by Stina Leicht
“I’ve exactly one half-hour to—”
Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sit. You have plenty of time. Oh! I’ve something for you.” He snapped his fingers and began searching his pockets. “There it is. Drink this.”
Nels accepted the corked dark blue bottle and then held it up to the light. “What is it?” He popped the cork, took a whiff, and pulled a face. The inside of his nose seemed to contract in pain and his eyes watered. “Oh, gods. It smells like feet. Worse, if that’s possible.”
“It’s a special little something I had Westola put together for you,” Viktor said. “Guaranteed to cure what ails you.”
“By killing me?”
“Sit,” Viktor said, shoving him into a wingback chair. “Stay. There’s a good colonel. First, it’s nine in the morning.”
“But—”
“I may have reset your watch while you were sleeping.”
“Viktor! You son of a—”
“It got you moving, didn’t it?” Viktor went to the hearth and stirred the coals. Then he began the process of building up the fire. “Drink that quick, now. Because if you don’t, I will. She refused to mix a second batch for me. Said it was likely I’d deserve what I got, and then added something about considering it vengeance for the time I faked river fever. That woman has a long memory for slights.”
Nels held his nose and swallowed the foul concoction all at once. His stomach made one last riposte and then settled peacefully down. He blinked as his head began to clear. “Huh.”
Viktor spoke over his shoulder. “What?”
“It’s working.”
“It better, for what I paid her.” He pushed the kettle over the flames and then sat back down on the sofa, nearby. “Soon, there will be coffee.”
“Don’t tease,” Nels said. “I don’t think I can handle it today.”
“I wouldn’t joke about anything so serious on a day like today,” Viktor said. “Mr. Moss may have given me a couple handfuls of ground beans last night. Before the … ah … festivities.” A slow, sly smile crept across his average features. “Incidentally, how much do you remember?”
Nels paused. In truth, he remembered all of it. He knew better than to drink himself entirely senseless, but before he could answer, there came a knock on the door. Viktor staggered over and answered it. The hulking form of the Hold’s head cook blocked most of the light pouring in from the hallway. He was carrying a covered tray.
“Salutations,” Mr. Moss said. “I gave some consideration to your probable plight and decided it might be best if I delivered your breakfast. I understand it is considered bad luck for the bridegroom to view the bride before the wedding.”
“That’s an Acrasian custom,” Nels said. “Not Eledorean.”
“Then I apologize for my mistake,” Mr. Moss said. “I hope I have not given offence.”
Nels said, “Not at all. It was kind of you.”
Viktor accepted the tray. “Thank you very much.”
“And thanks for the coffee, too,” Nels said. “Would you like to join us?”
“I deeply appreciate the invitation,” Mr. Moss said. “I would be glad to join your good company. However, I find I must return to my kitchen before it is left in a most unsatisfactory condition. Please enjoy your repast, gentlemen. Captain Reini, you may return the dishes tomorrow when it is more convenient. I will see you both at the ceremony.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moss,” Nels said.
Once Viktor had set the tray on the table, Nels lifted the lid. The scent of fresh rolls met his nose at once. His stomach let out a loud rumble.
“Apple jam?! I thought we ran out. And fresh butter. Cheese and … Praise the gods, it’s bacon!” He began loading a roll with as much apple jam as he could fit onto it.
“Save some for me,” Viktor said, bringing the coffee. “Or I’m keeping this for myself.”
The next quarter of an hour was silence punctuated with the sounds of determined eating.
“That was wonderful,” Nels said when he’d finished. He leaned back in the chair, sighed, and stretched out his legs on the rug, content.
“Ahhhh! Can you have another binding ceremony tomorrow?” Viktor asked. “Better yet, once a week for the next month?”
“Spring isn’t that far off,” Nels said.
Viktor said, “I may wither away.” He closed his eyes.
“I rather doubt that,” Nels said. “By the gods, I don’t want to move from this chair.”
“I suspect that may upset your new wife,” Viktor said. “Since I’m not sure you remember me saying it … Congratulations! You’ve been pining for that woman since before I met you. Of course, now I owe Larsson a gold falcon, drown it all.”
“You bet against me?”
“Nothing personal,” Viktor said. “I merely assumed she had more common sense than—”
“Piss off!”
Viktor lifted his coffee cup and grinned. “To you both. The best of luck.”
Nels paused.
“Come on. I’m being serious. I’m happy for you,” Viktor said. “I truly am. It’s about time.”
“Thank you.” Nels tapped his cup against Viktor’s, and they both drank.
“Let’s hope that your happiness lasts. Or I’ll have to resort to violence I’d regret.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” Viktor said. “But half the company would.”
“That would be unfortunate for all involved.”
“I’m sure,” Viktor said.
Nels gazed down at the table and noticed the items on the second tray—a needle, half a wine cork, a covered bowl, and what looked like a ring with a silver disc threaded through it. “What’s that?”
“The reason I woke you so early,” Viktor said. “That, my friend, is your binding ring. It goes in your ear. And tomorrow … or whenever your lady fair is ready for a few hours rest … I’ll take you to the blacksmith and have it fused closed.”
