Blessings Of A Curse - 2012 USA Edition - chunk 05 (standard:fantasy, 9409 words) [5/6] show all parts
Author: Wayne Edward Clarke	Added: May 07 2012	Views/Reads: 2318/2289	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Part 5

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Nemion's garden.” 

“We'll have to be higher for a few moments after we crest the pass.”
Talia told Mark.  “At this speed, if we followed the ground, you'd be 
thrown out of the chair.” 

“What?  Talia!” Mark exclaimed, re-gripping the armrests as they speeded
to the top of the pass.  “TALIAAAAAAAA!!!” 

The Sentries' towers and emplacements flashed by on either side, and
they shot up and over the lip of the pass and high into open air, 
before gently arcing down to smoothly align with the path running down 
slope, only now the back of the platform was a foot from the ground and 
the front was higher. 

“Sweet mother preserve me, girl!” he stammered as his heart pounded in
his ears.  “You almost scared the life out of me!” 

Talia giggled contritely.  “I'm sorry.  I was hoping you would find it
fun!  And it would be best if you could get used to flying.” 

“Well, it was fun, in a terrifying way, now that it's over!” he
admitted.  “Only next time, warn me sooner!” 

He bowed his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, and kissed her ear. 

She turned her head sideways and up so she could murmur private words to
him.  “Now you are arousing me!  Which would be fine if I were not 
piloting this craft!  The distraction could be dangerous!” 

She chuckled as he suddenly stopped, and she faced forward again. 

“That's a good point, but you still owe me one for the scare back
there!” he laughed, and in a moment of spontaneous, mischievous 
temptation, he slid his hands up her torso, under the top row of gauze 
strips, to cup her small but perky and beautifully shaped breasts with 
his fingers. 

“Ahh, that is nice.” she crooned, leaning into his hands a bit as her
nipples hardened.  “You can hold me like that, but do not caress me 
there, or we will crash for sure!” 

He enjoyed the sensation for a moment, then slid his hands back to her
tummy before the other elves noticed.  “I'm sorry, that was not the act 
of a gentleman.” he rumbled contritely. 

“Among my people it is!” she gaily assured him, but he kept his hands
where they were. 

“My!  This valley is perfectly round!” he exclaimed. 

“All of The Nine Valleys are round.” she informed him.  “They were
formed by the impact of a falling star that broke into nine pieces 
before it struck the ground, many millennia ago.  Their bowl shape, and 
the material of the fallen stars, gives The Nine Valleys the most 
powerful magical fields in the world.  That is why my people claimed 
them for their own as soon as they had cooled, and why we have defended 
them vigorously since then.” 

“These valleys were the very first place permanently settled by elves,
in the dawn of our race, over two hundred and thirty-six thousand years 
ago.” Yazadril added proudly.  “Before then, we were secretive and 
nomadic, for we had found no place that was both worth defending, and 
defensible by our then-meager numbers.  The world was very dangerous 
then. 

“You know, two human wizards have intruded as far as the first sentry
line near the top of the pass.  But to my certain knowledge, they never 
saw over the edge.  In almost a quarter of a million years, you are the 
very first human to see any part of The Nine Valleys.  Most certainly 
the very first, ever, who has passed within!” 

“I'm, uh, humbled by the honor...  Thank you!” Mark stammered. 

“Ah, he is a treasure!” Nemia laughed at his boyish manner. 

“No. I'm the one who's found the treasure.” Mark chuckled, smiling down
at Talia.  “If even my being here is unique, how much more rare and 
special is it that I should marry a princess of the mountain elves?  I 
tell you, my mind is becoming completely boggled by the incredibleness 
of everything that's happened!  Six months ago I was just an ordinary 
forest ranger.  And now, Princess Talia of The Nine Valleys will be my 
wife!  Why, I'd bet I'm the first man who's ever even touched an elven 
princess, anywhere, ever!” 

“You may be right about that.” Hilsith agreed with a smile.  “What's
more, to my knowledge, with ten thousand in attendance, it will be the 
greatest wedding ever held!” 

“Ahh, so romantic!” Talia sighed.  “But I'm not a princess.  Among
elves, such things as leadership and royalty are not hereditary.” 

“Then how is it decided?” Mark asked. 

“Generally, if most everyone thinks you can do the job, then you're
stuck with it, whether you like it or not!” Yazadril chuckled. 

“Ha!  Exactly that!” Alilia snorted. 

“We were simply called ‘Leader', long ago.” Yazadril continued.  “But
human monarchs consider it beneath them to negotiate on matters of 
diplomacy with those who are not royalty.  So now we are called 
‘Prince' or ‘Princess', which were chosen because to call us king or 
queen would be an overstatement of our authority.  Elves are not so 
liege-bound as humans.” 

“Well, among my people, it would not matter whether you will inherit
leadership or title.” Mark told Talia.  “As long as your father is the 
reigning Prince, you would be considered a princess, and you would be 
treated and addressed as such.  Not so, Yazadril?” 

“True.” he admitted. 

“And to me, you will always be my princess.” Mark finished. 

“That is so nice!” Talia smiled.  “Human stories and songs with
princesses are always very romantic.” 

“Events are escalating.” Alilia stated bitterly, changing the subject. 
“Even among those of us who do not dwell here, The Nine Valleys are 
considered inviolate; sacrosanct and sacred.  His presence here will 
cause an uproar among all elvenkind everywhere.  As it is my doing, I 
will be reviled, particularly by those of the conservative faction.  
Who knows what this wedding may lead to?  Be they beneficial or 
harmful, there are going to be huge repercussions from all of this.” 

“Well then!” Yazadril smiled.  “It's up to us to see that they're
beneficial, isn't it?” 

