And suddenly we were on solid ground. Chade had prepared well for this. Riddle nudged me, and I stepped aside almost in rhythm with the other guards. Behind them was a canvas-draped heap. Longwick dragged the cover from it, and each guardsman in turn took up an item and brought it forward as Chade announced what it was. Dutiful stood silent and proud as his gifts were presented to both Almata and the Narcheska, as well he might be. Nothing had been spared.
Some of the trove had come with us, hastily transferred from the Maiden’s Chance to the Tusker. Casks of brandy from Shoaks, a bale of ermine skins from the Mountain Kingdom, and coloured glass beads from Tilth, wrought into a tapestry that could be hung over a window. Silver earrings, Kettricken’s own handiwork. Cotton, linen and fine woollen cloth from Bearns were among the offerings. Other gifts were merely mentioned as promises, cargo to be brought from Zylig on the next trip. The reading of that list took some time. The labour of three skilled smiths for three years. A bull and twelve cows of our finest bloodlines. Six brace of oxen, and a team of matched horses. Hunting hounds and two merlins, trained to be ladies’ birds. And some things that Chade offered on Prince Dutiful’s behalf were only dreams yet: trade and peace between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands, gifts of wheat when their fishing harvest was poor, good iron, and the freedom to trade in all the Six Duchies ports. It was a long list and I felt the day’s weariness catch up with me as Chade catalogued it for them.
But all weariness left me when Chade concluded and Almata spoke again. ‘This is the offer made to our clan. Mothers, daughters and sisters, what say you? Do any speak against him?’
Silence followed her words. It evidently expressed approval, for Almata nodded gravely. Then she turned to Elliania. ‘Cousin, Woman of the Narwhal Clan, Elliania the Narcheska, what is your will? Do you desire this man? Will you take him as yours?’
The muscles stood out in Peottre’s neck as the slender young woman stepped forward. Dutiful held out a hand, palm up. She stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and placed her hand flat upon his. When she turned to look at him and their eyes met, my lad blushed again. ‘I will take him,’ she replied gravely. A part of me noted that she did not reply as to whether she desired him or not. She took a deeper breath and said, more loudly, ‘I will take him, and he will bed me and we will give daughters to the mothershouse. If he performs the task that I have already named to him. If he can bring here, to this hearth, the head of the dragon Icefyre, then he may call me wife.’
Peottre’s eyes flickered shut and then open again. He forced himself to watch as his sister-daughter sold herself. His shoulders moved once in what might have been a sob denied. Almata held a hand out and someone placed a long strip of leather in it. She stepped forward and continued speaking as she bound Dutiful’s and Elliania’s wrists together.
‘This binds you as your words have bound you. While she accepts you, bed with no other, Dutiful, or that woman’s life is forfeit to Elliania’s knife. While he pleases you, Elliania, bed with no other, or that man must face the challenge of Dutiful’s sword. Now, mingle your blood upon the hearthstones of our mothershouse, in offering to Eda for the children she may send you.’
I had no desire to watch, but I did. First the knife was offered to Dutiful. He betrayed no pain as he sliced his forearm until it bled freely. He cupped his bound hand and waited for blood to trickle past the leather strip and into his palm. Elliania did likewise, her face grave and somehow impassive, as if she had transgressed into an area so far beyond disgrace that nothing could move her now. When each hand cupped a small amount of blood, Almata guided their hands into a clasp. Then they knelt and each left a palmprint of the mingled blood on the hearthstone. When they turned to face the gathered folk again, Almata freed their hands of the leather cord, and offered it to Dutiful, who accepted it gravely. Almata moved to stand behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. She tried to put a note of joy into her voice, but it sounded flat to me as she announced, ‘They stand before you, joined and bound by their words. Wish them well, my people.’ The murmur of approval that rose from the gathered folk was more as if they applauded a deed of great courage than if they had just witnessed the happy joining of a loving couple. Elliania bowed her head before it, Sacrifice for them in some way I did not yet comprehend.
I’m married? Wonder, dismay and outrage mingled in Dutiful’s flung Skill-thought.
Not until you give her a dragon’s head, I warned him.
Not until we hold the real ceremony in Buckkeep Castle, Chade comforted him.
The Prince looked dazed.
All around us, the hall erupted into activity. Boards were brought out, and then food to grace them. Outislander minstrels struck up a song upon their windy instruments. True to their tradition, the minstrels so twisted the words to fit the tune that I could scarce understand it. I noticed that two of them came to greet Cockle and invite him to their corner of the hall. Their welcome seemed genuine, and again I was struck by the universal understanding that seems to exist amongst musicians.
Dutiful Skill-shared with me the words Elliania had said quietly to him. ‘Now you must hold my hand and walk with me as I present you to my older cousins. Remember, they are my elders. Although I am the Narcheska, I still owe them the deference due my elders. So do you.’ She spoke as if instructing a child.
‘I’ll try not to humiliate you,’ he replied, rather stiffly. His words did not please me and yet I could not completely blame him for saying them.
‘Then smile. And keep quiet, as befits a warrior in a mothershouse that is not his own,’ she retorted. She took his hand and let it be obvious that she led him. Rather as one might lead a prize bull by the ring in his nose, I thought to myself. The women did not come to meet him. Instead, Elliania took him from group to group. At each, he made the warrior’s obeisance accepted in the Out Islands, that is, he offered his sword hand, empty and now bloodied, wrist up, to them while bowing his head. They smiled upon him, and offered comments to the Narcheska upon her choice. I sensed that in another time and place, the words would have been light-hearted and teasing. But at this ceremony and with this man, the compliments offered to her were moderate and well-mannered. Instead of relieving the tension of the formal pledging, they prolonged it.
Seeing the other groups of warriors dispersing throughout the feast, Chade dismissed us from our ranks. Ears and eyes open, he cautioned me as I wended my way through the throng.