Part 21 (1/2)

After a while they stopped, heaving in huge breaths. They picked up their s.h.i.+rts from the floor, talking and laughing as if they had been doing no more than playing sports. It wasn't until Eldri turned toward the door that he saw her.

He hesitated, and she sensed he knew how much she worried about his fighting. ”Roca. How long have you been there?”

”About half an hour.” She couldn't help but notice his gleaming, muscled chest as he wiped down. ”You were impressive.”

The other man glanced at Eldri, trying to hide his smile, and inclined his head. He nodded to Roca with the same respect, then went up the steps, leaving her alone with Eldri. Although she appreciated his discretion, it made her uneasy to think that if Eldri had a seizure here, on the hard stone floor, no one would hear her call for help.

Eldri sat next to her. ”How goes the babe?”

She took his hand and set it on her belly. ”Can you feel it?”

”Feel what-ah!” Eldri jerked back. ”He kicked me!”

She laughed. ”A fine, strong son.”

”Do you feel it, too, that we have a son?”

Roca nodded. ”Sometimes, late at night, I lie with my eyes closed and the light of his mind fills mine.”

”I feel this also.” He put his arm around her waist and drew her against his side, resting his other hand on her abdomen. ”I learned a word from Brad once. Angel. That is our son.”

Roca chuckled. ”Little boys are rarely angels. I'm sure Garlin can testify to that, having brought you up.”

”Ah, well.” His laugh rumbled, with a vibration on the end. ”Is that why you came to see me train, so you could inform me that my son will misbehave as much as me?”

Her smile faded. ”Doesn't it worry you that you might have a seizure while you are fighting?”

She expected him to deny it, but instead he said, simply, ”Yes.”

Roca focused on him, trying to understand his mood, gestures, motivation, everything about this man she was coming to love. ”If you stopped, you would feel you were giving up. Giving in, both to Avaril and to the epilepsy.”

”I have never made those exact thoughts in my mind.” He spoke slowly. ”But yes-fighting, whether outer or inner demons, is something I must do. Otherwise, why live?” He pressed his lips against her temple. ”And I have so much to live for now.”

She turned her head, bringing her lips to his. It was a gentler kiss than they usually shared, the fires of their pa.s.sion banked for this moment. After they separated, Eldri put his arm around her shoulders and they sat looking into the arms-room with its flickering torches.

”I have a question for you,” Roca said.

”Hmmm?” He leaned his head against hers, resting after his work-out.

She finally spoke the words she had practiced all morning. ”Do you still want to marry me?”

For an instant he seemed to freeze. Then he slowly lifted his head, turning to look at her. ”Yes. If you will have me.”

Her voice caught. ”I will.”

Eldri took her hands. ”What changed your mind?”

”Life seems so short these days.” She curled her fingers around his. ”It is too precious to waste on politics and fear.”

His face gentled. ”I will make you a good husband.”

She raised his hands and kissed his knuckles. ”And I will be a good wife to you, for however long we have left.”

His grin burst out, like the suns above the mountains. ”Do not look so gloomy. I will trounce Lord Avaril. You will see.” Mischief brimmed in his gaze. ”And you know, Roca, only men are supposed to kiss the hand that way.” He planted a resounding kiss on her knuckles.

”Hah!” She rained kisses all over his hands. ”There. That is what happens when you tell me I cannot do something because I am a woman.”

”Ah, well, I must say it more often, then.” Laughing, he drew her closer, though they couldn't find an easy way to hug with her belly between them. It didn't matter. These last months, for the first time in years, Roca felt happy.

Garlin performed the ceremony. Normally a Bard would give the vows, but Eldri was the only one available. So Garlin stood in for him. Shaliece, the Memory, donned her red robe to record the marriage, her violet eyes following every move and gesture.

Roca felt as if events were swirling around them, gossamer and indistinct, hard to see clearly because they were in the midst of it all. Her throat tickled with a nervous antic.i.p.ation she had never known in her first wedding. She came into the dining hall with Channil, descending the stairs. Eldri entered across the room, with Garlin at his side. The bone-chilling cold discouraged finery, and everyone dressed in layers of heavy clothes. Eldri and Roca met at the head of the long table and stood facing each other. He didn't smile, but his eyes had a glow she had never seen before. When he took her hands, his own were shaking.

Neither the Blue nor Lavender Moon shone tonight, so no moonlight leaked past the slits in the shuttered windows. With the fuel rationing, they had lit only a few oil lamps, giving the hall a dim golden glow that softened its harsher edges. The people of Windward gathered around, a few holding precious candles that flickered in the drafts.

Garlin stood before them, tall and proud, and spoke, his Trillian words rolling like deep-throated music.

Holding Eldri's hands, Roca gazed into his eyes, feeling as if she floated with the musical words and antiqued candlelight. After Garlin finished, Eldri and Roca knelt before him. He held together his third and fourth fingers and touched each of them on the crown of the head. Then he drew them back to their feet.

Eldri took Roca's hands again, always gazing at her. He took a deep breath- And he sang.

His voice soared, evoking a treasury of images for Roca: the forests of her home on Parthonia, with droop-willows shading mansions of pale blue stone; brick-red deserts on the dying world Raylicon, beside the Vanished Sea, beneath a stone-washed sky; the infinite reaches of interstellar s.p.a.ce, where stars blazed and celestial bodies rotated in an unending dance. His incomparable voice swelled until tears ran down her face.

When Eldri finished, Roca wiped her palm across her cheeks, smearing her tears. The Memory stepped forward, making a special effort to remember every detail of this moment. Then everyone crowded around, congratulating them, the women crying and kissing Roca on the cheek, the men thwacking Eldri on the back. It astounded her that they offered such friends.h.i.+p. Their emotions flowed like a benediction.

So it was done. She and Eldri had just changed interstellar history. If they died in the siege, but Brad lived, he could tell her people. If no one survived, if the news of her marriage went no further than Windward, she and Eldri would still know they had joined their lives, minds, and love on this extraordinary night.

15.

The Long Table.

Useless.

Kurj had been in the web too long; it took a great toll on the body and mind to spend days submerged in that alternate s.p.a.ce. Stalking the mysteries of another universe, searching its endless twists, became his reality, until he forgot he lived as a man of flesh and blood.

Intravenous lines fed him. He blamed his melancholy on having spent so long here, in the web, without rest or solid food. But he continued to search. Today he sifted through inconsequential nodes on fringes of the web so far from the centers of activity that he wondered why he bothered.

Even here, he found reviews of Roca's dancing. People chatted about her performances, giving opinions on her artistry, style, and technique. Most comments were positive, glowing even, but not all. Kurj deleted the disparaging reviews. He knew it was foolish; people had a right to dislike his mother's dancing. They were idiots if they couldn't see her genius, but that wasn't his problem. Even the critical reviews were courteous, without the s.e.xually explicit or violent material he had incinerated in the cyber-slums and slave dungeons. But what the h.e.l.l. He deleted the bad ones anyway.

He was preparing to leave the web when one of his Evolving Intelligence spiders spun up, whirling like heated copper.

Yes?Kurj asked.

I have found another reference for Cya Liessa.