“It is.” Alilia was forced to agree. 

They had passed below the tree line moments ago, and it seemed to Mark
that every tree they passed was much larger than the one before.  Now 
they were a hundred and fifty feet tall, and as wide as a house at the 
base of the trunk.  Looking ahead, he saw that the trees there grew 
larger yet, and more widely spaced, with more undergrowth.  With a 
start, he realized that some of the undergrowth was higher than the 
biggest tree in Shinosa Valley! 

“This forest is incredible!” he exclaimed in amazement.  “How big do
these trees get?!!” 

“Here in First Valley, the tallest is about twelve hundred feet.”
Theramin estimated.  “About eight to ten times as high as these here.  
The very tallest are those that encircle the wedding chapel in Laylas 
Valley, which are twice as tall as that at about twenty-four hundred 
feet.  As Talia said, a special place.  Those are over two hundred 
thousand years old, but though they are tallest, even they are not the 
oldest. 

“I am the custodian of all the trees in The Nine Valleys.” he added
proudly.  “As senior horticultural wizard, their well-being is my 
responsibility.” 

“Well, it seems you're doing a grand job of it!” Mark marveled. 
“They're incredible, and beautiful!” 

Now they had reached the flat of the valley floor, and there were many
broad, open spaces between the trees, most of which were between four 
and seven hundred feet tall here. 

“Now we are into the settled areas of the valley, for these trees are
homes, and there will be people walking about.” Talia told him   “For 
safety's sake, I must either slow to walking speed, or fly at least ten 
feet above the ground.” 

“Well, as you thought, I am getting used to it.  Ten feet should be
okay.” Mark ventured. 

Talia nodded, and as they smoothly rose to that height, Mark began to
notice stairways and catwalks on the trees, and the openings of doors 
and windows in the trunks and greater branches.  The works of the elves 
seemed so tiny in comparison to the mighty trees.  Too, he began to 
notice a few other elves about, going to and from their homes or simply 
enjoying the sun and the summer breeze.  Some strolled or lounged on 
benches, others flew.  Of the flyers, some flew while standing as the 
rest of their party did, some sat on chairs or cushions, some lounged 
on blankets or carpets, and the fastest of them lay forward with their 
arms out, like soaring birds.  They passed a shouting pack of elves 
engaged in some sport, running around on a marked circular field and 
throwing three balls about, though they were past before Mark could 
discern the method of their play. 

“There would generally be many more about on such a beautiful day.”
Talia quietly remarked as they turned off the main path.  “Some prepare 
for the wedding.  Others attend the Council Hall, where Dalia and 
Bezedil lie in state, until their final rites and internment in three 
weeks.” 

She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat, and continued on.  “There,
you see that great oak tree there?  You see how the stairway winds 
about it?  At the top of that stairway, on the far side of the trunk, 
is my...  My parents' home.  We can climb the steps, or we can ride up 
on a railed lifting platform, or I can just fly us up.” 

“Well, you might as well fly us up, I guess.” 

“Do you really think so?” Talia giggled.  “I think you're just trying to
be brave and gallant.” 

“Ha!  I guess I am, but I also don't want to climb that many stairs!”
Mark laughed.  “And I don't see much difference between this and a 
railed lifting platform, except that this is more comfortable.  
Although I have to admit that I would sure prefer you to slow down 
some, before we go up there.” 

“Quite understandable.” Talia smiled as she slowed to a hover at the
base of the great tree, then slowly ascended vertically.  She tried not 
to think about the ground on the far side of the trunk, and what had 
happened there yesterday. 

When they were halfway to their goal, Mark marveled; “What a view!  Now
I see why you live so high up!” 

“That's part of it, but mostly it's the growth of the tree!” Yazadril
laughed.  “This home has always been about one third of the way up the 
trunk, yet when it was first made, it was only seventy feet from the 
ground!” 

“Bring us around to the balcony, Dear.” Nemia instructed.  “Your
intended might find our doors and hallways to be a bit restricting.” 

“Yes, Mother.” Talia laughed.  She followed the curve of the tree, and
waited while the others alighted on the balcony and moved indoors to 
leave room for her to land Mark's conveyance. 

When she had done so, aligning the chair to face into the central room,
Alilia pointed to the side of the chair. 

“That handle there is part of a mechanism, and if you pull on it while
sitting up, the chair will...  Damn this simple language!  It will 
de-recline.  It will bend to a more vertical position.  Yes, like 
that.” 

As Mark followed her instruction, the chair had indeed assumed the shape
of a conventional armchair.  “Thanks so much again, Alilia!  This is 
the first time I've sat in a chair that truly fit me since I was 
fourteen!” 

“I deserve no thanks.  And after you have had to fulfill the curse a few
times, you will not think so either.” Alilia moped. 

“Enough self-recrimination for one day, Alilia!” Talia told her firmly. 
“It is my wedding day, a joyous occasion, and I ask you to share that 
sentiment as much as you are able.” 

“I will try.” Alilia muttered, before turning into the central room on
her way to the kitchen. 

“It's so strange.  I've never seen this place before, yet it seems
familiar because I saw it in Talia's vision.” Mark mused, leaning 
forward to peer within.  He stood and hunched down enough to enter the 
central room, then shuffled over to the hallway. 

“Her Reading, actually.  A Vision is another thing entirely.” Yazadril
informed him thoughtfully. 

Mark showed no sign he'd heard.  He stared intently within for many
moments, then pointed down the hall without looking away.  “Can I go 
down there please?  To Dalia's room?” he asked quietly.  “I won't touch 
anything.” 

Yazadril looked to Nemia, who gave him a tearful shrug.  “All right.” he
answered. 

