He puffed out his cheeks and blew out slow. “Thanks Laramis. Thanks for being willing to stand by me through this whole long drawn out mess.”
“Zounds man, think nothing of it. We’ve faced demons and pantheon lords together. Today, the worst we’ll get is a sunburn and be the butt of a few jests here and there. Something I’d gladly endure to see my good friend happy.”
Bannor smiled. He really had been blessed to find such comrades.
“Good morning,” a deep female voice said from the trees.
He turned to see Senalloy melt out of the shadows. The silver-haired elder sauntered over to where they stood. She paused with hands on hips. Dressed in the utilitarian gray of the Nightslash elite she remained attractive, a towering curvaceous lady that he had come to respect as much for her wisdom and honor as he did her amazing powers.
“Milady,” Laramis bowed. “Ever the beautiful sight, today is no exception.”
The Baronian lady leaned over and kissed the paladin on the cheek.
“Morning, Sen,” he said. “Do I need to guess why you’re here?”
She grinned. “I doubt it. If you were running I was to lay a sandbag upside your head and drag you back. If you were lost, just give you a few shakes and put you in Matradomma’s lap.”
“Matradomma?” he frowned. “I’m not due to meet her until nine bells.”
She stepped forward and leaned close. “What happened three nights ago, hmmm?”
“The solstice, we had the ceremony to the turn the water clocks—a—head. Ah spit! Damn, I am sooo dead.”
“Well, not yet… but if you aren’t there in a quarter bell I’d begin fearing for that thick patch of hair of yours.”
“Leave us go,” Laramis said, giving him a clap on the back. “Making Matradomma cross on this day could live with you a while.”
“The rest of my life…” Bannor moaned. “Where is she, Sen?”
“Gryphon hall, getting things prepared for the reception.” She glanced back toward the citadel. “Want me to teleport you back?”
“Please.”
The silver-haired Baronian nodded. She made an expansive gesture, mumbling words that grew to a shout that carried them into darkness. With a flash of stars, a stomach churning twist and a thump of rushing air they were standing in the citadel yard a quarter league from the ceremony site where he had been daydreaming.
“Zounds,” Laramis muttered, rubbing his stomach. “I still have yet to get used to that.” He looked around. “ ‘Tis a grand sight is it not?”
Bannor nodded as his gaze took in the pennons and standards fluttering in the breeze all around the citadel ramparts. Caterers, messengers, and guards moved in and out the various entrances in a steady stream like lines of digger bugs serving a hive.
To go from a family that barely acknowledged his existence, to this… He blew out his cheeks.
Laramis clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s the matter, Friend? You seem a bit pale. It’s not as if we are bracing an army of demons.”
“Sometimes, I’d rather fight an army of demons…” he said, shaking his head.
Senalloy knuckled his back and smiled. “You’ll get through it. It’s entertainment for the citizens and it’s expected. They want to believe that the ruling family is special. Come.” She pulled on his arm.
The Baronian lady lead the way up the steps into the east citadel entrance, guards saluting and nodding as she passed. One thing that had been happening since Kalindinai hired Senalloy, the various corps of servants and militia had gone through a purging. From maid to guard to minister, Senalloy had scrutinized every person that ever set foot in Kul’Amaron. Any whose loyalty, motivations, or ability she questioned, she arranged to have the now powerfully telepathic royal family review. As a result, King Jhaan had dismissed nearly half the citadel staff. This caused a huge turmoil in court, the proceedings of which Bannor had been called in to witness on occasion. After several duels and assassination attempts on her life, Senalloy was quickly becoming a legend.
They made their way into the main audience chamber, Gryphon Hall, which was being prepared for the massive after-wedding reception and dinner. As they stepped through the archway, Bannor had to blink and look again at the elaborate display. The galleries for the noble houses on either side of the vast chamber had been decorated with flowers and streamers, extra seating rows given up to make space for dining tables. With the three tiers of seats on either side of the seventy pace long chamber and the tables surrounding the newly constructed dance floor, he guessed there to be seating for a thousand.
