Allie's War Season Three (77 page)

Tarsi glanced briefly at Jon, and he felt his throat tighten.

"...Even their enemies now know of this, and others who would wish them apart. This binding can be seen from all of those quarters, as well as by the Ancestors themselves..."

Jon glanced at Revik and then Allie again. He was a little unnerved to see that Revik's eyes were overly bright, even as Allie smiled up at him, still gripping his wrists in her hands, tightly enough now that his skin was whiter around her fingers. She still felt about to vibrate out of her skin, but she felt happy again, too.

"...And nothing more on this subject need ever be questioned or said," Tarsi said, clapping her hands with a flourish.

At her hand clap, Jon lurched back to the present.

Fumbling the silver organic coil lighter he'd been given before the ceremony, he ignited it with a flick of his thumb. At Wreg's look, they both lit the ends of the golden thread at the same time from opposite ends as Tarsi watched from the podium above.

The threads caught at once, and burned with a flash of powder that freaked Jon out a little, even though, again, they'd rehearsed this, and he'd known what to expect. He'd still half-figured on lighting the two of them on fire accidentally, so he was relieved when they were just standing there after the after-effect of the flash dimmed, and he could see again. They both were breathing at bit harder, as if startled, but neither moved, or unclasped each other's wrists. The burning path of the thread left light, criss-crossing lines on the skin of each of their arms, but they already seemed to be fading, maybe partly from the dimmer light of the room.

Then everyone was cheering and Jon found himself being clapped on the back, dragged back into the main throng of guests along with Wreg and Allie and Revik and everyone else. Drinks were thrust in his hand, first a shot, which he was prompted to down on the spot...then something that looked like dark, red wine but that tasted more like hard alcohol. When Jon made a half-choking sound after sipping it, Wreg laughed, pounding him on the back yet again.

"Sarhacienne wine, brother," he said, half-shouting over the noise. "You'd best get used to it...I hear there's a growing market in the States..."

Jon nodded, and sipped again, wondering vaguely if he'd end up hallucinating on the stuff like the feeds said. The bulk of commentary on the wine seemed to be that it would eventually be made illegal, but it currently lived in that odd, in between zone of alcohol and illicit drug, so no one had done anything to regulate it yet. Also, it remained exceedingly rare outside of Asia. He wondered who even produced it these days, given that Seertown no longer existed.

He glanced around and found Allie and Revik next to Aunt Carol and Uncle James. He choked down another sip, half-laughing when he saw Aunt Carol give Revik a hug, tears in her eyes. Revik shook Uncle James' hand a moment later, while Allie got her own hug.

Jon couldn't help smiling, watching that, but something about it also struck him as vaguely surreal. He found that he understood though, why it had been so important to Revik that Allie's family be represented here. He couldn't stand the Sark family that adopted him after he'd been Syrimne. From what he told Jon, they'd treated him like garbage, and Vash had pretty much filled that gap for most of his years after being Syrimne. With Vash gone, Revik must have felt that left Allie's human family as the only option open to either of them.

Well, apart from Tarsi herself, who was sort of a unique case, being Revik's only
real
living relative...and for that matter, the only biological relative between them, at least so far as either of them knew. Allie's real family remained a complete mystery, so no one knew whether they were alive or dead, or whether they were even aware of her existence.

"Come with me, cousin!" Holo practically yelled into Jon's ear, making Jon jump even as the seer slung an arm around his shoulder and began steering him back towards the main stage and the door to the kitchen. "We're going to get the food Tarsi prepared for everyone!" he said, equally loud. "It's sure to be something special...there's a whole deal with it being the highlight of the night...!"

Jon had already figured out the seer was drunk, but he couldn't help wincing when Wreg grabbed him from the other side.

"See, brother," Wreg said, his voice a more normal volume. "Most seers don't get to experience weddings very often...unlike humans, they happen only every few decades in any one community, so we tend to go all out." He grinned a little, tugging Jon closer. "Even
you
might like this, with your worm-ruined palate..."

Jon shook his head, feeling his stomach flip, and not only from Holo's breath.

"None for me," he said, making the negative gesture with his hand to make sure they understood. "I've eaten too much already...between that and all the alcohol, I really will puke if you make me eat another seer dish..."

"Nonsense!" Wreg thundered, his voice holding no compromise. "You
must
eat it!"

"It's tradition!" Holo seconded, still managing to yell right in Jon's ear. "No choice, brother. Wreg's right..."

"Your funeral," Jon said, looking between them. "I will feel zero guilt if I throw up on either or both of you...and I do mean
zero
guilt..."

Wreg only laughed, but Holo looked faintly offended, even through the drunken slowness of his expression. By then, Wreg had pushed open the kitchen doors, and led him into a wash of bright lights where a few hundred small, colorful cakes sat on identical white trays. Each of the cakes had a name on it, Jon noticed, with the exception of the largest one, which had two names on it, ALYSON and REVIK.

"They made individual cakes for each of us?" Jon said, realizing even as he spoke that he was slurring a bit. "Seriously? Who had time for this?"

"The old woman did it," Wreg said, clapping him on the back again. "She was very specific about ingredients for each one...even did separate light rituals over all of them. It's probably why she looked so damned tired..."

"You mean they're all different?" Jon said, still somewhat aghast. He shut his mouth, seeing a cake on one of the nearby trays labeled JON SEBASTIAN. "That's me," he said, pointing. "You're telling me they really are all different?"

Wreg shrugged, one-handed. "It's the primary job of the officiating seer. It's why she came in a week early, and didn't want Allie to know she was here...she knew she'd be spending most of her time coming up with recipes for each of these..." He glanced at Jon, grinning. "You still want to say no to the food, brother?"

Jon shook his head, unable to tear his eyes off all of the different-colored cakes.

