Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [178]
He could scarcely walk for the women who were hurling themselves at his feet. Every day, some father came to bargain with him to marry his daughter. Such a marriage would not last long. Once the Kai chose a new Priestess, the marriage would end in divorce. The former wife of a Chief of Chiefs would come away with a great many benefits, however, not the least of which might be a son. To be the Chief’s concubine was no small prize, either.
Skylan had done Aylaen the courtesy of turning down these offers. Her refusal even to consider becoming a Bone Priestess angered him. She should have been glad for the chance. This would solve all their problems. Why was she being so stubborn?
Skylan had even secretly tried to change the law. As Chief of Chiefs, he had the power to proclaim new laws. Why not fix this one? He’d gone to the Talgogroth to ask if this would be possible. The answer had been a firm and irrefutable no.
“The marriage of the Kai Priestess and the Chief of Chiefs is more than a tradition, Skylan,” the Talgogroth had told him. “It is a marriage of two halves of a clan, a nation. It is the marriage of every man and every woman. It is the marriage of the worldly and the godly, the marriage of faith and logic, the marriage of the sword and of the shield. The people would rise up in rebellion at the very thought of ending this tradition!”
Aylaen would have to be made to understand that this was serious. He would have to explain it to her. He would do so, the first chance he got. And he would tell her, too, that she should treat him with the proper respect. No more teasing. The two of them could hasten the wedding night. After all, as groom, he was the one who had the right to complain that his wife had not come to his bed a virgin, return her to her father, and seek damages for the insult.
“If I am the one to take her virginity, who is there to complain?” Skylan muttered to himself. He remembered the feel of her, the warmth of her breasts, the fragrance of her hair. He throbbed painfully.
He was lost in his lustful dreams, not paying attention, when the warning snarl of a wolf brought him back to the present with a jolt. He looked about, but could not see the wolf. He could hear its continuous low growl, however. Any moment it might jump on him, knock him down, and savage him, rip out his throat.
The growling came nearer. He reached instinctively for his sword, but he had been hoping to be engaged in more pleasant activities with Aylaen this afternoon, and he had left the sword behind. Skylan drew his knife and braced himself.
The growl became a gurgle of laughter. Wulfe leaped out of the underbrush and stood on the path, grinning at Skylan.
“I scared you!” the boy said.
Skylan did not lower the knife. “Where’s the beast?”
“That was me!” said Wulfe.
“I don’t believe you,” said Skylan.
“Listen. I’ll show you.”
Wulfe crouched on all fours and began to make a growling sound, low in his throat. His lips curled back in a snarl. His eyes narrowed, gleaming yellow in the dappled sunlight.
“Stop it!” Skylan ordered uneasily. His skin crawled. “That’s not funny. And don’t do it again. People might mistake you for a real wolf and slit your throat.”
“They could try,” said Wulfe with another laugh.
Skylan shook his head. Though he thought the boy was half-crazy, Skylan liked him, perhaps because Wulfe was the one person who truly liked Skylan. Liked Skylan for his own sake, not because he was Chief of Chiefs.
Wulfe didn’t want anything from Skylan. He didn’t draw him off into corners to urge him to make deals that would favor a particular clan or support a particular cause. Wulfe did not offer bribes to look another way while a boundary stone was shifted or ask Skylan to pardon a cousin’s uncle’s brother for stealing a goat. At first, Skylan had been flattered