The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “It looked human at first—when it spoke to me. It was wearing odd clothes, all white. Clothes I’d never seen before. Until now. Not exactly like these, but … similar.”

  It was dressed like an Elf? Kellen wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was sure it was something meaningful … and bad.

  “You’ll need to draw what you saw for us, as exactly as you can. It may be important.” He thought hard for a moment. “In fact, every tiny little detail you can remember might be critical.”

  Cilarnen nodded soberly.

  Colors mattered to the Elves. White was the color of the Unformed—Anganil’s tack had been white because he had no master.

  It was also the color of the shrouds the Elves used to suspend their dead in the trees.

  The color of Unmaking.

  WHEN Kellen and Cilarnen arrived at Redhelwar’s tent, the Senior Commanders and some others—Jermayan, Idalia, Vestakia; representatives of the Centaur and High Reaches fighting forces; a few other Wildmages—were already there.

  The honored guest arrives last, Kellen reminded himself. He hadn’t expected quite so large an audience for Cilarnen’s speech, but he suspected that rumors were already flying about the camp, and it would be just as well to be able to provide hard information in as many directions as possible as quickly as possible to keep those rumors from growing.

  Small cups of tea were served; a token formality only.

  “You have spoken with Cilarnen High-Mage of Armethalieh, Kellen,” Redhelwar said, coming quickly to the point. “What have you learned?”

  “I believe him indeed to be Cilarnen Volpiril,” Kellen said carefully. Best to settle the obvious questions first. “Vestakia sensed no Taint in him, nor did Shalkan object to either his presence nor his touch. I would say … he is who he seems.”

  “And the reason for his presence here?” Redhelwar asked.

  “In Stonehearth, one of Them spoke to him as if he were me.” He looked at Cilarnen curiously. Why had Kardus brought Cilarnen to him? He’d never thought to ask.

  “I had to tell someone,” Cilarnen said. “Someone who could help. Kardus said to tell you.”

  “The Wild Magic gave Kardus the Task of bringing Cilarnen and his information to me,” Kellen said, setting the pieces of the puzzle into a form the Elves would easily understand.

  “From the look upon both your faces, the news that Cilarnen brought is of grave importance,” Belepheriel said. “It would be good if you would share it with us.”

  “Tell them what It said to you,” Kellen said.

  Once more Cilarnen recited the words the Demon had spoken to him in Stonehearth. He might have dropped a bolt of lightning in their midst and gotten less reaction.

  “A foothold in the human city!” Padredor exclaimed. “Impossible—they could not breach its wards any more than they can breach our own.”

  “Yet, if I ken these words aright, they have breached them,” Adaerion pointed out. “Yet one does not properly understand what catspaws could they use in a place where everyone must be human and all magic but Mage-magic is banned.”

  “We have to find out,” Kellen said. He looked at Idalia.

  She shook her head. “I haven’t had any luck Seeing the City since we fled the last Scouring Hunt. The Gods know I’ve tried, but … nothing. And putting that together with this news makes me very uneasy.”

  “There is another matter I would raise concerning Cilarnen,” Kellen said, choosing his words with care. “I do not speak against his honor, yet it is a mystery. He is here because he was Banished, as I was, from Armethalieh. It is the custom of the High Mages to burn the Magegift from the minds of those they Banish. That they did not do it in my case was … an oversight.” And the work of the Wild Magic, he did not doubt. “Yet Cilarnen’s was not destroyed—only suppressed until the day of the battle at Stonehearth.”

  “Who was supposed to do it?” Idalia asked. “If we’re looking for treasonous Mages, there’s a place to start.”

  “It was Undermage Lord Anigrel,” Cilarnen said.

  “I suppose Master Anigrel could have been elevated,” Kellen said doubtfully, “but he was Lycaelon’s private secretary. You might as well expect Lycaelon himself to be plotting to overthrow the City.”

  “Could it have gone wrong?” Idalia asked. “Could he have tried to Burn it out and just … missed?”

