Then a cowled man stepped down into the plaza.

  Lionstar towered over everyone else, easily the largest man in the courtyard. Seeing his unusual height, she wondered if--like Jax--he too had spent years as an adolescent. What if he had other, harsher, similarities to her former betrothed? As always, he wore a blue cloak with a cowl pulled over his head. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he hid under that shadowed hood. Only black showed inside; either he had a cloth over his face--or he had no face.

  Maxard took her arm. "We should go."

  His touch startled her into motion. She descended from the coach, onto a flagstone that glinted with mica even in the purple shadows. Her heels clicked as she stepped from stone to stone to avoid the mud.

  Even tonight, the sight of the Spectral Temple gave her a thrill. The terraced pyramid stood surrounded by the Argali forest. When rays from the setting sun hit the stairs that ran up its side at just the right angle, it made light ripple down them to the statue of a starlizard's head at the bottom, creating a serpent of radiance and stone. In the front of the temple, a huge starlizard's head opened its mouth in a roar, forming an entrance. When a sun ray hit its crystal eyes, arcs of light glistened around its head like the Perihelia spirits, also called Sun Lizards, that guarded the temple.

  Kamoj had always loved the sun lizards that appeared in the sky. They made halos on either side of the sun, like pale rainbows, each with a tail of white light. This was their favored time, as tiny Jul descended to the horizon, scantily dressed in wispy clouds. During winter, when ice crystals filled the air, Perihelia and Halo spirits graced the heavens in arcs and rings. They might even form around the head of a favored person's shadow as it stretched across dewy tubemoss at dawn. But she saw no nimbus now, no sign to portend good fortune for this merger.

  Lionstar's group reached the temple first. He stopped under the overhang of the sun lizard's fanged mouth and waited, his cowled head turned toward Kamoj. She came up with her retinue and stopped. After they had all stood that way for a moment, she flushed. Didn't he know he should go in first? She shifted her weight, wondering how to balance courtesy with expediency. They couldn't stand here all night.

  One of Lionstar's stagmen spoke to him in a low voice. He nodded, then entered the temple with his retinue. Relieved, Kamoj followed with her people. No one spoke. She wondered if Lionstar could even talk. No one she knew had ever heard him say a word.

  Inside, light from the sunset trickled through slits high in the walls. Stone benches filled the interior, except for a dais at the far end, which supported a polished stone table. Carvings decorated the table, Argali vine designs, those motifs calledBessel integrals in ancient Iotaca.

  Kamoj savored the scents in the temple. Rose vines and ferns heaped the table, filling the air with their fragrance, fresh and clean. Around the walls, garlands hung from the statues of several Current spirits: the Airy Rainbows, the Glories, and the Nimbi. In wall slits above the statues, light slanted through faceted windows with water misted between the double panes, creating rainbows. Music graced the air, coming from breezes that blew through fluted chambers on the ceiling, hidden within engravings of the Spherical Harmonic wraiths.

  Most days, Kamoj enjoyed the Spectral Temple's beauty. Now it all seemed unreal, its ethereal quality untouched by the far less serene ceremony going on within it. As everyone else sat down on the benches, Kamoj walked to the dais with Maxard at her side and Lionstar preceding them. The priestess, Airysphere Prism, waited by the flower-bedecked table. Tall and lithe, she had large eyes and shiny black hair that poured to her waist.

  After he stepped up onto the dais, Lionstar turned to watch Kamoj approach. At least she assumed he was watching. His cowl hid his face. When she reached him, she saw only darkness within that hood, perhaps a glint of metal. She told herself she was mistaken. Surely a man couldn't have a metal face.

  Maxard bowed to him. "Argali welcomes you, Governor Lionstar."

  The taller man just nodded. After an awkward silence Maxard flushed, though whether from anger or shame, Kamoj didn't know. Did Lionstar realize the insult in his silence, or did he act out of ignorance? The answer to that question would have told her a great deal about her groom, but she had no way to judge from the unreadable shadows within his cowl.

  When the silence became long, Maxard turned and took Kamoj's hands. He spoke tenderly. "May the Current always flow for you, Kami."

  She curled her fingers around his. "And for you, dear Uncle."

  He lingered a moment more, watching her face. But finally he released her hands. Then he left the dais, going to sit on the front bench with Lyode.

  "It is done?" Lionstar asked.

  Kamoj almost jumped. His voice rumbled, deep and resonant, with a heavy accent. On the word "is," it vibrated like a stringed instrument.

  Airys blinked, the vertical slits of her pupils opened wide in the shadowed temple. "Do you refer to the ceremony?"

  "Yes," Lionstar said.

  "It hasn't begun." Airys took a scroll from the table and unrolled it. Glyphs covered the parchment in starlight blue ink. She offered it to Lionstar, and he accepted with black-gloved hands.

  "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. Coulddrink 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'tcare 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 for 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

  1965

  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 andBabel-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 novelMake Room! Make Room! ), Harry Harrison forMake 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

 

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