Basil looked at her steadily in the face as he considered her words. She was likely right.
“I’ll take care of this,” he told her.
“Bon.”
Basil finished his arrow and then packed up his equipment. As he and Olef walked back to the gate, he noticed wood shavings and bits of feathers under the trees. The students at the temple had given up their studies and dedicated their time to the manufacture of arrows. The scholars of Serica believed archery was a suitable activity, one that concentrated the mind and kept the body vigorous. With the rescue campaign to Kemeklos set to begin in two weeks, it seemed everyone in Tokolas was helping in some fashion.
Inside the embassy, Basil found Sandun in the library, instructing Wiyat on the elements of Kelten’s government. Wiyat was affixing arrowheads to feathered shafts while Sandun explained the differences between the thanes and the barons by comparing them to earls and marks. Basil stood beside the table and looked upon a map of northern Serica. It was a good map, finely inked, and it lay flat, weighed down with bronze incense burners at the four corners.
Sandun halted his talk and asked Basil what he could do for him. Basil didn’t say anything but gave a meaningful glance at Wiyat. The younger man got to his feet and exited the room with a graceful bow.
“You taught him that?” Basil asked when the door was closed.
“I think he learned it from Sir Ako. We are both teaching him.”
Basil explained Olef’s fears, laying out the worst case in stark terms.
“She has good reason to be concerned,” Sandun replied seriously. “I hadn’t considered how badly this could turn out for Olef. I should think Princess Tuomi will be taken care of, since her aunt came to get her once before. And Valo Peli’s wife and daughter can return to their home in the northern Tea Hills.”
“And your wife-to-be?”
Sandun gave a rueful smile. “She is apparently coming with us on the expedition. It’s the best, or only, way to get Jay and Ven, the two Rutal-lil, to come along on the campaign. Lord Vaina’s idea.” Sandun rubbed his forehead and then looked at Basil with a flash of insight. “I think I know how we can protect Olef and little Niksol if we all…fail to come back. Valo Peli owes us for saving the life of his wife and daughter.”
“True enough,” said Basil. “But he is coming with the army, and the worst result has him falling beside us.”
“Ah, but his clansmen are staying behind. What if they were obligated to take care of Olef and Niksol just as if they were blood relations?”
“I’m not marrying his daughter. Are you?”
“No, no. We can join his clan. People in Serica swear brotherhood to each other quite often. Half the generals in Lord Vaina’s army are brothers but unrelated. These oaths of brotherhood are taken very seriously here.”
Basil furrowed his brow. “You are just going to ask him to become our brother?”
“He will ask us. You’ll see.”
Sandun left a message with Valo Peli’s wife requesting her husband’s presence when he returned from his duties at the lopor works. An hour after dinner, Valo Peli appeared, and Sandun collected Basil and went to the library.
“My friends,” Valo Peli said, “what troubles you? Something deep weighs on your hearts.”
Sandun explained Olef’s concerns and very delicately suggested that lack of a family in Serica was the very heart of her concern.
Valo Peli nodded. “Here is my proposal to ease your fears. This humble scholar…I humbly ask that you, and Basil, and Olef join my clan. You would honor me by accepting.”
“We would be, as you Serice say, ‘brothers but not of the same mother’?”
“Even more formal, more binding. With my clansmen here acting as witnesses, I would bring you into our clan: the Boethy. I can write a document and, if utter disaster strikes, Olef and her child will be able to rely on my kinsmen for the rest of her life. There are circuitous routes that lead back to my homeland in the Tea Hills. There, she would be safe, along with little Niksol. My clan is not small, and I have some measure of respect within it. Although we in Serica do not follow the Rakeved custom of life debts, nevertheless I owe both of you a debt that I cannot repay even if my bones were ground to powder. It would ease my conscience if you accepted my offer. And, as we know, you can hardly be in more danger from the Kitran than you already are, so joining my clan does not measurably increase your risk.” Valo Peli chuckled after he said this.
