Dark Lord's Wedding (7 page)

“The wedding will come to pass, and you may attend. Do be presentable.” He dropped his handkerchief in front of her. He would leave her with that and send the formal invitation later.

The lace darkened in a pool of her blood. Then the fabric dissolved. “I’ll pray to all the gods for your marriage to succeed,” she said. “If it doesn’t, I’m terribly frightened that your children will devour you.”

Jerani gasped awake. Their llamas were crying with a shrill buzz. Something had frightened them. Celaise floundered up beside him, but it was day so he was faster. Jerani snatched his spear and rolled out of the tent. He worried the fox had escaped again. Then a flash of golden fur would dart between the llama’s hocks. Or had the animals spotted a jaguar? A pack of terror birds?

Worse, it was the lord.

He dropped from his horse. It was a horse again, not a six-legged monster. The lord and his two leper guards helped themselves to Jerani’s camp and set about heating a pot over the fire. The lord’s back was to Jerani. The red of his coat was the gruesome fleshiness of flowers that attracted flies.

The lord hadn’t called out. Maybe he wouldn’t. He could ride away without saying a word. He might leave Jerani and Celaise in peace. Jerani thought that hope had thorns. No good holding it too tight.

Jerani checked on the llamas. The horses had upset them, had trod over their dung fence. The llamas didn’t have the serenity of cows, but the shaggy llamas did have the herd sense to stay together as a family. They all craned their necks up to keep watch. The bells on their blue harnesses tinkled with displeasure.

“Thank you for waking us.” Jerani rubbed a llama’s neck.

The llama stared back with that froggy sideways eye of theirs. Jerani stuck out his tongue at the llama. The llama did the same to him with a flapping sound. The yarn tresses on the tips of his ears bounced.

Those pointy ears reminded Jerani to feed the fox. He reached into the cricket cage and snatched one. He couldn’t open the fox’s urn. The Golden Scoundrel might look like he was sleeping, but he would bolt out and leap over Jerani’s head again. Jerani had to stuff the kicking cricket into the urn through the rope netting. It mangled the poor critter’s legs.

He wiped his hands on tree bark then crept back to the hanging tent. The lord still hadn’t called him, so Jerani climbed back inside. Celaise mustn’t have been able to wake. A sheen of sweat covered her. Her lips trembled, mouthing words. Her good hand clutched her bad one, the one that was locked in the likeness of a claw. She tried to protect it—hide it—even asleep.

He eased the claw hand free of the other, warmed it between the both of his, then kissed it. Celaise did not wake. He used the blanket to wipe the cold sweat from her. Still she did not wake from her nightmare. He untied her sleep mask. On its black surface they had finger-painted dots of their favorite constellations.

Taking off the mask did not help. Celaise never woke. So often she was lost to him.

“Jerani.” The lord called.

Jerani came to the fire, his heart dragging. The pot bubbled with a black brew of coffee.

One leper offered him a cup held between two arm stumps. He had lost all his fingers. “A taste of bitters?”

Jerani couldn’t shake his head fast enough.

Steam escaped from the lord’s mug only to be sucked into his nose and mouth. “Ah, yes. My dearest Jerani, my young roast, you and Celaise have done me two great kindnesses. I’ll ask for but one more.”

Jerani’s brows pinched. He had done more than two things for the lord, unless the fox and last night’s battle didn’t count.

“Bring the wedding to its rapturous end, and you’ll be free.”

That sounded too easy. Jerani wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his palms into his elbows.

“You may be able to help me with a few trifles. Celaise will serve as a bridesmaid, if the Lady of Gems will have her.”

“I’ll tell Celaise.” Jerani hopped to his feet.

“I already have.”

“When?” Jerani glanced back at the tent. Celaise had to be still locked in her nightmare.

“Just now.” The lord threw the last of his coffee into the fire and stood.

Sometimes Jerani thought he must be taller than the lord, but this wasn’t one of those moments. The lord loomed.

“One last favor, my tasty treat, and then you can have anything you desire.” The lord tilted his chin toward the llamas. “Last time I gave you treasure that carries itself. Next, you can ask for anything you dare desire.”

Jerani lifted his spear against his chest and hugged it. Might he really have anything?

“At least you’ll have the brilliance of youth. For you, even foolishness will be beautiful. What do you desire?”

If Jerani could have anything, he would want Celaise not to suffer through another of the lord’s tasks.

The lord chuckled. “Fear not, my dauntless dainty, Celaise only need serve as the dressmaker for the Lady of Gems. Not so onerous a challenge.”

Jerani gulped as if a cow had stomped his littlest toe. Had he spoken his wish aloud? No, he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have dared. Still, the lord had heard.

“Your part may be harder.” The lord went to his horse. The beast bowed. It knelt, lowering itself onto its knees so the lord could step onto the saddle.

The other horses did nothing so strange. The lepers would have to mount, and the two men had only three fingers between them. Jerani rushed to help. These horsemen might make him cringe, but in a way they were kin to Celaise.

All had been broken. They had found comfort at night with the lord’s magic. They Feasted to forget their pain. Couldn’t hate them for that. Jerani offered his hand to the leper.

Snot dribbled from the pit that had once been the man’s nose, but his eyes were a clear blue. The leper nodded and then slapped his palms onto either side of the saddle horn, hauling himself up.

“You’re a pure one,” the other leper said. His voice was nearly lost, a scratch of a sound. “My name’s Wane. That’s Pall. “

The lepers were hard to look at long enough to tell apart.

