“Governor Argali,” Airys said. “Give me your hand.”
As Kamoj extended her arm, Airys said, “In the name of Spectra Luminous I give this man to you.” She closed her hand around Kamoj’s wrist. “Havyrl Lionstar, give me your hand.” When he complied, Airys took a vine from the altar and tied his and Kamoj’s wrists together, bedecking them in roses and scale-leaves.
It startled Kamoj to feel the leather of his glove against her skin. Why did he hide himself, even his hands? Surely he must realize it might disquiet his bride. Try as she might, she could find few good reasons for his behavior, unless he really were the proverbial demon, in which case she preferred not to think about the details.
Airys spoke to Lionstar. “You may read the contract now.”
Kamoj waited for him to decline. No one ever read the contract at a wedding. Only scholars could read, after all, and only the most gifted knew ancient Iotaca. Most people considered the scroll a fertility prayer. Kamoj had her doubts; Airys had managed to translate a few parts for her, and it sounded more like a legal document than a poem. In any case, the groom always returned the scroll. Then the couple spoke a blessing they composed themselves. Kamoj hadn’t prepared anything; what she felt about this merger was better left unsaid. Unless Lionstar had his own poem, which she doubted, they would continue the ceremony without the blessing.
Except they didn’t. Lionstar read the scroll.
As his voice rumbled with the Iotaca words, indrawn breaths came from their audience. Kamoj doubted anyone had ever heard the blessing spoken, let alone with such power. Lionstar had a deep voice, with an unfamiliar accent and the burr of a vibrato. His words also sounded slurred. The sounds rolled over her, so unexpected she had trouble absorbing them.
When he finished, the only sounds in the temple were the faint calls of evening birds outside.
Finally he said, “This ceremony, is it done?”
Airys took a breath, as if coming back to herself. “The vows are finished, if that is what you mean.”
He gave her the scroll. Then he untied the vine joining his and Kamoj’s wrists and draped it around Kamoj’s neck, spilling the roses over her breasts. She blushed, jarred by the break with tradition; they weren’t supposed to undo the vine until they consummated the marriage. Before she could speak, he took her elbow, turned her around, and headed for the entrance, pulling her with him.
Murmurs came from the watchers, a rustle of clothes, the clink of diskmail. Belatedly Kamoj realized that he had misunderstood; he thought the ceremony was over when it had hardly begun. But the rest was only ritual. They had said the vows. Argali and Lionstar had their corporate merger. Whatever happened now, she had committed herself and her province to this man. She just hoped that future didn’t tumble down around them.
They came out into a purple evening. She barely had time to catch her breath before they reached Lionstar’s coach. This was happening too fast; she had thought she would have at least a little more time to accept the marriage before she was alone with her new husband.
Then he stopped, looking over her head. She turned to see Maxard coming up behind them, with Lyode and Gallium, their familiar faces a welcome sight.
Lionstar spoke to her uncle. “Good night, sir.”
Kamoj wondered what he meant. Was “good night” a greeting or a farewell?
Maxard bowed. Lionstar just nodded, then motioned to his men. As he raised his arm, his cloak parted and revealed his diskmail, a sapphire flash of blue. What metal did he use, to create such a dramatic color?
As one of his stagmen opened the coach door, Lionstar put his hand on Kamoj’s arm, ready to pass her inside. Before she even realized what she was doing, she balked, stepping back. She couldn’t leave this way, not without making her farewells.
Kamoj went to Lyode and embraced her, taking care with Lyode’s back, her head buried against the taller woman’s shoulder. Lyode spoke softly. “You’re like a daughter to me. You remember that. I will always love you.” Her words had the sound of tears.
Kamoj’s voice caught. “And I you.”
Before she could go to Maxard, Lionstar drew her toward the coach. She almost pulled away again, but then she stopped herself. Antagonizing the man who had just taken over Argali would be a poor start to their merger and could endanger the province. She glanced at Maxard, her eyes misted with tears, and he nodded, moisture glimmering in his as well.
Then Lionstar passed her to his stagmen, who handed her up into the roaring lion. Black moongloss paneled its somber interior and dark leather upholstered the seat. A window showed in the wall across from the door. She turned as Lionstar entered and saw another window in the door behind him. Yet from outside, no panes had shown at all. It has a reasonable explanation, she told herself. She only wished she believed that.
A stagman closed the door, and Lionstar sat next to her, his long legs filling the car. His cloak fell open, revealing ceremonial dress much like Maxard’s, except in dark sapphire. As the coach rolled forward, Kamoj turned to her window for a final glimpse of her home. But the “glass” had become a blank expanse of wood. Dismayed, she looked toward Lionstar’s window, only to find it had vanished as well. With such a dark interior and no lamps, the coach should have been pitch black. But light still filled it. She was having more and more trouble believing that a normal explanation existed for all this.
“Here.” Lionstar tapped the ceiling. His voice had a blurred quality.
Puzzled, she looked up. A glowing white strip bordered the roof of the coach. It resembled a light panel, but one made as thin as a finger and flexible enough to bend. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that a reason existed for the light or disquieted by its unusual source.
