They swirled around the wagon, and as Kestrel cracked the whip above the horses' heads, they surrounded it, whooping at the tops of their lungs.
And just as the entire equipage started to pull out, escort and all, another rider appeared at the far side of the courtyard, from the direction of the royal stables.
He let out a wild war-cry that caught even the Gypsies' attention, and plunged towards them.
"Is that-Victor?" Talaysen said, incredulously.
It was. Dressed-not quite in wild Gypsy regalia, but certainly in the brightest gear his closet had to offer. He spurred his horse towards the wedding cortege with another wild cry, circled the group three times, and cried, "Come on! The road won't wait forever!"
He pounded off towards the courtyard gate, the clear leader of the pack, with the rest of the mob streaming along behind him, wagon in their midst.
The stunned silence that filled the courtyard was more eloquent than words. Finally Talaysen shook his head.
"Poor Birnam," he sighed. "Poor, stiff-necked Birnam. We've unmade their King, turned their Princes into Gypsies, their lands into a haven for ne'er-do-well vagabonds, elves, and Free Bards, and stolen the power from their Bardic Guild. What's left?"
"Oh," she said, thinking of a little secret she had just shared with Gwyna. He'll find out about it in a month or two. I think he'll like being a father. "I'll think of something. Trust me."
"And you'll probably manage to surprise me as much as we've surprised Birnam," he chuckled.
She just smiled, and waved to the vanishing Gypsies.
End