Chapter 22: The Wedding

The weddingceremony... was nothing to talk about. It was just like all other Eastern Snowplainian weddings. Well, with more decorations. And such. The dinner, Marcia thought, felt like it was going on forever and forever. There was food, deserts, fruits and breads from all kinds of countries that the Eastern Snowplains ruled over. There were usual fruits, like these Marcia was used to, like apples and pears. But then, there were manogs, peaches, ananas, grapes, melons, oranges and a fruit with a hard, green shell but a purple, soft inside. Katimu, or something, she heard that it was called. There were also a lot of soups and stews, like the one Marcia ate, with some kind of fish in it. Then there were a several kinds of meat. And of course there was wine. Wine was, at the time, the thing that the people of the Easter Snowplains drank the most. At least if they had any money. The wine had been, it was said, the national drink for over a thousand years. The dinner itself took three hours to consume, so it could have been worse. Marcia was not only happy because she couldn't eat anymore- she was placed between Milo and Lucian (Ramasotti). Lucian had always made her feel uneasy, and now that Cashmére had told her more about him, he was even more frightening. Luckily, Milo saved her by talking to her all the time. Not that she listened, but it felt safe that someone did talk to her.

Suddenly, Milo stopped. Marcia looked up, and realized that he had asked her something. Oops. "Hrm..." she gazed at him, "What did you say?"

"How often do you gon anywhere by boat?" he asked her. Marcia shrugged.

"Not very often." she answered, "I'm not that fond of them, you see."

"Oh." Milo looked embarassed, "Let's talk about something else, then..."

He had talked about boats all this time? Marcia hadn't noticed. "Hey, you're mr Mellas' apprentcie, aren't you?" he asked. Marcia felt a little shocked. It wasn't that often people talked to her about what she actaully liked.

"Yes." she said, and turned her head of to look at him. "I am."

"I've never understood this properly; what is it that you actually do?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, wizards do have a quite big influence on the Castle, right?" Milo replied, and Marcia nodded, thoughtfuly. Where on earth was he going with this? "So, what do you actually do?" Marcia hated that question. She couldn't answer it, she wasn't allowed to. Besides, she could feel that Lucian started to listen closely to what she said. "Hmm, well, we use magyk." she said. Yesh, she was a bad liar. "You know. To help people with... stuff."

"Oh." Marcia could tell that Milo knew it wasn't the whole truth. But she was glad that he didn't ask more closely. "I see." To Marcia's relief, people started to rise up. So did she, and Milo hurried to get up, he too. Why wouldn't he leave her alone, now? So, Marcia did something she wouldn't do usually: she went looking for her mother.

Trassimma was talking to Naomi Porter. They had, ever since they were... younger always gotten along quite well. Even though they were rather different. Naomi was rather open, friendly, talkative and warm. Trassimma was talkative, but she was... she didn't let people in very much. And sure, she was nice. If you knew her. And maybe not even then. "Hello, mum." Marcia said.

"Hello, Marcia." Trassimma replied. "Where's Milo?"

"I don't know." Marcia looked behind her. At least he hadn't followed her.

"I thought you liked him?"

"Mum, that was when I was fourteen." Marcia sighed. "Not now."

"Why don't you like him, then?"

"Why would I?"

"He's rather handsome, isn't he?" Trassimma said, and Marcia groaned.

"Mum!" maybe it hadn't been such a clever idea to go to her mother, anyways.

"Hello!" Naomi cut in. She had been watching the whole conversation. "How are you doing, Marcia?"

"Good." Marcia forced on a smile. "And you?"

"Excellent!" Naomi smiled, warmly, "A wonderful wedding, isn't it?"

"Yes." Marcia replied, "Lovely."

"And I just love that dress you're wearing! You don't know what fabric it is, do you?"

"Oh, well-"

"Velvet, isn't it?" Cashmére elbowed Marcia lightly.

"Ah, yes." Marcia said.

"Hi Trassimma!" Cashmére turned to Trassimma, "How was the food?"

"Excellent, my dear." Trassimma answered.

"Good to hear." Cashmére smiled, "Oh, and by the way, Joseph is looking for you. I think he's over there..."

Cashmére pointed the direction, and Trassimma nodded. "Maybe I should go an check what he wants..." Trassimma said, mostly to herself, but also to Cashmére. "Hm, I'll see you soon, dear."

"Oh, and I think that Milo is looking for you, Mar." Cashmére whispered.

"C'mon, Cass, not you too!" Marcia sighed, "He's okay, but not... not like that."

"Okay, okay, I'm just telling you the truth, Mar."

"W-" Marcia begun, but got cut of my a loud scream. Then the lights went out.

"Rebells!" Cashmére gasped, but everything else was silent. Then, everything went horrably loud. Guards were fighting masked men in red cloaks, some fainted or screamed, and some tried to get out. Cashmére grabbed Marcia's wrist, and made her way through the crowd. "We got to find Jose!" Marcia said.