“I’m the one with the pretty nose.” Wane pointed with one of his few fingers to his face. A gold plate hung over where his nose should’ve been. “Used to be a third man. Glad you’ll be filling his saddle.”

The other leper whispered something, too soft to make out.

“Yes, Jerani can dance a fine fight,” Wane said. “Who knows, Pall? Maybe we’ll be as quick again after the wedding. The Lady of Gems is going to give us back our health.”

“She can do that?” Jerani asked.

“Hope so.” Wane looked ahead to the lord. “The lord father will ask her to. He promised, and he will.”

The other leper said something that sounded like, “Put you through fire, but won’t spit on you after.”

The lepers rode off. Jerani looked after the horsemen. The lord might be cruel, but if he kept his word then Celaise would never have to see him again. As long as he let her use his magic she could be happy. Jerani could go somewhere with her, far away and safe. Maybe back to the freedom of the grasslands. Anywhere but this place.

The jungle was a woody cavern. Jerani was small here. Living was hard. He would have to climb for a true face-full of light. Nothing good grew in the leaf shadows, only mushrooms and leeches. The llamas had only fallen branches to eat. At least the gloom helped Celaise. She wasn’t her night self, but she wouldn’t weep while walking.

She held his arm through the day’s travels. The llamas followed, harness bells clinking. They crossed a road leading to Gangral city, but Celaise could move faster off it, through the deep woods.

“Celaise.” He loved saying her name. If he forgot all other words but that one he could still be happy. “Celaise, what will you choose? As the lord’s gift.”

She didn’t speak. Her eyes were full of strain. The daylight stole all a Feaster’s strength, all her magic.

“You could ask to be well. I mean, you’re well already, but the Lady of Gems, she could make you weller.” Jerani flushed, and his warrior marks itched across his face.

Celaise shook her head. Her neck made a clicking noise.

“The lepers think the lady might help them.”

“She can’t,” Celaise said. She squinted up into the branches, toward the glittering hints of the sun. “The Winged Flame makes us this way. During the day.”

“Don’t you want to even ask her?”

“No.” Celaise clutched Jerani closer. Now she was weeping.

Oh, no, Jerani had hurt her. He had thought Celaise would be happy at the chance of straightening her legs and back. They were bent like stalks of grass.

Hard to know what to say to help. Maybe he should kiss her. Her eyebrows each ended in an upward tuft, a dark thorn. No other women had that. Nothing was so lovely. He kissed her there.

She shuddered and turned away.

It was like a whip-tail slap across the face. His eyes stung, and heat burned across his cheeks, down his neck and chest to his clamping stomach. What had he done wrong? He liked Celaise. She liked him, so why was it so hard? He could just about break his spear against a tree trunk.

Celaise tapped her chest with her claw hand. “I don’t want you to kiss this.”

She wasn’t at her best during the daytime. Jerani still liked her. She was herself under all her pains. How could he tell her? What to say?

“Night or day …” He drummed his fingers over his war club. She might not like this. “Night or day, you’re the same person.”

“No I’m not. There’s nothing the same.”

“To me you are.”

“Then you’re blind.”

She pushed away from him. Leaning over her cane, she teetered down the road and between huts in a village.

A village! They had arrived, and he hadn’t even noticed. He should’ve been paying attention. Jerani backed into the llamas. One nibbled at his hair. If they turned around now maybe they could circle the huts without anyone seeing him. The banyan grove couldn’t be far off now.

A woman cried out. Too late. They had seen.

The woman dropped her grinding stone. Cornmeal tipped into the dirt. She ran through the village. Leaning against a mud wall once for breath, she glanced back at Jerani with bewildered eyes. She dashed on, over piles of mud and rocks. Untidy llamas without bells were carrying baskets of rubble.

The woman would be getting the warriors. No good trying to hide now. They would only hunt him down.

Jerani gripped his llama’s halter in one hand and his spear in the other. He walked after Celaise through the center of town. Another woman’s face peered out at him then vanished back into her hut.

This was awful. Jerani had to get back home. In this land the best he could hope for was a shocked stare.

Three warriors charged over the dirt pile. One of them stopped at the sight of Jerani and stumbled. Another came all the faster, his bronze battle axe bright. So bright.

“I’m not here to battle.” Jerani set down his spear. He crouched, so he wouldn’t seem so tall. His hands ached to pick up his spear again. “I won’t fight.”

“Then you surrender?” The axe warrior was still jogging forward.

“He didn’t fight,” Celaise said. “He doesn’t have to surrender.”

They didn’t even look at her. The axe warrior was held back by the third man. He carried a spear painted with a band of green. That meant poison. He also had a feather tied around his neck long enough to reach his waist. It must’ve been from a terror bird. Frayed and dirty, it wasn’t much to look at.

This head warrior pointed his green spear at Jerani. “What are you?”

“A man,” Jerani said.

“Then why’re you made of obsidian?”

“I’m not.” They were caught up on his skin, and it was only a little more black than their own.

“He’s covered himself in mud,” the axe warrior said.

“We’ll see.” The headman spat on his hand then reached out to touch Jerani.

Celaise knocked his arm away with her crutch. She was so brave. “Jerani is with me.”

The headman flicked his hand then glared at Celaise. “I, Macco, only fought in seven battles. Only given twelve captives to the priests. I’m one of the King’s Spears, but he has many. Is that why you think you can strike Macco, old woman?”