‘I being a bishop of the Household of the Holy C’Sarr of Pannoval, sire, and therefore,’ said Guaddl Ulbobeg, ‘empowered to act in His Holiness’s stead in certain offices of the Church…’
‘And I,’ said Esomberr, ‘still remissly holding in my charge a bill of divorcement signed by the ex-queen MyrdemInggala which should have been rendered to the C’Sarr, or to one of his representatives of the Household, tenners ago — with apologies for using that now opprobrious word—’
‘And we both having care,’ said Guaddl Ulbobeg, now with rather more relish in his voice, ‘not to overburden His Holiness with too many functions on this visit of pleasure between sister nations—’
‘When there will be more contentious matters—’
‘Or, indeed, to incommode your majesty with—’
‘Enough!’ shouted Sayren Stund. ‘Come to the point, the pair of you! Enough procrastination!’
‘Precisely what we both said to ourselves a few hours ago,’ agreed Esomberr, bestowing his choicest smile on the gathering. ‘Enough procrastination — perfectly put, Your Majesty… Therefore, with the powers entrusted in us by those above us all, we solemnised a state of matrimony between JandolAnganol and your beautiful daughter, Milua Tal. It was a simple but touching service, and we wished that your majesties could have been present.’
His majesty fell off the couch, scrambled up, and roared.
‘They were married?’
‘No, Your Majesty, they are married,’ said Guaddl Ulbobeg. ‘I took the ceremony and heard their vows for His Holiness in absentia.’
‘And I was witness and held the ring,’ said Esomberr. ‘Some of the King of Borlien’s captains were also present. But no phagors. That I promise.’
‘They are married?’ repeated Sayren Stund, looking about wildly. He fell back into his wife’s arms.
‘We’d both like to congratulate your majesties,’ said Esomberr suavely. ‘We are sure the lucky couple will be very happy.’
It was the evening of the following day. The haze had cleared toward sunset and stars shone in the east. Stains of a magnificent Freyr-set still lingered in the western sky. There was no wind. Earth tremors were frequent.
His Holiness the C’Sarr Kilandar IX had arrived in Oldorando at midday. Kilandar was an ancient man with long white hair, and he retired straight to a bed in the palace to recover from his journey. While he lay prostrate, sundry officials, and lastly King Sayren Stund, in a fever of apology, came to tell the old man of the religious disarray in which he would find the kingdom of Oldorando.
To all this, His Holiness listened. In his wisdom, he declared that he would hold a special service at Freyr-set — not in the Dom but in the chapel of the palace — during which he would address the congregation and resolve all their doubts. The degrading rumour that ancipitals were an ancient, superior race would be exposed as complete falsehood. The voice of atheists should never prevail while strength was left in his ageing body.
This service had now begun. The old C’Sarr spoke out in a noble voice. There was scarcely an absentee.
But two absentees were together in the white pavilion in Whistler Park.
King JandolAnganol, in penitence and gratitude, had just prayed and scourged himself, and was washing the blood from his back with jugs of hot spring water poured by a slave.
‘How could you do such cruelty, my husband?’ exclaimed Milua Tal, entering briskly. She was shoeless, and wore a filmy white gown of satara. ‘What are we made of but flesh? What else would you desire to be made of?’
‘There is a division between flesh and spirit, of which both must be reminded. I shall not ask you to undergo the same rituals, though you must bear with my religious inclinations.’
‘But your flesh is dear to me. Now it is my flesh, and if you hurt it more, I will kill you. When you sleep, I will sit on your face with my bottom and sufflicate you!’ She embraced him, clinging to him until her dress was soaked. He sent the slave away, and kissed and petted her.
‘Your young flesh is dear to me, but I am determined that I will not know you carnally until your tenth birthday.’
‘Oh, no, Jan! That’s five whole tenners away! I’m not such a feeble little thing — I can easily receive you, you’ll see.’ She pressed her flower face to his.
‘Five tenners is not long, and it will do us no harm to wait.’
She flung herself on him and bore him down onto the bed, fighting and wriggling in his arms, laughing wildly as she did so.
‘I’m not going to wait, I’m not going to wait! I know all about what wives should be and what wives should do, and I am going to be your wife in every single particle.’
They began to kiss furiously. Then he pushed her away, laughing.
‘You little spitfire, you jewel, you posy. We’ll wait till circumstances are more propitious and I have made some sort of peace with your parents.’
‘But now is always a popiters time,’ she wailed.
To distract her, he said, ‘Listen, I have a little wedding present for you. It’s almost all I possess here. I shall heap gifts upon you when we are back home in Matrassyl.’
He took from his tunic the timepiece with the three faces and held it out to her.
The dials read:
Milua Tal took it and looked rather disappointed. She tried it on her brow, but the ends would not meet at the back of her head.
‘Where am I supposed to wear it?’
‘As a bracelet?’
‘Maybe so. Well, thanks, Jan. I’ll wear it later.’ She threw the watch down and then, with a sudden movement, pulled off her damp dress.
‘Now you can inspect me and see if you are going to get good value.’
He began to pray but his eyes would not close as she danced about the room. She smiled lasciviously, seeing in his eyes the awakening of his khmir. He ran to her, seized her, and carried her to the bed.
‘Very well, my delicious Milua Tal. Here beginneth our married life.’
Over an hour later, they were roused from their raptures by a violent quake. The timbers about them groaned, their little lamp was pitched to the floor. The bed rattled. They jumped up, naked, and felt how the floor rocked.
‘Shall we go out?’ she asked. ‘The park jumps about a little, doesn’t it?’
‘Wait a minute.’
The tremors were long sustained. Dogs howled in town. Then it was over, and a dead silence prevailed.
In that silence, thoughts worked like maggots in the king’s head. He thought of the vows he had made — all broken. Of the people he loved — all betrayed. Of the hopes he had entertained — all dead. He could not find, in the prevailing stillness, consolation anywhere, not even in the perspiring human body lying against his.
His eyes with their leaden stare fixed on an object which had dropped onto the rush mat on the floor. It was the timepiece once owned by BillishOwpin, the article of an unknown science which had woven its way through the tenners of his decline.
With a sudden shout of rage, he jumped up and hurled the timepiece away, out through the north-facing window. He stood there naked, glaring, as if daring the thing to return to his hand.
After a moment of fright, Milua Tal joined him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Without words, they leaned out of the window to breathe cooler air.
An eerie white light shone to the north, outlining horizon and trees. Lightning danced noiselessly in the middle of it.
‘By the beholder, what’s happening?’ JandolAnganol asked, clutching the slender shoulders of his bride.
‘Don’t be alarmed, Jan. It’s the earthquake lights — they soon die. We often see them after a particularly bad quake. It’s a kind of night-rainbow.’