"No," he said.

"Good." Wreg clapped him on the back again. "Now let's figure out how we're going to distribute them...that part's our job..." He glanced around him again, then waved at Jax. "Go get more of those idiots. Jorag and Neela can help too...and ask Yumi and Vikram, we need more Seven and Adhipan eyes. Hell," he snorted. "Get Adhipan himself in here. He could lend a hand, too..." At Holo's nervous look, Wreg rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said, laughing. "Don't ask him. Jon and I will start now. Get the others in here, the ones I said...and explain to them what's up. We won't wait, all right?"

Holo gave a brief nod and a somewhat less coordinated salute, and headed for the main floor of the restaurant, still looking drunk, but now fiercely determined as well.

"So do we just pass them out one by one?" Jon said, after the swinging doors closed behind Holo's retreating back. "Isn't that kind of the slow way?"

Wreg shrugged. "We're responsible to see that they get into the right hands...easiest way to do that is one by one. I figure I can probably identify most of the ones you can't...and Yumi and Vikram can get the rest. If anyone's a question, we'll leave them to the end. I'm sure between us we can sort it out. Worst comes to worst, we'll drag Tarsi in here..." He gave Jon a level look. "The lovebirds are last...but you probably guessed that."

Jon shook his head. "Actually, no. In weddings I've been to, the married couple eats first. Everyone else eats after. They feed each other...it's usually messy, involves stuffing cake in each other's mouths..."

Wreg shook his head, chuckling a little. "And you call
us
barbaric?" He smiled again, and Jon saw the humor in his eyes. "Well, pick a few, and we'll start bringing them out. Gods know when Holo will be back...and what shape the others will be in when they get here..." Picking up a few of the plates filled with cakes that had long, convoluted seer names written on them, Wreg added, glancing over his shoulder. "...And be sure and tell them to eat them as soon as we give them to them. Everyone needs to have eaten before the Bridge and the Sword do..."

Jon nodded, "Gotcha."

He was already grabbing the nearest plates with names he recognized. They each held round,
Alice in Wonderland
type cakes on which someone had written JAMES EDWARD TAYLOR and MARCUS CARL TAYLOR in blue and purple frosting.

Pushing out through the swinging doors with his backside, Jon only had to look around for a few seconds before he found his uncle and his cousin sitting at one of the tables with Tom and Miranda, two of Aunt Carol's kids and Jon's other cousins. Setting the plate down in front of them, he had to slap Miranda's fingers to keep her from trying to get at the frosting, then explained that each of them had to eat the cakes right away, and that no one else could eat their cakes but them, that they'd been individually prepared. They all looked confused with the exception of Uncle James himself, who looked charmed by the whole thing somehow. When Jon started to back off to leave, he caught Jon's arm. Jon was surprised to see tears in his eyes, right before he spoke quieter in Jon's ear.

"Your father would have loved this, you know," he said.

Jon nodded, feeling his face tighten.

Being reminded of dad, now, when he was still in the middle of the thing about Dorje, was a little too much. But he only smiled, and squeezed his uncle's surprisingly frail-feeling shoulder. He'd always thought of Uncle James as the young one, being ten years younger than their father, and as a big man...but he looked old to Jon suddenly, and borderline frail despite his height. It occurred to him that Uncle James had to be pushing seventy by now...but even so, he didn't look as well as he should.

"Don't let them eat your cake, Uncle James," he said, smiling back. "That one was made especially for you, all right? Same with Marcus...don't let him get noble with his cousins. Theirs are on their way...promise."

Uncle James nodded, that brightness still in his eyes as he squeezed the hand Jon had on his shoulder in return. "Leave it to me, Jon."

Jon gave him a last pat, and then returned to the kitchen, feeling more out of it and sick than he had before.

He should be spending more time talking to these people. He might not ever see Uncle James or Aunt Carol again after today. It was the least he could do, after leaving them in the dark about where they were and what condition they were in for the past three or four years.

But instead of going back out to sit with them, he scooped up two more plates and walked back out to deliver them to his cousins, Tom and Miranda. Once he'd finished with theirs, he went more into autopilot mode, grabbing plates with names he recognized and delivering them, along with the same speech he'd given Uncle James and Marcus and whoever else happened to be listening. By the time he returned to the kitchen the fifth time, Holo had returned with most of the other seers on Wreg's list, and the plates were disappearing a lot faster.

It seemed like only a handful of minutes later before Allie's and Revik's cake was the last one sitting there, apart from all of theirs. Jorag, Vikram, Jax and Neela disappeared out the doors with their plates clutched in their hands, leaving Holo, Yumi, Wreg and Jon staring at their own plates on the metal rolling trays that now stood empty over most of the kitchen floor.

"Eat up, brother," Wreg said, handing him the plate that had a round, thick cake with JON SEBASTIAN written on it. "When we're finished, we'll have Tarsi check that the others are all finished, too..."

"Do I do anything before I ––" Jon began.

"Eat!" Wreg said, pointing at him with a flourish, even as he picked up his own plate. "Try to use your light, if you can, but don't worry if you can't. It won't really matter, either way. You'll find out why, soon enough..."

Jon couldn't help thinking that he wouldn't feel much of anything right then, given how drunk he was, but he dutifully picked up the cake.

Like the others, his had perfect fondant frosting, making it look more like subtly-colored porcelain than something to eat. He supposed that was appropriate though, too, given that it was the same frosting he saw on a lot of wedding cakes, if a lot more brightly colored than most of the human variety. It occurred to him suddenly that each cake had a personalized, impressionistic image on it as well...that the designs weren't as abstract as he'd originally believed. Looking down at his own plate now, on the metal countertop of the industrial kitchen, Jon realized his cake showed an image of the world.