“Valo Peli, I accept your offer to join the Boethy clan, with gladness.” Sandun said this using the most formal language that he knew. Valo Peli smiled and clasped his hands.
“As do I,” said Basil. “Olef and I will be honored to join your clan.”
“You two saved the life of this one’s precious daughter and beloved wife. This unworthy man is happy to accept you. Indeed, you honor me. If I may offer a further suggestion? It would be wise to set aside a good supply of silver and gold. It is not a short journey from Tokolas to our part of the Tea Hills, and silver is welcome on every journey.”
“We have money. Plenty of these salt notes.”
“Yes, true. But not gold and silver. There are methods for traveling with such money well concealed. I will show you, and you can teach the huntress.”
“The huntress?” said Basil.
“Ah…that is the title by which I explained Olef to my kinsmen. In the hills, such women are not common but not unknown.”
The day of the wedding approached with dizzying speed.
Sandun had seen Miri just once in the previous two weeks. He and his stand-in family had met on neutral ground, which turned out to be a modest-sized building within the grounds of the Great Sage Temple. Valo Peli and his wife played the role of Sandun’s parents; Miri’s cousin Jay and another woman from Shila stood for Miri’s parents. Minister Renieth acted a part that to Sandun seemed analogous to that of the master of ceremonies at court, although he was referred to as “the matchmaker.”
Gifts had been brought by both sides, all of them covered in red silk, which Sandun thought extraordinarily ostentatious. The gifts were mostly food, bought by Valo Peli’s wife, Arja, with Sandun’s money. Miri’s “family” presented similar gifts to him, but the foods were different: nuts and salted fish for him, rice cakes and honey-coated apples for her.
Miri’s head was covered in a long piece of white silk, but this was taken off by her stand-in family, and she stood, looking demure, occasionally lifting her eyes to meet Sandun’s gaze. She smiled briefly at him and said, “Yes,” when Renieth asked if she consented to the marriage.
Sandun had prepared a list of his ancestors at Valo Peli’s request; he could only go back four generations, which seemed plenty to him—his great-grandfather had died twenty years before he had been born. This list of names was read out by Valo Peli during the presentation. Miri’s ancestors were read out by Jay Kirdar: seven generations of names. Quite the weight of history, thought Sandun. The two families then withdrew to different ends of the building, and Minister Renieth, looking unusually nervous and stumbling over his statement, asked if the other side’s presents, ancestry, and bride were acceptable. Valo Peli said they were, and then they slowly filed out of the building, carrying the gifts, while Renieth went to the other end of the room and spoke softly to Miri’s family.
Outside the building, standing in the shade of the tall trees, Sandun and his pretend parents waited while three of Valo Peli’s kinsmen arranged the gifts they had been given on a small cart.
Renieth came out and announced that both sides had accepted all the gifts, and so the marriage would take place as scheduled. Together the group took a lesiurely stroll back to the Kelten embassy. Renieth, seeming relieved at the successful conclusion of a foreign ceremony, removed his hat and took some deep breaths. After the conversation faded away, Sandun asked Valo Peli if it would be proper to give a nontr
aditional gift at the wedding.
“I guess the meaning that lies underneath your question,” Valo Peli replied carefully. “It is true that most of what happens at weddings in Serica is bound by long-established custom. And I would say: it would not be improper to give a nontraditional gift, but it is not commonplace. This scholar has not read as much on the customs of Shila as the minister here, but I feel sure in saying you are wise enough to pick a gift that will not offend the Lady of Kirdar or her cousins. I would venture a guess that gift giving is the custom amoung Keltens?”
“Yes, certainly,” Sandun replied. “Much that happens in our weddings also follows tradition. Of late, it is usually the woman who brings gifts to her husband, but in the past, it was the opposite. Knowing that the Lady Miri has traveled a long way and is far from home, I’d like to give her something.”
