by Nancy Kress
A voice spoke behind her. “Ev’ning, ma’am.”
She turned to see Ixima Ironbridge, a young woman with a smudge of flour on one cheek. Jax had sent the Ironbridge maize-girl to Argali last year, so Kamoj could get to know her. That way, whenever Kamoj traveled to Ironbridge, she would bring a familiar face with her, someone who already knew the province and could help Kamoj feel more at home. The thoughtful gesture had both touched and confused Kamoj. How could Jax be so considerate one moment and so harsh the next?
Ixima spoke in her Ironbridge dialect. “Shall I be a’helpin’ you change, ma’am?”
“Thank you.” Kamoj sat tiredly on her bed.
Ixima slid off the boot and peeled away the sock. Kamoj winced as the cloth ripped away from her toes. The gouge must have bled and then dried her sock to her skin. Lifting her foot, she saw dirt in the cut. “We better clean it.”
The maize-girl tilted her head, considering Kamoj’s foot. “I donnee see how a’rubbin’ it would help. You rest, hai, ma’am? Tomorrow it be feeling better enough to scrub.”
Her lack of knowledge troubled Kamoj. Dirty wounds festered. Nor was Ixima the only person she had known to make mistakes on health matters. She thought of asking the healer in the village about setting up a program to educate people. He was already overworked, and she hated to add to his load, but in the long run this might help ease his burden.
“We must treat it now.” Kamoj kept her voice kind so Ixima didn’t take it as a rebuke.
The maize-girl fetched a bowl of warm water and soap. While she cleaned Kamoj’s foot, Kamoj leaned against the bed post, struggling to stay awake. After Ixima helped her prepare for sleep, Kamoj settled in bed. The maize-girl darkened the room and left quietly, leaving one candle flickering on the windowsill.
Kamoj lay on her back, her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. She would always remember the first time she had met Jax, not long after her parents had died. Tall and powerful, his mail gleaming, his handsome face kind, he had knelt to speak to her, bringing his eyes level with her own. He had seemed like an enchanted hero then, a shining savior come to rescue Argali. Over the years she had learned the truth, that under the hero’s exterior burned a complicated, violent man whose clenched need to control contaminated his many good qualities.
If she refused the Lionstar merger, it would placate Jax but break the law. If Argali and Ironbridge combined forces, they could raise an army almost equal to that of Lionstar. But if Lionstar attacked, Kamoj would have to send people she loved into a rite of combat. A good chance existed they wouldn’t come home. Lionstar might slaughter them; neither Ironbridge nor Argali had ever ridden into battle.
Kamoj knew what she had to do. As she made her decision, she felt as if a door closed. She had no way to predict what would happen in a Lionstar merger, but he had made it clear he could support her province. If she turned him down, the people and realm she loved could suffer, perhaps even die, at his whim.
Never again would Jax raise his hand or whip to her person. Never again would he use the survival of Argali as a weapon against her. It was a bitter victory, given what she had seen of Lionstar, but it was all she had.
3
LIONSTAR
Second Scattering Channel
Kamoj squinted at the mirror while the threadwoman fussed over her clothes. All this attention disconcerted her. She never dressed this way, in such formal garments. Leggings and a farm tunic were much more her preference, or a farm dress for more festive occasions. However, today was her wedding, and at one’s wedding one wore a wedding dress no matter how dour the bride felt about that incipient marital status.
Despite everything, Kamoj treasured this dress. Knowing her mother and grandmother had worn it at their weddings made her feel close to them. Dyed the blush color of an Argali rose, it fit snug around her torso and fell to the floor in drapes of rose-scale satin. Lace bordered the neckline and sleeves, and her hair fell in glossy black curls to her waist. The Argali Jewels glittered at her throat, wrists, and ankles, gold chains designed like vines and inset with ruby roses.
With tugs and taps, the aged threadwoman tightened the dress at the waist and tried to make it stretch over Kamoj’s breasts. She cackled at her reluctant model, her eyes almost lost in their nest of lines. “You’ve no boy’s shape, Gov’ner. You be making Lionstar a happy man, I reckon.”
