The Last Free City (The Annals of Mondia) by Tim Stretton

Author:Tim Stretton [Stretton, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: BattleCat Press
Published: 2012-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

34

As soon as he stepped back inside the house, Flinteska descended on him. “Where have you been? We were all looking for you!”

“I could hardly have gone far,” he said. “I am to be betrothed in an hour.”

“And where is Sanoutë?” Flinteska’s voice became shriller with each question.

“How should I know? It is bad luck for me to see her before the ceremony. Is Rullia here yet?”

“Yes she is!” exclaimed Flinteska. “And so beautiful she looks! That green so suits her colouring, and it matches her eyes. No mother ever had such glorious daughters come into her house! I am so happy I could cry.”

“You appear to be doing so already,” said Malvazan. He was almost smiling. Now that he had resolved to marry Sanoutë, he felt a sense of relief: almost of Harmony, in fact. Could it really be that he was doing the right thing? Maybe Sanoutë was what he needed. If he was going to be betrothed, he might as well enjoy the experience.

Stepping outside, he saw that most of the tables were already full. Before him was the party from House Zano: he bowed to the Dignified Kropiselko, received a curt nod in return, and a look in his dark eyes which Malvazan could not read. Monichoë turned to face him, a half-smile on her lips and an appraising expression on her face. Malvazan thought she had never looked more beautiful; but for better or worse, she was in the past: his future lay with Sanoutë.

“Damoiselle,” he said, kissing her hand. “I am glad to see you here today.”

Kropiselko scowled; Monichoë dimpled and gave a soft curtsey. “I wish you joy of your betrothal,” she said, and with a nod Malvazan moved on.

Somewhat to his surprise he saw Viator Shalvijo, seemingly ready to officiate. Shalvijo had not told him he would be on hand.

Dravadan came up behind him, put an arm around his shoulders. “Come, brother. Now is the time!”

Malvazan smiled and nodded. “So it is,” he said.

“Let us go and betroth ourselves.”

Together they strode down the aisle between the banks of tables to the places laid for them. The table had only four places: two for them, and two already occupied by the veiled figures to whom they were about to commit themselves.

Viator Shalvijo straightened his white robe and rose from his seat.

“The Viator has many pleasurable duties,” he said. “But none are at once so profound and so delightful as the pronouncement of a betrothal. Over the next few minutes we will experience, together, one of the greatest steps on the Way of Harmony: the pledging of a young man to a young woman, an undertaking to Follow the Way together, and the conjunction of great houses. If that were not enough, today that pleasure is doubled, for we have two such pledges in view; and three noble houses joined in a pledge of amity. I will not expound at length—for who, in truth, enjoys tedious sermonising when not only great emotion but also

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