the floor. He had performed this dance—an old one, traditional at joyful celebrations—often enough that he had no need to concentrate on its figures, but glimpses of Eliani distracted him. He strove to ignore her and devote his attention to his partner.
Jhinani was a graceful dancer. He told her so, then complimented her gown, admiring the richness of the cloth and the embroiderer's skill. When that topic failed, he sought for another, but Jhinani forestalled him.
“So many people in this room. Would you mind if we stepped outside for a moment?”
The floor had become crowded with dancing couples, so their departure would occasion no remark. Luruthin nodded assent and led Jhinani out to the arcade, sighing with relief as they left the crowded hall for the crisp cool of night.
Jhinani crossed to the balustrade that separated the arcade from the fountain court, and Luruthin joined her there. He still had not found a subject for conversation, but she seemed not to expect it. They stood companionably, silent, listening to the hush of falling water. After a moment she glanced at him and nodded toward the courtyard.
“Shall we walk?”
Luruthin smiled. “Yes.”
He followed her out among the fountains, feeling his tension ease as they wandered slowly through the court. He had not realized how rigidly he had been holding himself.
Breathing deeply of the damp air, he sought to relax, though not completely. He could not afford that yet. He would need time and privacy for that, and the spirits knew when he would get them. Not soon, for in the morning he would depart with Eliani for the north and must maintain a guard on his feelings.
He noticed an increase of moisture in the air and realized that he had been following Jhinani blindly and that she had led him into the Whispering Walk. He stopped and stood blinking foolishly as she walked on, remembering how he had intruded upon Turisan and Eliani's privacy here. Suddenly his resolution seemed to dissolve, and he felt on the verge of grief.
Eliani. Lost to him for all time, now. Still present but forever out of reach. He had been a fool not to purge her from his heart years ago.
Jhinani's touch on his arm made him start. He looked up and saw concern on her face.
“You are trembling. I should not have brought you out into this chill.”
Luruthin sought words of denial, but his voice would not obey him. Jhinani's hand brushed his cheek, then rested on his shoulder. Her khi was warm and as gentle as her smile. He had first sensed it through the ribbons during the handfasting ceremony.
“I know where there is a fire. A quiet room, a cup of wine, perhaps. Will you come?”
He gazed into her dark eyes, seeing further invitation there. A fresher, simpler, and more urgent yearning awoke in him, promising forgetfulness, at least for a time. He nodded, his voice emerging in a harsh whisper.
“Yes.”
The Star Tower
Eliani and Turisan finished the dance at the foot of the dais just as the music concluded. Before she could catch her breath, folk crowded around them, offering congratulations. Turisan introduced an elder of the city and of his father's house, but before he could name the next well-wisher, Lord Felisan strode up to them and laid a hand on either one's shoulder.
“A word with you both, if you please.”
It was spoken as a command and seemed so unlike her father that Eliani had to stifle a startled laugh. He ushered them into a small chamber at the back of the d
ais, nodding graciously to the well-wishers as he shut the door upon them.
Felisan smiled. “You will be here all night if you express your thanks to every soul who wishes you happiness.”
Turisan laughed. “Ah, I thought this might be a rescue. Thank you!”
Felisan stepped to the back of the little chamber, beckoning to them to follow. “Whoever designed this palace was quite ingenious, I find. They have placed a door here through which one might slip away from an assembly such as this. I suggest you use it before Jharan drags you into the feast hall.”
Eliani bit her lip. “I would not wish to offend him.”
Her father shook his head, a glint of roguery in his eye. “We shall toast you in your absence. Go along, now, and great joy to you.” He shepherded them out through the door, smiling conspiratorially as he closed it.
Finding herself in a torchlit hallway alone with Turisan, Eliani felt her heart quicken. She looked up to see him softly smiling at her. She placed her hand in his and felt an echo of the dizzy sensation that had carried them through the handfasting ceremony.