Kamoj glowered at her, but the seamstress was saved from her retort by a knock on the door. Kamoj limped across the room in her unfamiliar shoes, heeled slippers sheathed in rose scale-leather. She opened the door to see Lyode.
Her bodyguard beamed. “Hai, Kamoj! You look lovely.”
“It’s for my wedding.” She wondered what Lionstar would do if she showed up in a flour sack. Go away maybe. Then again, he was so odd he might like it.
Her guardian’s enthusiasm waned. “Yes. Maxard told me.”
Lyode’s presence offered a welcome respite from all these wedding preparations. Kamoj dismissed the seamstress, then drew Lyode over to sit with her on the sofa. The older woman started to lean back, then jerked when her shoulders touched the cushions and sat forward again. Watching her, Kamoj felt another surge of anger at Jax, that he inflicted pain on the people she loved because they sought to protect her from his anger.
“You’ve huge bags under your eyes,” Kamoj said.
“I had—a little trouble sleeping last night.”
Kamoj wasn’t fooled. It dismayed her to see Lyode’s discomfort. But Maxard must have mollified Jax to some extent; otherwise Lyode wouldn’t be able to move. “I’m so sorry.”
The archer laid her hand on Kamoj’s arm. “It’s isn’t your fault.”
Isn’t it? At times like this Kamoj felt trapped. “How is Gallium?”
Lyode spoke gently. “He’s all right, Kami. We both are.”
Kamoj crumpled her skirt in her fists. “I hate that all this has happened.”
“Hate is a strong word. Give Lionstar a chance.”
“I tell myself it will work out for the best. But after all we’ve heard about him—” She stopped, unable to voice her fears, as if saying them aloud would make real the tales of sorcery and dread that surrounded him.
“You’ve a kind heart,” Lyode said. “He would be blind not to see that.”
“Lyode—”
“Yes?”
“About tonight . . .” Although Kamoj knew what happened on a wedding night, it was only as vague concepts. She felt awkward asking advice on such matters even from Lyode. It touched a part of her life that would have given her both anticipation and apprehension even if she had gone into it with a man she knew, loved, and trusted. None of the three applied to Lionstar.
Lyode’s face relaxed into the affectionate grin she always took on at the mention of her own husband, Opter. “Don’t look so dour. Weddings are good things.”
Kamoj smiled. “You look like a besotted fruitwing.” When Lyode laughed, Kamoj said, “How will I know what to do?”
“Trust your instincts.”
“My instincts tell me to run the other way.”
Lyode touched her arm. “Don’t judge Lionstar yet. Wait and see.”
•
At sunset the Argali coach rolled into the courtyard, pulled by four greenglass stags and driven by a stagman. Shaped and tinted like a rose, it sat in a chassis of emerald-green leaves. Unlike Argali House, which had only legends attesting to its construction, the coach was inarguably one surface with no seams, glimmering like pearl. Its making was so long in the past, no one remembered how it had been done.
Watching from her bedroom window, Kamoj suddenly wanted to go down to the courtyard and tell them all that she had changed her mind, that they must cancel the wedding. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her thoughts. You made the best decision you could. Trust your instincts.
The door opened behind her. Turning, she saw Lyode framed in the archway. Her bodyguard wore a fine white shirt and soft suede trousers, with her ballbow i
n her hand instead of on her back. Her familiar presence reassured Kamoj.
Lyode’s expression was both fond and sad. “It’s time to go.”
Kamoj crossed the room without a limp. Her foot had gone numb. She had soaked and cleaned the wound again this morning, but it remained swollen. It didn’t hurt now, though.
Maxard was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. A swell of pride filled Kamoj. Today no lack of splendor would shame Argali. She wished Maxard’s lady in the North Sky Islands were here to see him. His mail gleamed, a gold contrast to his black hair and eyes. He wore a suncorn shirt, wine-red suede breeches, and a belt made from quetzal feathers in Argali colors. Green feathers lined the tops of his gold knee-boots, and a ceremonial sword hung at his side, its scabbard tooled with Argali designs.
As Kamoj descended the stairs, Maxard watched, his face filled with the affection that made her love him so. When she reached him, he said, “You look like a dream.” His voice caught. “It seems just yesterday you were a child. How did you grow up so fast?”
