All around them was light.  Posh estates gleamed and shone with the almost limitless energy to be harnessed in this space that was Out-of-Plane, surrounded by virtually imperceptible, shimmering force fields to keep in the warmth and atmosphere.  Below those, on secondary levels, were the necessary workings of the place.  Refueling stations, temporary storehouses, power plants, and ancillary services all dwelled below the sparkle and glitter of the playgrounds of the rich.  There were even dormitories to house the dock workers and servants needed to make such a society run smoothly.  Rumor had it that they were ludicrously well paid compared to similar posts on a colony world, or even Old Earth.  “I had not expected it to be so circumscribed,” E’lin commented finally.

“Oh, Out-of-Plane is infinite,” Lord Kehrol informed her as the spacecraft settled onto its pad, “but we encourage the illusion of the cavernous dome so that those who do not truly understand are not given nightmares by the endlessness of it.”

 “I see.  You do not expect me to be one of those who cannot cope with the reality, my Lord?” the Bride questioned diffidently.

“I believe that you cope with reality better than anyone I know, my E’lin,” said Kehrol, once again for her hearing only.

At that point the slender spaceship was approached and suitable greetings given to Lord Kehrol ben Da’u Shaam and his Bride.  These efficient individuals whisked away the vessel and soon E’lin was stepping carefully beside her unanticipated new Husband along an elevated flag way, banked in flowers and decorative shrubs.  She felt no fear of falling, strangely enough, and later discovered that invisible, zero-artificial gravity nets to either side would catch anyone unfortunate enough as to slip.  “Mother’s estate is not far,” Kehrol told her.  “I find the stroll an enjoyable one, and I presume you are used to much walking on Otralto, although conveyances are available should one feel disinclined to exercise, and tube pods lead to the more isolated habitations.”  Yes, E’lin was definitely in a very different world now, a different Plane of existence, indeed.

“Am I,” E’lin swallowed thickly and hoped that it didn’t show much, “to be given into the care of your mother until the Wedding?”  She was finding even her indomitable patience and adaptability strained by so many changes in swift succession.  The Bride was aware of a desire to remain by the side of her Husband, to cling tightly if necessary.  In the portion of her mind that she hoped was secret, the girl wondered if that would gratify him, and further, if she wished for him to be contented by that.

“Technically, yes, but I will be with you as much as I am able, so do not feel abandoned just yet,” Kehrol said kindly and with a tiny glint of humor in his light brown eyes.  “You may even like my mother; I, myself, am more than a little fond of her, and this is unusual in a son who is not Heir Prime.” 

Greatly daring, E’lin inquired, “Then you are the Spare, the Heir Second?”  It went without saying that a Lady of Out-of-Plane would not herself conceive more than two children unless she was either cautious or eccentric.  As it turned out, Grand High Lady Ana’i J’zivah ben Da’u kim Valaas did occasionally verge on the eccentric, but no one called her that, or shunned her company, therefore.  She was a quietly popular and wildly powerful woman.  Each person invited to the Wedding of her son, everyone and without fail, would attend the Ceremony.

“No,” replied Lord Kehrol, slightly more laughter stealing into his eyes, “the first two are female, and for some reason, my mother had a yen for a male child as well.  I am Heir Third and the last.”

The couple had reached a wide fan of white marble steps, leading up to an ample porch supported by an aesthetic combination of pillars and arches.  Great flambeaux lit the perpetual night with simulated flame, much brighter and purer in glow than actual fire, but still charmingly flickering.  On the first floor, low walls were interrupted by banks of patio doors leading to ballrooms or halls, and in between semi-circular windows gave glimpses into reading or music rooms.  All were furnished with such exquisite taste that E’lin hardly knew where to look next.  Lord Kehrol swirled her past the bowing servants at the door, through a short passage, and into a sitting room on the less public, garden side of the building.  “My Bride, E’lin,” he presented her with a reassuring degree of warmth and pride in his voice.  Then, bowing to a tiny, dark-skinned woman sitting in a sapphire plush chair, her son introduced, “My Mother, Grand High Lady Ana’i J’zivah ben Da’u kim Valaas.”

