The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Nineteen

Tracou managed to maintain contact with Mirthal until the end of the ceremony, meaning that he had spent maybe five minutes with his upper body against his. Once Serpouhi and Garin finished, Tracou moved away from Mirthal, worried that Pendaer would notice without a large distraction in front of him. It hurt to do it. But, surely, Pendaer screeching about it in the middle of Serpouhi's wedding would be even worse.

The party began the instant the couple traded their wands back to each other. People left the blankets and crowded the tables, taking what they pleased. Stepan and other fishermen had been employed (begrudgingly) by Tracou to manage the guests and keep the area at a pleasant temperature. Most of the fishermen did the minimum, but Stepan had brought his familiar, using it to watch from above.

The sky darkened. People ate and, once finished, approached the couple to congratulate them. Tracou watched this, chewing on some meatless pastries prepared especially for his elves. He should give his well wishes, too.

"Mirthal?"

Just having shoved something into his mouth, Mirthal jolted, chewing with vigor until he had mashed it enough to get it down his throat.

"Hm?"

All that effort and Mirthal had ended up making a noise he could have made with his mouth full.

"We have to go up and say something to the newlyweds. Let me teach you what to say."

"Okay."

"Why, exactly, can't we go up and say something in Aodehsh? You can translate for us. There's no need for us to learn any Dezmerian!"

"It's polite!"

"It's stupid."

Mirthal grunted. "Quiet, Pendaer. I want to hear this."

With Pendaer now handled, Tracou went through the word congratulations with Mirthal over and over, earning them stares from any nearby villagers.

Finally he managed an approximation—k'ngradjoolayshunz. Good enough! Nearly the whole village had finished speaking with the couple, so they had to hurry.

Tracou led Mirthal (and Pendaer, unfortunately) up to Serpouhi and Garin, who sat on newly finished wooden chairs. Serpouhi's had been painted red and decorated with yellow patterns, while Garin's remained quarter-finished, with splotches of green paint spread haphazardly on the wood.

Serpouhi's eyes brightened when she saw them. Garin appeared impassive, his earlier nervousness being the most Tracou had ever seen him emote. Frankly, Serpouhi's taste in men had always baffled him.

"May today be the beginning of a strong, fruitful union," Tracou said, repeating a formal greeting one of the women in Garin's family had insisted he give.

With that done, Tracou turned his gaze to Mirthal, who nodded. Mirthal had more or less mastered good morning, so this should go well!

"K'ngradjoolayshunz," he said, each syllable carefully formed before he pushed it out of his mouth.

After Mirthal had completed his duty, Pendaer echoed a small, "shunz," shocking Tracou so badly that he wore it openly on his face. Thankfully for the both of them, Pendaer kept his gaze on the sky above.

"Thank you," Serpouhi said, ripping his attention away from Pendaer. "I hope you manage to forge a strong, fruitful union, too."

"It wouldn't be fruitful."

"Fruitful can mean different things!"

"Like?"

"Productive," Garin cut in with his scratchy voice.