With a Single Spell

CHAPTER 32

The wedding was to be a grand festival, the biggest event Dwomor had seen in years; it was not only a double royal wedding, after all, but a celebration of the dragon’s death. The entire population of the kingdom of Dwomor was invited, which, Tobas learned to his dismay, was slightly under eight thousand people. All his life he had heard them called the Small Kingdoms, but he had never realized before just how small most of them were. He remembered the endless thronged streets of Ethshar of the Spices and resolved that, princess or no, he would not spend the rest of his life in Dwomor.

He recalled that he had once intended to spend his entire life in Telven, with its population of a hundred or so, and found it hard to believe. It was not that he had any great urge to travel, but that places such as Dwomor seemed so limited in what they might provide in the way of opportunities and comforts.

Karanissa had great difficulty in not laughing when she heard the population estimate. “I’ve seen army camps with more camp followers than this so-called kingdom has people!” she remarked truthfully.

She did not think much of the attempts the castle’s population made at pomp and elegance, either. Dwomor Keep simply did not have a great deal of wealth to display; most of the guests would be fed on simple wooden plates, many of them freshly carved for the event. Banners flew from every turret of the castle, and bunting was hung above the gate, but much of the bunting was faded and the banners did not match. Her own garb, repaired and enhanced by her witchcraft, was finer than Alorria’s wedding dress, though Tinira, as the older sister, managed to outshine Karanissa in an ancient, vividly blue gown of some magically woven fabric one of her distant royal ancestors had somehow acquired.

Due to the time required for all the preparations and the need to spread word of the event throughout the realm, the date was set for the twenty-second of Snowfall and fervent prayers offered to the gods for continued good weather. A sprinkle of snow on the sixteenth caused minor consternation; but, as it had the good grace to melt away within a day or so, hopes remained high.

Tobas spent several evenings staring longingly at the tapestry, but Karanissa remained firm in her insistence that he marry Alorria.

“It won’t bother me,” she insisted. “And you need the money, and it will put you solidly in good with the king here.”

“But I don’t want to stay here!”

“But the flying castle is in Dwomor, or maybe Aigoa, but this castle is closer and on the way to Ethshar. Until you either get the castle airborne again or weave another tapestry, or until you give up the tapestry castle for good, you’re tied to Dwomor, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it. Kara, how can I manage being married to both of you? I’m only eighteen; one wife is plenty for someone my age.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “Alorria and I will work out the details between ourselves.”

Tobas was not at all sure he liked that. “Besides,” he said, “I hardly know her!”

He quickly found, however, that the entire population of Dwomor Keep was determined to do their best to correct that; wherever he went, other than his own suite, Alorria was either there waiting for him or would arrive a moment later.

He found it difficult to talk to her; she was too impressed by his magic and his supposed heroism, and had led a life too different from his own. Save for a brief state visit or two to neighboring kingdoms, she had spent her entire life inside castle walls. She was educated and well-read, but clearly had little real understanding of the world.

When she heard the tale of how Peren had been robbed and beaten, she found it almost impossible to believe that the local peasants in that part of Amor had not immediately swept out of their homes in a righteous fury and hanged the entire caravan. When she heard how the wizards of Ethshar had refused to teach Tobas more spells, she assumed that it was because he had somehow been unworthy, not having proven himself yet, or perhaps he had offended them in some way, by failing to make some Guild recognition sign. And she flatly denied almost everything Karanissa said about the Great War and the nature of Old Ethshar.

Tobas found her sweet-tempered but stubborn, intelligent but naive. She seemed far younger than himself, though he knew she was no more than two years his junior. He could not imagine living with her from day to day or taking her to his bed.

The days passed, however, and the wedding drew ever nearer.

The snow began falling around midday on the twenty-first, and on the morning of the chosen day it had reached a depth of six inches, with drifts over a foot. The Lord Chamberlain had anticipated a crowd of perhaps two thousand; a tenth of that actually showed up.

That was still quite enough for Tobas. Going through the ceremony, vowing to the gods to cherish a near-stranger, was almost worse than facing the dragon.

Peren seemed to be enjoying his part of it; he and Tinira made a much better couple than Tobas and Alorria, quite aside from the complications Karanissa’s presence created. They both seemed very happy with their situation, and Tobas supposed glumly that their marriage would be a success. He doubted they felt any great love for each other as yet, but they did seem to like one another, which was as much as could be said for most marriages.

