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Gita ignored the elbow nudging her, and kept ignoring it for a full minute until she broke. “Stop it, Gasing!” she hissed. Her brother jerked his head now that he had her attention, indicating a table with his pointed chin. She looked, not bothering to hide it, and spotted Auntie Maya in enthusiastic conversation with a stranger. The stranger was all in dusty black, which was unusual, but not a bad omen.
“That’s just one of Suria’s aunties,” she told him, but he didn’t let up.
“It can’t be Suria’s auntie,” he hissed. “She doesn’t look anything like them, and she can’t be married in or her husband would be with her.” Gita looked at the table again. It was true, Karim Uncle was there with Auntie Maya, but to the right of the other auntie was another auntie, and the rest of the table was empty. She elbowed him back sharply.
“Stupid, maybe the other one is Suria’s auntie and the one making friends with Auntie Maya is her friend.”
Gasing took another look at the table and sank in his chair, muttering, “they don’t look like those kind of friends.”
*
“I think it’s very modern,” Maya gushed. “My nephew is like that too, he found that out in Ankh-Morpork. Silly boy, he thinks we don’t know.”
“Him as has got secrets will come clear on his own time,” Nanny said wisely. “My granddaughter might leave Lancre yet if she can’t find a nice girl.”
Granny stirred her soup, which was cold and too sweet for proper soup. She wasn’t about to waste food, but she certainly wasn’t going to eat this as it was. “Ankh-Morpork’s right for this sort o’ business, if they know the right places. But only the right places.”
She kept half an ear on the ensuing discussion, more interested in the goings-on all round instead of her own table. The fellow across the table was tucking in heartily- she supposed she might follow his choices of the buffet if he was enjoying himself that much. Some extremely red sauce soaked up by the yellow rice, what seemed to be chicken under the sauce, vegetables that were extremely curried-
There was a tug at her skirts.
Granny looked down at a sticky, long-haired child, dressed in fine clothes which had fallen victim to both muddy games and plenty of food. The child smiled, optimistic, glimpses of candy showing where they were missing a tooth. A quick glance around showed that no one was looking for them, so she sighed and picked them up. At least they could have the soup, and she could get something actually filling.
Neither Nanny nor Maya blinked an eye over the appearance of the child, both choosing to coo and pull sweets out of heretofore hidden pockets. A deft movement assured Granny’s freedom while giving the child a seat, and she went back to the buffet.
Nothing was familiar among the various trays and warmed plates. Noodles long and flat, yellow and round, thin and almost glass-like rather than the spaghetti she’d seen in Ankh-Morpork, and with soups and sauces of all colours. All manner of dumplings with a dot of colour to demonstrate what each contained. The only meat she could recognize was chicken because of the wings and drumsticks. She narrowed her eyes at the table that was now clearly a dessert table, and determined not to make that mistake again.
Finally Granny opted for what looked to be the same foods the woman’s husband had been eating, took other vaguely familiar foods, and then, pausing to glance back at Nanny, filled another plate with everything else. Gossip took precedence to food, but Nanny was still the more adventurous of the two of them. It would have been better with Magrat to take her side, if the Genua trip was any judge.
*
The new stranger, just as ominously in black as the one-toothed woman Gytha, sat down as Gytha picked up the child- who was unmistakably neither her child nor her grandchild- out of the chair and settled them in her own lap. The fuller plate, amusingly, was placed in front of her, while the new stranger had only a few items on her plate. A quick glance sideways made it obvious that she was copying Mr Karim.
“This is Mrs Parau, and this is her husband Mr Pirau,” Gytha introduced them. “This is my friend Esme, we’re travelling!”
“Travelling?” Parau repeated the word, eyebrows rising. “How fortunate then, that you could make time for my niece’s wedding. How are you related to the groom?”
“Aren’t,” Gytha said promptly. “We’re friends of Suria’s- or my daughter is, an’ she asked us to say hello if we could.”
“We looked her up when we realized how near we were,” Esme said, in between bites- with fork and spoon, Parau noted, not clean hands like civilized people. “Lucky chance to be here for her wedding. Boy seems nice.”
“She’s certainly marrying into a good family,” Parau said sweetly. “They’ll clear her head of those silly notions.”
“What silly notions?” Maya asked, confused. “I found her such a nice levelheaded girl, and Suci told me how she was looking forward to having her as a daughter-in-law. And it’s lucky to have a witch in the family.”
Parau opened her mouth to retort, but Gytha got there first. “Course it is! All three of my husbands lived well with me, and all our children are healthy and happy.”
The woman Esme merely went on eating.
Maya engaged Gytha in talking about her family after that, and Parau fell silent, horrified. Not only did her niece know other witches than her (disgusting, classless) mentor, it was clear that Abyad’s family was going to accept her magics and her insolence. Why was her brother allowing this marriage to happen?