“Hai, Maxard.” She hugged him. “I don’t know.” It was true. A few years ago she had been a child. Then she became an adult. Almost nothing separated the two; her adolescence had lasted only a few tendays. It gave her an inexplicable sense of loss. Why should she want a longer time of transition? Most people had no adolescence at all.
She knew the stories, of course, of the rare child who took longer to reach adulthood. Rumor claimed Jax Ironbridge’s youth had stretched out far longer than normal. Years after his peers had become adults, he had still been an adolescent, tall and gangly, with only the first signs of his beard. He continued to grow long past the age when most youths reached maturity. Jax came into full adulthood well after most men his age—and by that time he was taller, stronger, and smarter than everyone else.
If only it had made him kinder, too.
With Maxard and Lyode on either side, Kamoj left the house. A group of her childhood friends had gathered in the courtyard, young women with rose vines braided into their black hair. They waved and smiled, and Kamoj waved back, trying to appear in good spirits.
Arrayed around the coach, ten stagmen sat astride their mounts, including Gallium Sunsmith. A smudgebug flittered into the face of one animal and it pranced to the side, crowding Gallium’s greenglass. As the first rider pulled back his mount, his elbow bumped Gallium’s back. Kamoj saw the grimace of pain Gallium tried to hide, just as Lyode had done on the sofa.
Kamoj’s smile faded, lost to thoughts of Jax. He had shadowed so much of her life. She had treasured Gallium for as long as she could remember. The stagman had given her rides when she was a little girl and gave her his unwavering loyalty now.
As she passed him, she looked up. “My gratitude, Goodman Sunsmith. For everything. I won’t forget.”
His face gentled. “And you, Kami. You be a sight of beauty.”
She managed to smile, not wanting to burden him with her fear. Lyode opened the door of the coach and Maxard entered first, followed by Kamoj. Lyode came last and closed them into the heart of the rose. The driver blew on his flight-horn, and its call rang through the evening air. Then they started off, bumping down the road.
Sitting between Lyode and Maxard, Kamoj took each of their hands. Maxard patted her arm and Lyode hugged her, but no one spoke. They needed no words; after so many years, they could speak with the simplest touch. She cherished this time with them. It felt ephemeral. She wished she could put this moment in a locket, a gold heart that would protect it, so she could take it out when the loneliness came and remember these two people who were her only family.
The coach rolled slowly, so the people walking could keep up. Even so, it seemed that far too little time passed before it stopped, bringing an end to their moment together.
The door swung back, leaving Gallium framed in its opening. Beyond him in the gathering dusk, the golden face of the Spectral Temple basked in the rays of the setting sun. Kamoj’s retinue of stagmen and friends, and now many other villagers too, waited in the muddy plaza before the temple. It touched her to know that so many had come to see her wed Lionstar, especially given how much they feared him.
Lyode left the coach first. Kamoj gathered her skirts and followed—but froze in the doorway. Across the mud and cobblestones, a larger coach was rolling into view. Made from bronze and black metal, it had the shape of a roaring skylion’s head with wind whipping back its feathered mane. Every burnished detail gleamed. The eyes were emeralds as large as fists. A blush spread across Kamoj’s face at the imposing sight.
Her groom had arrived.
As soon as the coach stopped, its door opened. Two stagmen came out, decked in copper and dark blue, with cobalt diskmail that glittered in the sun’s slanting rays. Sapphires lined the tops of their boots. Kamoj wondered where Lionstar found so many incredible gems. Argali’s jewel master had checked and double-checked the ones in his dowry. They were real. Flawless and real.
Then a cowled man stepped down into the plaza.
Lionstar towered over everyone else, easily the largest man in the courtyard. Seeing his unusual height, she wondered if—like Jax—he too had spent years as an adolescent. What if he had other, harsher, similarities to her former betrothed? As always, he wore a blue cloak with a cowl pulled over his head. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he hid under that shadowed hood. Only black showed inside; either he had a cloth over his face—or he had no face.
Maxard took her arm. “We should go.”
His touch startled her into motion. She descended from the coach, onto a flagstone that glinted with mica even in the purple shadows. Her heels clicked as she stepped from stone to stone to avoid the mud.
