FIREBIRD: Bonus Material (wedding scene)
The original Bantam Books publication of FIREBIRD had a “CODA” showing Firebird and Brennen’s wedding. Here it is in full below.
As Firebird stepped through golden double doors, she surveyed the underground hall to which Brennen had brought her. All was white and gold except ahead, where there shimmered a shallow man-made lake surrounded by a latticed rail, crossed and recrossed by paths of square stepping stones and broken by islands of greenery. Sunlight streamed down from countless skylights, dancing and refracting on the water, and from somewhere she could hear more water rushing and splashing.
The Master Sentinel Brennen had introduced as Jenner Dabarrah stepped around from behind them, very tall and thin, with blue-gray eyes as pale as his golden hair. Dressed all in white with an eight-rayed star, he wore his age well: forty, perhaps? or fifty?
“Have you eaten?” He touched a bell.
“Enough.” Brennen squeezed Firebird’s hand as she stood in motionless wonder. Three days in slip had virtually restored Brennen, and she was very glad, for at the moment she wanted all the support he could give.
A young girl in a pale blue gown approached along a walkway, through a high arch on the right. “Go with her, my lady,” said Mater Dabarrah. “Surely you would like to bathe and dress.”
Firebird followed her leftward along the side of the sparkling pool, to another wide pavement. Her guide walked without hesitation to the fourth arching door, opened it, and stepped aside.
Firebird walked in. At first, the movement ahead startled her. It looked as though the inner wall were quaking. Then she sighed, delighted. As her eyes adjusted to the pale light she saw that the long wall hid behind a pale curtain of water that cascaded endlessly over smooth white stone.
The girl disappeared through an arch, but Firebird sat for a moment on the bed’s white coverlet, watching and listening to the singing waters, wondering if she dared take the step ahead of her.
Then she rose and followed.
Dabarrah escorted Brennen across the stepping stones toward his own quarters. We were alerted by Sentinel Kinsman that you had left Alta [now Tallis], of course, the elder Master subvocalized as his long legs swung him from stone to stone, and yesterday we received word from Naetai [now Netaia]. You seem to have carried off a fine piece of work there, well within our codes. However . . . He glanced sidelong. You are wanted for questioning and censure by the Regional Command.
Stepping silently to the next stone, Brennen sent a wordless general query for Dabarrah’s reaction to that news. Do not do this again, Brennen, Dabarrah sent back as they reached the paving at the far side of the reflecting pool Your brothers will shelter you and the woman you have chosen, if necessary, but we would prefer to see you elevated to the High Command one day.
Brennen returned a pulse of gratitude.
The girl led Firebird to Master Dabarrah’s rooms. Brennen stood inside, clothed in dress whites again, and on Dabarrah’s desk lay a long document, rough-textured like ancient parchment. “I have completed all but one thing, Lady Firebird,” he said. “What name will you take?”
“Firebird Mari Caldwell.” She twisted an end of the long golden belt the girl had wound around her unfitted white gown. A broad smile spread across Brennen’s face. “I like ‘Mari,’” she whispered as Dabarrah filled the last blank space. “I would like to keep it.”
Between the Sentinels she walked out upon the stepping stones. As the skylights dimmed, a band of light began to gleam around the edge of the waters, reflecting blue and green off Brennen’s whites.
They halted on a paved island. Firebird faced Dabarrah; Brennen drew close beside her.
“You have no doubts?” Dabarrah asked softly. “You will hold this bond before all other loyalties, Firebird? And you, Brennen? Your path may not be easy.”
She saw Brennen nod slightly, and did the same. Master Dabarrah placed his hands on their shoulders, speaking softly and musically in a tongue she did not know. A blessing, she guessed, or an invocation. Brennen answered briefly in what she thought was the same language.
Then Dabarrah dropped his right hand, leaving one on her left shoulder. “Firebird Mari,” he said gently, “you have chosen a Sentinel. Your culture has done nothing to prepare you for this.”
Firebird met the steady gaze of his pale eyes. “That is true, Master, but Brennen has explained bonding to me. I have accepted it—and him.”
“Then, I ask to touch your spirits.”
Brennen stepped behind her, circled her waist with one arm, and pressed into her mind, far deeper than he had ever gone before. For a sweet moment she held steady, but the feeling became a hurricane inside her, tearing her from her moorings even as it filled her with the presence she had come to love more than flight, more than freedom, more than life. As it became impossibly intense she let her body tumble against his.
He gathered her up into his arms. She sensed the approach of Dabarrah’s otherness. “Yes,” the elder Sentinel’s voice echoed above the joyous roar of her senses. “It is right. I bless your bonding. It is yours to finish.” A burst of light filled her mind’s eye as Dabarrah spoke.
Resting against Brennen’s chest, she half opened her eyes. Brennen took a step backward.
“I can walk,” she murmured.
“Let me. Please?” He kissed her, then. Carrying her like a holy vessel, he walked back across the stones over the water, along the wide way, and through the arching door of their bedchamber.