Nuptial Rite
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: success

Thumbnail art by  technicolorpie, color by  marmelmm



Ten days earlier, the focus of the Ministry of Information’s imagers was on either the truncated three-sided pyramid that housed the Governing Council, or the Imperial Palace complex to the east of the capital city of Farz as the business of Government Day proceeded. Now the images were of the cubical building that housed the Imperial Ministry of Religious Affairs and the Temple that stood nearby, separated by a stretch of forested parkland.

Every planetary capital in the Empire had a Temple, a smaller copy of the primary structure in Farz, but they all shared the same architecture. By ancient tradition, the Kashlanin pantheon could not be contained within walls, and the building reflected that. The main Temple was a circular, roofed-over colonnade about two hundred meters across with a central opening almost five meters wide to allow the smoke of the hearth-fire at the center to drift upward. The fire was a metaphor for life and was maintained faithfully by the clergy.

As soon as Gwath ka-shlal’s sun was clear of the western horizon, a priestess dressed in robes the dark mauve color of Kashlanin blood stepped out to face the light. She bowed toward Kīa before ascending to a platform and the large conical copper bell that waited there. The bell was cast with symbols and representations of the Powers and Deities. The priestess shed her robe, faced and bowed toward the light again before taking up a hammer.

“Rejoice!” she shouted. “Rejoice, for the day has begun!” The vir struck the central boss of the bell, and the amplified sound of the knell repeated for each of the thirteen times she struck it. When she was done, she bowed again toward the rising sun, pulled her robe back on and descended the platform.

Other priests swept the Temple clean while still others tended the fire, preparing everything for the upcoming ceremony.

Beginning about midmorning shlani began to gather; selected members of the government, members of the Family Council, and ordinary citizens slowly entered the Temple. Nearly a quarter of the Empire’s population were there in spirit, watching over monitors or holographic projectors.

Smaller bells tolled and a priest shouted, “The Savior’s Son!” as Tarval XXI and his mate entered the Temple, flanked by the High Priest and six members of the Imperial Guard and trailed by the bride’s parents. The other shlani bowed, as protocol demanded. The High Priest moved to stand with his back to the fire as an acolyte carrying the heavy bearded ax that was the symbol of the state faith took up a position beside him.

The High Priest stood quietly, smiling as more and more shlani entered the Temple, until by noon the place was packed and everything was ready.

He gestured, and the ceremony began.


***


“I feel silly in this,” Varit r’Vam grumbled.

“You look beautiful,” Dorvan n’Lanya said. “Of course, I’m biased.”

She glanced to her right and down at him. “You had better be. You look silly too, you know.”

Dorvan chuckled. “I know.”

The two were dressed in dark mauve robes as they stood a short distance outside the Temple. The robes were the shade of virginal blood, which struck them both as faintly ridiculous. Still, it was traditional, and any marriage into the ruling branch of the Imperial Dynasty required religious sanction to be valid.

Of course, they were already legally married, having visited the public registry office before coming to the Temple. They were not standing alone outside the Temple, either; a company of the Imperial Guard stood around them in a square, giving them nearly three meters’ distance around the couple. A senior priest stood beside the guard detail’s captain, who was fidgeting nervously with the sword in his hand.

“Stop that,” the priest murmured.

“I’ve never handled one of these,” the captain said. “What if I drop it?”

“Relax. You’ll be fine.” Apparently the High Priest had given the signal, and the priest felt himself tense.

A crowd of maybe fifty shlani, viri and kami, erupted from the Temple and approached the Guard detail at a run. They came to a halt as the captain and the priest stepped forward, the captain brandishing his sword.

He didn’t drop it.

They stopped an arm’s-length away, and the priest stamped down hard on his nervousness.

“Why are you here?” the Captain asked as he’d been told. “For what purpose have you come?”

He felt a little foolish.

One of the kami, Dorvan’s closest friend from university, swished his tail as he announced, “We have come to bring these two lovers before a priest, to solemnize their mating before the Deities!” He grinned at Dorvan.

One of Varit’s former lovers asked, “Will you stand in our way?” The rest of the crowd exchanged grins.

The priest and the officer glanced at each other before the priest said, “You come for a holy purpose,” and the captain lowered the sword as the rest of the Guard detail scattered and the crowd surged ahead.

