The rest of his attention was on Miera, trying to read the small masklike face shadowed by the great embroidered hood. Her eyes were aimed firmly at the ground, her mouth was steady, and it was too dark in the grove to see if she was pale under her heavy makeup.

The priest finished preparing the ceremonial fire, then called on the watchers to bear witness as he dropped the torch onto the sticks. They had been soaked in resin so they would burn even after being drenched with wine, and the flames roared up with an impressive crackling. Blade had to brush embers off Miera's hood.

Then the fire showed him something which drove Miera right out of his mind. The flames lit up the reflector behind the altar. Blade saw the side toward the fire was machine smooth under its coating of ancient soot. The edges were curled and curved as if they'd been cut with a torch or perhaps torn by an explosion. In the center of the reflector was a circular disk, with a hole on either side and three unmistakable bolts holding it in place. Blade wished he dared to move far enough to see the other side of the reflector. From where he was it remained tantalizingly beyond his field of vision.

That reflector was a piece of worked metal, far beyond any technology he'd seen or heard of in this Dimension. Where did it come from? Blade thought of the legend of the «falling star» and the Feathered Ones. Was the reflector a piece of a spaceship which brought the feathermonkeys to this world? Did the priest know enough about its origins to make it worthwhile asking him any questions?

Blade realized suddenly that the priest was looking at him impatiently. The actual oath taking by the bridal couple must be about to start. Blade remembered that a single misspoken or omitted word could make the marriage invalid, and forced himself to concentrate on the oaths he'd memorized so carefully.

Yet he couldn't get the mystery of the reflector out of his mind, until the time came to kiss the bride. He gripped Miera's hood with both hands and pushed it back from her face. The hood was so stiff with embroidery that it was like raising a rusty visor on a helmet. Then he saw that her eyes were almost closed, and tears were making trails down both cheeks.

This will never do, he thought. Miera must have seen that his thoughts were elsewhere and come to the conclusion that he was reluctant to marry her! He bent and kissed her much harder than custom required. Her lips didn't quite open under his, but after a moment they started trembling. Then he heard the shouts of the witnesses as they all hailed the newlyweds, and the priest raising his voice in a triumphant chant.

Duke Cyron came forward and led Blade and Miera away from the altar. Blade wanted to look back for a final glimpse of the mysterious reflector, but the memory of the tears on Miera's face made him keep looking at her.

Outside the narrow window of the bridal chamber, rain was falling. Its sound drowned out Blade's footsteps as he pulled the door shut behind him and walked across the carpeted stone floor toward the bed. The chamber was dark except for one small candle perched on a low table beside the window. In the light of that candle, he thought he saw something move outside the window. A second look showed nothing.

Probably just candlelight reflected on the rain.

He walked to the huge canopied bed, pulled open the curtains, and peered inside. He'd expected to find Miera already snuggled down under the blankets, and half hoped to find her asleep. If she was, they could consummate the marriage in the morning just as well as tonight, and never mind the people outside waiting for the groom's announcement! At least this wasn't one of those Dimensions where the witnesses stood around the bed itself, listening for the bride's cry!

The bed was empty. Blade shut the curtains, turned, and searched the room with his eyes. At first it seemed that Miera had vanished entirely. He had a momentary nasty thought of secret passages. Then he saw a patch of paler darkness in one corner. He walked over and pulled the hood of Miera's night robe back from her head. She smiled stiffly up at him as he undid the brooch which held the robe at her throat. The robe dropped to the floor, leaving Miera standing only in a green silk shift with lace at the wrists and throat. It was just thin enough to give Blade tantalizing hints of the lovely body inside.

«Get yourself into bed, Miera,» he said softly. «You'll be cold standing here.» She shook her head and didn't move, except to flinch when he laid a hand on her shoulder to steer her toward the bed. He gave up and started pulling his own bed robe over his head.

He'd completely covered his head when he heard Miera scream. At the same time something landed hard on top of the robe. Blade's first thought was, Assassins! Then he heard a familiar yip-yip-yip.

Cheeky!

Blade jerked the robe down so violently that seams ripped. Cheeky held on, until Blade wanted to yell at the pain of having his hair pulled out in monkey-sized handfuls. Then the Feathered One bent far forward, holding on with both feet and looping his tail around his master's neck. Both hands clutched at the shoulder of Miera's shift, sharp little claws pierced the fabric, and there was a brisk ripping sound. The shift gaped and started to slide off Miera's body, she screamed again, and Blade let out a roar of fury.

Everyone in the hall must have heard that roar. Fists started hammering on the locked door, and Blade heard his name called. He reached up, gripped Cheeky firmly with both hands, and pulled him free. Blade was half-choked before the feather-monkey unwound his tail, and several more clumps of hair came free.

He held Cheeky out in front of him at arm's length. For a long moment he understood why some Lords murdered their Feathered Ones. He looked at Miera, cowering in a corner and clutching her shift to her body, and fought a strong urge to hurl Cheeky out the window. The little brute must have climbed up the outside wall of the keep as soon as he knew which room Blade would be using!

As he glared at Cheeky, a change came over the feather-monkey. His eyes closed, his tail curled up tightly, and he gave a little whimper. He knew he'd gone much too far, that Blade wasn't taking his prank as a joke. He was very sorry. One hand reached out toward Miera. She stiffened, then forced herself to take a step forward. Cheeky patted her on the forehead and whimpered again.

Then with a splintering crash the locked door flew open, broken down from the outside. Half a dozen of the would-be witnesses sprawled in a pile on the rug. Miera jumped, lost her grip on her shift, and for a moment stood stark naked in front of the men on the floor. Blade moved to get in front of her, but she darted across the room and vanished through the curtains of the bed. He swore again under his breath, then sighed. He hoped the rest of this marriage would be better than the wedding night, which was beginning to look like a complete disaster.

The men on the floor untangled themselves and stood up, apologizing for having let their fears for his and Miera's safety get the better of them. He listened to the apologies in a chilly silence, then held out Cheeky.

«Take my little friend here and see that he stays out of this room. Give him some wine, and maybe he'll go to sleep.» He scratched Cheeky's back, and the feather-monkey squirmed with pleasure. «You'll never know how close you came to being splattered all over the wall, you little bastard!»

When the door closed again, Blade promptly dragged every loose piece of furniture in the room in front of the door. Nobody else was going to get in tonight without using a battering ram! He was stripping off his bed robe again when a thought struck him. The way Cheeky had behaved when he realized he'd gone too far had indeed seemed to indicate that the Feathered One was apologizing. But why had Blade actually heard the words «I'm sorry» in his head?