“That’s what you were looking for, wasn’t it?” he said. “The light?”
How had he known? “Yes.”
“Thought so.” He reached into his cloak and brought out a bottle. Curved and slender, it was made from dark blue glass with a gold top. He unscrewed the top, then lifted the bottle into his cowl and tilted back his head. After a moment he lowered his arm and wiped his hand across whatever he had for a face. Then he returned the bottle to his cloak.
A whiff of rum tickled Kamoj’s nose. Like a trick picture that changed if she looked at it in a new way, her perception shifted. She thought of his slurred words at the wedding and his actions at Lystral’s well. Could drink be what made him act that way? That thought wasn’t exactly reassuring either, but it was far more palatable than supernatural causes.
Lionstar sighed. As he turned toward her, she caught another glint of silver within his cowl. Then he slid his arms around her waist.
Hai! Kamoj’s instincts clamored at her to push him away. He isyour husband, she told herself. Sit still. He had a right to hug his wife. But she couldn’t bring herself to return the embrace.
He rubbed the lace on her sleeve, then rolled it between his fingers. His black glove made a dark contrast against the rosy silk. She wondered if he would wear gloves when he made love to her. What if he never pulled off his cowl, even in the bedroom? She felt a blush spreading in her face. Maybe she had better not think about that right now.
Lionstar slid his hand up her torso, under the vine of roses around her neck, and folded his gloved palm around her breast. Kamoj froze, her logic vanishing like the windows in the coach. She didn’t care if he was her husband; he was still a stranger. As he caressed her breast, she held back the urge to sock him. She wished he would speak or show her some sign that a human person existed in there.
He fondled her for a few moments, but gradually his hand slowed to a stop. Then it fell into her lap. He was leaning on her, his weight making it hard to sit up straight. She peered up at him, wondering what to do.
While she pondered, he gave a snore.
Her new husband, it seemed, had gone to sleep.
Kamoj rubbed her chin. What did one do in such a situation? Perhaps nothing, except thank the Spectral Harmonic spirits fo
r this respite.
With Lionstar leaning against her, though, it was hard to sit straight. So she gave him a nudge. When he made no objection, she pushed him upright. He lay his head back against the seat, his mail-covered chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm, his cowl fallen over his face.
Just as Kamoj began to feel grateful for this unexpected reprieve, he tried to lie down. The seat of the coach had too little room for his legs, so he stretched out with his feet on the ground and his head in her lap. Then he went back to snoring.
Kamoj had no idea what to think. Of all the scenarios she had imagined for their ride to the palace, this wasn’t one of them. She stared at his head in her lap and the hood lying across his face. Was he truly as hideous as rumor claimed? With one twitch of the cloth, she would know.
Your husband hides his face for a reason. He valued that reason enough to cover it even at his own wedding. If she looked now, she might antagonize him.
But he was asleep.
A torment of curiosity swept over her. She touched the edge of his cowl. No, she couldn’t take the chance. She withdrew her hand. He continued to sleep, a soft snore at the end of each breath. How would he know if she looked? Perhaps he would never find out. Then again, he might wake up if she uncovered him.
Finally Kamoj could take it no more. She tugged on his cowl. When he showed no sign of waking, she pulled the cloth more. Still no response. Emboldened, she brushed the hood back from his head—and nearly screamed.
PAST NEBULA AWARD WINNERS
Best Novel: Dune by Frank Herbert
Best Novella: “The Saliva Tree” by Brian W. Aldiss and “He Who Shapes” by Roger Zelazny (tie)
Best Novelette: “The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth” by Roger Zelazny
Best Short Story: “‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” by Harlan Ellison
1966
Best Novel: Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes and Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany (tie)
Best Novella: “The Last Castle” by Jack Vance
Best Novelette: “Call Him Lord” by Gordon R. Dickson
Best Short Story: “The Secret Place” by Richard McKenna
1967
Best Novel: The Einstein Intersection by Samuel R. Delany
Best Novella: “Behold the Man” by Michael Moorcock
Best Novelette: “Gonna Roll the Bones” by Fritz Leiber
Best Short Story: “Aye, and Gomorrah” by Samuel R. Delany
1968
Best Novel: Rite of Passage by Alexei Panshin
Best Novella: “Dragonrider” by Anne McCaffrey
Best Novelette: “Mother to the World” by Richard Wilson
Best Short Story: “The Planners” by Kate Wilhelm
1969
Best Novel: The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Novella: “A Boy and His Dog” by Harlan Ellison
Best Novelette: “Time Considered as a Helix of SemiPrecious Stones” by Samuel R. Delany
Best Short Story: “Passengers” by Robert Silverberg
1970
Best Novel: Ringworld by Larry Niven
Best Novella: “Ill Met in Lankhmar” by Fritz Leiber
Best Novelette: “Slow Sculpture” by Theodore Sturgeon
Best Short Story: no award
1971
Best Novel: A Time of Changes by Robert Silverberg
Best Novella: “The Missing Man” by Katherine MacLean
Best Novelette: “The Queen of Air and Darkness” by Poul Anderson
Best Short Story: “Good News from the Vatican” by Robert Silverberg
1972
Best Novel: The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov
Best Novella: “A Meeting with Medusa” by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novelette: “Goat Song” by Poul Anderson
Best Short Story: “When It Changed” by Joanna Russ
1973
Best Novel: Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novella: “The Death of Doctor Island” by Gene Wolfe
Best Novelette: “Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand” by Vonda N. McIntyre
Best Short Story: “Love Is the Plan, the Plan Is Death” by James Tiptree Jr.