  Cilarnen shook his head. “I am no Mind-healer, my lady—one must study for years to become adept at that—but I know a little of the theory. To ‘miss’ would have killed me. To leave me whole, but without my Gift, that is as delicate a thing as—as taking the spice out of brewed tea. To simply put it to sleep, so I didn’t even know it was there … that is more delicate work still. Yet—” He shook his head. “Yet I think, now, that is what was deliberately done.”

  “Could a Journeyman do it?” Kellen asked. That had been Anigrel’s rank—and by the way the City worked, it would be for years to come.

  Cilarnen shook his head again, smiling painfully. “It is not what I studied—would have studied. But Mindwork is only done by a Master Undermage … and work so delicate, I would say would require a Magister-Practimus—a full High Mage—at least.”

  “How delicate?” Kellen asked. “Is it just that you need a light touch, or a mind for details, or what, exactly?”

  “I don’t know! Kellen, I was only an Entered Apprentice! I’d barely begun my studies in the Art Magickal!” Cilarnen protested.

  “You know more than anyone else here,” Kellen said. “You’re going to have to make your best guesses and tell us all you can.”

  “I’ll tell you what I … know,” Cilarnen said, hesitating over the last word. “You know the Mageborn swear oaths not to speak about the High Magick to the Commons, but don’t worry that I’ll hold anything back. I’ve already broken those oaths.”

  He looked miserable—no, more than that. Lost. Kellen didn’t know what to say to comfort him.

  “When you were Banished from your City, Cilarnen High Mage, your people took your name and your rank from you,” Belepheriel said, with the gravity of a judge. “In doing that, they also took from you all your sworn oaths. In speaking now, you violate nothing, and may save many. It is a new way you must learn now, but this is a time of learning new ways.”

  “Thank you,” Cilarnen said softly, bowing his head. Unconsciously he touched his chest, where his City-Talisman would have hung.

  “It looks like Anigrel is where we need to start,” Idalia said briskly. “And I very much want to see who’s sitting on the High Council these days, if there’s been a shift there. And who Lycaelon is now claiming as his son. The question is: how?”

  “That is a matter to be settled among Wildmages,” Redhelwar said firmly. “What my commanders and I must know is the extent of this ‘foothold’ It spoke of, so that we may determine what to do.”

  Idalia bowed. “We will bring you this information as quickly as we can, Redhelwar.”

  She and the other Wildmages left the pavilion.

  KELLEN and Cilarnen remained behind.

  Redhelwar regarded Kellen, brows raised.

  Kellen bowed.

  “You would speak,” Redhelwar observed.

  “I would,” Kellen agreed. “You know it has long been in my mind that this campaign has been Their attempt to keep us from seeing what needs to be seen.”

  “And it is now in your mind that while we dally here, They strike first at Armethalieh,” Redhelwar said.

  “Not dally,” Kellen said. “And not strike. I believe—I believe that this is a very different sort of warfare than They have ever practiced before. The Mageborn, I believe, remember Them, and fear Them, though they keep the fact a closely-guarded secret. I do not believe that a foothold could be taken by force. But … by seduction. As one of Them tried to seduce me at the Black Cairn. If it had worked—if I had believed Its lies—perhaps I would now be the agent you were all searching for in Armethalieh.”

  “No,” R
edhelwar said somberly, “for we would all be dead of drought and wildfire. But should Armethalieh fight for the Darkness instead of the Light … Go with Idalia, Kellen. See what Knight-Magery and High Magick can do to assist her.”

  Kellen bowed again and left, taking Cilarnen with him.

  THEY caught up to the other Wildmages at the edge of the Mountainfolk camp.

  “Redhelwar sent us to see what we could do to help,” Kellen explained. “I can’t think of a thing I can do,” he added, shrugging.

  “Not until we have some idea of what we’re going to do,” Idalia agreed. She turned her attention to Cilarnen.

  “I know there are wards, but I’ve never worked on them,” he said. “So I have no idea of how to get past them. The little ones, for things like keeping mice out of grain—I’ve helped with those.”

  “What about distance-seeing spells?” Idalia asked.

  Cilarnen looked perfectly blank.

