5.7

Jewel was glad there was a chance to eat a proper meal after the mid day oaths of marriage were done.

That was the official binding of mortal law done and legally they were now man and wife.

But they still had until the evening for the far more important calling forth of gods and the proclaiming of vows for their marriage.

The precise ones needed would depend heavily on just which gods were drawn to the matter.

She wished that the wedding food was a bit less sweet.

And the spices seemed a bit excessive too.

There was no saffron at least.

“Husband? Which gods do you expect will descend to receive our vows?”

Paul looked thoughtful for a time before shrugging.

“I can’t say, neither house Bathory nor Nádasdy have outstanding debts or interest from the divines according to my teachers. And none of my birth stars are likely to come.”

Jewel hummed and nodded.

“Rochford has little direct engagement with any either, Business best left to the temple. I Suppose the Veles might show up? But he is a spirit of Winter and we are quite out of season for him.”

The High King spoke up after having waited politely to the side while Jewel and her husband conversed.

“I expect that at least one of the seven that is overseeing the vow of peace will show this evening if only to verify that all parties are holding to its terms. Maybe Quirinus, Anat or Vesta might be interested in you as newlyweds of high standing.”

Jewel considered.

Vesta was an old cantor goddess of hearth, home and unwed ladies. She could not quite place who Quirinus or Anat were though. The volume of gods present across all the known lands of the world were as numerous as its people.

Their interests were usually local and narrow however.

If these gods were trusted to protect foreign kings in otherwise hostile land their interests must be broader.

Her husband spoke up.

“Quirinus would not be a bad patron to receive our vows. I have read he offers prowess in war and protection in combat to men that offer him sufficient pledges.”

Mathias nodded to the both of them.

“Yes, his promise of protection along with the potential wrath of anat should any violate the peace was the final point of the bargain which saw many of our more foreign guests being willing to attend here.”

Jewel considered that as the High King Mathias departed to go speak to someone else.

His place soon filled by someone Jewel did not know, but Paul at least was familiar enough with to speak to.

And on like that dragged the day, until evening and sunset called for numerous candles and torches to be lit and the Wyrm with her husband returned to their place of honor before a brazier of tightly wound chords of herbs.

Whereas before the wedding had been a festival and a celebration now there was solemnity. And whiffs of dread from the guests.

Jewel could see figures in long robes of many kinds amongst the crowd. Some wore masks or strange dresses, but others bore the garb Jewel had become accustomed to for temple workers of various kinds.

Simple brown robes.

The Abbot Herbort was even there alongside Jewel’s family taking his place as a spiritual vassal of her Father.

As the sun slipped away and the black of night filled the sky the temple minders and other titles of god tenders and such raised their voices.

Jewel guessed there must have been much work done that all of them could speak in unison like that.

Uttering words she did not recognize.

She could feel the drawing up of the world’s faux fire with their voices.

And practically taste as it wove in from all over the crowd. Unlike in Rochford during the longest night, or the morning pre-dawn ritual that Abbot Herbort attended in his manor for their silver lady, no one but those of temple offices lended their voice.

Silence dominated between the words and yet for all that the voices seemed sparse and few they filled the space and the air above with meaning.

The faux fire rose up and in it carried the satisfaction and amiable atmosphere that had been built all through the day’s festivities.

Jewel could feel the faintest tugs of it on her own wyrm flame. But it was barely less than a breeze as the weaving tapestry of it all bound together before her.

It was much like other divine sorcery Jewel had seen. It wove together many things into one.

It reached high and far up into the sky.

But this was the first time she had ever seen such a work done under an entirely open sky.

And the sheer presence of the stars seemed to almost be pooling down towards them.

In fact they actually were!

The sky itself bowed in attention as the fervent voices called to it.

The chanter’s words rose and fell, swelled up into the night and then sank down again towards the brazier yet unlit.

And as the heaving release and pull seemed to find its rhythm sometimes individual voices broke high and distinct from the rest.

Calling out in single names from the murmuring swells.

Twos, threes or single practitioners trying to draw attention to the dipping heavens.

And as they called, individual stars shone brighter and the weft of faux flame twisted towards them.

“Anata”

Jewel watched with her husband as a near pillar of raw night sky twisted and shifted above to the beckoning voices.

