I had no desire to watch, but I did. First the knife was offered to Dutiful. He betrayed no pain as he sliced his forearm until it bled

freely. He cupped his bound hand and waited for blood to trickle past the leather strip and into his palm. Elliania did likewise, her face grave and somehow impassive, as if she had transgressed into an area so far beyond disgrace that nothing could move her now. When each hand cupped a small amount of blood, Almata guided their hands into a clasp. Then they knelt and each left a palmprint of the mingled blood on the hearthstone. When they turned to face the gathered folk again, Almata freed their hands of the leather cord, and offered it to Dutiful, who accepted it gravely. Almata moved to stand behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. She tried to put a note of joy into her voice, but it sounded flat to me as she announced, 'They stand before you, joined and bound by their words. Wish them well, my people.' The murmur of approval that rose from the gathered folk was more as if they applauded a deed of great courage than if they had just witnessed the happy joining of a loving couple. Elliania bowed her head before it, Sacrifice for them in some way I did not yet comprehend.

I'm married? Wonder, dismay and outrage mingled in Dutiful's flung Skill-thought.

Not until you give her a dragon's head, 1 warned him.

Not until we hold the real ceremony in Buckkeep Castle, Chadc comforted him.

The Prince looked dazed.

All around us, the hall erupted into activity. Boards were brought out, and then food to grace them. Outislander minstrels struck up a song upon their windy instruments. True to their tradition, the minstrels so twisted the words to fit the tune that I could scarce understand it. I noticed that two of them came to greet Cockle and invite him to their corner of the hall. Their welcome seemed genuine, and again I was struck by the universal understanding that seems to exist amongst musicians.

Dutiful Skill-shared with me the words Elliania had said quietly to him. 'Now you must hold my hand and walk with me as I present you to my older cousins. Remember, they are my elders. Although I am the Narcheska, I still owe them the deference due my elders. So do you.' She spoke as if instructing a child.

'I'll try not to humiliate you,' he replied, rather stiffly. His words

did not please me and yet 1 could not completely blame him for saying them.

'Then smile. And keep quiet, as befits a warrior in a mothershouse that is not his own,1 she retorted. She took his hand and let it be obvious that she led him. Rather as one might lead a prize bull by the ring in his nose, I thought to myself. The women did not come to meet him. Instead, Elliania took him from group" to group. At each, he made the warrior's obeisance accepted in the Out islands, that is, he offered his sword hand, empty and now bloodied, wrist up, to them while bowing his head. They smiled upon him, and offered comments to the Narcheska upon her choice. I sensed that in another time and place, the words would have been light-hearted and teasing. But at this ceremony and with this man, the compliments offered to her were moderate and well-mannered. Instead of relieving the tension of the formal pledging, they prolonged it.

Seeing the other groups of warriors dispersing throughout the feast, Chade dismissed us from our ranks. Ears and eyes open, he cautioned me as I wended my way through the throng.

Always, I replied to him. He did not need to suggest that I keep the Prince in sight. Until I knew what was behind this facade, I had no idea who might or might not wish him harm. And so I drifted about the wedding feast, never too far from my prince, keeping a light Skill-contact with him.

The gathering was very different from any Buckkeep celebration. There was no seating of the guests according to rank or favour. Instead, the food was set out and people helped themselves to it and wandered the room as they ate it. There was roast mutton on spits kept warm near the hearth, and trays heaped with fowl cooked whole. I sampled from a platter of smoked candlefish, seasoned and crisp and remarkably tasty. Outislander breads seemed to be dark and unleavened, cooked in huge flat rounds. Diners tore off a piece of an appropriate size and then heaped it with sliced and pickled vegetables, or dipped it in fish-oil and salt. All the flavours of the foods seemed overly strong to me, and much of it was pickled or smoked or salted. Only the mutton and the chicken were fresh-killed, and even those had been seasoned with some sort of seaweed.

The eating and drinking, the talking and the music and some sort of juggling contest, with betting, all happened simultaneously. The roar of raised voices was nearly deafening. After a time, I became aware of something else. Young Outislander women of the Narwhal Clan were approaching not just our guardsmen but even Civil and Cockle. 1 saw several guards grinning fatuously as their young partners led them outside or up the shadowy staircase.

Are they deliberately luring Dutiful'$ guard away? I Skilled anxiously to Chade.

Here, it is a woman's prerogative, he replied. They do not have the same customs regarding chastity. The guardsmen were warned to be cautious but not cool. The Prince's warriors and companions are expected to be available for the evening, but only if they are invited; it would be a breach of hospitality if they approached a woman who had not first signalled her interest. If you have not noticed, there is a lack of men here, and far fewer children than there should be for this many women. An empty womb filled on a wedding night foretells a lucky child, here.

Was there a reason I was not told of this before now?

Does it bother you?

After a moment of surreptitious peering, I located my old mentor. He was sitting on one of the bed-benches, nibbling on a fowl's leg and conversing with a woman half his age. I caught a glimpse of Civil and his cat disappearing into the upper reaches of the house. The woman who led him was at least five years older than he was, but he did not look intimidated. 1 had no time to wonder nor worry where Swift had vanished to; surely he was too young to be of any interest to these viragos. In that moment I realized that Dutiful was leaving the mothershouse in the company of a gaggle of the Narcheska's girlish friends. Elliania did not look particularly pleased, even though she still held his hand and led him out of the door.

It was not easy to follow him. A woman with a tray of sweets stepped between me and the door. I managed to feign a thick-witted indifference to her offering of more than the sticky confections as I helped myself to a handful in a boorish display of greed and ate them in two mouthfuls. Somehow this flattered her, and she set the tray aside and followed me as I ate them. She was still at my elbow

when I reached the door. 'Where's the backhouse?' I asked her, and when she did not understand the Six Duchies euphemism, I mimed what I sought. With a puzzled look, she pointed out a low building to me and returned to the feasting. As I walked toward it, I cast a wide glance for Dutiful. There were several couples in the courtyard, in various stages of dalliance, and two boys carrying water from the well back into the mothershouse. Where had he gone?

I saw him at last, not far away, sitting beside Elliania on a grassy rise near some young apple trees. The other girls had settled around them in a ring. These were girls not yet women, as their loose hair proclaimed. I guessed that their ages ranged from ten to fifteen or so. Doubtless, before this night, they had been Elliania's playmates for years. Now she has left their companionship behind her with her change to woman's status.

Not quite, Dutiful informed me sourly. They have evaluated me as if I were a horse bought cheap at the fair. 'If he is a warrior, where are his scars?' 'Did not he have a clan? Why does his face not bear her tattoo?' They tease her, and one of them is quite a nasty little vixen. Lestra is her name, and she is Elliania s older cousin. She is mocking Elliania, saying that perhaps she is a woman and even wed in name, but that she doubts that she has ever been kissed. Lestra claims to have been kissed several times, quite thoroughly, even though she has not bled yet. Fitz, have the girls no shame nor reticence in this land?