Renieth coughed politely and then offered his thoughts. “In my reading for this event, your unworthy matchmaker happened upon a note that happily fits with your wish. The following was written in the book New Notes on the Customs of the Kingdom of Shila: ‘The women of the court in Sorabol mightily esteem the timbal, and gifts of the same are treated with favor.’”
“What is a timbal?”
“In Serica, it is often referred to as ‘the new stringed instrument.’” Reneith smiled. “You will perhaps not be surprised to learn that it is actually a very old instrument. It was popular in the Gold Kingdom, but at present, much newer instruments like the fifteen flute and the moon lute are in fashion.”
“Can a timbal be purchased?”
“This one has no doubt. There is a junior official in the Ministry of Rituals who has long overseen the musical instruments. He will find one for you by this time tomorrow.”
“I’d like to look at a timbal. Could this official show me?” Sandun asked.
Renieth agreed, and so the following afternoon, Sandun spent two hours looking at musical instruments in a storeroom underneath the ministry building complex.
“The timbal is used just once a year in the Autumn Moon ceremony,” said the junior official in charge of music. He was an old man with a long gray beard and rheumy eyes. “In the Gold Kingdom, the timbal was more important as it assisted with both the Longest Night and Spring Planting ceremonies. That is why we have so many—in case the old form of the ritual is revived.” The old man kept up a continuous lecture, half sung, half spoken, as to why the change had occurred, using several words that Sandun had never heard before. Threading his way through hundreds of bells, lutes, drums, and other instruments that Sandun did not recognize, he stopped in front of a stack of long boxes covered with old silk sheets.
“Here are the timbals. Look at them, listen to them, choose one!”
Sandun realized, in the dim light, that the timbals were resting within a wooden framework that kept the instruments from touching. The old man pulled the covers off the timbals, one by one, and lightly brushed his fingers over the strings that covered the tops of each instrument. The timbals made a lovely sound, each string ringing out with a clear note. Sandun examined and gently plucked the strings of the instruments. He decided that the timbal was equivalent to a flat harp. Travelling bards in Kelten generally played the lute, but harps were also common. Several of the timbals near the floor had cracks in the wood and looked shabby, but the ones in the middle of the stack were in good condition. Sandun picked one that sounded sweet and looked very pretty, decorated with flowers along the top and sides using inlays of various colored woods and shells.
“I like this one best,” he said to the old curator.
“An excellent choice. Minister Renieth tells me the women of Shila still play these for pleasure. This old man is sure the timbal will appreciate being used more than once a decade.”
“How much is the timbal?”
“The official in charge—meaning myself—has books that list the cost of every instrument in this room, when it was purchased, who made it, dates of repair, and, most importantly, when it was used.” While Sandun gingerly carried the timbal through the array of instruments, the old man continued: “Normally instruments for use in the official ceremonies are not sold. They are kept in repair, or when repairs are not deemed reasonable, they are given to long-serving musicians. Although bells rarely wear out; some of these bronze bells are older than any of my records, thus they are very old indeed!”
He reached the top of the stairs and waited till after Sandun came out, and then he carefully locked the door and sat down on a chair, trying to recover his breath. “Minister Renieth informs me, young man, that your wedding is classified as a lesser state affair under the auspices of the Ministry of Rituals.”
Sandun looked at the old man with puzzlement.
“To clarify my meaning, the timbal you carry is a gift to you from the ministry, at the request of the governor of Kunhalvar. Be that as it may be, let me look at the bottom of the instrument.”
The old man looked carefully at the underside of the wooden sound box.
“Yes, there it is, as he guessed. This is number 21. The official in charge of instruments must make a note of this. Number 21 is leaving the collection. Follow me.”
