1 The Outstretched Shadow.3 (76 page)

 He thought he heard a faint chuckle from Jermayan, but he couldn't be sure.

 They continued onward in a more companionable silence until they reached the door. Kellen opened it, and Jermayan carried Idalia inside. Kellen was glad they'd left a couple of the lamps burning; he hadn't anticipated coming back with so many burdens. He quickly set the wrapped keystone down on the padded bench.

 "Show me to her room, of your grace," Jermayan said, and Kellen went to open that door in turn.

 Kellen turned back the covers and Jermayan laid Idalia carefully down on the bed, gazing at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Kellen could feel the tension of things unsaid and emotions denied fill the room like water running into a cup, so intense it made his head hurt.

 "Cover her warmly, and watch over her," Jermayan said abruptly. "See that she sleeps undisturbed."

 Jermayan left—not seeming to hurry, in the fashion of Elves, but gone so quickly it would have been easy to imagine he'd never been there at all. Kellen removed Idalia's sandals—she might be willing to sleep in her clothes, but not in her shoes—then covered her and closed the bedroom door, blowing out the bedside lamps before he left.

 He picked up the keystone and went to his own room, tucking it securely away in his pack, then went to light the lamps outside the door. Elsewhere in the canyon he could see other scattered points of light, as the Elves who had wearily returned to their homes had done the same.

 He built up the fire in the stove and rummaged through the cabinets, setting out a meal for Idalia if she woke up during the night. He realized he was hungry himself—he'd been too excited to eat earlier—and cut himself a slice of cold venison and dried-cherry pie, washing it down with a tankard of cold berry-cider. Eating dispelled the last of the eldritch feeling he'd gotten from being in the meadow, as if a wind had blown him free of cobwebs. And paradoxically, it left him that much more free to worry.

 Now that Idalia's part was done, the keystone made and charged, his part of the task seemed that much closer to beginning. In a few hours, he and Shalkan and one of the Elves would be on their way, riding into the unknown. Kellen was sure he couldn't possibly sleep, but it would do no harm to lie down for a few hours…

 "WAKE up, sleepyhead!"

 "What… ?"

 Kellen came groggily awake out of muddled dreams, thrashing and struggling. The dreams that had seemed so vivid a moment before dissolved instantly, leaving him blinking in confusion.

 He didn't remember falling asleep. But the last time he'd looked out the window of his bedroom, the sky had been black. Now the sky was grey-pale, and Idalia was standing over him, wrapped in a violet house robe the color of her eyes. There were dark circles beneath those eyes that were only a shade or two lighter, but otherwise she seemed quite healthy and alert for someone who had been drained to the point of unconsciousness only a few hours ago.

 "Tandarion just came to bring your armor and sword. I've made tea. While you eat, I can tell you what to look for and how to trigger the keystone when you reach the Barrier. Then… it's all up to you, Kellen."

 Her words brought him fully awake as even a bucket of cold water could not have. Kellen sat up quickly, unable to believe he'd actually fallen asleep. "You know?"

 "More than I did last night. And you'll learn more on the way. Now come on."

 She picked up a bundle and tossed it at him—the quilted undertunic for his armor, and the supple leather socks that went beneath the armored boots, and left Kellen alone.

 He carried the bundle off to the water closet—one thing he was going to miss on the road was the convenience of Elven plumbing—and as he washed and dressed, Kellen felt odd memory-echoes of the last time he'd dressed in unfamiliar clothing for a long journey into the unknown. It was not so long ago—little more than a moonturn—that he and Idalia had left the Wildwood heading into Elven lands. But then they'd been heading out of peril into safety—or so they'd thought then. Now Kellen was leaving even Idalia behind, going from the near-safety of Sentarshadeen into—

 —into grave danger indeed.

 Suddenly he knew that, out of the blue, and a chill of apprehension came over him, shaking him to the core and making him shiver. This is not a wondertale. It's dangerous. Really dangerous… Suddenly the glorious Elven armor was no longer just something to look good in; it was something to keep him from getting hurt. Or killed.

