From Across the Clouded Range (19 page)

Chapter 7

The sun poked over the trees with an
ominous glint that confirmed Dasen’s suspicion that the forces of
nature were colluding against him. That oppressive midmorning sun
had already combined with the considerable moisture left by the
recent rain to transform the air into a sweltering stew that sent
huge salty beads running down his nose and chin. The sweat careened
off his face and soaked through his crisp white shirt and black
woolen jacket until they clung to him. Now, the blinding light
added a painful squint to his already throbbing
headache.

He could not remember having been so
hung over as he had been that morning. He could not even clearly
remember how he had gotten into his bed – he had a faint memory of
Elton carrying him. If not for this ceremony, he would surely still
be there. A bath, shave, and hearty breakfast had helped, but his
head still throbbed, and he felt decided wrung out. Now, he had to
stand in front of an entire village in a full suit with the sun
beating him like a hammer on an anvil. If not for the nervous
energy rushing through him, he would collapse. Of course, that
energy also made his stomach churn like a dairyman’s wife and head
swoon in orbits to match the heavens. He held his hands clenched in
front of him, feeling them growing moist as he pressed them
together and hoped that no one could see him trembling. This is
really happening, he kept telling himself. His pending joining had
never seemed real until now. He had contemplated it, dreaded it,
planned for it, but now it was really happening. Despite what he
had thought and said the night before, he was terrified.

He scanned the village green but found
no reassurance there, only five hundred sets of eyes staring
intently into his. Overwhelmed, he snapped his gaze back to the
dais but still felt those eyes boring into him as if trying to look
into his skull. The collective stares created a steady pressure
that he could feel. To calm himself, he took a long, deep breath
that felt like it had been drawn through a wet rag.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped then
looked back, saw Rynn’s relaxed smile, and tried to match it. “You
look like you’re on your way to the gallows,” Rynn whispered in his
ear. “Granted your life is over, but it will be a lot longer and
slower than the noose.”

Dasen’s scowl only solicited a chuckle.
Somehow, Rynn did not seem to feel the effects of the previous
night’s excesses or the morning’s inhuman conditions. When Dasen
had finally stumbled out of the inn, Rynn had been holding drunken
court, regaling all who would listen with bawdy stories of life in
the Liandrin court. His audience had been howling. Rynn had been in
heaven. Dasen could only imagine the stories his friend had told
about him. He scanned the crowd again and found Pete and his gang
standing in a knot near the trees. They were dressed in what had to
be their best Teaching Day clothes, ill-fitting suits of poor cloth
and worse workmanship. They laughed among themselves casting
frequent looks toward the dais that gave away the subject of their
mirth. Dasen could only groan.

Then, through the murk of his mind, he began
to remember the conversation they’d had. The villagers had told him
many stories. None of them had been flattering. They portrayed
Tethina as some kind of demon, always seeking to disrupt and
destroy, scorning those who would help, bullying the innocent,
countermanding the local counselor. They made clear all the ways
she had wronged them and all the injuries they had sustained at her
hands. They did not hide their embarrassment at having a woman
compete in the games but claimed it was only her cheating and their
discretion that had allowed her to win. Their hatred of her was
plain in every word, every expression.

Though he was smart enough to know when he was
getting one side of a story, it confirmed what he already knew.
Tethina as she was would create nothing but problems. She was so
far from the Order as to have become an engine of chaos. She would
sew it wherever she went and bring Dasen down with her. It left him
convinced that she would have to change, quickly and radically, and
that he would have to do whatever was required to bring about that
change.

A collective gasp broke Dasen’s contemplation
with stunning efficiency. He felt the muscles in his stomach clench
like someone had hit him. His eyes went to the aisle that had
formed in the crowd of villagers. They provided a kaleidoscope
background for the black and ivory figures that were marching
slowly between them. Dasen’s eyes locked on Tethina, but the only
thing he could see was layer upon layer of silk and lace. Covering
her face was a lace veil that only hinted at her sharp features
with shadows and ripples. Her body was similarly masked by an
immaculate silk gown of creamy white. Designed to accentuate, the
gown had been clumsily altered so that it revealed almost nothing
about the woman wearing it. It sagged where it should billow,
billowed where it should conform, and only made Tethina look more
out of place than she already was.

