Chapter IV

Lytika stood, trembling, as Marma Cuz wove the pink and red blossoms through her hair, braiding them into a crown about her head. The little fundal was crowded with Dreywomen eager to help get her ready for the ceremony. She and Rayger would be handfast by nightfall. Yal’kky had formally announced that Garby was his heir and apprentice. The Dreyling was given a room in the Shaman’s home, which would eventually belong to him. The way now clear, Rayger had wasted no time in arranging for Lytika to become his wife. From what he could gather from Yal’kky, they would be leaving the comfort of the village very soon! He stood now in the village center, his bow polished and gleaming. He would present it to Lytika and take her under its, and his, protection. Yal’kky placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. By custom, he must wait two hours for his bride, standing unprotected in the sun’s glare. His friends gathered around him, taunting him with good natured jeers about his manhood. This, too, was the custom. Occasionally he would deign to reply, but for the most part, Rayger remained detached from the ribaldry, letting his mind wander ahead to the journey he would be making. He was imaginative for a Dreyman and had often thought of undertaking a trip to the Scraigi Mountains to look up his mother’s distant kin who still dwelt there. From an ancestor, he had the blood of the hill people running through his veins. Occasionally, Rayger dreamed of wandering the countryside, no particular destination in mind, perhaps to make his way to the city of Olten. Most of Drey was rural. The Hill people operated the mines that produced silver, gold, and copper. The coastal villages relied heavily on fishing for their livelihood, while the inlanders held to an agronomic culture, raising crops as varied as the land. There were a few large towns, besides the capital, where a level of sophistication was natural, but aside from these local centers of trade, most Dreyfolk led rather simple lives. The two hours passed quickly while he was lost in reverie.

Suddenly, she was standing before him, looking more lovely than he could ever have imagined. Smiling into each other’s eyes, they pledged their lives, one to another. Yal’kky pronounced the final blessing and it was done, they were wed! Marma Cuz and the other Dreywomen had been preparing the feast for two days. The local bard played and sang, occasionally accompanied by several of the Dreylings playing upon the windflute and drum. Mead and pale wine was passed along with great platters of narlafish, cooked and stuffed with the tender meat of the small snails found in tidal pools. Tateroot, roasted with sparthawn and spices, and a cold dish made with the kelp from the Gayzar Sea completed the main course. After the celebrants had eaten and drunk their fill, a great honey cake was presented to the couple. Together they cut and passed large slabs of the sweet, sticky confection to all present. Their only “chore” complete, Lytika and Rayger were carried on the shoulders of the Dreymen to the fundal they would, presumably, share for the rest of their lives.

While the two were inside, the younger Dreymen took turns caterwauling beneath the window, until, finally, a bucket of cold water was thrown, soaking the laughing pranksters as they scattered like Dreylings. Eventually, all was quiet. Lytika and Rayger lying in each other’s arms, talked together of the coming adventure. He did his best to comfort her with assurances that he would protect and provide. Poor ’Tika, however, had no hill blood in her veins from which to draw courage. Her only idea of traveling was to venture to the town of Warton for the fair held twice a year. She had never thought to get even as far as Olten, much less journey out of Drey.

“Garby is so excited. I don’t know where he gets the energy,” she said, snuggling into the crook of his arm. “Maybe the stars are wrong, or perhaps the strangers won’t make it this far.” “And maybe the sun will stop rising or the moons fail to set. ’Tika, what will be tomorrow, will be. Tonight is ours, let’s enjoy it.”

©2005 by Trish Reynolds