 He sat down at the table in the common room and accepted a cup of tea, though he didn't think he could eat anything. Idalia produced a comb and began braiding his hair—by now it had grown long enough to make a short club at the back of his neck.

 "You'll want to wear it this way," she said. "Otherwise your hair will just get caught on the inside of your helmet. Now. Where to go. You'll be riding north, toward the High Desert. Do you remember that vision you had, the first time you tried scrying?"

 "I don't think I'll ever forget it," Kellen said, with an inward shudder. "I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure it was meant to be a representation of an actual event—more the symbolic representation of the damage the Barrier is capable of causing—but I think the place you're looking for looks something like that, at least in essence, so you should know it when you see it. As for how you'll be drawn to it, well, the magic that has created the Barrier has imposed a unnatural sort of order on the natural world, and that kind of power leaves footprints of a sort. What you need to look for as you ride is abnormal patterns, things that are orderly in a way that Nature isn't when left alone. The Barrier is the source, and the closer you get to it, the more abnormalities you'll see."

 "Like what?" Kellen asked. Despite his misgivings, the tea had awakened his appetite, and he reached for one of the morning pastries Idalia had set out on a plate on the table.

 "Swirls of birds overhead that are flying in an odd pattern and can't seem to break out of it. Animals—especially small ones, like mice or squirrels—that are running aimlessly in circles or performing repetitive motions over and over. Swarms of insects, especially noxious ones, or ones that don't belong. Anything that seems wildly out of place. Anything nasty. Anything rotten, dead, or dying that has no business being there."

 "But how will I know?" Kellen asked. "I saw new things in the Wild-wood every day, and we're miles to the west of that. I could guess wrong."

 "That's what you'll have Shalkan for. And whoever's going with you. They'll know what's out of place if you don't: Shalkan, most especially, will be sensitive to the kinds of wrongness that you're looking for. And trust in the Wild Magic. When you're not sure, use Finding Spells to show you the way. But be careful about that. Using the Wild Magic may alert Shadow Mountain to your presence, so be sure to move on when you've done that."

 It seemed, thought Kellen, that he was to be going off like a wonder-tale knight on a quest after all, looking for something he wasn't sure how to find, guided by mysterious signs and portents. He tried not to show the unease he felt. Idalia had said to trust in the Wild Magic, and Kellen already knew how much power it possessed. Once he began, in a way he'd be a part of Idalia's spell as well. He had to trust that.

 "Okay," Kellen said, taking a deep breath. He had a thousand questions, but he knew they were mostly for his own reassurance. Idalia had already told him everything he really needed to know. "And when I get there?"

 "You'll see another keystone—I'm not sure exactly what it will look like, but I do know that you'll know it beyond a doubt. When you've found it, you'll need to take your keystone and place it on top of the Shadow Mountain keystone, then trigger the counterspell. You'll do that by the same method you use to charge a keystone, only in reverse: this time you need to tap your keystone, but instead of pulling the power into yourself, you need to channel it directly into the other keystone."

 Kellen thought about it for a moment, reviewing the steps of the spell for triggering a keystone's power in his mind. "Sort of like a healing, except instead of passing spell-energy into a living being, I'll be passing it into a second stone?" he said. Suddenly something occurred to him. "But, Idalia… you made the keystone. You charged it. You said that only the Wildmage who charges a keystone can use the energy within it. How can I… ?"

 Idalia smiled encouragingly, and the expression only made her look more tired.

 "This time it won't matter. This isn't an ordinary keystone. It's holding the stored power of everyone in Sentarshadeen, not just mine, and more than that, besides. And the second keystone won't want to receive it, so you'll need to work to maintain the link between them and force the power from your keystone into the other one. But once it happens, it should happen fast." She gave the top of his head a pat. "Now let's get you dressed."