Raising an eyebrow, Nels asked the question without asking. Throughout his years in the Eledorean Royal Army, he’d noticed a number of soldiers with such rings in their ears. Most of them were older. Fashions came and went in the Royal Court. Therefore, it hadn’t occurred to him to inquire. There were so many other details that had demanded his attention. Lately, there’d been a resurgence of the practice.
Viktor said, “As your closest friend, the one who will stand for you in the ceremony, and a formerly bound—”
“You were bound?” Nels didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “You? Permanently committed?”
Viktor looped his hair behind his left ear. The lobe was scarred. “She died the summer before you and I met. Childbirth. I lost them both.”
“I’m so sorry. Why haven’t I heard of this before?”
Viktor shrugged.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Only you,” Viktor said. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you,” Nels said. “That must have been hard.”
“It was,” Viktor said. “Afterward, I did some very foolish things, which ultimately culminated in my joining the Royal Army. It was that or the noose. And well … I never was much for hemp collars.”
“Wait,” Nels said. “If it’s an army tradition, and you were no longer bound—”
“I had it done and then ripped it out.” Viktor looked away and shrugged.
Nels winced.
“I had only begun to realize that punishing myself wouldn’t bring back Aava and the baby when I received a certain offer from a korva claiming to be working for an unnamed member of the royal house. It seemed I was to keep a certain young and equally foolhardy captain from killing himself. It was a rather handsome sum.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
“Not bad so far. We’re both still alive, aren’t we?” Viktor asked. “And that money funded a large number of illuminating evenings with Helmi, as I recall.”
“I wonder wh
at happened to her.”
“She’s living in Ytlain. Karlindermoor. When things were looking bad, I told her to leave Eledore,” Viktor said. “She followed my advice. Set herself up with her own brothel. Smart as well as talented, that one.”
Nels sipped more coffee. His head and stomach felt perfectly fine, and he felt more alert than he had in days.
“Now the time has come to impart some wisdom upon you,” Viktor said.
“Really?” Nels asked. “And just exactly how long were you bound?”
“Longer than you, youngling,” Viktor said.
“You’re only two months older than me.”
“It’s not the years. It’s what you’ve done with them,” Viktor said. “Now, the first year is the hardest. You get through that without wanting to kill one another and—”
“We’ve been together for—”
“Living together is different than walking out together,” Viktor said. “You’ll see.” He paused. “The next thing I’ll say is … keep your sense of humor. You’ll need it. If there’s one thing I miss about Aava, it’s how she could always make me laugh, no matter what. And I can’t tell you how much easier that makes the worst to bear. My father used to say that having a partner in life halved one’s troubles and doubled the joy.” He stared into his coffee cup. “I think the one thing I’d add to that is … it only works that way if you have the right partner.”
“Why, Viktor Anders Reini, I do believe you’re a romantic at heart.”
“Tell anyone, and I’ll deny it,” Viktor said. He set down the cup and bent to retrieve the needle from the tray. “Now, let’s get this over with, shall we?”
“My father didn’t pierce his ear. Why should I?”
“Your father was a king,” Viktor said. “This is a soldier’s tradition. You’re lucky. You’re only having one ear done.”
“Why?”
“You have no other family members in the service,” Viktor said and held up the earring. “One, the left one, is a gift from a friend. The right is a gift from a relative.”
“Oh.”
“It is an offering to the Goddess for protection. See the rune?” Viktor asked, showing him the back of the disc. “So that you can live to protect your family. I used to think it was merely symbolic.” He shrugged. “We all did.”
Nels asked, “Is this new?”
“It seems Acrasians weren’t the first to notice the connection between the malorum and silver. Eledoreans were, perhaps, the first to forget it, however.”
“When did you have time to gather the ice?”
“I didn’t. Corporal Mustonen did,” Viktor said. He selected a piece and motioned for him to move closer. “Give me your ear.”
“I’m not sure I trust you with that needle. The way your hand is shaking, you’re likely to pierce my nose instead.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Viktor said. “It’ll be over with before you know it.”
Nels sat up and let Viktor apply the ice to his earlobe. “How many times have you done this?”
“Including this time?” Viktor grinned. “Once.”
“Great,” Nels said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Why isn’t Corporal Horn stabbing me with sharp objects? Doesn’t he have three daughters and a son serving? And they’re all bound to partners?”
“Horn isn’t standing for you in the ceremony. I am.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this was— Ouch!”
“See? Done,” Viktor said, daubing at the wounded earlobe with a cold, wet cloth. “Now sit still while I get the ring through.”
“Hurry up. That stings.”
“Stop wiggling.”
Mustonen entered, carrying the dress uniform.
“I mean it, Viktor. Get it in already! It hurts.”
Mustonen raised an eyebrow. His usually sober expression twitched with reined-in mirth. “Should I return and leave you two alone?”
Nels said, “So help me—”
“There,” Viktor said and withdrew. “It’s finished.”
“—if one word about—”
“Understood, sir,” Mustonen said. “Your uniform is ready.”
“Good.” Nels stood up.
Viktor said, “You might want to wait for a moment.”
Nels felt the world tilt a little to the left and sat back down. “You may be right.”