Even tonight, the sight of the Spectral Temple gave her a thrill. The terraced pyramid stood surrounded by the Argali forest. When rays from the setting sun hit the stairs that ran up its side at just the right angle, it made light ripple down them to the statue of a starlizard’s head at the bottom, creating a serpent of radiance and stone. In the front of the temple, a huge starlizard’s head opened its mouth in a roar, forming an entrance. When a sun ray hit its crystal eyes, arcs of light glistened around its head like the Perihelia spirits, also called Sun Lizards, that guarded the temple.
Kamoj had always loved the sun lizards that appeared in the sky. They made halos on either side of the sun, like pale rainbows, each with a tail of white light. This was their favored time, as tiny Jul descended to the horizon, scantily dressed in wispy clouds. During winter, when ice crystals filled the air, Perihelia and Halo spirits graced the heavens in arcs and rings. They might even form around the head of a favored person’s shadow as it stretched across dewy tubemoss at dawn. But she saw no nimbus now, no sign to portend good fortune for this merger.
Lionstar’s group reached the temple first. He stopped under the overhang of the sun lizard’s fanged mouth and waited, his cowled head turned toward Kamoj. She came up with her retinue and stopped. After they had all stood that way for a moment, she flushed. Didn’t he know he should go in first? She shifted her weight, wondering how to balance courtesy with expediency. They couldn’t stand here all night.
One of Lionstar’s stagmen spoke to him in a low voice. He nodded, then entered the temple with his retinue. Relieved, Kamoj followed with her people. No one spoke. She wondered if Lionstar could even talk. No one she knew had ever heard him say a word.
Inside, light from the sunset trickled through slits high in the walls. Stone benches filled the interior, except for a dais at the far end, which supported a polished stone table. Carvings decorated the table, Argali vine designs, those motifs called Bessel integrals in ancient Iotaca.
Kamoj savored the scents in the temple. Rose vines and ferns heaped the table, filling the air with their fragrance, fresh and clean. Around the walls, garlands hung from the statues of several Current spirits: the Airy Rainbows, the Glories, and the Nimbi. In wall slits above the statues, light slanted through faceted windows with water m
isted between the double panes, creating rainbows. Music graced the air, coming from breezes that blew through fluted chambers on the ceiling, hidden within engravings of the Spherical Harmonic wraiths.
Most days, Kamoj enjoyed the Spectral Temple’s beauty. Now it all seemed unreal, its ethereal quality untouched by the far less serene ceremony going on within it. As everyone else sat down on the benches, Kamoj walked to the dais with Maxard at her side and Lionstar preceding them. The priestess, Airysphere Prism, waited by the flower-bedecked table. Tall and lithe, she had large eyes and shiny black hair that poured to her waist.
After he stepped up onto the dais, Lionstar turned to watch Kamoj approach. At least she assumed he was watching. His cowl hid his face. When she reached him, she saw only darkness within that hood, perhaps a glint of metal. She told herself she was mistaken. Surely a man couldn’t have a metal face.
Maxard bowed to him. “Argali welcomes you, Governor Lionstar.”
The taller man just nodded. After an awkward silence Maxard flushed, though whether from anger or shame, Kamoj didn’t know. Did Lionstar realize the insult in his silence, or did he act out of ignorance? The answer to that question would have told her a great deal about her groom, but she had no way to judge from the unreadable shadows within his cowl.
When the silence became long, Maxard turned and took Kamoj’s hands. He spoke tenderly. “May the Current always flow for you, Kami.”
She curled her fingers around his. “And for you, dear Uncle.”
He lingered a moment more, watching her face. But finally he released her hands. Then he left the dais, going to sit on the front bench with Lyode.
“It is done?” Lionstar asked.
Kamoj almost jumped. His voice rumbled, deep and resonant, with a heavy accent. On the word “is,” it vibrated like a stringed instrument.
Airys blinked, the vertical slits of her pupils opened wide in the shadowed temple. “Do you refer to the ceremony?”
“Yes,” Lionstar said.
“It hasn’t begun.” Airys took a scroll from the table and unrolled it. Glyphs covered the parchment in starlight blue ink. She offered it to Lionstar, and he accepted with black-gloved hands.
