Lois McMaster Bujold 12a Winterfair Gifts

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Vorkosigan crest of mountains and maple leaves picked out in contrasting
brick. In this obvious spot, the small circle of colored groats was laid out
on the ground for the oath-making couple, surrounded by a multipointed star
for the principal witnesses. Another circle of groats crowned a temporary
pathway of tanbark flung wide around the first two rings, providing dry
footing for the rest of the guests.
Roic, wearing a sword for the first time since he'd taken his
liegeman's oath, took his place in the formal lineup of armsmen making an
aisle on either side of the main pathway. He looked around in worry, for Taura
did not loom up among the groom's guests sorting themselves out along the
outer circle. M'lord, his hand clutching his cousin Ivan's blue sleeve, gazed
up at the entrance in almost painful anticipation.
M'lord had, with difficulty, been talked out of hauling his horse in to town
to fetch the bride from the house in the old Vor style, though
Roic personally had no doubt that the placid, elderly steed would have proved
much less nervous and difficult to handle than its master. So the Vorvayne
party made their entrance on foot.
Lady Alys, as Coach, led the way like some silken banner carrier. The bride
followed on her blinking father's arm, shimmering in a jacket and skirt of
beige velvet embroidered with shining silver, her booted feet striding out
fearlessly, her eyes seeking only one other face in the mob. The triple stand
of pearls gracing her throat glimmered their secret message of bravado to only
a few persons here. A few extraordinary persons. By his narrowed eyes and
wryly pursed lips, it was clear that
Emperor Gregor was one of them.
Roic's might have been the sole gaze not to linger on the bride, for following
beside her stepmother, in the place of-no, as
-the bride's Second, walked
Sergeant Taura. Roic's eyes shifted, though he kept his rigid posture-yes,
there was Martya
Koudelka with Dr. Borgos on the outer circle, apparently demoted to the status
of mere guest but not looking in the least put-out. In fact, she seemed to be
watching
Taura with smug approval.
Taura's dress was everything that
Lady Alys had promised.
Champagne-colored velvet exactly matched her eyes, which seemed to spring to a
brilliant prominence in her face. The jacket sleeves and long swinging skirt
were decorated on their margins with black cord shaped into winding patterns.
Champagne-colored orchids coiled in her bound-back hair. Roic
thought he'd never seen anything so stunningly sophisticated in his life.
Everyone took their places.
M'lord and m'lady-to-be stepped into the inner circle, hands gripping hands
like two lovers drowning. The bride looked not so much radiant as
incandescent; the groom looked gobsmacked. Lord
Ivan and Taura were handed the two little bags of groats with which to close
the circle, then stood back to their star points between Count and Countess
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Vorkosigan and
Vorvayne and his wife. Lady Alys read out the vows, and m'lord and m'lady-to-
m'lady repeated their responses, her voice clear, his only cracking once. The
kiss was
managed with remarkable grace, m'lady somehow bending her knee in a curtsylike
motion so m'lord didn't have to stretch unduly. It suggested thought and
practice.
Lots of practice.
With immense panache, Lord
Ivan then swept the groat circle wide with one booted foot, triumphantly
collecting his kiss from the bride as she exited. Lord and Lady Vorkosigan
passed out of the dazzling ice garden between the lines of Vorkosigan armsmen;
swords, drawn and lowered at their feet, rose in salute as they passed. When
Pym led the
Armsmen's Shout, the sound of twenty enthusiastic male voices bounced and
echoed off the
garden walls and thundered to the sky. M'lord grinned over his shoulder and
blushed with pleasure at this deafening endorsement.
As Seconds, Taura followed next on Lord Ivan's arm, bending her head to hear
something he said, laughing. The row of armsmen remained to rigid attention
while all the principals streamed past them, then formed up and marched
smartly in their wake, followed by the guests, back around and into Vorkosigan
House. It had all gone off perfectly.
Pym looked as though he wanted to pass out there and then from sheer relief.
***
Vorkosigan House's main state dining room boasted seating for ninety-six when
both tables were brought out in parallel; the overflow fit in the chamber
immediately beyond, through a wide archway, so that the whole company could
sit down at once essentially together. Serving was not Roic's responsibility
tonight, but in his role as arbiter of emergencies and general assistant for
any guest needing anything, he kept to his feet and moving. Taura was seated
at the head table with the principals and the most honored guests-the other
most honored guests. Between tall, dark, handsome Lord Ivan and tall, dark,
lean Emperor Gregor, she looked really happy. Roic
could not wish her anywhere else, but he found himself mentally erasing Ivan
and replacing him with himself . . . yet Ivan and the emperor were the very
pattern of debonair wit. They made Taura laugh, fangs flashing without [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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