Chapter Thirty-Three

Ceremony

The morning saw notched posts, formed poles, tapered beams, and smoothed planks carried into the courtyard and assembled into a wedding scaffold by the burly lumber wenches. Cartjaggers, having nothing important left to do since their vedling carts remained loaded and secured for departure, milled about observing the hurry of the pennant hangers, garland drapers, kitchen workers, cobble buffers, and everyone other else laboring wordlessly or flying to task. A fair two hours of span was all it took for the Castle to transform so such into a seemingly towered wedding cake.

High from a turret sounded the Great Horn. Its singular long blaring note threw all citizenry and guests into a boil, sent ‘em rushing to assigned positions of observation. Having reached those so said positions with some amount of skidding, nudging, and rustling, the assembled crowd hushed and stilled. All eyes turned to the drawbridge gate. The nester musicians surrounding the wedding scaffold in a neat and precise square struck up the ‘Royal Tune of Blossom’. At the first chord, Zootch stepped forth from the tower flanking the drawbridge on the left. A gasp. Truth, for the greater number of the gathered masses, it was their first sight of a Blossom Prince in magnificent pummeled gold and battered silver finery. He advanced to the scaffold, head high, walking on the unrolled stripe of purple carpet fringed with gold. Up the steps to the topmost platform he boldly strode. He turned to face the drawbridge. The crowd turned with him. The music ceased.

Down to the drawbridge descended the ladder stairs from Cloud Castle City. A moment of silence, of expectation, followed. Nimble Missst appeared in azure splendor. The nester musicians began to play ‘The Slow March of Weddings and Taffy Pulls’. The crowd forgot to breathe, so enthralled were they by the unfolding spectacle. Nimby, thinking Ridiculous, nevertheless walked the steps in time to the stately march. She walked the purple carpet, walked the scaffold steps, reached Zootch’s side, and turned to give a nod to a herald who waited for that very signal. The herald ran importantly to the ladder steps and waved up at Cloud Castle City. Now the flow of craggers and hollowites and various others streamed down the ladder steps into the courtyard and filled all the empty spaces there. Motty was among ‘em, spinning in dance and looping her tongue. A long minute of silence ensued, interrupted only by random coughs and one sneeze. A nester musician holding a hand harp stepped one pace forward and began to play ‘Enchanting May’, a song so such written long ago to honor Lady May of Orrun. Azure splendor again appeared on the ladder steps. Nimble Missst’s family glided down. Her father, her mother, her grandfather, her grandmother, all moved along the purple carpet and up to take their proper positions on the marriage scaffold. As the final plucked harp note faded, all on the scaffold turned as one to face the doors of the Great Hall. The doors swung open. Gasps of disbelief. Zootch’s knees buckled. His face paled.

Side by side, stiff and tight-lipped, were Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen Zilp and Zootch’s mother, the Quing of Blossom Castle! Behind the pair of ‘em smiling weakly was Kinng Forr. Next to him was the stone-faced Quang. To the scaffold they advanced, dignified, haughty. To their prime ceremonial positions they moved while the nester musicians played ‘Blossoms in Bloom’. The Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen stood on Nimble Missst’s right. The Quing planted herself on Zootch’s left. Zootch felt sick. Nimby felt ridiculous. After a torture of time, ‘Blossoms in Bloom’, the long version, concluded.

“Citizens of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined, and of Cloud Castle City, in addition, my glee is unmasked. My adored and playful sister has been harvested here by waterwizard magic to attend and witness the joy. We have spent the morning frolicking like fresh dew-browed buds, dancing and singing and laughing without tethers. We larked in memories of when we were tender shoots romping carelessly on the terraces,” droned Zilp through motionless lips.

“I bow low in honor of my Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeenly sister,” said the Quing, not moving a muscle.

Nimble Missst’s eyes flicked glances left and right. Where is he? she thought. He told me he was free of magic. Hmmmmm … He’s free of magic, but he still knows where to find it and use it! Hah! Her snapjaw mind fully engaged, her eyes searched the crowd. She saw what she sought. A ripple of wind ruffled a tarp on a vedling cart. Through the crowd the ripple moved, bending feathers on caps, shivering cloaks. Though it was too far away to hear if it chuckled, Nimble Missst knew that such was so. I’ll carve him a few choice words! I’ll … Of a sudden she realized all was silence and every eye was fixed on her.

“Well?” droned Zilp.

“Well what?” retorted Nimble Missst.

“Will you continue this unbearable torture, or will you gladly step into the oats?” said the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen in her emotionless manner.

“Oh, that. Why not?” said Nimble Missst.

She saw Zootch already standing in his formal bowl of oats. She stepped nimbly into hers. They were wed.