*
Mrs Parau stood abruptly, excusing herself. Granny watched her go, stealing bites from Nanny’s plate which seemed suitably unforeign. The child squirmed from Nanny’s lap back to Granny’s, casually reaching for the teapot in the middle of the table. Mr Pirau, whom the handle was pointing towards, picked it up and poured not tea but water over the child’s hands. The water collected in the grate below.
Satisfactorily clean, the child began stealing from Granny’s plate.
“Eat the vegetables too,” she said severely, pushing it towards their hand. They obediently picked a piece up and put it on the rice they were gathering, then smothered it in chicken.
“How good you are with her,” Maya exclaimed, turning from the conversation. “You must have had children of your own too! How many grandchildren have you?”
“None,” Granny said flatly. “Never married.”
“Picked it all up from helping me,” Nanny said with a wink. “Not that anyone round our parts was good enough for her!”
“He left,” Granny said, a determined end to the conversation.
“How romantic!” Maya said.
Blessedly, Nanny took over, chattering about her children and grandchildren, and Granny continued her meal, carefully glancing at the front of the room. A stage was set up there, with a bower of white and pink flowers behind a pair of ornate chairs. The new couple would be seated there, sure enough, and then they could make their greetings to the bride. Probably she’d pardon the intrusion for information about her aunt.
*
“Oh, here they come!” Maya exclaimed. All turned to look at the ranks of drummers entering the hall. Gytha surreptitiously kicked Esme so’s she wouldn’t make a comment about the racket. Behind them came the wedding couple, sure enough. A fine enough pair, all gussied up in embroideries, carefully not holding hands as they ascended the stage. Gytha glanced toward Esme, who was already glancing back- this bride was a witch, sure as the sky was blue.
They stayed politely silent for the ceremony, followed all the clapping when necessary, and then, when Maya and her husband rose, they rose too, the child coming along by tugging on Esme’s skirts. She was soon removed by her mother, with many apologies and thanks, and waved at them as she was carried off. Pirau stayed at the table, still waiting for his wife’s return.
“You came empty-handed?” asked Karim, looking at the two of them, pointedly marking out a delineation between them and him in the queue. Maya pushed him gently.
“Oh stop. They didn’t know she was getting married, husband, don’t be rude,” punctuating this last with a look that said any further objection would be dealt with at home.
Esme smiled grimly. “I see as you’ve come with naught to give, either.”
“We helped with the marriage arrangements,” Maya said proudly. “Paid for all the decorations, and I embroidered part of her trousseau myself. That was our wedding gift.”
“Quite thoughtful,” Esme murmured.
“My weddings were never as fancy, but I’d be proud that we had as much fun,” Gytha said cheerfully. “And as good food too.”
*
The queue to greet the new couple, long as it was, snaked around the stage, so Gita was in a good position to see the two strangers meeting her cousin and his wife. Abyad bore bland courtesy on his face as he bent over each hand in turn, clearly not recognizing them. Suria had the more interesting expression- Gita had no idea that eyebrows went that high. But she bent over each hand as her husband did, and then stopped the taller one with a hand on her forearm. They bent towards each other, exchanging words, but Gita had no idea what was said because at that moment Gasing shoved the basket into her arms.
When they had settled the squabble of who was carrying the heavy basket, the tall stranger had moved on, and the rounder stranger had said her own words to Suria, words that made her unusually pink. Gita longed to ask who they were, what they gave, but her father hurried them on, and she barely got a wink from Suria as they went.
The strangers were gone when they descended the stage.
*
“They left? But the dancing!”
“Oh auntie, don’t worry, they can dance when they reach Ankh-Morpork! But the coach was going to leave very soon, and they had to rush.”
“Such a bad omen, leaving their own wedding!”
“Hush, Parau, Abyad and Suria have done everything right. Dancing isn’t for luck, it’s for fun.”
“In Ankh-Morpork! Robbed blind, they’ll be!”
“Suria can take care of herself, and Abyad too. They’ll come back in a few months.”
It was the witch, Parau was sure of it. The small one with her unnerving companion. They’d never see Suria again, but they’d also never see Abyad again. Terrible!
*
“Thank you for leaving early,” Suria said, with an earnest smile that made it clear what had won her husband. The coachman touched his cap gruffly and nodded as she shut the door. The carriage was just about full, with Suria and her husband squeezed against each other with their luggage beside them, and other travellers on the bench opposite.
They had no map, but the old woman had a decent fold-out map, and she traced the route from the nearest rail station. Ankh-Morpork would require a few changes, but that sufficed. Suria traced the way back, and then the way to Lancre. She suspected they could afford it.
“What are you travelling for?” the woman asked as she tucked her map away. Abyad smiled, and squeezed his wife’s shoulder.
“We’ve just got married.”