2 To Light A Candle.13 (23 page)

Kellen sat back in his seat, trying not to look as agitated and anxious as he felt. Some diplomat he turned out to be!

But maybe he hadn't been as persuasive as he could have been? Maybe, secretly, he didn't want Armethalieh to be warned, because he still resented the Golden City, but he wanted to be able to say—assuming anyone ever asked— that he'd done everything he could to save it.

Maybe he should go himself. Or try to. Perhaps with a suitable disguise…

"I think perhaps that you are right, Kellen Knight-Mage," Ashaniel said after a very long pause. "Perhaps we have been overhasty in dismissing the threat the Enemy poses in human lands. Certainly a timely word of warning would not go amiss, could the Golden City be persuaded to accept it. Yet the selection of a proper envoy is a delicate matter."

"I would say that it must be either Bevar or Hyandur," Morusil said consideringly. "Both have been to the Golden City in the past—though not for many years, of course—and both are familiar with the ways of humans. I shall speak to each of them within the moonturn to see if he is willing to go. I believe that one of them will be, and if he is, he will leave before the heavy snows. Rest assured, young Kellen, warning of the Enemy's intentions will be carried to the human city in a timely fashion, though whether it may be successfully delivered is something which only the Gods Themselves may say."

"Thank you both," Kellen said feelingly. "I know it doesn't seem like a very important matter to you—"

Ashaniel raised her hand, silencing him.

"In the tapestry of the weaving of the Gods of Leaf and Star, none who are living may see the whole pattern and know its completion," Ashaniel said gently. "Perhaps the threads of your spinning are as important as the rest."

Perhaps so. Kellen only hoped the Gods thought so—and that they could make someone in Armethalieh listen to whoever Ashaniel and Morusil sent.

ABOUT a sennight and a half after the caravan left, the first snowfall came to Sentarshadeen, and a few days after he went to the House of Leaf and Star, Kellen awoke to find Sentarshadeen transformed once more. Snow had begun to fall during the night, making the whole city silent and white. As a result, he slept later than usual, only to be awakened by a messenger from the House of Sword and Shield, who had come to tell him that Master Belesharon had decreed that there would be no classes today, so that all could honor the first fall of snow.

Kellen stood in the doorway, wrapped in his house robe, watching the messenger leave. He stared up at the sky, then looked away quickly, blinking and shaking his head.

Snow was dusty. And cold.

He brushed his face clean and stepped back inside, closing the door and frowning suspiciously.

Idalia had described snow, of course. It was fluffy frozen water that fell from the sky in winter whenever it felt like it. But they'd barely had rain in the City, and the only snow Kellen had ever seen was either already on the ground in the City parks—since the Mages in charge of the weather made sure it fell only on the parks, and only at night—or sold in the City markets in Preservation-spelled containers. It had not been coming down from the sky as if it would fall forever.

He wasn't sure he liked it.

"Was there someone at the door?" Idalia slid open the door of her sleeping room and poked her head out, her sleeping-braids hanging loose about her face. "It's snowing," she added unnecessarily.

"Vinshan came to tell me that there are no classes today. We're to honor the snow," Kellen said, hoping he didn't sound too grumpy about it. He didn't know why, but the snow made him feel uneasy. As if there were something bad about it.

"Then I guess you should do that. At least it will be warmer now that it's started snowing," Idalia said, which certainly didn't make any sense.

She retreated back into her room and came out a few moments later, her braids secured on top of her head with a few bone pins, and wrapped in her favorite winter house robe. She moved immediately to the stove and began building up the fire.

Kellen went over to the window and stared gloomily out at the snow. It sifted down steadily, making everything white. Even the pines in the forest opposite had turned a pale silvery grey. The only spot of color in the landscape was the surface of the swiftly-moving river below.

"Will you stop pacing, please?" Idalia said a few minutes later. "You're acting like a caged bear."

Kellen came to himself with a start, realizing he'd been doing exactly that.

"The tea's ready. Go get dressed. Have something to eat. Maybe that will settle you down."