  Why, Idalia, how could you ever imagine that any of the Mageborn would ever want to see anything that happened outside the City? Kellen thought mockingly. If such spells existed in the arsenal of the High Magick, they were undoubtedly restricted to the higher ranks of the Mageborn. Cilarnen wouldn’t have begun to learn them for years—decades.

  “Well, we’ll get started. I want to try a few things—and have Jermayan and Ancaladar try them, too. Atroist and some of the Lost Lands Wildmages have arrived, and they know a number of ways of doing things I’m not familiar with. But I don’t think we’ll need your help yet. Join us here for dinner and I’ll let you know how far we’ve gotten. Bring wine.”

  Kellen laughed shortly at the morose tone of Idalia’s voice.

  “Wine it is,” he said. “Come on, Cilarnen, we’ll go up to the Unicorn Camp and catch them up on the gossip. Shalkan will pin my ears back if I don’t.”

  THEY stopped first at the dining tent to collect a cold lunch and some treats for the horses, and soon were riding up to the Unicorn Camp. Anganil behaved himself far better on this journey than he had on the last.

  “So we don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day?” Cilarnen asked.

  “You may not,” Kellen said. “When we get back, I’m going to see if the practice field is free. If it is, I’ll take my troop out for a couple of hours of drill. You should see Artenel about getting some armor fitted—you may not be able to use a sword, but you’ll still need armor.”

  “I can use a sword!” Cilarnen protested. “Master Kalos said I would have made a fine swordsman—I studied with him thrice a sennight.”

  “Reed-blade,” Kellen said, struggling to keep his voice neutral. Cilarnen was right to be proud of his skill, but it was useless in war. “It is not the sort of sword we carry in the field.”

  “You think it’s useless,” Cilarnen said, stung.

  “Pay attention to your mount. I did not say that. I have never studied reed-blade. The quickness and coordination: those skills will probably transfer to another weapon if you wish to learn one. But the swords we use take a great deal of strength, and learning any weapon takes time, and you are a Mage, not a Knight.”

  “You’re both,” Cilarnen pointed out. “And I’m not much of a Mage.”

  Leaf and Star, send me a Selken Trader! Kellen kept his voice patient. “I’m a particular kind of Wildmage, called a Knight-Mage. I’m very good at fighting, not as good at Wildmagery.”

  “It’s nice to know there’s something you’re not good at,” Cilarnen muttered.

  Kellen wondered if Cilarnen had meant him to hear the remark. It was odd to think that Cilarnen must be just as off-balance and resentful as he was, now that their situations were reversed. Here, Kellen must seem to have all the advantages Cilarnen had once possessed, plus a higher rank than Cilarnen had ever held.

  Well, the truth wouldn’t hurt. “At the moment, you’re the best High Mage in a thousand leagues. You are our only expert in High Magery. And as for Magecraft, who knows what the future may hold?”

  “You can’t believe the City would ever take me back?” Cilarnen said in disbelief.

  “I believe I do not know—and neither do you,” Kellen said firmly. “If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should be very careful how you use the words ‘never’ and ‘forever,’ because you might have to eat them one day.”

  They reached the Unicorn Camp. In the distance, beyond the camp, Kellen could see plumes of snow arcing from the ground, as the remaining Unicorn Knights engaged in elaborate war games.

  “They’re practicing,” Kellen said. “Let’s go watch.”

  BEFORE he’d gotten his own command, he’d participated in a few of these games, but even a Knight-Mage’s skill couldn’t quite make up for years of practice, and he still hadn’t entirely mastered the long Elven lance.

  Both teams were armed with the lance. The object of the game was a small leather ring, to be picked up on the lance point, carried off, and defended.

  There were, as far as Kellen could tell, no other rules.

  He and Cilarnen stood well back from the edge of the field as the unicorns darted in and out among each other, springing like deer, as their riders vied strenuously for possession of the mostly-invisible object. Occasionally one unicorn would leap right over another, and woe to the rider who didn’t duck in time.

  “They ride them?” Cilarnen asked, sounding surprised.

  “By mutual consent,” Kellen said.

  “Why are they all the way out here?” Cilarnen asked.

