Page 182 of Swordheart
“If you accept it, then we can be wed.”
“You know I don’t need this,” she said.
“Ineed this,” he said. “Because otherwise I will never feel that I have done enough to deserve you.” He scowled. “I’m still not sure…”
“A good marriage is one where both parties feel that they got the better deal,” said Zale from the doorway.
A thought struck Halla. “Wait—where did you get the money?”
“Courtesy of the Rat,” said Sarkis. He scowled. “I’ve agreed to talk to some of their scholars.”
Zale coughed. “And to a dedicate of the Many-Armed God.”
“Gods,” said Halla. “You’ll have earned it, talking to one of them. Obnoxious people.” She prodded the bag with one finger. It clinked. “So now what?”
Sarkis took both her hands in his. “Will you accept me as a husband now?”
“Yes?” said Halla. And then, realizing it sounded like a question, “I mean, yes. Definitely. Yes.”
“Then we’ll be wed.”
The priest of the Four-Faced God performed the ceremony in the end, because Zale said that they could stand for the bride’s familyandthe groom’s family, but not if they were also expected to lead the vows.
“Youshouldride to the priest on one of my horses,” said Sarkis, as they approached the church.
“You haven’tgotany horses,” said Halla practically.
He considered this. “Perhaps we still have time for me to steal one…”
Halla laughed and took his arm. “And afterward you can put the countryside to the torch.”
“Naturally.”
Zale, walking behind the couple, rolled their eyes.
The ceremony was short, simple, and dignified. The priest beamed at both of them as he tied the red cord around their forearms, binding them together. In theory, a representative of each of the families was then to take one end of the cord and unwrap it at the same time, but since Zale was standing for both, they had to take an end in each hand and loosen the cord rather awkwardly.
“It’s a good thing I have a lot of experience with being tied up recently,” they muttered. The priest of the Four-Faced Godlooked worried. Halla laughed. Sarkis scowled, but in a genial fashion.
Brindle was pressed into service as a witness, which he bore with aplomb, and signed his name to the parchment by dipping two claws in ink and swiping them across the page.
As soon as they left the church, the Widow Davey rushed up and soaked Halla’s collar with happy tears. “Oh, my dear! My dear! You’ll be so very happy together!” Halla patted the woman’s shoulder and gave Sarkis a helpless look. The priest of the Four-Faced God moved in and gently detached her.
“She cornered me in the kitchen during the wedding supper,” said Halla that evening. “And she tried to give me motherly advice about the wedding night.”
Sarkis, who was lying on his back next to Halla, enjoying the warm afterglow of his wedding night, choked and had to sit up and grab for the mug of water on the table beside the bed. He nearly knocked it over and Halla pounded his back enthusiastically while he wheezed.
“Shewhat?” he gasped.
“I know, I know.” Halla shook her head. “I kept telling her I’d been married before, but she was determined to have her say. You’ll be happy to know that while it may be uncomfortable at first, youwantto please me and it’s just a matter of nudging you in the right direction.”
“I’m going to put my pants on and go stab her.”
“That’s your solution to everything.”
“It’s worked for five hundred years.”
“Well, you’ll have to come up with a different one. I thought maybe we could give her Silas’s bird.”
