And there were a few items Kellen would be needing that did not have to be made.
An Elf named Tandarion entered, carrying a tray on which lay four swords. Kellen was obscurely relieved to see that none of them was jeweled. Jeweled swords were all very well for wondertales and Festival plays, but this was real life.
“Fortunately we had been forging for the Flower Wars next spring, so there are several here to choose from. Even the King’s command could not forge a sword overnight,” the Master Armorer said. “Choose whichever pleases you best, Kellen. All are fine weapons, suitable to your needs.”
“But how do I—I mean, I’ve never handled a sword before. I would welcome your advice,” Kellen said awkwardly.
The Master Armorer smiled indulgently. “Try them all. I believe you will know the proper one when you heft it.”
Doubtfully, Kellen did as he was told. He lifted each of the swords in turn, flourishing them in the way he’d seen swordsmen do in plays back in Armethalieh. He had no idea of what to do with one, really, but he supposed it came with the armor, more or less. All of them were light, moving through the air like an extension of his arm. He was sure each of them was sharp. How could he possibly choose?
But he kept coming back to one in particular. It just felt better in his hand than the others. It wasn’t that it was prettier—all of them were beautiful, in the simple perfect way of Elven things. It wasn’t much different in size or shape than the others, and Kellen had no way of judging what was a good size and shape for a sword blade anyway.
It just felt right.
“The body sees what the mind cannot.” The Book of Stars says that. Okay. “I’ll take this one.”
“An excellent choice, Kellen. I’ll send it to the cordwainers to have a scabbard made immediately.”
“Immediately.” Now there’s a word I never thought I’d hear around here.
Just then Shalkan walked in.
“Shalkan?” Kellen said, surprised. He wondered if everyone in the forge was, well, fit company for a unicorn, so to speak. But Shalkan seemed comfortable enough.
The unicorn tilted his head, regarding Kellen. “Did you think you were going alone? Or that you were going to be the only one wearing armor?” Shalkan said. “The great Elven Knights used to ride unicorns into battle. You may not be an Elven Knight, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to that.”
Kellen watched with interest while Shalkan discussed his needs with the Elves. Kellen realized with relief that this time, when he rode out with Shalkan, he’d be doing it with a proper saddle; the Master Armorer took Shalkan’s measurements, and in a few moments, several sets of saddles and barding had been brought for Shalkan to choose from. That, in itself, would have been a pretty amusing idea, if Shalkan hadn’t been so deadly serious about it—the mount choosing the saddle and harness, instead of the rider!
Kellen had seen horses in armor at parades in Armethalieh on high Festival occasions. Shalkan’s armor was quite a different matter. For one thing, the unicorn was built nothing like a horse. For another, the unicorn was a thinking, reasoning, independent creature, not a beast meant to be controlled by a rider. Kellen gradually came to realize that it made good sense for Shalkan to choose his own protection; he was the only one who could say what was, and what was not, comfortable for him.
Shalkan chose armor that covered his chest and shoulders, leaving his legs and haunches free. The lower part of his long sinuous neck was encased in a long collar of interlocking rings that moved and flexed as fluidly as Shalkan himself, lined in sheep’s wool to prevent chafing. The armorer urged him to add a shanfron to his armor, a close-fitting piece that went over his head and cheeks and latched beneath his throat and muzzle, and in fact Shalkan tried several. But in the end Shalkan rejected them all, saying they were too confining.
Privately Kellen thought that was too bad, as the shanfron had looked very dashing.
“We will finish these pieces and have them ready for you by tomorrow, Shalkan,” Tandarion said.
Shalkan bowed his head. “Green for the lacings and ornaments, I think,” he said gravely. “To match my eyes, of course.”
Kellen wasn’t sure whether the unicorn was serious or making a joke, but the Elves seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable request.
Once they’d removed the armor, he wandered over to Kellen.
“Nice sword.”
“Not that I know the first thing about using one,” Kellen said under his breath.