  Kellen suspected the direction this conversation was going to go, but he really had no choice. There were things Cilarnen needed to know, and if he found out things Kellen would rather he didn’t know in addition, well, that was a part of paying his price.

  “Unicorns are creatures of magic. Magic has limitations as well as advantages. What did they teach you about unicorns in Armethalieh?”

  Cilarnen frowned. “Their horn is proof against poison. That they share the nature of both the goat and the lion. And only virgins can tame them.”

  “Their horns purify just about anything. Their ‘nature’ is their own, and no one can actually ‘tame’ a unicorn. But only virgins can be around them,” Kellen corrected. “Virgin meaning someone who is both chaste and celibate—and they can definitely tell.”

  “So that’s why they’re all this way from the rest of the camp?” Cilarnen said, accepting Kellen’s explanation without a blink.

  “That’s right.”

  “Come to tell us what’s going on?” Shalkan asked before Cilarnen could come up with any more questions. “Or is the game more interesting?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ve come for a quiet chat,” Gesade said.

  Kellen looked over his shoulder. The two unicorns were standing behind them.

  “Let’s go back to the Unicorn Camp,” he said to Cilarnen.

  When they reached the edge, he swung down off Firareth and patted his shoulder.

  “Drop Anganil’s reins to the ground and tell him to stand,” Kellen said to Cilarnen. “He won’t wander.”

  Cilarnen looked dubious, but followed Kellen’s suggestion.

  They made their way to the center of camp. Kellen added more charcoal to the communal brazier.

  The two unicorns waited expectantly. Gesade’s ears flicked back and forth as she followed the sound of his movements. If Cilarnen noticed her blindness, he had the sense not to mention it.

  Kellen told his part of the story, and encouraged Cilarnen to add his own, just as he had told it to Kellen early this morning.

  “I hardly think that was fair,” Gesade said when Cilarnen had finished. “You were trying to do the right thing.”

  “I didn’t think,” Cilarnen said, still sounding confused by his own actions. “My—my father would not have listened. The whole City knew that. But any of the Mageborn has the right of personal appeal to the Arch-Mage. It would have been a hideous scandal. I would certainly have been disowned. But … it would have been better
.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked,” Kellen said flatly. “I don’t say this because …” Because he’s a hidebound monster who tried to kill me twice.

  “Kellen, we all knew,” Cilarnen said tactfully. “You and Lycaelon … didn’t get on.”

  “Yes,” Kellen said. “But … don’t you see, Cilarnen? It’s like war. Lycaelon was on one side. The other twelve members of the High Council were on the other. Those odds are not good for … winning. And we now know that They are involved somehow.” A thought struck him. “I think that all of this might have been arranged to empty a Council seat. Your friends—did any of them have connections to the High Council?”

  Cilarnen, didn’t even have to think. Unlike Kellen, he must have had the ranks and lineage of every one of the Mageborn committed to memory. “Jorade was the great-great-grandnephew of Lord Isas—and his heir. Geont was a Pentres, but the Pentreses are allied to the Breulins, and Lord Breulin sits upon the Council.”

  “So of the six of you, three had Council connections. What of Master Raellan?”

  “He helped us a great deal—without him, we would never have found each other. But I’m sure he had no connection to the High Council. He was a Journeyman—of a minor house at best, perhaps even the son of a commoner like poor Tiedor. He never did give a family name, and we thought it would be tactless to ask.”

  But you trusted him with all your lives, because he was Mageborn. Kellen didn’t ask what had happened to Master Raellen. It would be too cruel. Cilarnen didn’t know what had happened to any of them. By now they were either dead, living somewhere in the City stripped of their Magegift and their memories, or—if they’d been incredibly lucky—simply didn’t remember anything about the whole “conspiracy” at all.

  “Kellen … you don’t think … it all happened just so someone else could take a Council seat?” Cilarnen sounded horrified.

  Kellen didn’t answer. It seemed likely to him. In the normal course of things, there wouldn’t have been a vacancy for years—even decades.

  “If one of the Tainted is on the Council, They have more of a ‘stranglehold’ than a ‘foothold,’” Gesade said, “assuming I understand how your High Council works.”