the First Minister,» the same spirit whispered in her ear. «Don’t see that his hair isn’t even gray yet. He’s older than he looks.»
She looked at him briefly, but he caught her gaze and tilted his head in deference. Just like the first time. It was as if he was stalking her and looking for signs of her attention himself, calling out from the crowd, and then happily intercepting her gaze.
She didn’t even have time to be wary. The marriage ceremony had already begun. The coronation would immediately follow. In some distant part of her hearing, she picked up the anxious cries of birds over the cathedral. It was as if they were warning her of something or trying to dissuade her. Such a commotion only came before a storm was coming. Even before an epidemic came to the city the flocks of birds did not seem so anxious.
«No! No! No!» she caught in the birds’ cries outside the windows and the rustle of their wings. There were even a few crows among the disturbed flocks. This seemed strange to her. She had long associated crows with Rothbert’s servants, but these evidently were not. Though who knew them?
She tilted her head so she couldn’t hear them. Still, she thought she could hear more powerful and massive flapping in the fluttering of the tiny bird’s wings. Other wings were flapping over the cathedral, too. They were his wings. Or were they the wings of his servants. She tried not to think about it.
«You’re just an illusion yourself,» Rhianon thought, and turned away. But his dry rustling laughter echoed in her mind. How easily he could have merged with the ringing of bells, the dry rustling of leaves, or the surrounding silence. People at Mass are most often unaware that the silence around them hums not from angelic voices, but from other dark and fearful ones lurking in the darkness. She knew that Asmodeus whispers whatever he wants to clergymen of all ranks, and they obey him. Blinded by their pride, they could not see that they were being led by the devil, or rather, not the devil himself, but his servants. Madael himself would never have condescended to such petty meanness or to such vanity-torn humans. Nor would God himself ever condescend to those who are called his earthly servants. Madael is the former favorite of God, and he imitates him in everything. And likewise, he has his own servants for minor errands. His servants here were just full, right in the darkness of the nave and the stuffy height above the heads of the crowd, while he himself remained unreachable. Quite like a deity. The only thing that distinguished him from a god was the love he had once known. In any case, the capacity to love had once been awakened in him. It was late, but it came to light. And from God, Rhianon only felt something crushing. The cathedral pressed against her. She felt stuffy, and she was glad she’d worn a dress with an open neckline instead of a lace jabot. Otherwise the collar would have begun to choke her. Someone was spreading the veil over her shoulders, but not a man. She felt the subtle touch of her invisible companion. He touched her gently, as if she were a shrine.
«You are the only sacred thing there is, and not for me alone… for him too,» he might not have whispered it. Rhianon covered her eyes. Her golden lashes suddenly became stiff and stabbed her skin. The words of the Archbishop who crowned them were lost in the general hum. There was a murmur in her ears. The light crushing in the colored stained-glass windows stabbed her eyes. In a moment it would burst into flames and burn everything around it. Rhianon was afraid to look up and see one of Madael’s servants sitting high on the balustrade around the dome or one of the rungs below the ceiling. What if he himself is here?
The persistent scent of flowers made her dizzy. There was a sea of them here today. Gardeners must have cut whole plantations of white roses and lilies to garland the apse, and the pulpit, and all the arches or columns. White bows matched the bouquets. Everything here was white against the gloomy background of the majestic structure. Just for one moment she thought the lilies in the bouquets were bleeding.
«Don’t look ahead!» The spirit warned.
But why is it? She is about to be crowned. Rhianon could almost feel the thin golden hoop of pearls and golden prongs being placed upon her head. It was so reminiscent of a ceremonial wreath, only it was not made of flowers but of jewels. It would now replace the myrtle. She bent over as the clergyman’s wrinkled hands placed the wreath on her head. Only when she felt the pleasant cool weight on her forehead did Rhianon lift her eyes. What was so scary ahead that she should not look at? She hadn’t seen anything like that. And none of the local servants, no matter what rank he wore, could see the seal of the devil’s kisses on her lips. They didn’t even suspect. No one in Vinor except the astrologers and the First Minister could look inside her and see the devil in her heart, much less consider the supernatural fiery fruit in her womb. Even more, these people had no idea how dangerous she was. She could breathe fire on them at any moment, easily ignite everything here and burn herself. No, she would not. Rhianon believed that Madael would have pulled her out of the fire anyway. It was as if he were invisibly with her everywhere…
And then she saw the crucifix. The thin gold cross and the figure on it struck her as a symbol of suffering, not as something sacred. Was that what people worshipped? Is that what the legend says keeps dragons away? And would it frighten Madael? Rhianon didn’t know what feelings dominated her now, contempt, apprehension, or fear. At any rate a sense of acute dislike. She felt dislike and pain, and the next moment a trickle of blood was dripping across her lips.
«Turn away!» The spirit whispered furiously, but she stared.
It was partly a deception, how one could deify someone’s torture and find comfort in it. As she looked at the crucifix she felt that she too was being tortured. It was as if it were a symbol of evil. She imagined the thin, glittering serpent coiling around the cross and almost merging with it. They were the serpent and the cross. An expression from the same half-forgotten legends suddenly came to mind. So the cross keeps the demons away. Why didn’t it burn on the spot? If you believe the legends, then long ago she should have turned into a pillar of fire, barely crossing the threshold of the holy place. But it didn’t happen.
«And you’re not afraid to go blind looking at it?» The same invisible companion teased her.
«I’m not,» she whispered back. A trickle of blood still trickled down her lips, causing a pain that was subtle but stinging. The jolt of fire inside her was barely perceptible, either. She did not smell flame or even hot steam on anyone, but those in the front rows, especially the priests, noticed the blood. Were they startled? Frightened? Rhianon could not have characterized the whole gamut of feelings that flashed across their unpleasant faces. Let them be against it. She didn’t care anymore. She was Queen of Vinor now, after all.
They left the cathedral to the solemn ringing of bells. Ferdinand was happy, she was not. She could barely manage to pull a smile. A whole rain of white flowers and grains of rice flew on the newlyweds. One had to rejoice with everyone else, or at least feign joy. Such a beautiful bride the world had never seen before. Naturally, she was welcomed, and she searched with the eyes of a lost angel. Rhianon looked up at the rooftops of the tallest buildings and cathedrals, squinting painfully at the sun, trying to see something. Her eyesight had become especially sharp lately, and yet it was as if a veil covered her eyes. She could not find the one she was looking for, though she felt he was here. He was looking up at her, she could feel it, and she couldn’t even look back. She wouldn’t dare ask the question where you were. She was afraid.
What if he was about to destroy the whole town? Or maybe he would rush down and take her with him? Perhaps he was just waiting for the marriage ceremony to be complete, so that he could now completely break all existing inhibitions? Now that she was a stranger’s wife… Only Rhianon did not feel like Ferdinand’s wife. Everything had been accomplished, and he was still a stranger. She held his hand and felt nothing.
Even the leaden gargoyles and caryatids