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Cashmére almost cried, when they shuffed past an old man. Both were thinking the same thing; where is he? Marcia couldn't help but to look at the men- and the few women- fighting the guards. She watched particulary one, who was at the front. His figure was slim, yet muscular. She couldn't help, but wonder who was hiding under it... Suddenly, the man got hit by some spell, and Marcia gasped out loud and clutched her fingers tighter around Cashmére's wrist. The man's mask had flown of, and she could clearly see her older brother's face. "Rodrian!" she cried. What was he doing?

"Marcia, come on!" Cashmére hissed, "We don't have the time!"

"But-"

"Come on!" Cashmére dragged her of. And, a little hesitationg, Marcia followed. Rodrian? Why would he- he- be a rebell?

"Cashmére?" Cashmére?!" someone was yelling in the horrably darke ballhall, and bth Cashmére and Marcia recognized the voice as Joseph's. Cashmére let go of Marcia's wrist, and rushed up to her husband.

"Joseph!" she yelled back, and threw her arms around his neck.

"Where's Mar?" he asked, after letting her go.

"I'm here!" Marcia answered, "I'm so glad you're safe."

"And I'm glad that you're safe." Joseph said, and hugged her tightly.

"Jose, did you invite Rodrian to the wedding?" Marcia wondered.

"Mar..." Joseph sighed, "We don't know for sure, but both you and I... I mean, honsetly, I think he's dead."

"But I saw him!" Marcia said.

"Where?"

"The rebells. I saw him with the rebells."

"What?"

"I-"

"Cashmére?" somebody grabbed Cashmére's wrist. "There you are!" Cashmére blinked shocked. There, right infront of her, stood Ramasotti with a child clutched to his chest. "We got to get you somewhere safe..."

"I agree." Joseph said, "But where? We won't get anywhere in this crowd, and I bet that all the exits are blocked, either by the guards or the rebells."

"Ah!" Lucian grinned, "But there is other, more... hidden exits."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Joseph wondered, "Let's go!"

He grabbed Marcia's hand, and Lucian led them (Cashmére, Marcia and Joseph) to the table. "There's an hatch under the table." Lucian said, "Quickly! Get going!"

"But Milo..." suddenly, Marcia felt a little guilty. She couldn't just leave Milo there. It wouldn't be right.

"There's no time!" Joseph said, as crawled in under the table. "C'mon, now!" Marcia hesitated, but only for a few second. Then she followed Cashmére, Joseph, Lucian and the child under the table. Indeed, there was an hatch there. Together, Lucian and Joseph helped Cashmére, Marcia and the child down. Then, they both got down by themselves. "I've never seen this one before..." Cashmére, who had thought that she knew all the secret passages, said. "Where does it end?"

"The stables." Lucian answered, "C'mon, get going!" They hurried through the passage, that seemed as though it had been whacked out from the mountain that Ambrosia was bulit on. Marcia was shocked, and fascinated by the symbols and letters on the wall. It wasn't hieroglyphs, neither was it runes. They looked ancient. She wanted to ask about it, but Lucian still scared her, and he didn't seem like the one you asked questions. The little boy suddenly said something, and Lucian answered. "Luc?" Cashmére giggled, then said something. Then, she blushed, but Lucian didn't seem to really care about what she had said.

"Si." he just replied. Suddenly, he seemed to noticed Marcia's admiring looks on the walls.

"Lupanian letters." he said.

"Huh?" Marcia frowned. Lupanian?

"Lupanian." Lucian raised his eyebrows, "I am surprised you haven't seen lupanian letters before, miss Overstrand. Your family are, after all, Eastern Snowplainian."

Marcia felt embarassed. "Why is it called lupanian?" she asked.

"As in Lupa." Lucian answered, "The Great Wolf."

"Oh." Marcia nodded.

"And I assume you know who that is?"

"Yes."

"Ah, and you've heard the legend."

"No." Marcia said. Lucian shook his head.

"What are they teaching there in the Castle." he muttered.

"Not the same as here, appreantly." Marcia almost snapped.

"What are they teaching about?" Lucian said icily.

"Maths, history, writing, at some occasions magyk..." Marcia begun.

"Lupa is history." Lucian said.

"It's a myth." Marcia replied, "An old fairytale. For children."

Lucian snorted. "In the Castle, maybe."

"Everywhere!" Marcia said, "It's a fictive story."

"Cashmére," Lucian replied, "With all respect- could you please tell miss Overstrand the legend? I have to concentrate on the passage."

"Okay." Cashmére nodded, and begun...

(A/N Ah, the myth about the Great Wolf... You'll see it soon, I promise! Promise, promise, promise! Oh, and that little boy, that's Colum.)