Mark had to sidle sideways down the hall, where he stared for minutes at
the spot on the floor where Talia had lay curled and crying.  Then he 
considered Dalia's door.  Finally he delicately grasped the doorknob 
between thumb and fingertip, turned it, and slowly swung the door open. 
 He went to one knee and stared within a few minutes, then closed the 
door and awkwardly returned to his chair, still deep in thought. 

Unnerved a bit by this display, Yazadril turned to Theramin. “I think I
should make my home a bit more comfortable for my soon-to-be 
son-in-law.  Perhaps you could raise the ceiling in this room to ten 
feet, enlarge the balcony doors, and double the area of the balcony?” 

“Certainly.” Theramin nodded, looking about  “I'll cast it now, and it
should be finished in about half an hour.  And I'll raise the balcony 
railing a foot as well, though it still won't be very safe for one of 
his height if he gets a few ales in him.” 

“Thank you.  I'm sure he'll be careful.” 

Talia sat patiently with Mark, perched on the arm of his chair, waiting
for his thoughts to run their course. 

Nemia waited for that as well, her basket of barbering supplies in hand,
sensing something was amiss, and missing Dalia with all her heart. 

Gradually catching this mood, Dilimon and Hilsith ceased preparing to
take their leave, then Yazadril, and finally Theramin when he finished 
casting his spell, all stood silently watching Mark, none of them sure 
why. 

The moment was broken when Alilia bustled out of the kitchen.  “I have
made tea, and cast the thousands of invitations, and arranged for the 
feast, though that took some doing...” she stated briskly before 
noticing the silent scene.  “What is it?” she asked. 

“I'm not sure.” Mark admitted, his eyes still unfocused in deep thought.
 “I keep thinking about the Reading, and it sure seems that there's 
something subtly wrong about it all...  I mean, I know I'm no expert on 
elves or anything, and I sure don't want to seem insensitive to your 
loss, but still...  The way everyone acted doesn't quite ring true.  
Every little event in it seems subtly wrong... 

“The first one.  Three times before, when Talia thought someone was her
destined love, Dalia had waited until Talia knew one way or another, 
before Dalia approached the fellow herself.  Yet this time, when Talia 
was sure, Dalia would not wait.  Not that unusual, perhaps, yet unusual 
enough that Talia was surprised by it.  And Dalia had to know that 
Talia would be hurt by it.  Would she really do that normally? 

“The second one.  I realize that you elves are more, uh, uninhibited,
than my people, and Dalia and Bezedil were both young, very attractive, 
and I think a bit more promiscuous than the norm, even for elves.  And 
that Bezedil thought that Dalia was his destined love.  Still, they 
met, exchanged barely a dozen words, and bedded each other barely a 
minute after they met!  Doesn't that seem unusual to you? 

“The third one.  It makes sense that Talia was hurt by what they did. 
Yet you are not a sexually monogamous people, and as Dalia pointed out, 
Bezedil was obviously no virgin.  Talia knew that she was Bezedil's 
destined love, and she had to know that under normal circumstances he 
would soon realize it as well, and then they would be together.  So it 
makes sense that Talia was hurt, but it doesn't seem right that she was 
so completely devastated by it as she was. 

“The fourth one.  I can see how a human who is completely distraught
might suicide by jumping from a high place, for our lives are short, 
and once we're falling, there's nothing we can do about it anyway.  But 
for an elf to throw away thousands of years of life by doing so seems 
incredible!  And once you're falling, I mean really falling, no matter 
who you are, the survival instinct should be undeniable!  It seems 
impossible to me that anyone could choose to not save themselves then, 
if they had the means available, by flying or healing or disappearing 
or something!  Yazadril has said that a few elves have committed 
suicide, but how many of them did it by jumping from a high place?  Not 
many, I'd bet, or none. 

“And the fifth one, and this is what really made me think that there was
something wrong.  Why did Dalia jump?!!  After she did, it makes a 
little sense that Bezedil did, because he thought he'd lost his 
destined love.  It makes even more sense that Talia jumped, because she 
had lost her twin sister, and her destined love.  But Dalia must have 
known that Talia and Bezedil were destined lovers!  It shouldn't have 
shocked her or hurt her that much to see them together!  I know she was 
very pleased with Bezedil's love-making, and perhaps in that one hour 
she had even fallen in love with him a little.  But even from the 
little I saw of her, it seems impossible that Dalia would commit 
suicide for so little provocation!  That for every second of that fall, 
she could continue to choose to let herself impact and die because she 
had been jilted by her new lover!” 

There was a long silence, broken by Alilia.  “What are you implying?!”
she grimly demanded, tears streaming down as she was forced to re-live 
yesterday's horror. 

Mark, still deep in thought, took no offense.  “I don't know.  It's like
everyone was somewhat drunk, just enough to make them more emotional.  
Could you all have been drugged?  Or perhaps bewitched in some way?” 

The rest were all shaken by the possibility. 

Talia gave a choked laugh.  “Perhaps we are all cursed!” she bitterly
surmised. 

There was another long silence. 

“I think you jest, my daughter, yet perhaps you should not!” Yazadril
stated grimly, his brows knotted in anger.  “Mark has raised some valid 
points, though we could not see it because we were too close to the 
situation.  Combine them with Alilia's earlier observations about major 
repercussions from these events, and the possibility of some kind of 
covert interference becomes all too real! 

“By all the silent gods!  Dalia's death by youthful foolishness is
horrible enough!  If someone has maliciously caused her death or 
contributed to it, whether it was by drug or spell or curse, I swear it 
will not remain hidden from me! 

“All of you, please stay exactly where you are!  If there is evidence,
it has likely been much disturbed already, no need to make it worse!” 

