“My friends,” Emperor Zindel’s powerful voice rolled out across the chamber, “I realize this may seem a bit sudden, but-”
* * *
This was…it was…
Whatever it was, Raka couldn’t call it Just. The sudden changes in what everyone had expected to happen had surprised everyone in the Emperor Garim Chancellery, including Raka, and it had only gotten worse from there. The crown princess had selected her Uromathian prince, but it was just the Prince of Eniath, not a relative of Emperor Chava at all. That was a sufficient affront to Raka’s sense of what was right and proper, but it hadn’t ended there. Oh, no! Not content to simply announce the betrothal, Emperor Zindel had announced a wedding, as well. Now. Immediately, before this cloud of court-dressed nobles. And he’d called on His Eminence, Raka’s master, to serve as one of the officiants.
Clergy for all six gods of the Double Triad-Vothan, Shalana, Marnilay, Tryganath, Marthea, and Sekharan-were represented as well, of course, which was another affront to Raka’s sense of propriety here in Bergahl’s own city! Not that anyone cared what he thought. Now each deity had at least one priest, monk, or priestess scampering down the aisles with unholy glee to join the wedding party, and it was all Raka could do not to glower openly at the uncouth horde.
He recognized the Sekharan monk Nekhaan, who wore braided rawhide for a belt even for an event with emperors in attendance. Nekhaan spent too much time among the poor and forgot the dignity of a god’s servant. And if the Vothanite priest Lavo was turned out immaculately, as all of the six should have been, he still sported a muscled physique more fitting to a day laborer. The truth was that all six of the Double Triad clergy who served as chaplains to the Winged Crown were affronts to the dignity of their priestly calling in one way or another.
The Marthean priestess Thea-Nami had the gall to be leaking tears of joy. She at least sported a rotund figure befitting the wealth that came with a god’s blessings, but the child-sized jam handprints at knee level were probably real. A Marthean attendant behind Thea-Nami swung ginger incense back and forth behind her mistress’s steps, and Raka wrinkled his nose. Of course she was pregnant again. No doubt Marthean devotees would consider it an extra blessing on the marriage.
They were all contemptible, in oh so many ways, but what could one expect? The Double Triad clergy were simple tools, compliant in a way His Eminence the Seneschal had never allowed himself to be. They were nonentities, supremely unimportant. When one came down to it, there were three men in this Conclave who mattered, and Raka studied them, hoping to guess their thoughts.
A vein pulsed in the Holy Seneschal’s forehead, Emperor Zindel smiled ever so blandly, and Emperor Chava watched, showing nothing at all. The Seneschal seemed to see something in that utterly flat expression and his steps moved faster. As a loyal servant of Bergahl’s highest priest, Raka hurried after him. Raka couldn’t guess what the emperors intended, but his master’s response was clear.
The center dais should have collapsed into a hundred thousand splinters if the weight of the Seneschal’s angry outrage had been made manifest by Bergahl in that moment.
“This is hardly appropriate.” The Seneschal’s protest came in the calm and measured tones of a revered church leader, and pride rose in Raka’s chest. He straightened the trailing end of the Seneschal’s court robe so the thread of gold showed properly.
Nekhaan, the only clergy member to make it to the dais ahead of them, looked from Raka’s master to the Crown Princess of the Sharonan Empire and obviously decided otherwise. Ignoring the Seneschal, the young monk filled his lungs and shouted out the beginning of the Double Triad marriage ceremony.
“Glory to Sekharan that I am allowed this day! Praises to Him and honor to his Brother and Sister Gods!”
Nekhaan had a voice trained to carry in alleys and marketplaces. The amplification of a room designed for the less rough voices of kings and emperors made him sound like the voice of Sekharan himself. The lines were familiar to the many followers of the Double Triad present among the assembled members of the Conclave, and the crowd knew their response.
“May His blessings endure forever!” they rumbled back like human thunder.
Nekhaan raised his hand in benediction, beaming out across the crowded floor. Then he glanced at the Seneschal and lowered his voice considerably.
“There’s a shrine to the demon of lost causes across in the poor quarter if you want to cause trouble, Your Eminence,” he said under his breath. “But this is a state wedding, and it will be held in all honor if I have to skewer you with one of your own knives.”
From still halfway up the north aisle came the next line in the liturgy:
“Thanks to Tryganath that this joy should fall to me! Praises to Him and honor to His Brother and Sister Gods!” Tryganath’s priest had a powerful voice too.
“May His blessings endure forever!” the crowd gave back, and Finena added her own loud cries in emphasis. His Eminence the Seneschal cringed at the falcon’s cries. Raka wished Emperor Zindel had at least had the damned bird caged for the ceremony.
“Reverence to Marthea that I live in this moment!” Thea-Nami reached the dais and achieved a creditable soprano roar. “Praises to Marthea and honor to Her Brother and Sister Gods”
“May Her blessings endure forever!”
Thea-Nami took her place, completing the opening liturgy which honored the Veiled Triad, and the Seneschal shifted in frustration, curling the edge of his train. Raka straightened the fine cloth again and retreated to the back of the dais.
All eyes were on the Seneschal, and Raka almost laughed aloud when he realized the reason for the growing silence.
This point between the Veiled Triad’s invocation and the Elder Triad’s invocation was when other gods and goddesses included in a Double Triad ceremony were invoked-or not-by their respective priests and priestesses. And the Seneschal obviously intended not to. His master would refuse to officiate at the ceremony by not invoking Bergahl. It was a dignified way to object, and Raka imagined explaining it to some of the less devoted Order worshipers who’d begun to be overawed by the Caliraths. His Eminence the Seneschal could not bless a union so newly announced. It was concern for the young crown princess that stayed his hand, his priestly concern that she be properly counseled and instructed before taking this monumental step. Yes, that would strike the right note to remind the people of Princess Andrin’s youth and her obviously few years of experience with the elements of high statecraft. The Seneschal only needed to remain disapprovingly silent to stop this entire outrage in it’s tracks and remind all the world of who truly held power in Tajvana, the Queen of Cities.
Raka watched his master take in the whole crowd who moved restlessly, waiting on words he was sure the Seneschal would not speak. The paper notes for the carefully drafted blessing of the crown princess’s betrothal to a son or nephew of Emperor Chava were still in the Seneschal’s right hand. His master crumpled them, deliberately. Only the first few rows could hear the sound, but Emperor Zindel and Empress Varena sat in those rows.
Someone whistled softly and Raka began to enjoy the growing sense of embarrassment he thought he could detect in Empress Varena’s increasingly colorless face.
Nekhaan said something to Lavo, but it was too low voiced for Raka to make out. The silence stretched, ringing in the stillness-
And then Finena, the Crown Princess’s bird, chose that moment to fly from King Junni’s shoulder. The bride and groom kneeling on the dais facing all seven representatives of the gods leaned together, and Howan Fai kissed his bride. Just quickly and lightly, but the Conclave took the opportunity to cheer. And in that distraction, the crown princess whistled sharp and clear to her falcon.