Barb Hendee - Child of a Dead God

"Danvarfij make no difference!" Osha snapped back. "Her life, her death, no difference. Most Aged Father send others. Two moons, not more, and he will send my caste."

Osha turned equal anger on Domin Tilswith.

"Sages cannot give… security from Anmaglahk. They scholars, not guardians. They die and my caste take the orb."

Leesil looked to Magiere for any support.

She stood leaning with her hands braced upon the kitchen table. Her eyes went dark, and Leesil felt as if the floor had shifted suddenly under his feet.

Magiere whirled away for the back door. She slapped it open with her palm, stormed out, and the door swung shut behind her. Leesil rushed after her.

When he stepped out, she was gone. He peered along the back of the tavern and adjacent buildings, and jogged to the tavern's corner, looking about, and he still couldn't spot her. When he turned back, he caught a glimpse of white in the forested neck of land behind the tavern that shot outward into the sea.

Magiere stood there, the sleeves of her white shirt rustling in the sharp breeze.

Fresh salt air blew against Leesil's face as he wove through the birches and evergreens.

Magiere just stared out to sea with one hand over her mouth, as if too overwhelmed to breathe. She took it away as she glanced at him, and he ached inside under her lost eyes.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered. "Tilswith would take it if we asked him… but that's like tossing fresh meat into a sheep's pen to draw in the wolves."

Leesil wanted no more of this. They'd been asked too much already, and he couldn't-wouldn't-struggle for an answer right now. He slipped his arm around Magiere, gripping her shoulder, and tucked his head next to hers until their cheeks met.

"Not now," he said. "We just got home… I don't want to talk about orbs or sages or Anmaglahk. I don't want to think about any of this!"

When he lifted his head, that lost look faded from Magiere's eyes. She glared at him, her face filled with that familiar accusation for whenever he took refuge in denial.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

He lifted his hand to her cheek, fingers combing up into her black hair.

"Getting married."

Five days later, and loaded with trepidation, Leesil followed Karlin Boigiesque to the newly constructed dockside warehouse.

"Karlin… Magiere thinks it's a fine idea," he grumbled, "but it's not what I had in mind."

"It's the only building in town that's large enough," Karlin insisted. "You just wait, lad. You'll see."

The stout, balding baker with kind eyes was their closest friend in Miiska, and now chairman of the town council. The previous summer, Leesil had burned the town's main warehouse, trying to cover his heels as he and Brenden raced to save Magiere and escape a trio of vampires. Later, he and Magiere had earned enough coin in Bela for its reconstruction.

Made of stout pine, from the outside it was impressive-for a warehouse. But it was hardly where Leesil had expected to be married. Magiere seemed satisfied with the idea, claiming they'd come full circle. But at least the celebration afterward would take place in the Sea Lion.

"Go on, take a peek," Karlin said, and slid open one huge dockside door. "We had it cleared yesterday. Aria, Geoffry, and Darien's mother worked on the rest all morning."

Leesil stepped around the baker and his jaw dropped. "Ah, dead deities in seven hells!"

"Watch your tongue," Karlin admonished with a chuckle. "This is now a sacred place."

The high bay doors used for loading the lofts sat open, and afternoon light streamed in wide shafts to the floor. All the crates had been removed and only barrels lined the walls, but garlands and bushels of wild blossoms and spring roses were carefully woven around them and up the walls.

Clean muslin sheets hung at the front in a half-moon backdrop. To either side of this stood a linen-draped barrel supporting a decorated white vase filled with roses. Dead center between them, before the backdrop, stood a small linen-draped table. Upon it waited three white candles, an incense stick and brazier, and a long, neatly coiled strip of white silk ribbon.

"That's where you'll stand for the ceremony," Karlin said and dropped a thick hand on Leesil's shoulder. "Guests start arriving soon… too late to run now, lad."

Leesil breathed the perfume from hundreds of flowers caught in the variegated light spilling into the wide space. He couldn't wait for Magiere to join him.

Magiere hid in a back room of the warehouse. She'd relented to Aunt Bieja's insistence that it be turned into a dressing area, but now doubted her decision.

Between Aria and Bieja rushing in and out with hot irons to curl her hair, she felt… exposed. But the dressing ordeal finally ended, and Aria and Bieja went off on some last-minute task. Magiere stepped in front of the large oak-framed mirror in a welcome moment of solitude.

She hardly recognized her own reflection.

Magiere possessed only one gown-of dark blue-which her mother had worn and left to her. It fit her well and offset her pale complexion. Before donning it, she had bathed and washed her hair; and she'd allowed her female "attendants" to not only curl it but also weave in bits of white lilac.

"Beautiful!" someone proclaimed from the back door.

Magiere tensed as if trapped, then turned to find Wynn staring at her with a soft smile.

"I don't know," she said, scowling at herself in the mirror. "I look… strange."

"Well, you cannot be married in a hauberk and sword."

"Why not?"

"Because Leesil will swoon when he sees you," Wynn answered and stepped in.

It was Magiere's turn to stare, for the little sage had been transformed as well. Wynn had agreed to stand as Magiere's second during the ceremony.

Her wispy brown hair had been pinned up with curling tendrils framing her small face. A light green dress blended well with her olive complexion, reminding Magiere of fragile creatures in children's tales about to take flight on dragonflies' wings.

"Where did you find the dress?" Magiere asked, suddenly happy for the first time since being hauled into this back room.

"Your aunt bought it for me," Wynn said with some embarrassment. "There was no time to have anything made and it was the only finished one we could find that fit. Is the color all right?"

"It's fine." Magiere nodded.

They stood together before the mirror, Magiere tall and pale with dark hair and blue gown, and Wynn so small and olive in her light green.

"Like fine ladies going off to a noble ball," Wynn whispered. "So long as no one saw us a few weeks past, crusted in snow and starving for anything besides dried fish."

The mention of dried fish brought Sgaile to Magiere's thoughts. And Wynn's as well, judging by the way her smile quickly faded.

"Is Osha ready?" Magiere asked, as Leesil had chosen him to act as second.

"Yes"-Wynn let out an exasperated sigh-"but he would only wear his own clothes. So I had them washed, and brushed out his cloak… He looks fine. The guests are gathered inside, and Leesil is waiting to walk you in. We should go."

Magiere had wanted this-the whole ceremony-to celebrate joining with Leesil. Now that it was upon her, she wondered if something more private might have been better. She took several quick breaths.

"Just keep your eyes on Leesil," Wynn said, "and you will be fine."

They walked out and around the warehouse's front to find Leesil waiting with Osha and Chap.

Wynn's advice was sound, and Magiere forgot everything else the moment Leesil turned, looked at her, and his mouth fell open. She'd never been vain, but his expression was worth all the primping.

"M… Magiere?" he stammered.

"Close your mouth," she said, "before you swallow a mosquito."