With a flurry of hummed notes and gestures, Yazadril began casting and
loosing many different information-seeking and analyzing spells, one 
after the other, for six minutes or more.  Then they all waited 
silently, watching him closely, while he concentrated fiercely. 

“There... is something...” he murmured.  “But it is faint...  So old and
faint...” 

He concentrated until he was shaking from it, then struck his fists to
his forehead in frustration.  “Blazing source above, I will not be 
denied!” he cried.  “Alilia, give me power!  As much as you can without 
burning me out!” 

Alilia sternly stepped to him, grasped his head with both hands, pressed
her own forehead hard against his, and began pouring power into him.  
He also grasped her head in his hands and held it tight to his. 

Mark had to look away from the brightness they were generating, though
he was only seeing Yazadril's half of it. 

Yazadril shook harder and harder, until he was shuddering head to toe
and fell to one knee.  Alilia released him, but he would not release 
her in return.  “Almost there!” he quaveringly growled, and held on for 
another four seconds. 

“Have it!” he hoarsely cried, and Nemia helped Alilia support him as he
slowly collapsed to the floor, panting and shaking. 

They waited while he recovered, until Alilia's patience ran out.  “Out
with it if you can, Yazadril!  What did you find?!” 

Yazadril sat up, wincing and gasping, and waved her to silence.  Finally
he spoke, sounding completely dejected.  “Talia was right.  We were 
cursed.  You and I, Alilia, we two specifically were cursed, over one 
hundred and twenty years ago.  By a human wizard, who at that time was 
located some six hundred leagues to the east, and about thirty leagues 
north.  The Empire of Thon, or the Kingdom of Yazzak.  Not a very 
powerful curse, for even I could have put more power into one, but 
that's what made it so hard to trace.  No doubt our foe was pleased 
enough with it.  And, it was eventually effective. 

“Our children were murdered, Alilia, for we were cursed that our
children would slay one another.  I could learn no more, though I was 
desperate to learn the identity of the caster.” 

“Our children were killed to strike at us?!!”  Alilia screeched as she
stood, clenched and shaking in rage. 

“But... I mean in a way, that makes some of what's happened
understandable, but in some ways, things are only more confusing!” 
Nemia sobbed in grieved bewilderment.  “Why would anyone do such a 
thing?  Yazadril, neither you nor Alilia even had any living children 
one hundred and twenty years ago!” 

“It is all too completely understandable, since our enemy is obviously
one who takes the long view to his goals.” Alilia stated bitterly.  
“The patience of it is chilling.  We did eventually have children, and 
the curse struck at the first opportunity, subtly altering reality just 
enough to accomplish it's evil end.  If we had never had children, our 
enemy would have wasted little in the effort.  And knowing that it 
quite likely may have been a wasted effort, our unknown enemy no doubt 
has other schemes afoot to accomplish the same ends.  I doubt that his 
purpose was to hurt us personally, to break our hearts by killing our 
children.  We know for certain that the only ones who had reason to 
personally hate us that much are long dead, centuries before the curse 
was cast.  And to hurt us, one would curse our children to die young, 
horribly perhaps, but not to slay one another!  Nor to do so by such a 
relatively quick and painless method!  To fulfill it's requirements, 
the curse had to wait an extra twenty-nine years, when it could have 
simply slain them as babes! 

“No.  This curse, that our children would slay one another, was cast to
cause enmity between Yazadril and I.  To break our friendship.  To 
break the alliance between our peoples.  To cause war between The High 
People and The People of Life! 

“And look how close it came to accomplishing that!  I was a hair's
breadth away from killing Talia and Nemia, and then Yazadril would have 
killed me!  When my people learned that my son and I had both been 
killed here by Yazadril and his family, they would have declared war, 
and their greater numbers clashing against the defenses of The Nine 
Valleys would have meant annihilation for all!” 

“You think Father could have killed you?” Talia asked in astonishment. 

“Don't be naïve!  Of course he would have!” Alilia snapped impatiently. 
“I have hundreds of times his power, but I am not too proud to realize 
that he is still twice the wizard I will ever be!  If he wanted to 
match me power for power, all he would need to do is to tap the power 
of the nearest thousand elves, and he is very good at doing that very 
quickly under battle conditions!  He could tap the nearest hundred 
thousand and overwhelm me completely, but that is not his way!  He 
would have some tiny spell with less force than a falling pebble that 
would pass unnoticed through my defenses and block the veins in my 
brain, or something else of similar style! 

“Do not be fooled by his humbleness or his lack of raw power, child, for
your father is the greatest wizard alive!  His strength may only be 
average for one of The High People, but that is nothing to disregard, 
for The High People are mightiest in magic as individuals!  With his 
knowledge and skill, that is enough to make him invincible!  And 
between us, we will find the worm spawn who have killed our children 
and threatened our nations, and we will make them burn in hell 
forever!!!” 

Alilia was almost screaming in rage when she finished, and she took a
moment to try to control her emotions. 

“Great source!” Theramin breathed.  “To think that only Yazadril's
appeal to your long friendship saved our peoples from war!” 

“It did not.” Alilia spat, somewhat calmer.  “For I was going to kill
Talia anyway, and cared not of the consequences.  A horrible truth, but 
there it is.” 

She pointed to Mark.  “He saved us from war.  His presence was the wild
card, the random factor our hidden enemy could not have foreseen.  I 
had not thought of the ordeal of Yzandra in five hundred years, and if 
I had not just been discussing Mark, I would still not have thought of 
it!  And even if I had thought of it, I would not have cursed Talia 
with it if he had not been handy to be the instrument of my vengeance! 

“But he was there, and so at the very last instant, rather than blasting
Talia to dust with a blow as I had planned, I thought of the ordeal of 
Yzandra, and I cursed Talia with it.  At least thousands more will not 
die in a needless war!” 