He led her down the corridor, away from the public rooms of the palace. At the foot of a stair leading to the upper floor he paused, and Eliani realized he was wondering whether to go to his chamber or hers.
At that moment an attendant stepped out of the adjoining corridor, a slender youth, fair-haired and brown-eyed, his features still sharp-edged like a young colt's. Eliani recognized him as the one who had brought her Turisan's gift of the circlet she wore.
“My lord and lady, good evening. I am to guide you to your chamber if you are ready to retire?”
Turisan gave him a suspicious glance. “Pheran—”
“This way.”
The attendant smiled, then moved past them and started up the stair. Turisan glanced at Eliani, and they followed. At the upper floor Pheran turned back toward the heart of the palace. Eliani thought he would lead them to the gallery above the great hall, but he turned away to another stair, much smaller and winding upward in broad, curving steps.
Ah. I know where he is taking us.
Turisan's hand squeezed hers, and Eliani suffered herself to be led up the short stair, then along a curving corridor to a second, much longer stair. By the time they had emerged into an antechamber, she had lost all sense of direction.
The golden stone of the anteroom's walls glowed in soft candlelight. A small fire burned brightly in what Eliani assumed was a welcoming hearth, and on the opposite wall tall vases of white winter lilies flanked a wide door. Pheran opened the door and led them up yet another stair, this one short and straight.
Eliani caught her breath as they emerged into a chamber that was circular and open to the night, with balustrades rather than walls and pillars—carved into the shape of living trees, like those of Hallowhall's great dome and arcades—at intervals framing the views. Overhead a few bright stars glinted between the carven branches.
Four great fireplaces roared with fires burning brightly against the night's chill, and heavy tapestries were caught back at the pillars, ready to be let down to block cold breezes. In the center of the chamber a large bed was draped in lighter tapestry.
Feeling shy of a sudden, Eliani walked to the balustrade at the west, looking out at the starlit sky above the dark bulk of the mountains. Far below, she heard the whispering of water in the fountain court and saw the fountains as pale, dancing shadows. She leaned against a pillar and drew a deep breath of crisp air.
Magnificent.
The Star Tower. One of my favorite places.
Eliani smiled at Turisan as he joined her. Beyond him she saw Misani come into the chamber bearing a tray of wine and small cakes, which she set upon a low table by one of the fireplaces.
“Many blessings, my lady, my lord. Lady Heléri sends you her good wishes.”
Eliani turned to her. “Thank you, and please convey my thanks to Lady Heléri for sparing you to me.”
Misani nodded, smiling, and walked over to the eastern side of the chamber, where Pheran was engaged in lowering the tapestries. She took his arm and drew him toward the stair. “Good evening, my lord and lady.”
Pheran gave a start of surprise but quickly recovered. “Yes, good evening.” He made a stately bow, then accompanied Misani out.
When the soft closing of the door below reached them, Turisan turned to her, eyes bright in the firelight. Eliani gazed at him, trying to memorize every line of his face, to take in all the details of his form, in the hope that his image would replace all other memories.
His tunic of sumptuous cloth, silver-woven in intricate design, quietly proclaimed his realm's rich culture. He had taken off his coronet, she noted, so that the handfasting ribbon on his left arm remained the brightest thing about his person. It glinted in the firelight as he took a step closer.
“Are you hungry?”
Eliani shook her head, then reached out her hand. He took it, kissed it gently, then turned it and pressed a second kiss into her palm, sending a shiver through her. He glanced up at her.
“Cold?”
She shook her head. It was not cold that made her tremble but a tingling awareness of him. Every part of her was afire with anticipation.
His eyes flashed in response, and the gentleness left him as he kissed her. She closed her eyes and, when she could breathe again, inhaled his scent, warm and slightly musky. A tremor ran through her with the next, deeper kiss, but it was not caused by cold, nor fear. This she did not fear. This she knew how to enjoy, though it had been long since she had permitted it.