“Just think of it as a large, pointy, sharp-edged club,” Shalkan said helpfully. “You’re good with a club. If you can’t actually cut at an enemy properly, at least you can bash him with the flat of the blade. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more arrangements to make before tomorrow, and your work here has just begun.” He pointed with his horn, and Kellen saw the Master Armorer and several apprentices coming out of the forge area with several pieces of what could only be Kellen’s new armor.
THERE was a helmet, a sort of collar, pieces to cover his chest and back, and long metal sleeves with segmented elbows, held in place by gauntlets so meticulously jointed that Kellen could touch each finger with his thumb, just as if the gauntlets were leather instead of metal. The closer he looked at the armor, the more small interlocking pieces he could see: it was as unyielding as any of the hard metals (quite harder than bronze, though it didn’t seem to be steel), but nearly as flexible as his own skin. The armorers swore a man could dance wearing this armor, but Kellen wasn’t looking forward to trying. It might be much, much lighter than anything he’d ever seen of the sort before, but that didn’t make it light.
The entire surface of the armor was ornamented, or would be when it was complete, with subtle patterns that were almost like the pattern of wood grain.
“It adds strength, you see,” one of the armorers told him, seeing his confusion, holding up a finished piece of another suit of armor for Kellen’s inspection. That one didn’t have a wood-swirl pattern, though; its surface pattern looked more like clouds, or billows of smoke.
“A good beginning, though of course much more work will be needed. You may remove the armor if you wish.”
Kellen pulled off the helmet (there would be feathers, he’d discovered to his dismay, in a green to match Shalkan’s ornaments) and slipped off the belly-and-back pieces, which were all he’d had on at the moment, the others having already been returned to the forge for more work. It looked like it was a good thing he was going to have an actual Elven Knight with him, because otherwise he wasn’t sure how he’d get in and out of all this stuff every morning, even if most of the parts did stay permanently connected to each other once the armor was finished.
But at last, late in the afternoon, the Master Armorer told him he was no longer needed for the work to continue. The armor would be ready for him by the time he was ready to depart.
Rolling up the quilted undertunic and leggings to take with him, Kellen left the armory.
HE went directly back to the house, hoping Idalia would be there. To his great relief he found her lying on one of the long benches in the living room, reading her copy of The Book of Sun and eating an apple, the grey cat under her arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Better than I will be later tonight,” Idalia said matter-of-factly, sitting up. “Don’t look so worried—with all the Elves of Sentarshadeen providing the energy to create the counterspell and the keystone, all I’ll really have to do is provide energy to channel their power, the skill to craft the spell, and the ability to put it in place. The cost to us all will be no worse than if we’d all worked nonstop for a few sennights, but compressed into an hour or so. We’ll all be exhausted once the spell is cast, but it will be worth it. That’s why you are not going to be participating in what we’re going to do tonight. You’ll need all your resources for what comes after.”
Kellen sat down beside her. The grey cat, dislodged from her previous comfortable position, climbed into his l
ap, settled down again, and started purring. He stroked her fur absently.
“What does come after?” Kellen asked. “Tomorrow, I mean.”
“Go where I send you and release the spell there. I’ll know more exactly what you’re looking for and how you’ll find it—and what to do when you get there—once I’ve done my part tonight.”
“That doesn’t seem, well, very exact,” Kellen said dubiously.
Idalia reached out and ruffled his hair comfortingly. “If you wanted exact answers and detailed instructions, brother dear, you should have stuck with the High Magick. That’s not what our path is about. Now … don’t you have some packing to do? Or are you going to be like one of those adventurers in the wondertales, going off on his knightly quest with nothing more than a shining suit of armor and great expectations?” She gave him a gentle shove and lifted the cat from his lap. “Don’t worry about food—the Elves are taking care of that, and the mule to carry it. But don’t forget your Books, or you’ll just have to hunt through everything you’ve brought to find out where they’ve gotten themselves to. They won’t allow themselves to be left behind, you know.”