What a waste
, Dasen thought, as he examined the gown. Though she had
tried to hide it, Dasen could see how the magnificent dress had
been butchered then sewn back together with stiches that would make
a proper dressmaker weep. And this after Ipid and thousands of his
workers had paid an extraordinary price for it. Lacking the time to
have a proper dress made, they had found one that was waiting for
another bride, the daughter of one of the Kingdom’s defunct dukes
and largest landowners. To pry it from her father, Ipid had
promised him the exclusive right to provide meal for his mill
towns. Dasen could only imagine how much more the workers would now
pay for their bread so that Tethina could mangle a dress like a
child using a needle and thread for the first time.

And Ipid seemed to notice none of
it. He held Tethina’s bare hand – strangely, the only part of her
not concealed – and whispered in her ear as they walked. He was
glowing with pride.
Is he completely
blind? Can’t he see the mess he has made of this poor girl?
Dasen tried to keep the dismay from his face as
he watched his father escort his bride down the aisle like he was
joining her rather than his son.

Then Dasen noticed something that set him back
more than Teth’s mangled dress. Ipid’s suit was the same as his,
shimmering black material of the finest possible Liandrin weave and
craftsmanship. Between the top of the suit and the ivory silk scarf
peaked a vest that was so heavily embroidered with precious metals
that it shimmered in the morning sun. He wore no hat as was
appropriate in the presence of the Order, and his hair had been
slicked across his head to hide his expanse of bald pate. A jeweled
ring shone from each of his hands and his mother-of-pearl buttons
created a line of rainbows down the expanse of his jacket. But in
the middle of all that opulence, as out-of-place as a lump of coal
in a pile of diamonds, was a polished wooden pendant held around
his neck by a simple woven band. The pendant was in the shape of
his crest, or at the time it had been made, the sign that had hung
outside his family’s shop. It was Ipid’s joining pendant, the mark
that had symbolically linked him to Dasen’s mother when they were
joined. As far as Dasen knew, his father had not worn it since its
twin had been consumed along with the woman wearing it. But there
it was, tan wood almost lost against his ivory scarf.

Dasen glanced at the box under Rynn’s arm and
felt suddenly ashamed of the twin gold and silver pendants it held.
He knew that his father had carved the pendant he wore with his own
hands, had sanded, polished, and lacquered it until it shown.
Looking through the crowd, Dasen saw similar pendants on nearly
every man and woman, all wood, all hand carved and polished. How
much dedication must have that required? How much love? And Dasen,
in a fit of juvenile impertinence had not even bothered to purchase
the pendant he would give to Tethina. His father had forced a
jeweler to slave for three straight days to complete them, and
Dasen had not even come along to place the order. Tethina had meant
that little to him. It left him feeling cold but also angry. He now
realized what his father was denying him. He would never feel the
love, the sense of rightness that impelled a man to take knife to
wood and create something worthy of that love. His father had felt
that. How could he deny it to his son? And its reciprocal to
Tethina?

Drawing a deep breath, Dasen turned and
accepted Tethina’s hands from his father. Ipid beamed and patted
him on the back before taking his place at the front of the crowd
next to Milne, who was the only one sitting. Dasen stared for a
moment at Tethina’s tan hands held in his thin white fingers. Her
grip was strong, the fingers rough and calloused, the skin along
the top soft, light brown, and marked with blue veins that stood
out over the muscled exterior. His own were pale white in
comparison, thin, and soft. An observer seeing only their hands
would wonder why the boys were captured inside the
girls.

