“I hope after all this time you women are finally ready,” Dirk announced as he came through the door, for once in his life totally immaculate, and resplendent in white velvet.

“Dirk!” Jeri laughed, interposing herself between him and Talia. “Tradition says you’re not supposed to see the bride until you meet before the priest!”

“Tradition be damned. The only reason I’m letting Skif carry her at all is because if I try and manage her and her ring, I’ll drop one of the two!”

“Oh, all right. I can see you’re too stubborn to argue with.” She stepped aside, and at the sight of one another, they seemed to glow from deep within.

“Two hours I spend on her—” Jeri muttered under her breath, obviously amused, “—and in two eyeblinks he makes everything I did look insignificant.”

Dirk gathered her up carefully, holding her in his arms as if she weighed next to nothing. “Ready, loveling?” he asked softly.

“I’ve been ready forever,” she replied, never once taking her eyes from his.

The Field was alive with color; Healer Green, Bard Scarlet, Guard Blue—the muted grays, pale greens and red-brown of the students moving among them, the gilded and bejeweled courtiers catching the sun. Most prevalent, of course, was Heraldic White, and not just because even more Heralds had managed to appear for this occasion than had arrived for Elspeth’s fealty ceremony. Half of the white figures in the crowd were Companions, be-flowered and be-ribboned by the loving hands of their Chosen, and looking for all the world as if it were they who were being wedded. Even Cymry’s foal had a garland—though he kept trying to eat it.

The ceremony was a simple one, though it was not one that was often performed—for the wedding of a lifebonded couple was less of a promising than an affirmation. Despite well-meaning efforts to the contrary, Skif and Elspeth had managed to keep the pomp and ritual to an absolute minimum.

Dirk carried his love as far as the priest, handing her very carefully to Skif, who felt proud and happy enough when he did so to burst. Elspeth gave him Talia’s ring, and he slipped it onto her finger. Skif and Elspeth both bit their lips to keep from shedding a tear or two at that moment; partially because she’d moved Kris’ friendship ring to the finger next to it, and partially because the wedding ring was still so large for her.

Dirk repeated his vows in a voice that seemed soft, but carried to the edge of the crowd. Then Talia took his ring from Keren, slipped it onto his ring-finger and made her own vows in her clear, sweet voice.

Dirk took her back from Skif—and as he did so, the massed Heralds cheered spontaneously.

Somehow, it seemed totally appropriate.