FORTUNATELY Kellen by now had a certain amount of experience with long journeys and the small comforts that made such travel tolerable. Even more fortunately, he and Idalia had been in Sentarshadeen less than a sennight, and his bedroll (and other camping equipment) were still tucked away in the corners of his room, along with his share of the traveling packs.
Despite all that, it took Kellen a long time to decide what he’d actually need. Too many thoughts kept intruding: of the adventure (or possibly disaster) that lay ahead, of the magic to come tonight, of the thought of actually wearing a suit of glorious Elven armor. Would he look silly—or grand?
And, occasionally, darker thoughts. Just what was Shadow Mountain? Who were the Endarkened, and did they live there? And why did they hate the Elves? Was he really going to have to fight? He’d never really fought anyone—other than the stone Hounds—before in his life …
In the Council chamber this afternoon, Idalia had made it all sound like such a simple matter: go to the source of the spell and use the keystone she would make tonight. And at the time, it’d seemed very simple: an adventure, in fact. He’d triggered keystones before—anytime he used their stored energy to fuel a spell, in fact. That part didn’t worry him overmuch.
But he knew it couldn’t be quite as simple—or as easy—as she’d made it all sound. Just finding out what was causing the drought had exhausted Idalia, and whatever was going to happen tonight would be a further drain on her. But whoever it was at Shadow Mountain who had caused the drought in the first place had meant to destroy Sentarshadeen and everyone in it, so just finding out how to stop them had to have been the easy part, if anything in all this could be called easy. That meant there must be traps and barriers between Kellen and undoing their spell that he couldn’t even begin to imagine right now.
And whoever had set the spell certainly wouldn’t want it undone. If they found out about him, they’d certainly try to stop him. Just like the High Council had tried to stop him from leaving the City lands.
For just a moment, in his mind Kellen was back in the pocket canyon facing the Outlaw Hunt. Suddenly he was glad—very glad—that Shalkan and one of the Elves would be going with him. And he was beginning to wish that he’d be going with an entire Elven army, instead …
Chapter Twenty
A Circle of Silver Fire
THAT EVENING, JUST after lamp-lighting time, Kellen and Idalia went down to the meadow beyond the Palace, carrying lanterns to guide their way. Tonight, all of Sentarshadeen was dark. No one remained behind in the Elven houses to tend the lamps, and it would be folly to leave them unattended.
But the meadow itself was bright, for every Elf in the city was there, and the meadow had been ringed with lanterns.
There were no unicorns to be seen anywhere in the meadow, for the work to be done tonight belonged entirely to the Elves. Kellen didn’t really understand why—perhaps, just like him, the unicorns would have a different role to play in the days ahead.
He looked around.
The Elves all wore long robes in pale colors, the fabrics seeming to shimmer in the twilight as if they glowed as well. Kellen could hear the faint susurrus of conversation among the waiting Elves; a quiet sound considering the size of the crowd.
Idalia stopped him outside the edge of the ring of lanterns. She was carrying her walking stave, but aside from that, she hadn’t made any particular preparations that Kellen had noticed.
“Remember, Kellen. Once this starts, I don’t want you being a part of it. You’ll have your price to pay later, and trust me, you’ll pay as much as we do here and now.”
“I remember,” Kellen said.
Privately, he hardly thought it was fair. Whoever would be riding with him tomorrow would be in the circle tonight, part of the spell, contributing their power to its success. Why couldn’t he be here as well?
Still, it was Idalia’s choice, and he would accept that.
“And besides,” she went on, with a sideways smile at him. “You do have one very important part to play here tonight.”
“Thought so,” Kellen said in satisfaction, pleased. Then: “What?”
“When the spell is complete—you’ll know when that happens—and the keystone appears, you need to take it and wrap it up carefully in a protective cloth. The Elves have spent all day preparing it. Ashaniel will have that; I think I see her now. Keep the keystone safe, and don’t unwrap it again until you’re ready to use it. The cloth should keep Shadow Mountain from being able to sense the keystone, which will serve as another layer of protection for you. One thing that we don’t want is for them to know you’re coming, and the keystone’s presence in the world might as well be a blazing torch to alert them.”