Sheepishly, Kellen retreated to his room, dressing in warm working clothes, a half-formed notion brewing in his mind. Master Belesharon had said it would be safe to ride again once the snow had started, after all. And Vinshan hadn't said Kellen couldn't go down to the House of Sword and Shield, only that there were going to be no lessons today. Maybe a workout with Deyishene was just what he needed to take the fidgets out. And that would be honoring the snow, wouldn't it?

He came back out and accepted a cup of tea from Idalia, but when she offered him the plate of breakfast pastries, Kellen found that he wasn't really hungry. He tucked a couple of the dried fruit ones into his pockets for later—if he didn't want them, Deyishene would relish the treat.

"Are you feeling all right?" Idalia asked, sounding worried.

"I'm fine," Kellen said, forcing himself to sound as if her question didn't make him want to scream. "It's just… well, snow takes some getting used to, you know. It doesn't seem natural; maybe that's what's getting on my nerves."

Idalia smiled. "I keep forgetting you haven't seen very much wild weather. And the snow's going to be especially heavy this winter because the weather patterns are still settling back to normal. But you'll soon get used to it. And it's quite beautiful really."

"And warmer," Kellen said sardonically.

"Warmer than bright clear days where everything's covered in ice. Really. You'll see," Idalia said. "Not a lot warmer, I'll grant you that, but even a little can seem like a lot in winter. And snow is easier to walk in—and over—than ice. Now that it's finally come, we can trade our sabatons for snowshoes, and the going will be a lot easier."

"If you say so," Kellen said doubtfully. He set down his empty teacup. "I think I'll get going." He rubbed his head.

"Headache?" Idalia asked.

"Not really. Everything just feels… tight. I'll feel better with a little fresh air and exercise."

But the feeling didn't go away on the walk down to the stables, and by the time Kellen reached them, he felt definitely unsettled. It wasn't anything like the feeling he'd had when he'd faced the Endarkened Barrier—nothing in the world could compare to that!—but it was almost like remembering that feeling. He felt touchy and out-of-sorts, and was glad there was no one around to see him but the horses. The stable was fuller than he'd ever seen it, with a number of the animals having come in to seek shelter from the snow. An equal number, of course, were reveling in it, romping and rolling in the icy stuff, kicking up great plumes of white. All of them were in full winter coat by now, their heavy coats making them look round and shaggy, not at all the sleek gleaming creatures they were at high summer.

Deyishene was glad to see him, of course, but the Elven mare seemed to catch some of his mood as soon as Kellen put his hands on her. Though she'd let him groom her, and was happy to eat both his breakfast pastries, every time he tried to put a saddle on her back she made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wasn't having any, and at last he gave up. Not only the weather, but his lady was playing him false today.

When he finally put the tack away, she followed him to the tack room, nuzzling at his neck and shoulder as if to try to apologize for something she couldn't explain. Kellen patted her shoulder resignedly.

"Never mind, Deyishene. I guess I'm just not having any luck today. I'd better go find some place quiet to drown myself," he said with a halfhearted grin. "That is, if I don't have to break the ice to do it!" Someplace where I won't make trouble for myself that I just have to clean up later when I'm feeling better.

The unicorn meadow and the Flower Forest beyond was the obvious destination. If he was lucky, he might run into Shalkan, who might be able to talk him out of this peculiar mood, or at least provide a counter-irritant—since Shalkan could be very irritating when he tried. And the Flower Forest was beautiful enough to make anyone feel better, and it was always warm in there.

Maybe he just missed Sandalon more than he thought he would. Even though sending the Elven children to the Crowned Horns had been a sensible decision, their leaving had cast a pall over all of Sentarshadeen.

Yes, the unicorn meadow was a good choice. But he needed to stop at home first—for a dry cloak and boots, a cup of tea, and to see if there was anything in the pantry that might serve as unicorn-bribes. If he was lucky, Idalia might be out (honoring the snow herself, he had no doubt) and he wouldn't inflict his sour mood on her.

But when he got home, not only was Idalia there, Vestakia was with her.

IDALIA had been relieved to see Kellen leave that morning. He was radiating distress like a beacon—finally strong enough to notice it himself, though Idalia had known there was something not-quite-right for a sennight.

