Fatter Dasin wore a robe of black and a red ocher that suited his
complexion better than Otah would have expected. Issandra sat at his
side in a Galtic gown of yellow lace over a profoundly celebratory red.
Danat knelt before them both.
"Farrer Dasin of House Dasin, I place myself before you as a man before
my elder," Danat said. "I place myself before you and ask your
permission. I would take Ana, your blood issue, to be my wife. If it
does not please you, please only say so, and accept my apology."
The whisperers carried his words out through the hall like wind over
wheat. Ana Dasin herself knelt on a cushion off to her parents' right
and Danat had been sitting to Otah's left. The girl's gown had been an
issue of long and impassioned debate, for the swell of her belly was
unmistakable. With only a few minor modifications, the tailors could
have done much to hide it. Instead, she had chosen Galtic dress with its
tight fittings and waist-slung ribbons, which would make it clear to the
farthest spectator in the temple that summer would come well after the
child. Etiquette masters from both courts had gone at the issue like pit
dogs for the better part of a week. Otah thought she looked beautiful
with her garland of ribbons. Her father apparently thought so as well.
Instead of the traditional reply, I am not displeased, Fatter looked
Danat square in the eyes, then turned to Ana.
"Bit late for asking, isn't it?" Fatter said.
Otah laughed, giving his implicit permission for all the court to laugh
with him. Danat grinned as well and took a pose of gratitude somewhat
more profound than strictly required. Danat rose, came to Otah, and
knelt again.
"Most High?" he said, his mouth quirked in an odd smile. Otah pretended
to consider the question. The court laughed again, and he rose to his
feet. It felt good to stand up, though before it was all finished, he'd
be longing to sit down again.
"Let it be known that I have authorized this match. Let the blood of the
House Dasin enter for the first time into the imperial lineage. And let
all who honor the Khaiem respect this transfer and join in our
celebration. The ceremony shall be held at once."
The whisperers carried it all, and moments later a priest came out,
intoning old words whose meanings were more than half forgotten. The man
was older than Otah, and his expression was as serene and joyous as that
of a man too drunk to stagger. Otah took a welcoming pose, accepted one
in return, and stepped back to let the ceremony proper begin.
Danat accepted a long, looped cord and hung it over his arm. The priest
intoned the ritual questions, and Danat made his answers. Otah's back
began to spasm, but he kept still. The end of the cord, cut and knotted,
passed from Danat to the priest and then to Ana's hand. The roar that
rose up drowned out the whisperers, the priest, the world. The courts of
two nations stood cheering, all decorum forgotten. Ana and Danat stood
together with a length of woven cotton between them, grinning and
waving. Otah imagined their child stirring in its dark sleep, aware of
the sound if not its meaning.
Balasar Gice, wearing the robe of a high councilman, was at the front of