After the ceremony came the delivery of the promised dowry, carried out in a small locked room; Tobas and Karanissa counted out seven hundred pieces of gold as their share, and Peren took the remaining three hundred. Karanissa took charge of the large share, and Tobas did not worry about it further. He was too busy worrying about the rest of the day and night that lay ahead.

When the gold was taken care of, the feasting and the merrymaking began; three different minstrels had composed odes in honor of the dragon slayer, and Tobas found himself acutely embarrassed by all three. One singer had a trick of jamming extra syllables into his lines; another couldn’t carry a tune; and the third, though his songs were well written and lovely, had embroidered the truth beyond recognition, adding a long dialogue between Tobas and the dragon wherein each listed the other’s offenses against dragonkind and humanity respectively, and then went on to boast of his own prior achievements.

“But the dragon didn’t talk,” Tobas insisted quietly to Alorria, while trying to keep up a polite smile. “If it’s true that dragons can learn when they grow old and wise enough, then I suppose it never had anyone to teach it a language, living alone up there in the hills, or maybe it just didn’t think we were worth talking to. But in any case, it never said a word.”

“It was just a bloodthirsty monster,” Alorria agreed.

“I think that it was just hungry, really, there isn’t much for something that big to eat around here, except livestock and people.”

Alorria shuddered delicately. “Don’t talk about it like that.”

“Why not?” Tobas asked, startled. “These idiots have been singing about it!”

“That’s different. It sounds so awful when you talk about it eating people just because it was hungry.”

“What other reason could it have? And they’re singing about the same thing! Listen to that: ’You have swept the fields with bloody slaughter, devouring the peasants’ sons and daughters.’ I never said anything like that!”

“Tobas, it’s just a song; be quiet and enjoy it.”

Tobas realized he was being unreasonable. What he actually wanted to protest was not the minstrels’ songs, but that he was marrying Alorria. She, however, was not likely to be a receptive audience to any complaint of that sort; she was obviously delighted to be marrying him. Morosely, he settled back and drained his wine cup.

A servant promptly refilled it; Tobas made no protest. One good thing about Dwomor was the local wine, which was of truly exceptional quality. He had been without any wine worthy of the name for some time and intended to enjoy the stuff now that he could.

When at last the happy couple was sent off to their chamber, with much cheering and a smattering of bawdy remarks, Tobas was somewhat tipsy, though still able to navigate well enough. The combination of alcohol and an evening spent in close proximity to Alorria’s beauty had worn away his reservations and left him looking forward to the night. Their bridal chamber was the same room that Tobas and Karanissa had been using for the past two sixnights; no better accommodations were available. Alorria had, until now, shared a chamber with Zerrea, so that her former residence was not a possibility. Karanissa and Peren had tactfully been given smaller, separate rooms elsewhere.

Tobas was surprised, therefore, to find the witch waiting for them in the suite’s sitting room. “Hello,” he said, confused and embarrassed, unsure whether to keep his arm around Alorria’s waist or not.

“Hello,” Karanissa said as she opened the door into the bedchamber.

“What are you doing here?” Alorria demanded, clearly upset by her rival’s presence.

“I wanted to say good-bye before I left,” the witch replied. “I didn’t want Tobas to worry.”

“Left? Where?” Tobas asked. His arms dropped away from Alorria as the warm glow of the wine suddenly vanished.

The three of them had all moved on into the inner room as they spoke. “I think you two should have some time to get to know each other,” Karanissa explained. “So I was planning to leave for a while. I don’t want to be in the way. Tobas can come and get me in the spring, when the snows melt enough for travel.” She reached for the drawstring to uncover the tapestry.

“Wait a minute, Kara!” Tobas said.

“Let her go!” Alorria said, holding him back.

“Good-bye,” Karanissa said. She picked up a case of wine she had waiting ready by the bed, stepped into the tapestry, and was gone.

“Oh, no!” Tobas said. “You’re not leaving me here like this!” He pulled free of Alorria’s hands and stumbled through the tapestry after his first wife.

“Tobas!” Alorria cried. Without having any idea of what she was actually doing, she followed her hero-husband.