With surprise she realized that Turisan was holding back his thought—refraining from mindspeech—touching her only with hands and lips. Running her fingers from his shoulders up the back of his neck and into his soft, flowing hair, she reached out her mind to his and was overwhelmed by his desire.
The double embrace, mind and body, had a dizzying effect as sparks of sensation passed between them: his hand on her cheek, both the warmth of the cheek and the cool hand at once, scents and tastes and touch blending into storm. They embraced the confusion of sensation and beyond it found a place where balance returned.
No words passed between them; no thoughts as formed as that. She suspected she might be able to move his body with her own will, but there was no need for that, because they were in complete accord. Together they explored pure physical sensation, enjoying not only each touch but the ripples of plea sure it awakened, reflected back and forth until they began to lose sense of who was touching, who was feeling.
Eliani emerged again as Turisan moved away, only to catch her off her feet and carry her without pause to the bed. She pushed aside its drapery to let them through, and he laid her down among the soft pillows, then stood gazing at her, dark eyes afire and chest swelling with the depth of his breathing.
Her sash had come untied and been left behind somewhere. She pulled off her overdress of Stonereach blue and sat in her violet silk, reaching up a hand to him, smiling. Taking it in his own, he sat beside her and bent to kiss her throat.
She gasped, remembering Kelevon's teeth closing on her flesh. Turisan drew back, eyes alarmed, filled with questions.
Gripping his hand, she fought the instinct to withdraw and instead opened the memory to him. She felt first his anger, then his understanding, regret, sympathy. He reached up to brush his fingers against her throat. Even that light touch made her flinch; she would have a bruise there by morning.
He gathered both her hands in his and pressed his lips into her palms. I will never hurt you, my love.
With a small gasp, she felt sudden tears rise to her eyes. Turisan kissed them away with infinite tenderness, careful not to touch her bruised throat. His kisses started them spiraling together again.
Hands moved, touching flesh, discarding garments, all the while trading kisses and feather touches of the mind that lengthened and deepened into unity of thought. At last it was skin alone save for the hand-fasting ribbons that bound their arms�
��somehow their sleeves had come free without disturbing Heléri's handiwork—and in their state of mutual awareness the ribbons sensed touch almost as would skin, sending shivers through them at each caress.
Their joining was filled with amazement as each shared what the other felt, the strangeness of sensing plea sure in a part one's own body did not have quickly giving way to elation at knowing instantly how to magnify their mutual plea sure. As their bond deepened, they left words, then individual thought behind and gasped with delight at each new sensation.
When they caught and followed a particular stimulation, lending it focus through double awareness, it led to higher levels of ecstasy than either had ever known. They danced, perfectly in harmony, pursuing pure physical joy, transported by echoes and reverberations of sensuality.
At last this frenzy reached its peak, and they sank back together, amazed and delighted, slowly returning to their separate selves. They had but one thought.
This night will pass too quickly.
Shalár reached the bay just as the eastern star was beginning to fade. She hastened to the city, black sand hissing beneath her feet and a warm breeze giving her comfort. It had been cold at Midrange, and the Wastes were never pleasant. She was glad to be back, anxious to resume her preparations for reclaiming Fireshore.
Ciris and Welir had the kobalen well in hand. Unless the snows came early, they would be ready to cross the mountains at her bidding. Her plans were unfolding as she had hoped.
She climbed the steep path to the Cliff Hollows and smiled as she reached the ledge. Four guards in Dark-shore colors saluted her. She nodded to them and went in, hastening through the public rooms to her private quarters. In the corridor she met Galir, who was carrying a covered tray. He stopped upon seeing her, looking startled.
“Bright Lady! You are returned!”
“Just now. Where is Dareth?”
“I-in your chambers, Bright Lady.”
Shalár lifted the cloth that covered his tray. The smell of fresh kobalen blood drifted up from her goblet, which stood full upon the tray. She looked at Galir.