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*****
Vadya felt nervous. It was quiet and dark in the chapel. Huge candles cast a warm religious light on the stone pillars. High up, the painted vaulted roof was dim although the narrow windows up above let in a little starlight. Vadya was standing by the altar: a row of painted wooden boxes each of which held a statue of an Angel; each of the thirteen Angels had been carved by a different craftsman to Clair's commission. The chapel itself was old and plain, it formed an ideal setting for the religious works of art which Clair had brought into it.
Vadya moved his weight to rest on his other leg, his eyes flicking uneasily over the murmuring people in the chapel. Batren and some of Clair's personal servants had been fussing over him for an hour or more, nearly sending Vadya's taut nerves snapping. He had such a fierce argument with Batren over whether he ought to let one of Clair's men-servants buff his nails that it only brought them closer together.
Batren had chosen a brown velvet doublet and hose embroidered with gold roses for him. He helped Vadya into an ivory silk shirt with gold edged lace at the throat. Ordinarily Vadya would have had fits at the very idea of wearing anything so choice but he had gathered dimly that it was important to Tashka that they should dress well so he submitted with a bad grace. When Batren was done with him, he looked splendid in a way that surprised Pava, who was his Guard of Honour. He had big shoulders and narrow hips and the well-fitted hose showed the muscles flickering in his legs and a soft bundle at his groin that Pava inspected with covert approval. It was good to know that his favourite baby Lieutenant was going to get a decent sized endowment along with the beach resorts, two port cities, hunting lodge, caravel, several castles, large trade revenues and the much admired chain of command in H'las. The extravagant flood of lace on his shirt made Vadya's features stand out more clearly: his warm brown eyes, his gentle generous mouth, his broad forehead and cheekbones. An elaborate gold earring with rubies and the H'las insignia worked into it swung softly against his lean muscular neck.
Batren finally redeemed himself by saying, "and I have arranged for a jewellery merchant to bring some rings to my Lord and borrowed one of Lord Tashka's rings to measure for size," in a choked miserable voice because Vadya had been so horrible about everything else he had done for him. Vadya had assumed he would have to use one of his own rings to put on Tashka's finger. He could not imagine how Batren had smuggled a jewellery merchant with a box full of gold marriage rings through the siege into the castle. He had stopped picking sulkily at the lace on his cuffs and had reached out and pulled Batren into a hug, by way of apology and thanks.
In front of him, Vadya could hear the servants and guests and family chatting in a low buzzing hum. Arkyll's little voice piped up, interrupting Lady el Farin and Anata Yrai with some doubtless embarrassing question. Hanyan's clear tones pitched in. Ladda and Faffie were exchanging reminiscences of weddings they had been to, their kerchiefs ready to be cried into, Vidor Hyaline was sketching them on the back of a scroll of religious songs. Hanya el Jien had managed to get a seat next to Anata Yrai, he was stuttering beside her tantalising beauty. Clair had arranged safe passage for those of his guests he could so Anata would be leaving the next day. She was to travel back to P'shan with Vadya's grandmother in duty bound, Lady van P'shan.
Batren had tried to sit unobtrusively at the back of the chapel but Pava had seen him and had made him come and sit in the front with some of the senior castle servants.
Vadya felt queasy with worry. Pava, standing slightly behind him, gripped his arm reassuringly and Vadya gave him a sick smile.
'Why so much fuss?' he thought miserably to himself. This was nothing. He and Clair would say a few ritual words and then he would go and lie with Tashka in the great bed-chamber which Ladda and the maids had made up for them as a wedding suite. There was nothing in that to get excited about. They had lain together already and everyone guessed they had. The morrow they would be just the same as ever, young officers planning out a campaign together.
Clair stood in Arianna's doorway and looked at his sister, standing by Arianna in the soft light of the candles.
She wore a suit of fawn raw silk, wide-hipped trousers, narrow at the waist and ankles, falling into pleated folds around her sparkling jewel-encrusted sword: the Captain's ceremonial sword that he himself had sent to be presented to her when she became a Captain of Sixth H'las. Her jacket was wasp-waisted, sweeping into a point at the back and filling out around her breast in a ruched puff that emphasised her small breasts. It buttoned up with a row of tiny gold filigree buttons, it had puffs at the top of the sleeves and long tight cuffs buttoned with more tiny gold filigree buttons. The small lapels of her jacket and the cuffs of her trousers were stiff with gold embroidery and she wore gold-embroidered slippers borrowed from Arianna on her feet.
Lisette had persuaded Tashka to wear a little paint on her eyes and mouth. Her face sprang into vivid beauty around a curving gold vine that Hyaline had curled alongside the cut on her cheek. She had dark rubies set in old gold hanging in one ear and a Northern designed chain of rubies around her neck and another chain of gold and rubies wrapped around her left arm up to the elbow. On the finger of her left hand gleamed the woman's ruby betrothal ring Vadya had given her which she had not been able to wear openly in the troop. Her rose-petal mouth glinted in the candle-light with the gloss on it. The slanted blue eyes looked at Clair from gold-lined eyelids, she looked shyly down, her long lashes flickering on her cheeks. He caught his breath.