Talia spoke, and there was unexpected steel in her voice.  “When you
find those who did this, and the time comes to deal with them, I will 
claim my right to take part in the retribution.” 

Then her hard determination faded, to be replaced by weariness from so
much pain.  “But today is my wedding day!  Tomorrow will be soon enough 
to begin hunting them!  Please, if I have to deal with even one more 
unhappy thought, I'm sure I will break down completely!” 

Nemia wiped away her tears, and bravely pasted a smile on her face. 
“She's right, we have a wedding to prepare for, and only about two 
hours remain before we should leave for Laylas Valley!  There is much 
to do, so while I prepare Mark and Talia and myself, the rest of you 
can divide and delegate the rest that needs to be done.” 

“As I said, the invitations are sent, and the feast arranged for.”
Alilia said, glad for this distraction from her ire.  “With your 
permission Talia, Mark, I will extend invitations to another fifteen.  
With ten thousand and more already, I'm sure we can fit them in 
somewhere.” 

“I don't see why not.  May I ask who they are?” Talia inquired in
puzzlement. 

“They are the leaders of our peoples, the Princes and Princesses of all
the elven nations of the world, for I intend to call them to High 
Council immediately after your wedding, to warn them that someone may 
be seeking to cause war among the elves.  This cannot wait until 
tomorrow, for if our enemy has a way of monitoring events here, he 
already knows that his curse has acted successfully, yet failed to 
cause war, or even to break my friendship with Yazadril.  Thus he may 
even now be setting new schemes in motion.” 

“Certainly!  I would love to have the royalty of the elven world attend
my wedding!” Talia laughed, deliberately ignoring the unpleasant 
aspects of what Alilia had said. 

“Good.  Then I am off to my embassy.  I will meet you at the chapel.”
Alilia stated brusquely, and with that, she was simply gone. 

“I'm glad she arranged for the feast.” Theramin grinned.  “Her people
have the kitchen capacity to produce one for ten thousand on short 
notice, while ours do not.  Still, there are many other preparations to 
be made at the chapel, and that falls to me and my staff. 

“Nemia, if you will tell me what you wish in the way of lighting and
decoration, I will see to it.  I know you would rather give that your 
personal attention, but as you say, time is pressing.” 

“Thank you Theramin.” Nemia smiled.  She produced a scroll from thin air
and handed it to him.  “Shall I hurry you there?” 

“Please.” Theramin nodded, and waved to the rest.  “I will see you
there!” he called. 

Nemia closed her eyes and hummed a beautiful liquid trill, and Theramin
disappeared, leaving a slight swirl of air too minor to make a sound. 

“Damn, that is so spooky!” Mark breathed.  “It makes me doubt the
reality around me!” 

“Courage, my big, beautiful male.  You'll get used to us.” Talia
chuckled.  “You can get used to anything, after a while.” 

“Nemia, Talia asked you to find the eleven most powerful guests of each
gender to be bridesmaids and groomsmen.” Dilimon reminded her.  “Yet 
that was before an additional eight thousand guests were considered.  
With your permission, the off-duty sentries and I will attend to this 
task.  It is certain that all the attendees will be present in the 
chapel at least thirty minutes before the ceremony begins.  At that 
point, the scouts and I will be able to survey the crowd and pick out 
the most powerful, using detuned Detect Power spells.  We will invite 
them to join the wedding party as bridesmaids and groomsmen, and it is 
certain that few would refuse, if for no other reason than the close 
view of the proceedings that the opportunity affords!  It should be 
easy to have them in place before the podium at least fifteen minutes 
before the ceremony commences.” 

“Thank you Dilimon, that is most kind!” 

“Then I'm off.  Excuse me Mark, Talia.  I'll see you at the chapel!”
Dilimon smiled as he sidled past them to step atop the balcony rail.  
He leaped up and out and accelerated in a second to an amazing speed, 
flying up like an arrow loosed from a bow, his arms held tight to his 
sides and his toes pointed behind.  In seconds he was above the tops of 
the tallest trees, and he leveled out, banked to the west a bit, and 
was gone from sight. 

“What a show off!” Talia giggled. 

“I have things to do, Love.” Yazadril said as he kissed Nemia's cheek. 
“After you've prepared the bride and groom, send them down to my 
workshop, and I'll keep them occupied while you dress.” 

“Yes Dear.  I'll get your things out for you.  Your council robes, I
think.” 

“Of course, of course...” Yazadril muttered as he turned to go, his mind
already on other matters. 

“Well, here I am, the first to say farewell, yet the last still with
you!” Hilsith chuckled.  “And I think there is a place for me here, for 
I think Mark's mind truly is becoming a bit boggled from all he has 
seen and experienced recently!  So, with your permission I will stay, 
and while you make ready I will brew some soothing herbal tea, and sing 
some peaceful songs from the human lands, and play the harp.” 

“Thank you.” Mark sighed.  “I thought my heart was going to choke me
when Dilimon jumped off like that!  I don't know if I'll ever get used 
to it!” 

“As I thought.” Hilsith nodded, and turned for the kitchen while
checking in her pouch for herbs. 

“And... I haven't eaten for a while...” he hesitantly called after her. 

“I'll find you a snack to tide you over till the feast!” Hilsith
chuckled over her shoulder as she left the room. 

Nemia unfolded the white cloth she had used for the light screen
earlier, and prepared to drape it around him from the neck down, to 
catch falling hair clippings.  “Now then Mark, be seated in your big 
new chair, and tell me how you would like to be barbered.” 

“Well, I like my hair just long enough to tie it together in the back,
and I don't like my beard at all, so you can shave it all off.” Mark 
told her.  “Frankly, I didn't like it when I got all hairy the year 
before last.  I mean, a little is fine, but this is ridiculous!   But I 
can't shave it all down to my toes, or the stubble itch would drive me 
crazy!” 

