Chapter 33

Part 4

“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 ten meters, 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 six meters 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.

“Talia told me of your thoughts, about letting the binding of your wedding vows affect you.” Yazadril told Mark as he fetched an item from a workbench and held it up. It was a twenty-five centimeter long, two centimeter wide, thin steel band with rounded ends, bent smoothly into a C, with five thin steel tines protruding from the middle of one edge. “Now, when I cast a mild Tranquility upon you yesterday, I altered my own vibration, and so the vibration of the spell, so that it could affect you. It’s a different thing to change your vibration, to negate your special quality and allow magic to affect you. None-the-less, if I’ve transposed the notes I used correctly, and made no mistake in the theory, the mathematics, or the crafting of it, this should do the trick.”

He plucked the ends of the tines, all five at once, and the notes they made formed an eerie, shimmering chord. “If this works, as long as you’re wearing this and the tines are ringing, it will alter the vibration of the most crucial parts of your brain, and hence your nervous system, and magic should affect you. It will be most effective as the tines are first plucked, and the effect will fade as the sound and vibration fades. So, if you want a spell to affect you at a somewhat constant rate, strum it like this.” He brushed his fingertips rapidly back and forth over the five tines like he was strumming a lute, and the chord rang out constantly.

“If you want to wear it without it affecting you, slide this little velvet envelope over the tines to damp their vibration. Let’s try it, shall we? Could you bend down a bit?”

Mark bent down, and Yazadril slid the band onto his head. The ends squeezed the side of his head at the top of his temples, holding the metal in firm contact across his forehead, with the tines encased in black velvet sticking up from the center. It was uncomfortable, but not greatly so.

“Now we will test your heat tolerance.” Yazadril explained. “I will lightly hold your left index finger close to this candle flame, far enough away that it will not hurt at first, but close enough that soon the pain will make your arm pull the finger away. Just let it do so.”

They conducted the test, and when Mark jerked his hand away and stuck his fingertip in his mouth, Yazadril nodded. “Just short of six seconds. A bit longer than I expected. Dry your finger with this handkerchief. Now I will create another burning candle entirely from magic, but otherwise identical in every way to the mundane candle. Do you see it?” Yazadril asked, holding it out to Mark.

“No. To me your hand is empty, though curved to hold something candle shaped.”

“Talia?”

“It looks exactly the same as the other candle to me, Father.”

“Excellent. Now give me your finger again, Mark.”

He held the tip of Mark’s finger in the center of the flame for ten seconds. “You feel nothing?”

“No. Just you holding my finger.”

Talia whistled softly, eyebrows raised. “Now to me, that is spooky!” she commented.