Hands and tails grabbed Dorvan and Varit and hoisted them off their feet, and to laughter and ribald jokes the crowd of friends began to carry them to the Temple.

Dorvan jerked as a hand groped his crotch. “’Ik, Varit!” he heard a vir shout, “he’s pretty good down there. Can we borrow him when you’re done with him?”

“Can we share, Dorvan?” his friend asked, patting Varit’s rear end. “Please?”

The group carried the pair into the Temple and unceremoniously set them on their feet before the High Priest, backing away and bowing respectfully as the great axe, the klath, was brought forward and a quartet of priests took up positions behind Varit and Dorvan.

The High Priest bowed. “Greetings to you all, in the sight of the Deities.” He straightened and began the call-and-response of the Litany of Truths. “When did the Power of Life choose the time for life to appear?”

“In the fullness of time,” the audience replied.

“What did the Power of Life choose to bring forth?”

“The Deity Gorānkashlan.”

“Where did Gorānkashlan choose to let life blossom?”

“On this world.”

“Who are we?”

“We are ka Shlan, the Race, the People Who Were First-Created.”

“So it was written.” The High Priest bowed before asking, “What was the first created of The Race?”

“The Vir.”

“What was the Vir’s purpose?”

“To endow the World with life, according to its kind.”

“When the Vir had endowed the World with life, what did she discover?”

“That she was alone.”

“What was brought forth, to be with the Vir, and be her mate?”

“The Kam.”

“So it was written.” The priest bowed again and gestured with his tail at Varit. “Who are you, vir?”

She replied clearly, “Varit, of the House r’Vam.”

“Who are you, kam?”

“Dorvan, of the House n’Lanya,” he said.

The High Priest gestured and two of the priests standing behind Dorvan and Varit stripped the robes off the pair, leaving them standing naked before the High Priest. There was some murmuring and scattered laughter from the crowd, who quieted again as the other two priests stepped forward. Each held a bowl in their hands as the priest carrying the klath stepped forward, holding the long haft crossways across his body with the blade up.

“Are you both prepared,” the High Priest asked, “in both body and mind, to live together and be together for the remainder of your lives?” It wasn’t an idle question; in the past, adultery without the mate’s consent was punishable by death or divorce – the injured party’s choice.

Dorvan turned his head to face Varit and bent down to rest his neck against the blade, more than aware that the klath being used today was the one used to kill traitors. “I swear to you,” he said to Varit, “that I shall be your mate, and be with you for the remainder of your life. If I break my oath, you have the right to kill me.” He straightened up, and the priest moved to offer the blade to Varit, who repeated the oath. She swallowed, hard, as she straightened up.

A few severed hairs drifted to the floor, unnoticed.

The High Priest raised his hands and tail and intoned a triple blessing. The first, for them; the second, for their children (Varit smiled at that, although she wasn’t pregnant yet); and the third for their families and the audience, representative of the wider community. He and the axe-bearer stepped a half-pace back as Dorvan and Varit faced each other and clasped hands, their tails reaching for and twining around each other.

“Fu’ aanō uljenin; hēmnar tar mif malō
Nin dhaf xemen, nin schenefin jat
E’ klir reni, e’ klir chati, tis klir wat.”

“Now we are not alone; together with love we
Make a path, a shining example for our
Families, for our children, and our world.”

The High Priest began a slow chant, naming the deities of the Kashlanin pantheon and calling upon them to bless the union as the two priests behind the couple began to pour the contents of their bowls over Varit and Dorvan. The liquid was the same bloody color as their robes, symbolic of their being ‘born’ into a new relationship.

It was a washable dye, rather than the traditional korip’s blood.

When the High Priest lowered his arms, the crowd of friends cheered, seized the bridal couple, and carried them out of the Temple to begin the celebration.


***


Tarval nuzzled his wife as Verin’s tail wrapped around his. The ground vehicle they were in was making its way back to the Palace, with the celebration still going on. Traditionally, it was supposed to last three days.

“Aka,” Verin said.

“Ernnh? Yes, my love?”

She smiled at him. “That’s three of our children married now.”

“You’re right. Who’s next, do you think? Narit, or Keshif?”

“Hard to tell, really,” the Empress replied, “but for now let’s enjoy our little triumph. The Heir’s married – “

“And as long as the Family agrees, he and she will make a strong couple to lead the Empire,” Tarval said.