Best Dramatic Presentation: Soylent Green
Stanley R. Greenberg for screenplay (based on the novel Make Room! Make Room!), Harry Harrison for Make Room! Make Room!
1974
Best Novel: The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Novella: “Born with the Dead” by Robert Silverberg
Best Novelette: “If the Stars Are Gods” by Gordon Eklund and Gregory Benford
Best Short Story: “The Day Before the Revolution” by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Dramatic Presentation: Sleeper by Woody Allen
Grand Master: Robert A. Heinlein
1975
Best Novel: The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
Best Novella: “Home Is the Hangman” by Roger Zelazny
Best Novelette: “San Diego Lightfoot Sue” by Tom Reamy
Best Short Story: “Catch That Zeppelin!” by Fritz Leiber
Best Dramatic Writing: Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder for Young Frankenstein
Grand Master: Jack Williamson
1976
Best Novel: Man Plus by Frederik Pohl
Best Novella: “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” by James Tiptree Jr.
Best Novelette: “The Bicentennial Man” by Isaac Asimov
Best Short Story: “A Crowd of Shadows” by Charles L. Grant
Grand Master: Clifford D. Simak
1977
Best Novel: Gateway by Frederik Pohl
Best Novella: “Stardance” by Spider and Jeanne Robinson
Best Novelette: “The Screwfly Solution” by Raccoona Sheldon
Best Short Story: “Jeffty Is Five” by Harlan Ellison
Special Award: Star Wars
1978
Best Novel: Dreamsnake by Vonda N. McIntyre
Best Novella: “The Persistence of Vision” by John Varley
Best Novelette: “A Glow of Candles, a Unicorn’s Eye” by Charles L. Grant
Best Short Story: “Stone” by Edward Bryant
Grand Master: L. Sprague de Camp
1979
Best Novel: The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novella: “Enemy Mine” by Barry Longyear
Best Novelette: “Sandkings” by George R. R. Martin
Best Short Story: “giANTS” by Edward Bryant
1980
Best Novel: Timescape by Gregory Benford
Best Novella: “The Unicorn Tapestry” by Suzy McKee Charnas
Best Novelette: “The Ugly Chickens” by Howard Waldrop
Best Short Story: “Grotto of the Dancing Deer” by Clifford D. Simak
Grand Master: Fritz Leiber
1981
Best Novella: “The Saturn Game” by Poul Anderson
Best Novelette: “The Quickening” by Michael Bishop
Best Short Story: “The Bone Flute” by Lisa Tuttle*
*This Nebula Award was declined by the author.
1982
Best Novel: No Enemy But Time by Michael Bishop
Best Novella: “Another Orphan” by John Kessel
Best Novelette: “Fire Watch” by Connie Willis
Best Short Story: “A Letter from the Clearys” by Connie Willis
1983
Best Novel: Startide Rising by David Brin
Best Novella: “Hardfought” by Greg Bear
Best Novelette: “Blood Music” by Greg Bear
Best Short Story: “The Peacemaker” by Gardner Dozois
Grand Master: Andre Norton
1984
Best Novel: Neuromancer by William Gibson
Best Novella: “Press Enter •” by John Varley
Best Novelette: “Bloodchild”
by Octavia E. Butler
Best Short Story: “Morning Child” by Gardner Dozois
1985
Best Novel: Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card
Best Novella: “Sailing to Byzantium” by Robert Silverberg
Best Novelette: “Portraits of His Children” by George R. R. Martin
Best Short Story: “Out of All Them Bright Stars” by Nancy Kress
Grand Master: Arthur C. Clarke
1986
Best Novel: Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card
Best Novella: “R & R” by Lucius Shepard
Best Novelette: “The Girl Who Fell into the Sky” by Kate Wilhelm
Best Short Story: “Tangents” by Greg Bear
Grand Master: Isaac Asimov
1987
Best Novel: The Falling Woman by Pat Murphy
Best Novella: “The Blind Geometer” by Kim Stanley Robinson
Best Novelette: “Rachel in Love” by Pat Murphy
Best Short Story: “Forever Yours, Anna” by Kate Wilhelm
Grand Master: Alfred Bester
1988
Best Novel: Falling Free by Lois McMaster Bujold
Best Novella: “The Last of the Winnebagos” by Connie Willis
Best Novelette: “Schrödinger’s Kitten” by George Alec Effinger
Best Short Story: “Bible Stories for Adults, No. 17: The Deluge” by James Morrow