Maxard took her arm. “We should go.”

His touch startled her into motion. She descended from the coach, onto a flagstone that glinted with mica even in the purple shadows. Her heels clicked as she crossed the courtyard, stepping from stone to stone to avoid the mud.

The Spectral Temple, also called the Special Functions House, was a terraced pyramid with a staircase climbing its left side. Rays from the setting sun hit the stairs at just the right angle to make a snake of light curve down them to the statue of a starlizard’s head at the bottom, creating a serpent of radiance and stone.

On the front face of the temple, a huge starlizard’s head opened its mouth in a roar, forming an entrance. Its front four legs stretched out on the ground, its back legs were braced against the slanting wall, and its tail coiled around the base of the pyramid. As Kamoj watched, a sunray hit the lizard’s crystal eyes and arcs of light appeared on either side of its head, an effect created by the temple’s ancient architect to mimic the Perihelia spirits, sometimes called Sun Lizards or Jul Lizards, that guarded the temple.

True sun lizards appeared in the sky as partial halos of light on either side of the sun, like pale rainbows, with a long serpent’s tail of white light extending out from them. Their favored time was near dusk, as the bright, tiny Jul descended to the horizon, scantily dressed in wispy clouds, while the sky overhead darkened to a deep, deep violet. During winter, when ice crystals filled the air, Perihelia and Halo spirits graced the heavens in arcs and rings, and even appeared around the head of a favored person’s shadow when it lay across a dew-covered expanse of tubemoss at dawn.

Lionstar’s group reached the Jul Lizard first. He stopped under the overhang of its fanged mouth and waited, his cowled head turned toward Kamoj. She came up with her retinue and they stopped. After they had all stood that way for several moments, she flushed, wondering what Lionstar wanted. Didn’t he know he should go in first?

One of Lionstar’s stagmen spoke to him in a low voice. He nodded, then turned and entered the temple with his retinue. Relieved, Kamoj followed with her own people. No one spoke. She wondered if Lionstar could even talk. No one she knew had ever heard him do it.

Inside, sunset light trickled through slits high in the walls. Stone benches filled the interior, except for a dais at the far end, where a polished stone table stood. Decorating the table were carvings of Argali vine designs, those motifs known as Bessel integrals in ancient Iotaca. Genuine rose vines and ferns heaped the table, filling the air with fragrance, fresh and clean.

Around the walls, more garlands hung from statues of several Current spirits-the Airy Rainbows, the Glories, and the Nimbi. In the wall slits above the statues, light slanted through faceted windows with water misted between the double panes, creating spectral arcs of color. Music graced the air, from breezes blowing through fluted chambers on the ceiling, hidden within bas relief depictions of the Spherical Harmonic wraiths. Today it all seemed unreal.

As the retinues and villagers sat on the benches, Kamoj walked to the far end of the temple with Maxard at her side and Lionstar preceding them. The priestess, Airysphere Prism, waited by the flower-bedecked table. Taller than average, Airys had dark eyes and glossy black hair that fell to her waist.

When Lionstar reached Airys, he turned to watch Kamoj. At least she assumed he was watching. His cowl hid his face. Even when she reached him, she saw only darkness within that hood, perhaps a glint of metal.

Maxard bowed to him. “Argali welcomes you, Governor Lionstar.”

Lionstar nodded. After an awkward silence, Maxard flushed, though whether from anger or shame at the implied insult in that silence, Kamoj didn’t know.

Finally her uncle took her hands. “May the Current always flow for you, Kami.”

She squeezed his fingers. “And you, dear Uncle.”

Maxard swallowed. Then he let her go and left the dais, going to sit on the front bench with Lyode.

“It is done?” Lionstar asked.

Kamoj almost jumped. His voice was deep and resonant, with a heavy accent. On the word “is,” it vibrated like a stringed instrument.

Airys blinked, the vertical slits of her pupils opening wide in the shadowed temple. With her large eyes and delicate features she looked almost ethereal herself. “Do you refer to the ceremony?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lionstar said.

“It hasn’t begun.” She took a scroll from the table and unrolled it. Glyphs covered the parchment in starlight blue ink and Argali colors. She offered it to Lionstar, and he took it with black-gloved hands.

“Governor Argali,” Airys said. “Give me your hand.”

After Kamoj extended her arm, Airys took it and said, “In the name of Spectra Luminous I give this man to you.” She turned. “Havyrl Lionstar, give me your hand.” When he complied, Airys took a vine from the altar and tied his and Kamoj’s wrists together, bedecking them in roses and scale-leaves. Looking up at Lionstar, she said, “You may read the contract now.”

Kamoj waited for him to decline. No one ever actually read the contract. Only scholars knew how to read, after all, and only the most gifted knew ancient Iotaca. Most people considered the scroll a fertility prayer. Kamoj had her doubts; Airys had managed to translate a few parts of it for her, and to Kamoj it sounded more like a legal document than a poem. She supposed lovers preferred to see matters in terms of moons and fertility, though.

In any case, the groom always returned the scroll. Then the wedding couple spoke a blessing they had composed themselves. Kamoj hadn’t written anything and she doubted Lionstar had either, so they would simply go on with the ceremony.

Except they didn’t. Lionstar read the scroll.

As his voice rumbled, indrawn breaths came from their audience. Kamoj doubted anyone in Argali had ever heard the blessing spoken at a merger, let alone with such power. Lionstar had a deep voice, with an unfamiliar accent and the burr of a vibrato. It also sounded slurred.

When he finished, the only sounds in the temple were the faint calls of evening birds outside.

Finally he said, “This ceremony, is it done?”

Airys managed to recover. “The vows are finished, if that is what you mean.”

He gave her the scroll. Then he untied the vine joining his and Kamoj’s wrists and draped it around Kamoj’s neck so the roses spilled over her breasts. She stiffened, jarred by the break with tradition; they weren’t supposed to undo the vine until they consummated the marriage. Before she had a chance to speak, he took her elbow, turned her around, and headed for the entrance, bringing her with him.

Murmurs came from the watchers, a rustle of clothes, the clink of diskmail. Belatedly Kamoj realized he had misunderstood: he thought the ceremony was over when it had hardly begun. But the rest was only ritual. The vows were said. Argali and Lionstar had their corporate merger.

They came out into a purple evening. It happened so fast Kamoj barely had time to catch her breath before they reached Lionstar’s coach. Lionstar stopped, looking at something over her head, and she turned to see Maxard coming up to them, flanked by Lyode and Gallium.

Lionstar spoke to her uncle. “Good night, sir.”

Kamoj wondered what he meant. Was “good night” a greeting or a farewell?

Maxard bowed to him. Lionstar nodded, then motioned to his men. As he raised his arm, his cloak parted and revealed his diskmail, a sapphire flash of blue. What metal he did use, to create such a dramatic color? One of his stagmen opened the coach door, and Lionstar put his hand on Kamoj’s arm, with the obvious intent of passing her into the coach.

It was happening too fast. Kamoj balked, turning from Lionstar, and went over to Lyode. As she and Kamoj embraced, Lyode murmured, “You’re like a daughter to me. You remember that. I will always love you.” Her words had the sound of tears.