That reminded Kellen yet again that he very much wanted to ask just what Shadow Mountain was, and why it—or they—wanted to destroy the Elves, but just then Idalia started moving through the crowd. She handed her lantern to someone at the edge of the gathering, and Kellen quickly followed suit with his own. Fire was still a danger, especially with so many people gathered here together.
Everyone stepped back to give Kellen and Idalia room as they approached. Kellen had never been so conscious of being the center of attention, though he told himself it was really Idalia who was the focus of everyone’s concern tonight. His part would be played out in the future, out of sight, and suddenly he was glad of it. There was a downside to being the center of attention; if you fouled up, there was no second chance to try again and do it right. He wouldn’t fail (of course!) but if he did at least there’d be no one there to see, and maybe he could get that second chance after all.
Because of the way Sentarshadeen was built, even now Kellen wasn’t really sure how big the city was, but tonight he knew how many Elves lived here. Hundreds. More than he could count. They filled the entire meadow, all the way back into the trees.
At the center of the crowd a small open space had been preserved. A large five-sided flat tablet of white stone had been set upon the grass, and a small bronze brazier had been placed atop that for Idalia’s use. The space was ringed with more torches.
Ashaniel approached them as they reached the edge of the open space, holding a small bundle of dark fabric in her hands. She held it out to Idalia. “Here is the spell-caul for the keystone.”
Idalia took it and passed it to Kellen, thanking Ashaniel absently. Kellen could tell his sister’s mind was already elsewhere, on the work that was to come.
Curious, Kellen inspected the bundle in his hands. It was a large square of heavy red silk, embroidered in the same color as the fabric. His fingers tingled as he touched it, and it seemed somehow colder and heavier than it ought to be. Magic. Sewn to the outside was a pair of long tasseled cords, so he could tie the bundle shut once he’d wrapped the keystone in it. He folded the fabric up tightly again and tucked it under one
arm.
Now all that remained was to create the contents.
He remembered Idalia’s lessons about withdrawing himself from a spell in order to deny his power and energy to a Working. The Book of Sun also spoke of starving the will and refusing consent; Kellen had thought those injunctions related only to making bargains until Idalia explained that all aspects of a spell were in some sense a transaction: giving power to the spells of another, accepting a spell cast upon you (for good or ill), sensing the effects of a spell cast by another. If the Wildmage refused to participate in the transaction, depending on his own power, he could minimize or even negate the power of the spell entirely. All these things were aspects of shielding, and Kellen’s abilities in that area were going to get a serious workout tonight. Maybe he wasn’t such a “nonparticipant” after all; it would take a great effort of will to avoid being drawn into a working this large.
Idalia stepped into the center of the ring of torches, and as she did, silence spread outward in ripples through the waiting Elves, until the only sound was that of the wind through the trees.
As Kellen watched, she knelt on the center stone and prepared her spell, piling a few leaves and a sharp knife beside the brazier filled with tinder.
Then she rose to her feet and began making her Circle, marking it with her staff.
He knew far more now about the physical components of Wild Magic than he had back when he’d first helped Idalia heal the unicorn colt. A Wildmage’s Circle was an acknowledgment that the world had boundaries, and that the help he or she summoned came into the world the Wildmage knew and served from elsewhere. It also functioned as a reminder that in calling upon the forces of the Wild Magic, the Wildmage was leaving behind the world he or she knew. In Calling Spells, no forces except those the Wildmage had called could enter the Circle; in Finding Spells, it served as a point of departure on the path that would lead the Wildmage to his goal. On those rare and dangerous occasions when the Wildmage was compelling something to appear before him, the Circle served as a beacon to guide it and an enclosure to imprison it, subject to the Wildmage’s will.
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