From the dozens of workers building, arranging, and decorating it was apparent the King and Queen were not concerned about cost. Any one of the hundreds of table settings immediately in view probably cost more than Bannor could have earned in his most profitable summer as a Tenax ranger. He didn’t think he would ever grow accustomed to such opulence. Where did all the funds come from? The people of Malan were not heavily taxed or levied, certainly not like in Ivaneth or Corwin. Some day he might learn how it all worked. No, he corrected himself—he would be required to learn how it all worked.
He located Queen Kalindinai standing on the raised stage at the head of the room where the royals would be seated during the event. Already dressed in the flowing fur-ruffed robes of ruler-ship, dark hair piled up and threaded with jewels she was completely surrounded by staff making reports and receiving instructions. He found it amazing that she could keep it all straight. Dressed in a pearlescent blue gown, translucent hair arranged and sparkling in a rainbow of color, the eldest sister, Ryelle, stood to one side similarly occupied.
As they approached, Bannor overheard some of the discussion. Much of it had to do with who would be sitting where and how to decorate their place settings. He remembered then the discussion that had taken place during the party when the Baronians first attacked, and how much went into deciding the placement of nobility. He knew that Gaea would be attending along with Megan and Koass. Where did you seat a goddess, or an eternal? It had to be giving the castellans fits.
They didn’t make it to the stage. Kalindinai straightened up, able to see over the heads of most of the elves around her. She glared at him with narrowed amber eyes. “Bannor… why aren’t you—dressed?”
“Uhhh…”
“Ryelle, pull Jan off the honor guard detail and have her fix him—right now!”
“Matradomma,” he started. “I can—”
“Stand still,” she pointed at him. “Don’t even move!”
Caught flat footed, all he could do was stand embarrassed as over fifty T’Evagduran staff eyed him with amusement.
Ryelle did not acknowledge her mother, at least not aloud. Excusing herself, she pushed through the crowd surrounding her and went out through the exit behind the stage. In a matter of heartbeats she returned with Janai. Likely, she had used the shaladen to summon her younger sister.
Janai was dressed in brilliant satiny red, with festoons of jewels all through her gown and hair. Of the three sisters, Janai’s flamboyance and sense of what men and women found attractive was unrivaled. With moons of shaladen energies honing and strengthening her form, her aspect was nothing short of stunning.
With a roll of her amber eyes the second princess waded through the crowd toward him robes flashing and jingling.
She came up, put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. She took hold of his wrist. “Sen, I have him. Would you help Rye? She’s going crazy.”
Senalloy bowed. “Of course.” She nodded to him. “See you later.”
“Come on…” Janai said pulling on him. She glanced over her shoulder. “Laramis, I thought you were going to watch after him?”
“Apologies Arminwen, but I had to get ready myself… It did not occur to me our groom would travel out-of-doors.”
The second princess pulled them into the western gallery toward the older part of Kul’Amaron. Guards and staff were everywhere cleaning and preparing. Sharp eyed mech
a and shape-shifted valkyries borrowed from Idun stood sentry watching every hall and doorway.
“This is a bit much for me,” he complained. “I was nervous and forgot about the time…”
Janai sighed. “Brother-to-be, do you want to keep your head? Do not make mother cross with you.”
He winced. “How’s Sarai? Is she okay, she’s not letting me feel her on the shaladen.”
“You’re not supposed to peek at the bride,” Janai chided with a frown. “That includes cheating with a shaladen.” She sniffed. “She’s fine—going crazy—but fine.” She reached up and pressed a finger to a silver pendant hanging around her neck. The item glowed and a tall figure shimmered into being, walking at her shoulder.
“Hey, Jan!” Daena chirped, putting her arm around the second princess and giving her a squeeze. Moons ago Janai’s ward prodigal was already assuming forms that made men stare and trip over themselves. In the intervening time, her ability had only continued to get more refined. She had stopped wearing the exaggerated shapes, now preferring taut curvy bodies that were both strong and attractive. Recently, her shapes were elven in aspect, upturned glowing green eyes highlighting slim exotic features. For the wedding, she had dressed to match Janai, wearing satiny red highlighted with gold jewelry. “What did you call for?”