He came to her, tears in his grey eyes. Arianna was smiling at him, standing beside this fabulously beautiful creature whom he would never have imagined Tashka could be. Clair took a gentle hold of Tashka's arms and lightly brushed each of his cheeks on her cheeks.
"My sister," he said in his warm husky voice. "You are so beautiful! Go take him, that Commander of yours. After he sees you the night, he will never look on another woman again."
Tashka lifted her shy eyes and smiled tremulously at him. Arianna put a hand out and pressed Clair's arm in his maroon silk suit with the sleeves slashed to show cloth of gold underneath: his wedding suit. She could not forbear a sly giggle to see him in it again, she had fantasised about what she had once seen him do while wearing it so often. Clair smiled softly on her. "My Lady," he said. "I have not words to thank you for your great kindness to us."
"There is no time for this," she laughed. "They will all be waiting!" She rustled out of the door in the lovely red and gold frock he had recently had made up for her, hurrying off ahead of them.
Tashka waited for Clair to step out in front of her. He laughed, saying: "My sister, you must walk before me this time." She blushed and hesitated. It felt odd to have him, her older brother and former Commander, walk at her shoulder like a junior officer. They came out down the stairs, through the corridors and the great echoing hall to the chapel. The cooks - who had to stay and prepare the wedding feast - had sneaked out of the kitchens to see her go past, she turned and went to press their hands and say: "I thank you," looking warmly in their eyes. They stared at her in wonder then recollected themselves to wish her long love and happiness and she smiled and went on in front of Clair.
There was a rustle at the door, Vadya straightened up and peered over, his heart thumping in his chest - no it was just Arianna but that must mean Tashka and Clair were on their way. His eyes were ridiculously blurry. He hoped desperately that he would not embarrass them all by fainting. She was there.
He had never imagined she could look like this. He had walked, eaten and even slept by her side for four years but the memory of young Maien, his smart junior officer, grew dim in the extraordinary beauty of the Northern heartbreaker walking down the aisle to him. She was not used to wearing slippers and tripped a bit in them. He could hardly bear to see that somehow, it made him want to rush down the steps to hug her.
He felt so shy. He felt he did not know her at all. She was beside him, she reached for his hand with her left hand, it should have been her right because he was right-handed and he must be able to reach for his sword. He smiled nervously, took her offered hand and then reached for her right hand as well and she blushed.
Her hand was familiar to him. Not her left hand, on which sparkled the gold and ruby betrothal ring he had given her, her scarred right hand. He could still see the lean tanned fingers bunching into a fist and flying into Tarra el V'lair's laughing riotous face in a smoky old tavern in Thiel. Her head turned to him and behind the dusty gold shade and the lightly painted gold line on her lids, he knew the beautiful intelligent eyes as well. He heard an echo of her voice in his ears: 'Shall we move the camp further this way? that wood is an hazard.' He smiled tremulously at her. He wanted her so much that the tiny fear she might suddenly back out was almost too much to bear.
The priest was advancing on them, he tugged at Tashka's hand but she was slow kneeling down because she had to flick her sword back with her left hand not her right as she was used to do. She lifted her head and he looked at the curving gold vine painted down her cheek, the thin red wound beside it. He knew she would soon be riding to war and that he would have to stay behind the lines with the Generals and the strategic staff. He knew she would come back with worse wounds than this one and that she might not come back to him at all. Up till then he had accepted it. Brother officers must risk themselves, one must accept it, however hard it be, like Mada Stanies' death was still hard for him. But now he was kneeling by his lover. He looked at the thin red wound in her cheek and felt a low trembling in his heart. Up till then he had loved Tashka as a comrade, a colleague. He had enjoyed her companionship, enjoyed training her brilliant keen intelligence, these had been the most important parts of their relationship. He was lucky that they had never allowed their physical passion to displace these. But at this moment their warm working friendship was only a setting to carry their passion for each other as lovers. It was not that she was suddenly so beautiful, that was just the wind that blew through his mind and cleared out some old dust and left him so conscious of her physically that it made his flesh creep to imagine losing her.
Clair was answering the priest in his husky warm voice to say that he would bestow Captain-Lady Anastelle el Maien of Sixth H'las on Commander-Lord Vadya el Gaiel van H'las of Sixth H'las. Pava nudged Vadya and he lifted his head to look at the priest and say he would take her and bestow on her everything that was his. Tashka's head turned to him, he could see she was still cross that she had to be so silent and passive to be given to him. He made a deprecating smile, his heart trembling with awe at her beauty. Pava put her ring in his hand, he slipped it on her upheld finger, Pava leant over and pressed his ring into her hand, she lifted her head to her former Captain and smiled and Vadya's heart fell wide open, he was absolutely hers, he knew he would never be complete in life unless she were with him from that day forward.
When the service was done and he was standing on the altar steps beside her, he did not want to let go of her scarred hand but she was nervous of having her sword hand held so long. She pulled it from his grip then glanced sideways at him - a flash of gold and blue from those shatteringly lovely slanted eyes. She stepped in front of him and took his left hand in her left hand, sliding her fingers between his, their heavy gold wedding rings clicked together.