“All right, I'll do your hair while Talia shaves you.” Nemia decided. 
“We often do this with spells, and few of our males shave anyway, or 
even need to.  Still, our people enjoy physically grooming one another, 
and so we have the skills. 

“But first, let's get you clean.  Spells may not affect you, perhaps not
even your hair, but the dirt upon you is another matter.” 

Nemia stood on the trunk behind his chair, placed her hands on his head,
and hummed a complex lilt. 

“Wow!  That felt wonderful all over!” he enthused. 

“And now you're clean.” Nemia said, and tucked the edge of the sheet
around his neck. 

She brushed all the knots out of his mane of black hair and applied a
bit of lotion that made it lay down shiny and smooth, then brushed it 
all back to the nape of his neck, secured it with a plain gold clasp, 
and cut it off evenly three inches below the clasp. 

While she did so, Talia stood between his spread knees on the seat of
the chair and cut off his beard to within a quarter inch of his skin 
with shears, then worked a lotion into what was left. 

Then she brought out the straight razor, and he eyed it a bit
apprehensively. 

“You might need to strop it.  My beard's pretty coarse, and I've given
myself some nasty razor burn before.” he cautioned. 

She giggled and replied; “It won't get dull before it's been used for
another three centuries at least!  Now hold very still.” 

He did, and she carefully shaved him. 

She and Nemia worked quickly, and were soon finished. 

“There you go!” Talia brightly smiled, and she and Nemia stepped down to
replace the barbering tools in their cases, while he stood and 
stretched, and rubbed his bare face for the first time in months. 

Hilsith emerged from the kitchen with a tray in her hands, covered with
bread, cheese, jam, cups, and a steaming teapot. 

He picked up a mirror from the barbering kit and inspected himself. 
“Hey, that's not too bad at all!  I look a lot different since I last 
saw myself freshly barbered.  Maturing, I guess.  Thanks!  Thanks a 
lot!  What do you think?” 

He lowered the mirror, and looked to the three elven women. 

They were staring at him.  Hilsith with her tray was grinning, Nemia
looked bemused, and Talia looked mesmerized. 

“What?  Am I funny looking?” he asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable with
the intensity with which they were gazing at him. 

Talia tried to explain.  “You're...  I mean, you have that
over-masculinity that human males have from the strong facial bones, 
but with a boyish youthfulness that's...  It's, uh, hard to find the 
words in this language... “ 

“Well, I guess I am a bit funny looking to elf girls...” he said with
chagrin. 

“What my daughter is trying to tell you,” Nemia patiently explained,
smiling at his fluster, “Is that you are without a doubt, and by far, 
the most handsome human male any of us have ever seen.” 

“Yes indeed.” Hilsith added.  “It's quite amazing what a transformation
a barbering has made of you.” 

“Oh yes!” Talia sincerely agreed.  “You are beautiful!  With your
amazing size, you look like a god!” 

“Oh come now!” he protested.  “You're teasing me, right?  I mean, I know
I'm not ugly or anything, but I sure wouldn't go that far!” 

The three elfesses looked at each other, and burst out giggling like
schoolgirls. 

“Of course we're teasing you!” Nemia laughed as she opened her tailor's
basket.  “How could anyone look like a god in the clothes you're 
wearing?  Now, are you a virgin?” 

“Wha?  What?”! He sputtered indignantly.  “What kind of question is that
to ask a fellow?!” 

Hilsith and Talia giggled even harder. 

“Hush you two!  It's a very important question, Mark.  Male or female,
virgins must wear white when they stand upon the podium of the wedding 
chapel to be joined in matrimony, and only virgins may wear it there.  
And so we must know.  Talia will wear white.  Will you?” 

He became so mortified that he stared at his feet and blushed crimson. 

Talia and Hilsith felt so much for his embarrassment that they stopped
giggling. 

“Yes.  I'll wear white.” he whispered, barely able to get the words out.
 He flinched in anticipation of another round of feminine giggling, but 
it never came. 

Instead there was a pause, followed by Talia sighing; “Oh, that is so
sweet!” 

He actually heaved a sigh of relief that they hadn't laughed at him. 

“Here, have some tea and something to eat.” Hilsith said as she poured
him a cup.  “This tea is not magic, but the herbs are a mild drug.  It 
will help you feel relaxed and centered, and refreshed.” 

“All right, you will both wear white.” Nemia continued briskly.  “Other
than that, how would you like your clothing styled?” 

“Something with a kilt.  Something the other elves won't think looks
strange, and that goes with what Talia will be wearing.  Other than 
that, I'll leave it up to you to decide.” 

“Very wisely said.” Nemia nodded as she laid out needles, scissors and
such.  “I have just the thing in mind, and I noted your measurements 
earlier, when Alilia got them from Yazadril so she could enlarge your 
chair.” 

While Mark ate and drank, Nemia quickly made him a fine white silk kilt
with a gold pin to secure it and a one inch wide band of gold trim 
magically attached along the hem, as well as a matching white shirt 
with gold trim along the bottom edge, at the sleeves and around the 
neck line.  Sometimes she used scissors and needle and thread, and 
sometimes she cut or joined with magic, humming as she slid the 
material between pinched fingertips.  Mark wondered why she sometimes 
chose one method and sometimes another, but his mind was already so 
filled with newness and explanations that he refrained from asking. 

Hilsith reclined on the couch and sang sweet love songs from the human
lands to the north-east, and though Mark had never heard any of them 
before and the words were in a language he didn't understand, they did 
help greatly to soothe his mind. 

