The Arbiter Unforgiven

Chapter Three, Part C - Saiph

So, this is the try at splitting a chapter three ways for reading ease. Does it help? This whole chapter, and the next, were wonderful to write. This is was the desire of Saiph's heart, of course I could not give that to him without the promise of future problems. What do you think is going to happen next? --Elizabeth.

            Saiph saw all the gear turning appropriately, the cunning pipes seemed to be no worse for a few months of neglect. There was no sign of mildew or rust. Whatever else they had been, their ancestors had made amazing buildings. After securing the door, he climbed the stairs again, and smell caught the scent of smoke from a fire and food. His stomach instantly tightened.

Following his nose, he walked into a little room. Saiph was surprised to find the place neatly furnished with such simple comforts he would expect in any villager's cottage. There were stuffed couches, warm blankets, and oil lamps on the tables. Little glass-figures of animals, wooden puzzles, and ceramic dishes littered every other surface, all somewhat dull for being undusted. Herbs, long since dried past usefulness, still leant color and scents to the closed air.

In the stout fireplace, a low fire made the room flicker with golden warmth. Mirrah sat before it, on a wide rug. She fussed with a little cast iron brazier that sizzled. Arranged on a white cloth beside her were simple elements: salt, flour, fine oil, a flask of water, and another of wine.

Saiph's breath hitched in his throat as he recognized the elements Mirrah had gathered. This was not a regular evening's repast.

These were the old ways. Celebrations, ceremonies, those were the trappings and protocols were added later to a very simple idea.

In the old days, only two people were necessary to make a binding vow and union.

Oaths could be private, as long as they were made, nothing else was technically required to join a couple; not consent from the parents, or signatures in the Arbiter's book, or even a witness. A couple could go before the Triad as a man and wife and no one could gainsay them. This was why purity was so closely guarded in Waterwall, as any dalliance, no matter how casual or unplanned, was considered a binding, physical oath.

A smile tugged at his mouth even as his heart skipped a beat and then another.

"Really?" He reached out and cupped her warm cheek, marveling at the difference between the rosy health and the pallor. "This is all I wanted for you. This. Freedom to choose. To be happy, not choose not to die shut up in a cell for people who were too afraid of the unknown to do the right thing. You don't have to do this just to make me happy."

Her dark eyes widened. "I want you. Don't you dare try to tell me that this is too soon, or that I don't know what I want! What's the matter with you?"
Holding up his hands, he fought the tight band in his stomach. "Forgive me...but I have to be sure."

"You doubted?"
"You do have a documented history of sacrificing yourself to make others happy."

"It would be easier if we could pretend a while longer. Serreh will likely try to use this to make us miserable. Saiph, my love. What I know is that after everything that's happened, I want you. I want a life with you." She poured the wine into a silver goblet and offered it to him.

Saiph raised the cup to his lips and held it there. "We can catch our breath now, rest, there is no need to make a decision like this until you're ready."
"What do you think I was doing on the train?" She smiled, put a slender finger on the base of the cup and tipped it, pouring the fine wine into his mouth. "I was giving you time to run away if you wanted, or to tell me that you only cared about me as a friend."

Swallowing he passed the cup back to her, allowing the sweet wine to gently burn his throat. "I'm no fool. I know what I want."

"You started a fight the minute you got back, I couldn't be sure." She took a long draw of the wine, watching him over the rim. Although Icons could not become intoxicated, no vintner would send less than their best as part of their tithe. Once she finished, she picked up the palm-sized shallow pan and set it over the brazier. She added a drop of oil so that when she poured the prepared meal over it, crisped almost instantly. The thin wafer cooked in minutes and she picked it up delicately with her finger and thumb, pinching it in two and offering it to him.

"What should always have been yours...always."

"Together, as we always should have been."

The bread itself was bland, even dipped in the oil. They partook of both, with the trembling excitement that only people who have waited a lifetime for this purpose.

Sharing of food, shared breath--even blood would be mingled before the night was through. Hearts and destinies would twine as well, or so the poets claimed. Although Saiph had never thought of himself as particularly romantic, at this moment, he believed what they said, because he felt it.

Saiph knew that more than a few people in his acquaintance would call the whole thing prosaic or fanciful. To them, a marriage was nothing more than a convenient contractual arrangement that would benefit two parties until it didn't and then, like any contract, could be dissolved. Perhaps that was true too. He didn't know, he couldn't make himself understand anything but what he felt about it.

This was his whole world coming together.