“Ereshkigal“

She’d seen weddings under the night sky before, but whatever gods' interest there was hardly had been felt then. Or they were already well and truly present and invested in the matter.

“Veles”

Jewel had never witnessed a wedding which called out to the gods for attention like this.

“Silver Lady”

Or seen so much of a tumult in the sky however pinched and pulled out this portion of it might be.

“Dorumangul”

As the entreaties were made sometimes a flickering presence would shift and even roil partly free of the sky being called down.

But most barely seemed to stir at all.

“Gloom Mother”

And those that did seem at least partly drawn did not remain. Most fluttering back out of the slowly thinning spire of raw sky sinking closer and closer to the brazier.

“Salus”

As the sky spike sank the robed figures moved among the crowd, drawing in from the edges of the courtyard. Hands raised and moving. Their fingers brushing over the fauxfire that Jewel had learned not one of them could see. By her questioning the best of them could barely feel its touch on their fingertips.

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“Father Mountain”

There was still not a distinct singular presence that Jewel could discern or group of them to remain beyond the sky but the tumbling sense of them within the black void of the star spackled needle slowly sinking was becoming quieter.

“Quirinus”

A slight flare stronger than any other at that name, and Jewel glanced to her husband with his intent face staring up to the sinking black spike of infinity.

“Oberon?”

Some of the names were being offered with trepidation and Jewel was beginning to smell fear.

There was worry and questioning tones on some of the entreaties.

A hope that they would not be answered.

“Muat?”

Still the roil was gentling. The distinct presences within fading away.

The spire of black sky had now become barely thicker than a hands span and was just dipping beneath Jewe’s own gaze.

“Mother Winter?”

That one was said with terror barely restrained.

But still none of the names were drawing full attention from the presences within.

None so mentioned seemed quite enough.

Finally Jewel heard the familiar voice of Abbot Herbort. Quiet, fearful and yet also resigned.

“Zorya?”

And suddenly the needle of raw black sky squeezed sharply covering all the distance to the brazier’s carefully stacked bundle of herbs and holy wood offerings.

A single star carried on that black thread which ignited the bundles in a flare of silver blue fire.

And all at once the sky snapped back and returned to its vault.

Dragging a blinding white pillar of silver fire high into the heavens. Banishing every shadow and gloom in the courtyard and making even the brightest candles seem like pitch black shade.

Jewel could see the torrent of faux fire gathered by the god tenders and temple keepers grasped and pulled loose of them as casually as a gardener might pull out a weed.

Root and all.

Against the shock of the sudden absence Jewel saw many robed figures swoon and three collapse for lack of strength to stand.

But Herbort stood tall and there was another presence around him, a shining dawn that was like a reflection of the pillar and yet different and opposed.

And then everyone startled as a great tremble rose up in the air.

Paul spoke to the silence that followed, his voice was strange, awed, afraid, joyous.

“Zorya, Lady of Dawn I accept, I vow ten lives spared for every blade turned from me.”

And then there was a lashing strike of silver flame towards her husband.

Before Jewel knew what she was doing she had interposed herself between him and the strange silvery flame.

The act stopping the current of white.

It washed over Jewel with less impact than a summer breeze.

It did not touch the wyrm’s flesh even as she saw it scorch the stones at her feet and burn away the fine shawls and hanging drapery of her wedding finery.

The pillar before her shuddered and then shrank, contracted, took on a shape more close to a shadow of a figure caught just before they immolated in flame.

There was a resounding presence and a roaring vibration in the air but Jewel heard no words.

Her husband put a hand on Jewel’s shoulder.

Paul’s voice confused and somehow troubled.

“She is my wife! we have called you to receive our vows of marriage and exchange a promise together as one for your boon.”

Jewel felt the air roar, she saw that everyone around her was reacting to it, wonder, confusion, stares of horror or fear at Jewel.

They heard something she could not.

All of them did.

Paul stared as the figure again shifted in the column of flame.

Became more solid, more whole.

And yet still barely there.

Like ash about to be scattered away in the form of a woman with billowing hair.

An effigy caught on the brink of destruction.

The only voice that spoke was her Husband. And it was filled with confusion and a hint of wonder. He looked at Jewel as he never had before.