As lovely as any Bride would be at her age, but with a piercing bird-like glance, the Lady Ana’i rose to meet her guest, holding out both hands, her shell pink caftan spreading like wings behind her as she strode forward.  No need for flowers in her closely shorn hair, or gilding, or even more than the most minimal of cosmetics, this Lady of Out-of-Plane dripped with dainty gems cleverly twisted into chains and draped about her.  “You must be weary, my dear one, after such a long and perplexing few days.  I prescribe a relaxing bath to soothe the nerves, and to remove that stiff lacquer from your hair.”

E’lin curtsied as she had been taught, with a small self-effacing sound.  The overawed teen thought that she should further make some protest, although she found herself in such accord with these plans that again she pondered whether her mind had been read.  However, before she could murmur any demure, Lady Ana’i had already clapped her hands and summoned Maids of the Personage to be sent to her.

These competent and effective young women had taken one look at the Bride and begun gently and slowly to herd her toward the nearest bathroom, treating her with all due respect, but at the same time, rather like a nervous filly.  They mumbled soothing inanities to her, about how beautiful she was, and how fortunate a Bride marrying into this family would be.  Favorable comments were made regarding the length and shape of her limbs, the lucky color of her eyes, the sweet bow of her mouth.  And all the time they were testing the temperature and depth of the water as it foamed into the sumptuous bath, stripping her of the fleetingly familiar flight suit, and smearing some sort of pungent, though not noxious, gelatinous goo onto her hair.  Then they motioned E’lin into the bath, deemed adequately prepared with oils and salts, and which lapped at her chin when she reclined.  If she expected to be left to bathe herself, the girl from the colonies was disappointed.  Salves and soaps and then lighter creams were massaged into arms and legs, buttocks and back, belly and breasts.  Even her neck and face were rubbed with cleansing and calming lotions.

Finally, she was half-lifted and half-coaxed out of the still warm water, briskly toweled, and enveloped in a robe that was as absorbent as it was light weight.  Talk had surprisingly floated toward, through, and around many subjects, including delicacies, poetry, current fashion, and the excitement of joining a new establishment.  Now, however, her attendants scattered, and she found herself alone with her Husband, Kehrol, and one girl who lingered long enough to report that the gold leaf had been removed from E’lin’s hair, but nothing else had been done to it.

He was dressed similarly to her in a pale blue robe, but E’lin feared to reflect very much on this happenstance, lest she give herself away in thoughts that were too near the surface.  “It is one of the prerogatives of the Husband, that only he, besides the servant girls, is allowed to wash the hair of his Bride,” said Kehrol, “or even touch it.”  And for a time, he did not seem lordly but rather caught in a combination of nervousness and vague tingles of anticipation.  It occurred to E’lin that he was not in control of the situation, and perhaps not even entirely of himself.  However, it did not dawn on her consciousness to feel in the slightest bit apprehensive. 

“How is this accomplished,” E’lin asked him steadily, “my Lord?”  It was perhaps the least tentative thing she’d said to Kehrol so far.

The young man of nearly twenty cycles could not stop himself from thinking how easy it would be to run a smidgen more hot water into the tub and tumble them both into it.  Unfortunately, his Bride was not from a planet where such things as mixed bathing were culturally acceptable.  Still, his mother’s vision had not steered him wrongly; he would not trade his E’lin for worlds.  And he had hopes for someday, after they’d been married for a few years and she’d matured somewhat, of doing rather more than bathing together without awkwardness.  “There is a reclining chair here, that leans back into a basin for your head.  I will stand behind you.  All you must do is trust me, my Bride.”

“I do.”  It was all she said, but Kehrol didn’t even need to dip into her mind to read her absolute sincerity.  He felt a tad humbled by it.  And carefully, with deft and subtly decadent fingers, he washed all the preparations and treatments and chemicals out of her dark blond hair.  From E’lin’s perspective, it was at once professional in quality and intimate in sensation.  Her Husband was acutely aware of his own perception of the second, tried for the first, and furthermore felt that he was making a memory that would survive as long as he lived.  Finally, he was done lathering, and rinsing, coating the ends with oil, and rinsing, scooping in moisturizer, and rinsing, and then rinsing thoroughly again, so he handed her an oversized towel, dried as much of her hair as would immediately surrender its moisture, and left her, discretely, alone.