The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [152]
“I am,” they answered together.
“Then the gods will bless you.” Werda paused again, this time looking over the crowd. “Kinsfolk and friends, you have seen these young people speak out in front of you. From now on, Demet is Niffa’s man, and she is his woman. It be needful for all of you to honor their marriage.” She was looking directly at Raena and Verrarc. “It be a holy thing, marriage. Let none meddle with it, for such do shame their tribe and kin.”
Niffa could see Raena wince and look down at the ground. Verrarc’s smile froze, but he kept it as he stared right back at the Spirit Talker. Silence hung over the crowd as a few at a time everyone turned to watch. At last Verrarc broke and looked away. With a little smile Werda continued.
“May the gods bless you always with health and children. May you always have enough food to feed your family, Demet, and may you, Niffa, divide it up evenly among them.”
Demet caught Niffa around the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. The crowd broke out cheering and clapping. When she took another kiss from him, everyone laughed. She let him go and turned to wave just in time to see Verrarc and Raena slipping away into the darkness. Good! she thought. I’ll not have that woman poisoning our rejoicing time!
The rest of the guests all trooped downhill to Dera and Lael’s house, where Verrarc’s gift of a barrel of ale stood open and ready. All of the guests had brought their own tankards and some food, too, to make a resplendent feast of bread, sausages, cheese, and other winter foods. Niffa and Demet stood by the door and greeted each guest in turn. While Dera heaped wood on the hearth for light, Lael placed himself by the ale barrel and started dipping it out into the wall of tankards thrust his way. The women began handing out food; everyone was laughing and talking.
“Never have I been this happy before,” Niffa said. “Not in my whole life.”
“No more I.” Demet slipped his arm around her waist and squeezed. “I be truly glad we didn’t have to wait till the dark time of the year.”
“Oh, I knew I could bring Mam round.”
He laughed and kissed her. She started to put her arms around his neck, but she saw someone coming down the side path: Verrarc, but alone.
“And a good eve to you, Mistress Niffa,” Verrarc said. “I did think I’d stop by and have a word with your mother, if that sit well with you.”
All at once Niffa felt like that miser indeed, begrudging him and his woman when she felt so rich with happiness.
“Of course, Councilman! And where be Raena?”
“Ah well, she did feel a bit poorly and did decide to stop at home.”
“But you come in, then, man,” Demet said. “And I thank you, too, for that barrel of ale.”
Verrarc smiled at him in an oddly grateful manner, as if Demet were the one who was rich and powerful, and slipped into the party. Niffa watched him as he stayed close to the wall and worked his way round to Dera, standing on the far side of the room.
“It mayhap were a bit sour-minded of Werda,” Demet muttered, “to shame him and his woman that way.”
“She deserved it,” Niffa snapped. “Sleeping ’twixt two pairs of blankets like that.”
“Well, it gladdens my heart to hear that you don’t approve of such carrying on.”
They laughed and kissed each other.
The laughter and the talk went on until the ale barrel stood empty and the table clean of food. While Dera wiped the table down with a rag, Lael went into the other room and brought out a new wool blanket. He laid it over the table, and one thing at a time Niffa placed her dowry upon it: two dresses, a nightshirt, a long-handled cooking knife, an iron griddle of Dwarven workmanship, and four copper pieces in a leather pouch. Her cloak she kept out to wear. When Lael tied the corners of the blanket together to form a proper bundle, Niffa could see his eyes glistening with tears. Dera wept openly, snuffling into a large rag. Emla flung a long arm around