Talia sat perched on the arm of his chair with her feet on the seat
between his knees and her chin in her hands, smiling and watching him. 

“I saw a girl with that expression once.  She had just been given a new
pony.” Mark chuckled, quiet and rumbling. 

Talia just smiled a little wider. 

“You know, I could swear that I can almost see that wall move!” he
remarked. 

“You can.” Talia giggled.  “Theramin cast it for my father.  You were
thinking hard then, and you missed it.  See, wood is slowly flowing 
from the ceiling, leaving it higher, down the walls beside the door and 
into the balcony, which is growing larger.  And the door is getting 
larger, and the railing is getting higher.  Though it's not finished 
yet, I think you can stand comfortably in there now, and there's room 
on the balcony for about ten elves to join you when you have your chair 
here.” 

“Wow, that's right!  It's so slow I didn't even notice it!” 

“This is almost finished, Mark.” Nemia told him as she held it up. 
“Come in here, and we'll see how it looks on you. 

He stood, and the doorway was an inch over his head, and when he stepped
inside the ceiling was clear of his height by a foot. 

“This is much better!” he laughed. 

Nemia floated up four feet, holding the shirt by the shoulders, and held
it against Mark.  She had to reach so wide to reach his shoulders that 
her bosom almost touched his chest, and he thrilled for a moment at her 
nearness and her scent, then blushed crimson again. 

Talia giggled uncontrollably, though she was trying to suppress it. 

Nemia was oblivious to all of that. “Yes, that should do nicely.” she
commented as she handed the shirt to him and settled back to the floor, 
then handed him the kilt as well.  “Try it on.” 

“Where?” 

“Pardon me?” Nemia blinked. 

Hilsith would have giggled had she not been engaged in song. 

“Where should I go to try it on?” he asked patiently. 

Nemia looked baffled.  “Where... would you like to go to try it on?” 

Now his eyebrows rose in surprise, then lowered in consternation. 
“I'm... really not familiar with your home, Nemia.  I'm sure wherever 
you choose would be fine.” 

“Oh.  About one pace to your left would be nice.  You would be within
the sunbeam coming through the doorway.” 

At Mark's expression, Hilsith was so struck with mirth that she could no
longer sing or play, and had to stop to laugh aloud. 

“Ahh, you are still such a young elf, Nemia!” she chuckled as she set
her harp aside and poured more tea.  “I think you have never been 
beyond The Nine Valleys!  His people have a strong nudity taboo, and he 
would like to change his clothing in a private place.” 

“Oh.” Nemia stated in surprise.  “Well, I have been beyond to visit
Alilia in the forest lands with Yazadril, and I knew of the taboo.  I 
didn't think it applied to us here, as you are his Healer, and I am his 
tailor, and how could we do these things without seeing him naked?  I 
thought exceptions were made for such things.” 

“There was no offense given.” Mark explained patiently.  “I'll just
change in another room. 

“I must go with you.” Talia softly told him.  “I was given to you, and
Alilia said that she pictured me being with you as you went about your 
life.  Now I'm terrified that if I leave your side, it will trigger the 
curse.  Beyond what it would make us do, simply feeling it active 
within me is horrible.” 

Mark went to one knee and gently hugged her.  “That's okay.  Here's what
we'll do.  One of you amazing wizards will shake the hair out of that 
big white cloth and hang it in a circle.  I'll stand in it and change 
my clothes.  You can be close enough to touch me.  All right?” 

“Thank you.  That is very considerate.” Talia mumbled into the side of
his neck. 

“And very practical, since the other rooms are still a foot too low for
you to stand up in.” Nemia pointed out with a smile as she collected 
the clippings with a gestured spell and tucked them into a small cloth 
bag, which she handed to Talia.  “I'm sure it would be difficult to 
tell how well your new things fit you if you were hunched over like 
that.” 

Soon the cloth was hung and he changed into his new clothes.  “There's
no buttons in the front of the shirt.” he commented. 

Nemia slid a two-inch wide gold mesh belt under the edge of the hanging
cloth.  “Wrap the front of the shirt around, one side over the other, 
and hold it in place with this belt around your waist.” 

He considered his under-breeks, which were tattered but spotlessly
clean, thanks to Nemia's spell.  He slid them under the edge of the 
cloth.  “Could you make me a new pair of these?  Those are about worn 
out.” 

In only moments she passed him a new, white pair, and he drew them on
under the kilt.  They were tighter, and made of very thin, supple 
material, and only covered half as much of him as his old pair.  “Hey!  
These are... different!” he protested. 

“If they were like your old ones, they would spoil the line of your new
clothing.”  Nemia explained, and he had no response to that.  “Are they 
uncomfortable?” 

“No...  Actually, they're very comfortable!” he marveled. 

He stepped out when he was ready, and while Hilsith played and Talia
grinned, Nemia adjusted the hang a bit to eliminate folds under the 
belt.  “There!” she declared.  “Now just a few touches to finish it 
off.” 

She handed him a pair of soft white leather sandals that laced halfway
up his calves.  When he had them on and tied, she floated up to him 
holding a diamond.  “Hold still a moment.  I'm going to set this in 
your hair-clasp.” 

“Hey! Could I see that first?” 

She handed him the glinting stone.  It was a clear, fire-brilliant
diamond as big as the tip of her ring finger. 

“Great spirits of sun and moon!” he breathed.  “If this is real, I could
buy a mansion with it!” 

“Perhaps, though it has a bit of a flaw, there, see?  And I have many of
them.”  Nemia shrugged, and plucked it from his palm to resume her 
task. 

“You have the good fortune to be marrying into a very wealthy family,
Mark.” Hilsith chuckled as she set her harp aside and joined Talia and 
Nemia in looking him up and down. 