Dismayed, he brought his glance to the veil
and tried to assemble the shadows there into the semblance he
remembered from the previous day, but the only thing that shown
clearly through the veil were Tethina’s striking blue eyes. They
shone even brighter today, if possible, through the white as they
scanned him up and down then turned to the sound of a clearing
throat.

Following Tethina’s
glance, Dasen found the old counselor standing on the dais before
them. He looked like an ancient bird on his round perch. Utterly
hairless, he was nearly as thin as Rynn and would not have come up
to Dasen’s shoulder if not for the dais. His face and hands were
marked by the brown spots and sags of age, but his posture was
straight, and he carried himself with an importance that seemed
inherent in counselors. He wore the customary brown robe, but it
was well-tended and of a fine weave. In front of him on a wooden
stand was a huge, ornate copy of
The Book
of Valatarian
. It was open, but he did
reference it.

When he had his subjects’ attention,
the counselor’s eyes rose to the crowd gathered around him. He
smiled at the villagers and spread his arms wide. “May you follow
in the steps of the Order and find peace in its embrace.” His voice
was clear and strong. It did not betray any of his obvious
age.

“
We strive for the harmony
of understanding.” The crowd adroitly declared. Dasen did not know
if he could manage speech, so he remained silent.

“
We are arrayed here today
to witness the joining of Dasen Ronigan and Tethina Galbridge. Does
this community support their union and believe that it is
consistent with the Order?”

“
We do.” The response was
less strong but no less unified than the first.

“
In that case, I turn to
Dasen and Tethina.” The counselor looked down at the couple and
allowed a long stretch of silence to pass. “Dasen. Tethina. Before
you commit your lives to one another, it is important that you
understand the divine laws of the Holy Order and the mundane ones
of this society as they regard your union.” There was another
pause. Dasen nodded reflexively, which earned him a smile from the
counselor.

“
In the beginning, Hileil
created the world and laid upon it his laws. Those laws define
nature, life, and everything that is meant to be. Together we know
those laws as the Holy Order. Yet Hileil gave humans a special gift
that was denied all other creatures, the ability to understand.
Humans alone were given the ability to see and understand the
delicate tapestry that is the Holy Order. It was a great gift, but
it angered his jealous brother, Hilaal. To spite his brother,
Hilaal created a power counter to the Order and gave humans the
freewill to act against the beautiful order his brother had
created. This is our burden: understanding and the freewill to act
against that understanding. Unlike other animals, which are simply
an unthinking part of the Order, humans have the ability to choose
their actions, the ability to act against Hileil’s divine
plan.

“
However, to act against
the Order is to create suffering and strife. Legend tells us that
the Lawbreakers brought us to the very edge of destruction with
their disdain for the Order. Only our savior Xionious Valatarian,
through his divine clarity was able to guide those who would follow
the Order back to its path and through that unity drive chaos from
our world. Though he no longer exists to be our guide, he left us
with his laws, and it is up to each of us to follow them, to meld
our lives to the Order and thereby achieve harmony with the world.
It is the call of that divine state that brings us here today, for
the joining of a man and a woman is central to the
Order.”

The counselor paused again before
starting into the detailed explanation of the laws that pertained
to the joining of a man and woman both from the perspective of the
Church and the Unified Kingdoms. Dasen tried to follow the lesson,
but his mind was so shattered by nervous energy and the words came
in such an incredible succession of syllables that he could not
hope to keep up.

His eyes drifted to Tethina, studied
the profile of her veil, her hands pressed in his, the broad
shoulders nearly bursting from the dress, but found nothing to hold
his scattered attention. Soon his thoughts returned to what would
follow the ceremony. What would Tethina expect of him? He had not
thought much about the physical side of their joining until last
night – had banned the thought from his mind – but now his mind
returned to it again and again. What if Tethina actually wanted to
consummate their relationship? Could he tell her no? What if she
refused to change, would he take the villagers’ advice, force
himself on her? Beyond the likely impossibility of that effort, the
very thought sickened him. And if she became pregnant as a
result?