Leading Sandun, the old man went to his office and swiftly located an old book. Leafing through the pages, he muttered, “Timbal, timbal,” under his breath. “Here we are. Number 21. It was purchased almost one hundred years ago for twenty-four and one-half cats of silver. And now…it is officially retired after ninety-eight years of service to the ministry.” The old man paused for a time, appearing lost in thought, his hand wavering over the entry. With a start, the old man returned to the present; he picked up his pen and wrote a note in the book. He stamped the entry with his seal and looked up at Sandun with a wistful expression.
“Before you go, it says here that number 21 was named: timbal of red and yellow roses. More of a description than a name, in truth. Take care of it, Fire Sword.”
Sandun politely thanked the official in charge of instruments and left the room. He walked back to the Kelten embassy feeling strangely self-conscious as he carried the beautiful but cumbersome instrument in his arms.
In the weeks before the northern expedition set out, the city of Tokolas was filled with weddings, and the number of weddings grew daily as the expected date for the army’s departure approached at a quick march. It seemed wedding parties paraded down the main street almost every hour of daylight, with drums banging, horns tooting, and the groom on a horse, often looking none too steady. Priests of Eston could be seen hurrying from house to house, blessing the new couples.
The thought of having his own marriage presided over by priests of a relgion he did not follow bothered Sandun for more than a week. Much to his relief, he learned from Valo Peli that weddings were not held at temples of Eston, nor did the priests preside over the marriage ceremonies. Instead, they simply offered their blessing, sprinkled some holy water over the man and the woman, and left. Why the priests of Eston took this hands-off approach regarding weddings was a mystery that Sandun did not pursue. He was grateful and left it at that.
As Sandun had suggested, he and Sir Ako were having a joint wedding. The first ceremony, and the true one as far he was concerned, was going to be held at the small temple of Sho’Ash. Unsurprisingly, this was the one temple in Tokolas not busy with matters related to weddings. Following that, there was to be a gala event in the garden of the palace for Sandun and Miri, with several hundred guests invited.
After that, Russu was having her own traditional Rakeved ceremony back at the embassy. Although Russu’s Aunt Vonmi had accepted the validity of the life debt and Sir Ako’s demand of marriage in repayment of said debt, that didn’t mean that she approved of the wedding. Sandun learned that there was a strong possibility that Russu would be officially stripped of her title as princess of Rakeved since marrying without permission from King Galmari was a serious breach of protocol. On
the other hand, Russu’s wedding to Sir Ako did put to rest the possibility of her marrying Lord Vaina and, even though Kelten was a long way from Rakeved, it was unwise to burn bridges. Were the Keltens forerunners of a new power in the world or just isolated adventurers? Sir Ako told Sandun privately that the matter of Russu’s official status would likely take more than a year to resolve.
Olef helped Russu with some of the wedding preparations, mostly shopping for food. Also, one of Aunt Vonmi’s servants unofficially came to help. Meanwhile, Russu threw herself into the preparations with glee. Ever since Sir Ako demanded she marry him, Russu had danced about the embassy, singing snatches of songs and smiling at everyone. Some cloud that none of them knew about had lifted, and she was, to all appearances, deliriously happy.
To Sir Ako’s relief, Russu had no real interest in Eston and seemed perfectly happy to marry at the Temple of Sho’Ash. This news solidified the favor with which she was regarded by the other Keltens. There was a growing feeling among the Keltens that Sir Ako had made a commendable choice. By contrast, as no one knew anything about Shila, and only Basil had actually seen Lady Miri, her marriage to Sandun was viewed with trepidation.
So it was that on the morning of the last day of Weodmon, the eighth month, Sandun woke up and thought, Today is the wedding day. My wedding day. By Saint Pellar’s holy book, what am I doing? He mulled over several ways he could avoid the wedding: he could hide, he could pretend illness, he could simply say, “I’ve changed my mind.” But no. Decisions had been made, and he was a party to them. He could hear his mother’s voice saying, “It’s high time you married. Am I not to see my grandchildren afore I pass on?”
The Fire Sword Page 19