Janai hooked a thumb over her shoulder at him.
Daena looked back. She raised an eyebrow. “Bannor? Why aren’t you dressed? Matradomma will kick your arse.”
“Uhhh, too late,” he murmured.
“We have dressing duty,” Janai filled in with a grin.
“Do we?” The girl raised her chin. She glanced back at him. For a moment, he saw a glint in her eye, a glimmering of the old covetous Daena. She smiled. “Brother, we’ll have you ready in no time.”
Janai led them into a heavily guarded corridor to a suite where two mecha and two valkyries watched the door. The guards challenged them, and verified Janai’s credentials before letting them in.
Inside the chamber, the bed and other amenities had been shoved into one corner and two huge ironwood wardrobes had been stuffed into the remaining space. Racks bristling with various tailor’s and beautician’s accoutrements had been leaned against the walls. Three hassocks and an ornate triple mirror were the only other furniture in the chamber.
Janai pulled him to the cluster of hassocks and pushed him down to sit. “Dane, get him out of that tunic.” She looked back to the Justicar, and nudged an open jewelry drawer with her foot. “Laramis, please find him something appropriate to compliment sapphire blue. Sarai will be wearing dark stones.”
The burly warrior rubbed the back of his head. “Hmmm, let us see.” He crouched by the case and began thumbing through the items.
Daena unbuttoned his tunic and tugged it off. Folding the cloth she eyed him shaking her head. “Brother, you’re turning into Master Corim.”
His brow furrowed and he frowned. “Is that good?”
Daena grinned.
Behind him Janai laughed. “It sure doesn’t hurt, Brother-to-be!” She came over and handed something to Daena.
“Hold still,” the auburn-haired ascendant told him, folding something in her hand.
When the cold damp cloth hit his shoulder he jerked. “Hey, I already washed.”
“Brother, you will have to be in this suit for bells, and ones much heavier under a bright sun. This stuff keeps you from, uhhh, souring things unintentionally.”
He blinked at her.
“Brother, just cooperate,” Janai said with a frown.
He forced himself to relax as Daena rubbed the vaguely alkaline smelling stuff on his arms, shoulders, and chest. The liquid did have a cooling effect and it made his skin tingle.
“Measure,” Janai murmured tossing something to Daena.
Daena fussed behind his back doing something. “Six, errr, six and half.”
“Carellion, you’ve grown since we last measured you, damn those two were supposed to let up on your training!”
He snorted. “They did.”
The second princess sighed. “I’ll have to do a little magic with this. Rrrr—” she growled. She rose and came over to him. “Hold your arms out.”
He did so. Janai took a ribbon with markings on it and wrapped it around the thickest part of his arm on one side and then the other. She came around in front of him measuring down the length of his arms. She grinned up at him. “Are you sure this is your mortal form?”
He rolled his eyes. “Positive.”
Laramis came over to him and took his left hand and placed it on his wrist. He held up some different colored rings next to Bannor’s knuckles one at time. “Ah, here’s a set that will work.”
Bannor closed his eyes and tried to relax, simply following instructions and letting the three do as they pleased. He never had been very good at fancy dressing. It was probably best they were helping him. Likely if he had done it alone the Queen would have scolded him and ended up having Janai redress him anyway. Things happening as they did avoided that additional embarrassment.
Between clothing, hair, jewelry and even skin powder it took the better part of a bell to get fully prepared. Janai had indeed been forced to use low level magic to tailor his marriage regalia.
He stared at the mirror not recognizing the tall broad-shouldered nobleman dressed in a white surcoat and gold epaulets looking back. Through some technique obviously well practiced, Laramis had gotten his face much smoother than he had ever managed.
Could that really be Bannor Starfist? “Whoa. Is Sarai even going to recognize me?”
“She’ll manage,” Janai laughed.
