Pūīros was proven correct the very next day, when Sawanin Lusahu married Thipērek Thüzranahü. It is an unfortunate custom in Alka’ales that only families attend the marriage ceremony, leaving well-wishers and friends, even such close friends as Rosédan and me, out in the cold. I speak literally as well as figuratively when I say this, as it was a particularly chilly and windy day. Of course we had had opportunity outside the ceremony to congratulate the pair and offer them a gift (which Rosédan saw to, as my suggestion of a fishing rod had not been appreciated).

Ostalos Elsahi was there too. Rosédan’s words had spurred me to play close attention to his manner and his tone, and I could see now that he was deeply moved. Well, I didn’t blame him: it was a moving event. His hands worked at one another like a pair of mongooses I had seen fighting in Dūrī, and his eyes were cast down to the ground. “But she was happy,” he remarked. “She is happy, I should say.”

“It is her wedding day,” said Rosédan.

“Yes.” Slowly his hands separated and fell to his sides. “And you know,” he said after a moment of silence, “when he called up those green women, I was terrified. And it was a nightmare. But for the sake of my rose I mastered myself. For the sake of my rose I will dream happier dreams.”

I nodded as if I had the slightest idea what he was talking about, and remarked that despite the cold it was sunny, a pleasant day for a wedding. Rosédan nudged me sharply for some reason.

“Yes,” he said. “And a happy dream.”

“There you are!” It was the unmistakable voice of Enikkhe Konahu that boomed out behind us. I turned and saw that he was accompanied by two of his companions, Pūīros with his back turned to us as before, and another who loomed over us all, a great bulk wrapped in a cloak.

“And did you expect me to be somewhere else?” asked Ostalos Elsahi quietly.

“I certainly didn’t. Ah, my friend, no matter. The work continues as always!”

“And you’ve met Kësil and Rosédan, I believe.”

Enikkhe Konahu scowled as he looked at me, but made a small bow to Rosédan. “I have had that pleasure,” he said. “I suppose I should introduce my own friends, then. Both of them hail from the north country. The little one with the bad eye is named Pūīros and the big one is Arkwos.”

“Ah, we met Pūīros yesterday. Is Arkwos a magician too?” I asked.

That bulk shifted and I heard a voice from within its cloak. Somehow the voice seemed to be coming from much farther away than the place where Arkwos himself was standing. “Who is not a magician?”

“I’m not,” I said.

There was a chuckle, again from some far distance. “Are you so sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Enough of this bickering,” said Enikkhe Konahu. “Quarreling between ourselves won’t do any of us any good.” Then he gave me a sharp look and asked me what that noise I had made meant.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I had something stuck in my throat,” I said.

“I see. I only came here because I had a question for you, Ostalos Elsahi.”

“But is it safe to ask?” Ostalos Elsahi asked.

“I only wanted to ask if you think he’ll have his toy ready by the time the door opens.”

Ostalos Elsahi sighed heavily and said, “Now is that really what you’re concerned about? Yes, I believe he will. But I have a question of my own for you.”

“Only fair! What do you want to know?”

“When you were in the north, did you, did you learn anything about my parents?”

Enikkhe Konahu swung his head back and forth. Arkwos rumbled and said, “We know less than you. They came once to visit us, but their home was here, and they did not return.”

“But of course,” said Ostalos Elsahi. “And thank you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” said Enikkhe Konahu.

“Already all these things are lost,” and Ostalos Elsahi straightened as he spoke. “But I must return to my work. For time is growing short.” Without any further word to us he walked away, and from within the neighboring house my ears caught the sound of a cheer, though the Bird refused to find any meaning in it.

Normally I am not eager to pry into the personal affairs of others, but my curiosity was burning too fiercely to be quenched. “If I may ask,” I said, and continued quickly when I saw Enikkhe Konahu was about to interrupt. Probably he wasn’t going to deny that I might ask, but there was no sense in taking chances. “What was all that about Ostalos Elsahi’s parents?”

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Rosédan whispered in my ear, and Enikkhe Konahu’s face suggested that might be the wisest course of action.

“It is a sad story,” said Pūīros. “But all stories are sad in Alka’ales. I am surprised that you have not heard it. You did not know that his father and his mother came with the chalice and departed with it also?”

This was new to me, and I was rather taken aback. “Then did they bring the chalice with them?”

“Suspicious, isn’t it?” asked Enikkhe Konahu, his expression dourer than ever. “But they were flesh and blood, a mortal man and woman just like us.” Looking at Pūīros and Arkwos, I wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that. “They were magicians after their own fashion, I suppose, if limited by their lack of training.”

Pūīros shook his head, his hair falling over the nape of his neck. He held out his arms behind his back, towards us. “Here,” he said, “is like our friend Rosédan. Here is like the father and mother we speak about. Here, in between, is like most of us. Do you understand?”

“I don’t,” said Rosédan. “What do I have to do with it?”

“Enikkhe Konahu tells me. You are bound. You follow the rules of your fathers and you borrow the blood of another. So much for you. The father and mother of Ostalos Elsahi, they were the opposite. I saw them once, when I was a little child. They breathed power with every breath and walked in it with every step, but could not put it to use. If they brought the chalice, they did not know what they did. If we know what we do, we cannot bring the chalice.”

“That’s what Ostalos Elsahi would say, no doubt,” said Enikkhe Konahu. “But you and I have a different understanding. Ah ha! Here come the happy couple now. We should congratulate them, all of us, even you two. We who are already married know how many blessings it takes to make a happy marriage.” I looked at him in some surprise, as I had met Phērīs Tipelahi and knew how kind and cheerful she was. It was hard to imagine any man married to her having reason to complain, and indeed Enikkhe Konahu was smiling widely as he said it.

Then Sawanin Lusahu and Thipērek Thüzranahü emerged from within the house, followed by a whole crowd of men and women. Both wore crowns of flowers around their brows and their hands were clasped tightly. I had never seen them walk so closely together as they were now, and I was happy for them. As we stepped aside to make room, I brushed against Arkwos and was unnerved to feel the bristling hairs of his arm.