against the Slayers?'
'No worse than most and better than many. They seem to be attacking the poorer kingdoms and smaller towns first. Our turn will surely come if they are not stopped.'
'You believe they can be stopped?'
'They can be killed, though they do not die like men. I do not side with those who believe it is our fate to be overrun by them. I do not believe in inevitable happenings. If I did I would not have made this marriage against my father's wishes.'
'Nor I against mine.'
'We shouldn't waste time. Will the ceremony be held here?' He indicated the vastness of the great hall.
'No, there is a special place within the castle. Tonight, at moonrise, we will begin according to the ancient rites. I have no love for ritual but my father has insisted. He desires that you prove yourself.'
'I don't doubt it.' He went quiet, his thoughts momentarily elsewhere.
Say something, Lyssa told herself as the silence deepened between them. The man is uncomfortable. Help him to relax. You are to be husband and wife, not business partners.
'My father says that good fighters make bad husbands.'
'I too have heard that, only the other way round. What does your mother say?'
'My mother died when I was small. I scarcely remember her. No'—she put a hand to his lips to restrain him from mouthing the usual condolences. 'It is long done with and now is not the time to look to the past.' She smiled reassuringly at him. 'Some say it depends on the husband. What would you say?'
A woman as clever as she was beautiful, Colwyn mused. All that he had been told seemed truth. There were many attractive damsels in both kingdoms, many princesses in kingdoms close by, but only one Lyssa of Eirig.
'I would say that peace and love, whether established between nations or man and woman, depend not on believing old tales and superstitions but rather on forging a relationship free of the meanderings of others.'
Her smiled widened. 'A good answer.. .Colwyn. I believe this match is well met.' She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. The brief touch reminded him of the hot breath from a kitchen oven quickly opened and as quickly shut again. It was both welcoming and promising. They separated with reluctance.
'Proprieties,' she whispered, glancing past him to make certain the great hall was still empty and that no one had observed. 'We will marry only once, so we must take care to do it properly. I am sure of you, but we must be certain of each other.' Her hand brushed his cheek lightly. Then she turned and retreated back through the door from which she'd emerged.
Colwyn stared until the door had closed behind her. His cheek burned where she'd touched him. He was aware that his hands were still steepled together as if still holding hers, and that he was holding his breath like a swimmer who'd just crossed a goodly distance underwater. He exhaled slowly.
The Slayers had best beware. With such a woman at his side he felt there was nothing he couldn't do.
No one could remember who had designed the nexus. The architect of the castle was little more than an honored memo-ry and the plans he had drawn were buried somewhere in the royal archives. The nexus was a special place, utilized only for the most profound ceremonies.
Nor was the reason for its design immediately apparent to the casual observer. An advanced mathematician would have noted the schematic with a start of surprise, but there were no advanced mathematicians in Eirig now.
Two corridors wound a strange course through the lower part of the white castle, twisting and turning until they finally met at the nexus. A small altar and water basin that filled from a stone spigot dominated the far end of the chamber.
Distant music penetrated the special place, but few of those participating in the ceremony paid it much attention. Eirig and Lyssa approached down one corridor while from the end of the other Colwyn and his father anxiously awaited the bride's arrival. Colwyn was impatient for the proceedings to be over and done with, but he did not try to hurry matters. He remembered what Lyssa had said about observing the proprieties.
The men-at-arms kept their eyes forward as the royal pair walked between their ranks, though several could not keep themselves from stealing a look at the exquisitely beautiful Lyssa as she passed them by. Everyone knew that she had turned down many suitors and each man privately measured himself against this successful visitor, the solemn-faced Colwyn of Turold. There was little envy in their thoughts, however. Most of all there was admiration mixed with hope. All knew what benefits the alliance with their powerful neighbor to the west could bring.
As Lyssa's torch passed each opposing pair of soldiers, their own torches sprang to life. Though they had been warned, the sudden combustion still came as a shock. It was this power of the princess's that had put off more than one weak-spined suitor, the power that danced in her eyes and could make the strongest man go queasy in the belly. That such an implied threat had not dissuaded this Colwyn was the strongest point in his favor.
And as Colwyn's own torch had given light to the torches held by the men in the other corridor, glances of approval had come from the men-at-arms. Here at last was a fit match for their princess. Who could predict what good might come of such a union?
They met at last in the domed chamber that was the nexus, the ancient place of bringing-together, the sanctuary where those of power might demonstrate secret truths to one another.
As was his right, Turold spoke first, his voice firm and unwavering. 'From this day, my kingdom is no more.'
Colwyn removed his hand from the torch he held together with his father. His eyes were half-closed and it almost looked as if he might be falling asleep. But he was more than alert. The torch went out. He blinked and turned to face his bride.
'Nor is mine,' Eirig said, assured at last that this Turoldian might be a fit match for his daughter.
Lyssa let go. of their firebrand and the flame fled from the wood as quickly as it had from its counterpart. Turold took a step forward, extended a hand, and placed it on King Eirig's upper arm. Eirig reciprocated.
'A single kingdom under our children. From this day forward let no man speak for Turold or for Eirig. Let our people mingle free and unafraid with each other and help one another in times of prosperity as well as chaps. If any more blood is to be spilt in either land, let it be not the blood of brothers but of Slayers!' –
'Agreed,' said Eirig quietly. The import of this moment had wiped out most of his lingering doubts, and there was gruff friendship in Turold's tone. 'Now to the great hall, that the marriage ceremony may be properly concluded and the bond fastened.'
Both pairs turned and started up the right-hand corridor. Colwyn and Lyssa marched side by side behind their fathers, careful to keep their eyes from each other. The ponderousness of ceremony weighed heavily on Colwyn and he was anxious to be done with speeches and invocations. Lyssa's sideways glances counseled patience and she whispered without turning her head: 'Gentle go, husband-to-be. All this will be over and done with soon enough.'
'I have no taste for these primitive rituals,' he muttered back at her.
'They are necessary. The books say it is so.'
'The books have been of little help to us in combating the Slayers. Why should I take their advice where marriage is concerned?'
'Because I ask it of you, Colwyn.'
He couldn't repress a grin. 'Do I detect the sound of hands clapping?'
She fell a step off his pace. 'Only if you cannot see that I follow you around.'
Eirig looked back at them. They were starting up a circular staircase. 'Quiet, the both of you! Remember your positions.'
'I will strive to do so, Father, when the proper time comes.'
He made a face at her but said nothing. Perhaps it would not be such a hard thing, to give away so impertinent a child.
The wedding party emerged from the stairwell and entered the great hall. At the far end, to one side of the throne, was a font filled with freshly drawn springwater. The music which had filled the castle all evening was drowned out by the sound of swords beating on shields as the king's guard acknowledged the approach of the bridal couple.
Lyssa and Colwyn halted before the stone basin, their fathers looking on approvingly. A single torch stood upright in a metal sconce nearby. Colwyn stepped forward and removed it from its resting place. It burst into flame without so much as a glance. Murmurs of approval rose from the watching ranks of soldiers. Here was a man they
