32
A WARM BREEZE ruffled Izramith’s hair. The light of both suns was low and she had to squint into it to see across Barresh’s main square and down Market Street where thousands of people lined up, waiting for the parade.
There were locals in their family colours, guest workers in their native costume, or just any kind of costume. Long robes, colourful frills, gold and silver embroidery, brightly coloured veils, patterned skirts.
Izramith had not yet seen the wedding party, but they could not possibly outdo the spectator crowd in brilliance.
Already, the sound of the drums echoed over the markets. Behind her, the large guesthouse was a riot of colour, with people leaning out the windows cheering. Wairin was up there somewhere, and Eris sat in a security station opposite her, facing a b