As if he was seeing her for the first time.

He answered a voice she could not hear.

“What do you mean? Yes of course she is my wife, Jewel, the Shining Wyrm of Viznove!”

The rumble returned again and Jewel could almost say it sounded like a voice.

But not in any speech she knew.

Then the vague almost figure in the fire that was so bright it should have burned her husband’s eyes but seemed to not touch him anywhere near so harshly nodded.

Another gentle tremor in the air and a gesture vaguely in Jewel’s direction.

Paul, her husband, followed the gesture to Jewel his wife and asked with concern and uncertainty.

“Jewel, do you not hear the lady of dawn’s voice? She is saying...”

Another wordless rumble cuts him off.

“She is admonishing me for not receiving your permission before calling for her interference.”

Jewel could feel every eye upon her.

This was not how a wedding was supposed to go.

Gods might be called or intrude themselves into weddings for the sake of the final vows, but they unless overruled by another of the star born never deferred to anyone!

The wordless rumble of the apparently divine voice filled the air again.

The figure in the fire staring not quite in Jewel’s direction.

Her husband, just married and looking like he was using every fiber of his valor to stay standing under such an unexpected pile of divine nonsense, spoke even more softly.

“She is offering me the boon of her protection from all blade, blow or arms wielded by man. For no vow from me. B-but a-as”

He stammered and Jewel was finding she desperately wanted this part of their wedding to be over so they could sequester themselves together and mutually scream at the insanity that was their shared fortune.

“As a gift for you. So none might take what is yours before it's- That is my time. B-but o-only if you will allow it?!”

Jewel was stunned, blessings from the stars were not perfect. Even those given with a price were extremely specific and many old tales were full of seeming guarantees of immortality that had been undone by oversight from their benefactors.

But still such a boon would assure her husband from a great deal of danger.

How could Jewel possibly deny such a gift?

If for no other reason then how it would protect him.

Jewel nodded to Paul.

Stepping back from where she had interposed herself.

She held tight to every muscle when the vague premonition of a woman reached out from the fire.

With fingers like pitch black ash.

Hair as much made of silver fire as black char ringlets.

Eyes that were stars.

And then she could feel the working coming together around Paul.

More gently than the lash of flame had been.

It was not called as fauxfire like the mortal magic she had seen many times before.

It was not spoken in the silent words of wizardry.

It arrived as an all encompassing presence that cut through the air near Jewel like a knife.

It left her flame feeling blown to guttering embers by a sudden wind.

She felt like her inner light had nearly been snuffed out as the divine working was called forth.

And yet in its passing her fire blazed suddenly so high she could only barely keep it from escaping her mouth.

As if something within her rallied at the challenge of this change upon the world.

And then just as suddenly was softly settled.

The figure in the flame that was apparently Zorya and a goddess again looked over where Jewel vaguely was.

It’s gaze passing over her as if she wasn't there.

And then in a searing flash the entire column leapt back into the sky.

And the suddenly oppressive darkness of the fully lit courtyard fell back upon them.

Everyone was yet struck dumb by what had occurred.

But Jewel knew better than to hope that would last.

She used every lesson of propriety and grace to fill her voice with authoritative but gentle tones.

She spoke clear and well, pulling on some of the timbres she had heard in Bethica’s own yowling moo.

Deepening while not losing her feminine quality.

“And so I and Paul Nádasdy are married by witness and law of heavens and earth! And we shall now retire to consummate our union.”

Jewel creeped close to her husband.

“Good Night!”

And then as gently as she could Jewel grabbed her husband up in her foreclaws and dashed to the appointed bed room before anyone could think to start asking questions.

She moved with her wing thumbs to pull her along and her near entire mid body hunched up like some kind of loping wolf to hold Paul up from brushing the rapidly moving flagstones.

It was a bit rude to do so without asking him.

But Jewel was sure she and her husband had dealt with quite too much for one day.

She could suffer some indignity of scuttling off in half burnt finery like a thieving rat with her man if it avoided any more of this divine absurdity.

Having a god acknowledge her like that was far too much, but it was not the worst thing.

Jewel shuddered for what she was truly escaping.

She fled from the specter of politics.