Free Firewalk by Anne Logston

fair-haired man, more plainly robed, knelt at Brother Santee’s side.
    “My lady,” Terralt said, bowing and taking Kayli’s hand. “Such beauty dazzles me.” He turned to the pregnant woman, pulling Kayli with him. “I make known to you my wife, Ynea.”
    Kayli’s cheeks flamed with humiliation, but to pull her hand from Terralt’s now would appear as if she had cause to feel guilty, so she simply turned to Ynea and extended her free hand.
    “Lady Ynea,” she said, giving the deep bow of respect she had not accorded Terralt. “I am honored to meet you.”
    “I—the honor is mine, Lady Kayli,” Ynea said, stammering a little as if surprised. Despite the thinness and pallor that spoke of ill health, the lady was astonishingly beautiful, with large dark eyes and the delicate, fine bones that made Kayli feel gangling and coarse-featured.
    Randon took Kayli’s hand from Terralt, to Kayli’s relief. “Lady Ynea is of a scholarly nature, like yourself,” Randon said. “The two of you might have much to discuss.”
    “Yes, I—” Ynea glanced at Terralt, flushed, and lowered her eyes. “I’d welcome the companionship.”
    Terralt turned away from his wife, as if dismissing her, took Kayli’s arm again, and turned her bodily toward the robed man near Brother Santee.
    “This is Stevann, our healer,” Terralt said. “He’s been tending your priest—and you, of course, while you were ill.”
    This time Kayli did pull her arm from Terralt’s, occasioning a grin from the lord. Kayli ignored it and bowed to the healer.
    “I am honored to meet you, Br—Lord Stevann,” Kayli said. “I thank you for your care.”
    “You’re most welcome, lady,” Stevann said, his smile lighting pleasant light brown eyes. “But I’m afraid I’m entitled to neither your bow nor the title ‘lord.’ I’m of frightfully common birth.”
    For a moment Kayli was silent with confusion. She’d addressed Stevann as “lord” only because she knew that outside Bregond, mages were not trained in holy orders. But surely the mere achievement of sufficient magical skill to serve a High Lord demanded respect even in Agrond. High Priestess Brisi herself had been the daughter of simple herdsfolk.
    “Forgive me,” Kayli said at last. “In Bregond we honor mages regardless of their birth.” She bowed again, this time the half bow of an equal. “May I then address you as Brother Stevann, as I would a Bregondish mage who has left his temple?”
    Stevann smiled again.
    “I’d find it flattering,” he said. “Thank you, lady. Are you well today?”
    “Quite,” Kayli said quickly. “But Brother Santee, how does he fare?”
    “He took an arrow in his back,” Stevann said, shaking his head. “He should be resting, but he said he’d sooner die than see this wedding performed improperly. Lords, lady, I’d thank you to hasten the ritual so he can go back to his room.”
    “Of course,” Randon said quickly. “If Calder’s ready.”
    The strange priest looked up from a scroll he was reading and grimaced. “I think so, my lord,” he said. “I’ve studied the ceremony as best I could. Please forgive me, Lady Kayli, if Brother Santee must prompt me. If you’ll come to the hearth?”
    Kayli followed Randon to the hearth, surprised that he did not present her to his advisers at the table. They watched her, she thought, rather dubiously; had Terralt, or her own actions, turned them against her? But there was no time to fret now.
    Guards lifted Brother Santee’s litter and carried it forward so that the priest was beside and slightly behind Kayli. Of course; he must take Brisi’s place and give the temple’s permission for her to wed.
    Lord Calder performed the Agrondish ceremony first; to Kayli’s surprise, he spoke not in Agrondish, but some other language of which she understood not a single word. There was a long listing of titles and lands, she guessed that much, but she could only repeat what the priest bade her say,