“It’ll pass in a moment. Have something else to eat,” Viktor said. “There’s bacon left.”
Nels’s assaulted earlobe began to throb. He gently touched it; it felt hot. “Is it bleeding?”
“Stop handling it. Relax. The difficult part is over. The rest involves getting dressed, saying ‘I do’ when prompted, and standing inside a circle without fainting,” Viktor said. “I understand even the most inbred of royals can handle that.”
“Viktor—”
“Have some more coffee,” Viktor said.
TWO
The main hall was lit with candles, and the scent of musky incense hung in the air. The furniture had been removed and stored elsewhere to make room. Ribbons of yellow and indigo were hung in loops from the ceiling and draped around the entrance. Nels wasn’t sure, but it looked like the whole community had turned out for the ceremony. All were standing around the outskirts of the large circle painted on the marble floor in black, blue, and yellow. Within the circle, someone had sketched a spiral that outlined the paths he and Ilta would be walking to the center. Suvi waited in the middle, wearing what had once been their father’s crown. Next to her stood the oldest living member of their community, ready to give a blessing, as was custom. In this instance, it was a sixty-eight-year-old named Eelis Saksa. He would be officiating alongside Suvi. Ilta had explained that her spiritual practice required representation from at least two genders—whether that was within one person or two didn’t matter. While that could’ve been handled by Lieutenant Fugl Vang alone, Nels had wanted his sister to have a part in the ceremony, and that had dictated Ilta’s choice.
Nels searched the crowd. Where is she? Has she changed her mind?
Viktor asked, “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Nels said. “Stop asking.”
“It’s going to be all right.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“No reason,” Viktor said, and looked away.
At that moment, the musicians—most of whom were volunteers from the company—began to play a slow melody in three-quarter time. Nels recognized it as a piece that he and Ilta had danced to in Jalokivi before the war. It’d been one of the rare evenings they’d had together before everything went horribly wrong. It was also one of his favorite memories, and he remembered telling Ilta something to that effect but couldn’t remember when. He was focused on recalling the name of the piece when the crowd parted and Ilta appeared.
He stopped breathing.
“I told you it’d be all right,” Viktor muttered.
She was wearing a dress he’d never seen her wear before. The overdress was Eledorean blue—the same as his formal uniform coat. The underdress was a pale yellow that brought out the highlights in her hair. She wore no jewelry and no gloves. Her hair was neatly piled on top of her head with curls spilling down the sides in the fashion that had been popular before the war. It wasn’t something she normally did with her hair. She was more beautiful than he thought possible. At the same time, she looked nothing like his Ilta. Ilta went barefoot in the summer. All other times she wore plain boots. She climbed trees when it suited her. She was untidy except when it came to her medicines. Her stained apron pockets were filled with rocks or pretty leaves she’d found.
She gave him a shy smile just for him that began like the small light of dawn on the horizon and then grew into the brilliant, shining revelation of day. And that was when he knew it was her underneath all the finery.
Nels thought, This is actually happening. Now.
Until that moment, he’d been going though the motions, absolutely certain that she was
going to change her mind. He knew the impossibility of her binding herself to him the way he knew the lines in his own hand. Hadn’t she backed out on him multiple times? Granted, it was taking her longer to evidence her uncertainty this time, but he knew he wasn’t worthy of her. It was one of the constants of his life.
That was why the reality of her stepping into the circle hit him harder than he could’ve imagined. His knees felt weak and his stomach seemed to plummet to the ground. The weight of it all kicked him in the gut.
“Steady on,” Viktor said, and held his arm.
Nels swallowed.
“Time to go,” Viktor whispered. “Unless you’re changing your mind?”
Nels didn’t acknowledge the question.
“I didn’t think so.” Viktor gave him a gentle nudge. “Off you go.”
The first step was the hardest. It was as if his legs had forgotten what it was to walk. He was sure he was moving like a drunk. His stomach was clenched in a fist. It was difficult to breathe. Everyone was watching as he walked the spiral path toward the center and Ilta. Viktor followed just behind him. It wasn’t long before Nels found himself standing at Ilta’s side. He didn’t know how he made it without tripping.
Suvi held up a wreath of evergreen and winked before placing it on his head. At the same time, Eelis Saksa set a matching wreath on Ilta’s head. Ilta turned, and that was when Nels saw she was just as nervous as he was.
The musicians stopped their playing.
“Ilta Brynjar Korpela, do you come of your own free will?” Suvi asked.
“I do.”
Eelis asked, “And you, Nels Gunnar Ari Hännenen, do you come of your own free will?”
Nels opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, he choked out the answer. “I do.”
“With whom do you come, and whose blessings do you bring?” Suvi asked.
Viktor said, “He comes with his friend as well as the blessings of his sister, his friends, and his ancestors.”
“And you? With whom do you come, and whose blessings do you bring?” Eelis asked Ilta.
“I come on my own with the blessings of my new sister, my friends, and my ancestors,” Ilta said.
Suvi said, “Then we are here to publicly celebrate the permanent joining of Ilta Brynjar Korpela with Nels Gunnar Ari Hännenen.”
