The stink of burning flesh filled the air, and the sound of screams clashed with the music.
A crowd of people watched this with jeers and heckles, several of them rather short and bearded wearing miner’s clothes.
“Why are those men in helmets?” I asked the Lord Chamberlain.
“It’s a dwarven thing, Ambassador Nejem. ”
I nodded and watched the woman in fine clothes dance in agony.
Surely the bride would be terrified by this ritual torture.
I turned and observed her.
Her snow white skin glowed with joy and her blood red lips were parted in a bright smile.