 Kellen crammed the last of a third pastry into his mouth and came to stand in the middle of the room. His armor lay in neat gleaming piles on the cushioned bench, as perfect as any of the finished pieces Kellen had seen the day before in the armory. He couldn't imagine how Tandarion and the others had finished it so fast. Even with "small magics," the armory must have been working all night—and that after everyone there had lent power to Idalia's spell.

 Kellen felt suddenly very humble. I'll be worthy of everything you've all sacrificed for this. I will!

 Idalia quickly helped him into his armor, explaining what she was doing as she fitted the pieces over his body.

 "Don't worry. You'll be able to put it on by yourself with a little practice. Just remember: chest and backplate first, then leggings, then sleeves, then collar, then boots, then gloves, and you're done. I don't think you'll need to wear the helmet; you should be riding through Elven lands today."

 There were indeed feathers on the helmet, but Kellen was relieved to see that it was only a short brushy crest. He held the helmet up for closer inspection. The feathers were pale green, with the glittering iridescence of a hummingbird's down. They didn't seem to be dyed in any way. He set it down again, wondering what bird the feathers had come from.

 "Here's your surcoat—no Elven Knight should be without one," Idalia said with a determined cheer that seemed very forced, holding up a length of heavy sea-green fabric. She helped him slip it over his head. It hung down loosely to his knees in front and back. It had the shine of silk, but was much heavier, like a strong linen canvas, and there was a subtle pattern in the weave.

 "And here is your sword, gentle Knight."

 The sword Kellen had picked out yesterday had indeed had a scabbard made for it as Tandarion had promised. It also had a swordbelt and baldric, a strap going over his shoulder and attaching to the swordbelt.

 If the sword itself was plain, the swordbelt, scabbard, and baldric more than made up for it. They were of green leather, stitched in pale green silk the color of his surcoat (and, as Kellen suspected he was going to find, the same color of Shalkan's saddle and decorations) and stitched with silver wire and, to his faint dismay, studded with green moonstones. The sword and scabbard could be unhooked from the sword belt easily.

 Kellen raised his arms so that Idalia could slip the belts into place and buckle the swordbelt. When she was done, the sword hung at Kellen's left hip. He reached down and clasped the hilt experimentally. The armored fingers of his glove closed over the hilt as fluidly as his unencumbered hand might; it felt as if he were wearing heavy leather gloves, nothing more. Kellen sighed in relief and appreciation, releasing the sword and taking an experimental step. The armor moved with him, heavy but not awkward.

 Idalia went to get his packs.

 There was a tap on the door. Kellen went to open it, finding that even in armored gauntlets, he could still manage the task of clasping the door handle and turning it. Perhaps the Chief Armorer had been right about being able to dance in it as well.

 Shalkan was standing outside, saddled and ready. It seemed incongruous to see the unicorn wearing a saddle and armor. The saddle and armor didn't make the unicorn look more like a horse—quite the opposite. It just made Shalkan look as if he were wearing some sort of unconvincing disguise. Partly, Kellen supposed, it was because when you saw a saddle, you expected to see a bridle and reins as well, but there was absolutely no reason for a unicorn to wear them. A bridle and reins were to control an animal, and Shalkan wasn't an animal—or if he was, it was only in the sense that Kellen was an animal. Shalkan was a person with hooves.

 And Kellen had been right about the color. The seat of Shalkan's saddle, the stirrup-leathers, the silk cords that knotted the bands of his armor together, and its sheepskin lining were all dyed the same shade of green as Kellen's surcoat and the equivalent parts of his armor.

 "I see you're ready to go," Shalkan said, regarding Kellen with approval. "Very nice. We'll be meeting our escort at Songmairie."

 "I'll go with you that far," Idalia said, following Kellen out the door with his packs slung over his shoulder. "Someone has to carry the luggage."

 WHEN they reached the canyon floor, Shalkan stopped.

 "Time to mount up," he told Kellen. "You do know how to use stirrups, don't you?"

 "Of course I do!" Kellen said in automatic protest, though in truth he hadn't ridden horses very often, and Shalkan was nothing like a horse.