“You are really handsome, Brother,” Daena said with a sparkle in her eye.
“Thank you, Janai, Daena,” he said. He gave them each hug.
“It was fun,” Janai responded with a smile. She leaned her head to one side. “Mother tells me she is happy with how you turned out. She also advises that you drink one or two mugs of sweet-water before the ceremony.”
“I’ll do that, sounds like good advice. Lots of talking and singing in front of an audience,” he drew a shaky breath.
“You’ll do fine, Brother,” Daena encouraged.
“We’d best get back,” Janai told them. “We still have a lot to do before the ceremony starts.” She rose to tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You are the picture of debonair, Brother-to-be. I look forward to seeing you up on the stage and sharing a nectar with my new brother at the reception.”
He bowed to Janai and kissed her hand.
Daena put her hands around one of his and squeezed. The smile she gave him was somewhat forced, but mostly genuine. He nodded to her.
He and Laramis watched the two disappear down the hall.
Laramis let out a breath. “We’ve attended to dressing the part. Leave us on to the rest of the things on our list…”
There were quite a number of things to be done by the groom prior to the ceremony. Some were mundane things like paper work that had to be signed, sealed and witnessed by ministers on the day of the occasion. Then were formal rituals like the receiving of swords. His official petitions with the general of the militia, the general of the cavalry, and the King himself…
Bannor took a breath of hot dry air, it was barely into late morning and the legion stadium already felt stifling, especially with several hundred elf archers, footmen, and cavalry all standing in witness. He swallowed and drew shallower breaths to calm his thudding heart. The wooden floor of the arena hummed with tension as he and Laramis marched in following the King’s honor guard into the presence of Malan’s military high tribune.
Rows of soldiers in formal dress stepped back to form a path as they proceeded into the center of the circle.
King Jhaan, dressed in black griffon armor festooned with war braids and campaign medals, stood in the center with solemn expression, his pale hair twitching around the edges of the heavy dragon-crest helm he wore. On the King’s left arrayed in red dragon-scal
e armor stood cavalry general Thurrgis, a wiry blade of an elf with glowing sapphire-colored eyes. The burly gray-bearded white-eyed militia general Baerdin stood opposite wearing a jeweled adamantine war-web. From a few steps back, dressed in glossy black, silver hair tied back, face serious and violet eyes gleaming, Senalloy towered over general Baerdin, formal double swords resting on her shoulders.
The honor guard peeled off to either side, melting into the ranks on either side. Bannor and Laramis stepped up together and saluted sharply, fist to chest. The tribune saluted as a unit, hard boots clacking on the wooden floor.
Two soldiers trundled out a padded kneeling board and placed it in front of the king. As the two elves faded back into the crowd, Bannor drew a breath, clicked his heels and took two steps forward and saluted again.
He cleared his throat, focused making sure he spoke in elvish and in the proper dialect. “Dom’Ista, I, Bannor Nathane Starfist of Tenax, come to offer my heart, strength, and mind to the protection and service of Malan.”
“Kneel,” King Jhaan intoned.
Bannor placed one knee down on the board, hands laced over his thigh and head bowed.
“Petitioner Starfist,” the King continued. “Do you swear to put the needs of your King, Malan and its citizens before your own?”
“I do,” he responded.
“Will you lawfully serve Malan with honor and dignity, upholding and respecting the rites and customs of country and King, both here and abroad?”
“I will.”
“Very well,” King T’Evagduran responded. “By the power vested in me I officially grant admission to the armed service of Malan.” The King stepped forward and pinned the griffon-head emblems to either side of Bannor’s collar. “Rise soldier Starfist.”
Bannor rose and saluted again.
General Thurrgis focused blue eyes on Bannor, his lean face serious but not hostile or forbidding. Bannor had only met the elf on a few occasions. His understanding was that he and King Jhaan had been good friends coming up through the ranks, and that the King had been Thurrgis’ archer for many aerial battles.
Reality's Plaything 5: The Infinity Annihilator Page 71
