Any checking of invitations was going on at the gates in the wall around the Complex itself; anyone on the grounds was already part of the festivities. There were far, far more people crowding into the gardens than Alberich felt comfortable around, and the ones who were not in formal uniforms of white, scarlet, or green were, for the most part, so laden with ornaments and so vivid with embroideries that they hurt his eyes. And the sound of dozens and dozens of people all chattering brightly at the tops of their lungs was nearly enough to drive him mad.

Fortunately for his sanity, the Heralds actually had a job to do and a place to go until the moment of the ceremony itself. The Queen’s Garden was the assembly point, and he made his way there.

The first person to greet him was not, somewhat to his disappointment, Myste. It was Keren, looking unexpectedly sharp in what was clearly a brand new set of Formal Whites.

“Like me new duds?” she asked, in a heavy Evendim accent, and laughed at his expression. “Never had a set of Formals made for me before; just had a set that was a hand-me-down from the stores. Neither has Myste, actually. We’re both odd sizes, and neither of us had the money for a tailor the way the highborn Heralds have. And somewhere along the line somebody figured this out in time to have some tailored up for us.” She backed up a pace and looked Alberich over critically. “Now you, you’ve got the proper military bearing and figure. Must have been a doddle to find a set to fit you.”

“I suppose,” he replied, noting that her eyes were a little too bright, and figuring that Keren was using inconsequential chatter to cover her unease. “There is, it seems, some merit in being average.”

“You, average? Bite your tongue,” said Myste, worming her way between two Heralds Alberich didn’t recognize. “You couldn’t be average if you tried.”

He was saved from having to answer anything by the sound of the trumpet that signaled their part of the ceremony.

Heralds at the entrance to the garden formed into a double line and began filing out; the rest of them joined one or the other line in no particular order. Somehow Alberich, Myste, and Keren ended up at the end of their lines; this didn’t displease him on the whole. He did not particularly want to be near the center of attention.

The Heralds lined both sides of the path that Selenay and her wedding party would take from the door of the Palace to the bower where the Lord Patriarch waited. Alberich was actually nearest the door in his line, and Keren was directly opposite him. At a mental signal that was passed via their Companions, they smoothly and simultaneously unsheathed their swords and crossed them overhead, forming an arch of shining steel.