But that wasn't really it. It wasn't that something was not-quite-right. It was that Kellen felt there was something not-quite-right, and that even he didn't feel it strongly enough to notice it consciously. She only sensed him sensing it because she knew him so well. And finally it was starting to come toward the surface of his conscious attention.

She didn't want to say anything, lest she disrupt the fragile process of his magic—assuming it was Knight-Magery at work, and not just growing pains— and cause him to lose the intuition completely. So she kept quiet, although if there were going to be many more days like today, she might just settle for bury-ing him in the nearest snowbank and see if he'd figured the matter out by spring thaw.

She'd spent a soothing and solitary morning preparing a batch of Drawing Salve—a similar sort to the one Jermayan had used on Kellen's hands, and a delicate process because many of the herbs and oils involved were poisonous in the wrong quantities—and was just preparing to charge it when there was a knock at the door.

She opened the door to find Vestakia standing there, bundled in a violet and mulberry cloak crusted with snow, looking as bedraggled and woebegone as a half-drowned kitten.

"Vestakia!" Idalia said, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know," Vestakia burst out, sounding frustrated, irritable, and apologetic all at the same time. "I just… I… there's just something not right, is all, I didn't want to be alone, and I wasn't quite sure where else to go."

"Well, come in and have some tea. You look half-frozen. And tell me what seems to be the problem," Idalia said, resigning herself to the fact that no more work would get done today. But friends came first, and the poor child looked half out of her mind with worry.

"It isn't—the Enemy," Vestakia said immediately, stepping inside and hanging up her cloak to dry. "You know I would have warned everyone if I'd felt anything like that. I just woke up with the worst headache, and nothing I can do will make it go away! I even tried snowpacks, the way I did in the mountains. I was hoping there was something you could do to help?"

"Perhaps a little willowbark syrup?" Idalia suggested.

"But I tried that!" Vestakia cried pettishly. "Nothing works. I just feel as if I'm about to fly into a thousand pieces."

"Well come and sit down and have a cup of tea. I'll see if I can make something up that will help," Idalia said soothingly.

Now this was puzzling. First Kellen, now Vestakia—and Vestakia was normally the most well grounded of people, with no particular magical Gift, other than her ability to sense the nearness of Demons or strong Demonic Taint. Yet Idalia felt nothing at all.

Vestakia said that her headache had nothing to do with Demonic activity, and she should know if anyone did, yet if willowbark syrup hadn't had any effect on it, Idalia hesitated to offer her anything stronger. Still, a little something to calm her nerves wouldn't come amiss, and do no harm. While the tea was brewing, she went to her shelf of tinctures and syrups—it was much easier to work with a number of medicinal herbs when they had been refined this way—took down an Elvenware cup from the shelf, and prepared a quick mixture, including a healthy dose of strong syrup of chamomile. She diluted it with a measure of white brandy, and stirred it thoroughly, then brought it over to Vestakia.

"Here. Drink this. It should help."

Vestakia took a deep breath and gulped it down quickly—herbal medicines were not noted for tasting good. She choked only slightly, and took a deep breath afterward. "Thank you. I hate to be so much trouble—"

Idalia smiled. "Oh, don't be silly! It's a positive relief to have someone come in and ask me straight out for what they want, for a change, you know. I do love the Elves, but even when they think they're being direct, every conversation always starts with half an hour's prattle about clothing and the weather—the weather is obvious, and I'm not that interested in clothes, you know!"

She was relieved to see that she'd won a faint smile from Vestakia. Though it was impossible to tell whether Vestakia was looking pale—since her skin was always a deep cherry-red—Idalia could tell that the lines of tension were starting to fade from around her eyes and mouth, though the girl was still very keyed-up. "And now, I think the tea is ready."

They were just finishing their first cup—Idalia had had little success in getting any more information out of Vestakia about her unsettled condition—when Kellen showed up again.

If anything, he looked even more rattled than when he'd left several hours before. He'd obviously been out in the snow for most of that time, because his cloak and boots were crusted heavily with snow in the process of turning to ice. He looked sheepish and disgruntled, and not very pleased to find people there.