“Do I look okay?  I mean, will I look okay to all those Princes and
Princesses?” he asked worriedly. 

With a wave of her arm and a whistled trill, Talia summoned a
full-length mirror from her room.  “Here, let's all stand in the 
sunlight together.” she quietly requested, and when they stood together 
she set and angled the mirror at a distance that allowed them all to 
see themselves in it. 

Even Mark was surprised by his appearance.  The cloth was glossy white
and luxuriously smooth, the gold shining, contrasting with his black 
hair and blue eyes.  The kilt was a bit shorter than he was used to, 
it's gold hem above his knees.  The shirt's gold-trimmed bottom edge 
was even with the top of his hips, gathered at his waist by the gold 
belt, and it covered the waistband of the kilt.  Their proportions 
perfectly accentuated his powerful legs and muscular build. 

Too, he was unprepared for how tiny the three beauties with him looked,
or how gigantic he looked by comparison, as the tallest of the three 
was barely more than half his height. 

“You are so beautiful.” Talia told him quietly.  “Even you must admit,
you look like a god.” 

He was saved from having to reply by the return of Yazadril.  “Well
done, my loves, well done indeed!” he commended.  “He is magnificent!  
He would brighten any court in the world!” 

“Thank you.” Nemia smiled as she stepped to his side for a hug. 

“Now, if you could finish preparing Talia, I could show them something
I'm eager for them to see!” 

“Talia will not take long, only a few moments.” Nemia told him with a
smile and a kiss on the cheek.  She went down the hall to her and 
Yazadril's bedroom, and returned with a package wrapped in fine red 
paper, tied with a red ribbon.  Her face beaming with pride, she handed 
it to her daughter, who reverently received it, and stepped within the 
hanging cloth for Mark's sake. 

“Like all mothers and daughters, they have dreamt of this day for
years.” Yazadril told Mark with quiet pride.   “They have considered a 
thousand plans before deciding, and Nemia has labored for countless 
hours over Talia's wedding dress.” 

Mark could almost feel the words that Yazadril did not speak, that the
same was true of Dalia.  He felt humbled by the old elf's courage and 
fortitude, and that of his family; that they could carry on so well 
only one day after their tragic loss. 

Then Talia stepped from behind the curtain with a shy smile, and it was
Mark's turn to gape.  Her dress was also white, with similar gold trim 
around the floor-length hem and the cuffs of the sleeves, and he could 
readily believe that Nemia had labored many hours to produce such 
perfect simplicity.  The sleeves flared from snug around her shoulders 
to swirling gracefully about her hands, as the dress flared from snug 
around mid-thigh to swirling loosely at the hem.  From shoulder down to 
mid-thigh the soft, supple cloth clung to her skin, hugging her slim 
curves in a way that was hypnotic.  Depending on how she moved and the 
angle of the light, it seemed to vary from covering her modestly to 
concealing no more than a light dusting of flour.  The neckline came to 
a point between her breasts, framing a large teardrop diamond on a gold 
chain.  Her waves of light golden-blond hair cascaded down her back, 
with the tops of her delicately pointed ears peeking through.  Her tiny 
feet were shod in white satin slippers, with white ribbons that twined 
to the top of her ankle. 

She waited with her eyes down for long moments, and finally raised her
gaze to his.  The naked hope for his approval in her expression brought 
a lump to his throat.  “My Talia, you are beautiful beyond measure.” he 
breathed in wonder. 

“He's right, Love.” Yazadril proudly smiled.  “You are as beautiful as
it is possible for a girl to be.” 

“Exquisite work, Nemia.” Hilsith congratulated.  “It truly accentuates
her to perfection.” 

“Talia long ago decided on the white and gold theme, which is carried on
in the decorations at the chapel.” Nemia revealed as she moved the 
mirror so Talia could see herself.  “Too, she decided that she would 
contrast herself from the assembled finery with a dress of studied 
simplicity.  I think I did rather well with it, for she looks 
beautiful, and Mark's ensemble was derived from it.  Males are so much 
easier to dress.” 

“Oh Mother, it's wonderful!” Talia quietly exclaimed, turning side to
side as she watched herself, enjoying the swirl of the cloth. 

Mark went to one knee beside her, and she laid her arm across his
shoulder as they smiled at their reflection.  Soon Mark was grinning 
widely.  “Wow!  We really look great!” he laughed, and then the room 
seemed to shine with gaiety. 

“Off with you now, then, while I get prepared!” Nemia said as she took
down the hanging cloth.  “And Yazadril, show them what you have to 
show, then come up to change.  The more I think of it, the more I think 
it would be wise to arrive early.” 

“No doubt you're right, my dear.” he agreed thoughtfully.  “And I've
changed my mind about what I'll wear.  I think I'll wear the, ah, more 
traditional outfit.” 

“I see.” Nemia nodded with a thoughtful look.  “Good choice.  It will
better match the theme.” 

“Yes, that too.  Come you two.” Yazadril chuckled, as he led the way to
a door just off the kitchen, and down a set of spiral stairs within the 
wood, lit by glowing spheres set at intervals overhead.  Mark carefully 
sidled down the tight passage behind Yazadril and Talia for thirty 
feet, to a chamber that was completely enclosed in the heart of the 
tree.  “My workshop.  Safer if it's separate from the rest of the 
home.”  Yazadril explained to Mark as he unlatched and opened a very 
thick wood door, and led them within.  The room was round and twenty 
feet wide, and the domed ceiling was just high enough near the center 
for Mark to stand up straight.  Curved work benches of elven size lined 
the walls, below racks and shelves of neatly arrayed tools, implements 
and materials, the nature of most of which was a complete mystery to 
Mark. 

“I've always loved this place.” Talia smiled as she looked around. 


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