Free The Thread That Binds the Bones by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Richard Bober

stomach the light was greener, closer to the color he saw in his own hand.
    He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. One of the ghosts ventured near them.
    Uncle Jezra spoke in that other language, his voice reaching out to touch everyone. As he spoke silvery shimmers came from his mouth, and as people responded, turquoise sparkles rose from their mourns, spinning above the circle, waltzing with the silver in visible harmony. Laura leaned her head against Tom’s shoulder, her gaze fixed on Uncle Jezra. Tom watched the colors dance, then looked at the nearby ghost.
    —Peregrine? Tom thought.
    The ghost nodded.—Thank you for honoring my Family.
    —What?
    —By accepting this bud from my tree, and granting it communion with your seed.
    Laura murmured something, touched her finger to her lips, and gestured, as everyone else was doing. Tom suppressed his confusion.
    —Peregrine, please help me.
    —By your leave. The ghost walked into him. He blinked again, and listened with ears and mind as Peregrine whispered a running translation while Jezra spoke, and used Tom’s lips, tongue, and throat to join in the ceremony.
    “By the chain of lives from our past into our future, we bind ourselves, muscle, blood, bone, and mind, pledging our time and gifts to the betterment of the Family,” Tom said in concert with everyone else.
    “By the air above and the earth below. By the water that runs within us. By the sacred fire.” Uncle Jezra clapped and a flame appeared, dancing in the air above the altar. “From the fire we each take sparks, feeding the flames of ourselves. Through the fire we temper and ennoble ourselves. When two flames join together with the assent of the Presences and Powers, we rejoice in the continuation of our line.”
    Jezra lifted the clay bowl. It had something in it. “Through the goodness of the Powers, we have sustenance. Will all partake?”
    The bowl traveled around the circle and each person scooped a double fingerful of the bowl’s contents, and tasted. Tom, still ravenous, was ready to reach for a handful, but Peregrine guided him into taking only a little.—It’s symbolic of the Starving Time, when all we had to eat was this. There must be enough for all.
    It was a gray paste, which tasted like salted oatmeal.—Salt privilege, Peregrine added.—We who share the sacrament of salt agree not to make war on each other.
    “By the goodness of the Powers, we have drink. Will all partake?”
    The goblet’s contents proved to be water, a relief after the salt, but not enough of one.
    “We stand here gathered, one people, to join these two children together ... Will you, Michael Bolte, take Alyssa Locke as your wife?”
    “I sure will,” he said.
    “Will you, Alyssa Locke, take Michael Bolte as your husband?”
    “I will,” she said, her voice firm but low.
    “Then, by my status as eldest, by Powers and Presences above and below, by ancestors and descendants, by earth and sea and sun and sky, by permission and with joyous boldness I do pronounce you husband and wife; may your life together be sweet and long and fruitful and full of gifts. Give me your hands.”
    They placed their hands on the capstone. Jezra lifted the little knife and nicked their index fingers. “Mingle blood as covenant of the closeness you will share; grow greater as two become one,” he said. Michael and Alyssa pressed their fingers together.
    “Now kiss each other, and rise to greet your guests, Alyssa and Michael Bolte.” He crowned Michael and Alyssa with the lily-and-rose wreaths. They kissed and stood up, turned, and clasped hands, smiling at everyone.
    —Well done, Peregrine thought.
    —Pretty, Tom thought.
    Peregrine snorted mentally.
    Laura smiled up at Tom. He thought about kissing her, then’remembered he had a guest, which might complicate things.—Are you planning to stay inside me? Tom asked, not sure what to do if the answer was yes.
    —Are you inviting me?
    —No!
    Peregrine laughed out