There is quite a festive hubbub around the palace grounds for a few days, as guests gather for the grand wedding of the hajib's favorite niece to a prestigious member of Omrazir's Banu Beshaliq. There is much music, poetry, dance, and good food, and perhaps even a discreet cup of wine here and there, despite the general sobriety of Fuad Bey's court. Silver dirhams and new-minted copper follies make their way into the hands of the people of the city in honor of the occasion, and Annur and the bey are praised for their benevolence.
But the highlight, of course, and later on the talk of the town, is the presentation of wedding gifts that follows the ceremony. There are matched ensembles of shimmering moonweave for bride and groom, given by the Beshaliqs themselves. From several of the proud old families in the Kingfisher District come chests of ishmarila, frankincense, and anfizel, and the fabulously wealthy al-Murayds of Dockside contribute caskets of rare jewels from across Idiri. There are a pair of golden clockwork frogs from the bey of Tessere, a distant cousin of the bride, with eyes made from emeralds and rubies, which utter lifelike chirps and croaks as they hop around the floor. Fuad Bey himself bestows upon the bride a Surmiyyan steel jambiya with inlay of black pearl upon the ivory handle, and a scimitar of the same fine make upon the groom.
A simpler but still quite striking gift comes from the visiting Prince Regent of Innithel, who presents the couple with a beautiful tea set made from the unusual silvery metal called pewter, molded with exotic northern plants and inscribed with messages of good fortune in fine Ruvic lettering. The Prince Regent recites a nice little speech in Sirdabi, which he does with enough charm that people only laugh a little behind their hands when he calls the wedding "this most suspicious occasion" and describes the bride as a "pentagram of virtue".
Unfortunately a small but quite spectacular incident somewhat mars the presentation when, just as the Prince Regent moves across the dais to conclude his offering, one of the clockwork frogs hops itself right beneath his feet. By some incredible feat of footwork he manages to avoid stepping on the little automaton, but in doing so winds up crashing into the stand displaying his gift instead, and sends the whole set clattering over the edge of the dais in a great cacophony of tumbling metal. Nevertheless, once the prince has managed to recover his feet and his composure, he memorably takes advantage of this opportunity to point out how absolutely durable and practical as well as beautiful his Innithaelian pewter is, as not a single lovely piece has sustained either scratch or dent.
Whatever, the people of the Court come away impressed and curious with regards to these wares, and also with more stories to tell about the barbarian prince's great love for the Celeirine Hall floor that leads him to spend every available occasion in embrace of it.