2 To Light A Candle.13 (101 page)

Vestakia held out her hand. Cilarnen took it without hesitation.

"We shall both blame Kellen for this, and not each other," she said decisively. "For he should certainly have warned you."

She shook her head, as over a careless child, and Kellen felt himself flushing. "Sometimes," she said, with a sidelong glance at Kellen, "he is not very practical. Now come and sit. We must still discover the cause of your headache."

"Oh, it doesn't hurt now," Cilarnen said hastily.

"Then it will not hurt you to be examined," Vestakia said implacably, leading him over to another bench. "I am a Healer, and you must allow me to do my duty." Kardus followed.

Kellen picked up the fallen bench. When he straightened, he found Idalia looking at him.

"Still want to kill him?" she asked.

Kellen shook his head in exasperation. "If you happen to see a Selken Trader though, I wouldn't mind stuffing him in a sack and selling him to them. Still, I suppose, if I'd gotten dropped in things as thoroughly as he has, I wouldn't have handled things much better." He took her arm and led her to the far side of the tent, and continued in a lower voice. "He told me his news. It's bad. Very bad." He shook his head at her unspoken query. "Not here."

"Where?" she said.

"Whenever Redhelwar can see us. But he wouldn't eat this morning, so I brought him here. That was after he sneaked into my tent last night and I nearly killed him."

"Poor Kellen," Idalia said with fulsome sympathy. "Bearded by the terrible High Mage in his bedroll."

"Entered Apprentice," Kellen corrected absently. "And ready to test for Journeyman, which means he knows the spells—if he could figure out a way to use them."

Vestakia came over to them then.

"He has no head injury, and it is not any kind of cold sickness I know, nor poison—and Kardus says that if a spell had been cast upon him, he would probably have been a great deal sicker than he was. Kellen, did you see what happened to him?"

Kellen thought about it. "Nothing happened. We were in my pavilion, drinking tea—Armethaliehan Black. I drank it, and so did Kardus. He was fine then. We went to eat. He was sick by the time we got there, I think."

Idalia shrugged. Vestakia looked baffled. "Well, he swears his head does not hurt now," she said.

"We can't just knock him over and have a passing Knight-Mage sit on him every time he develops a headache," Idalia retorted. "It wouldn't be convenient—and you might start to like it, Kellen." She tapped her lips with one finger, thinking. "I'll make up a cordial for him to take if his head starts hurting again. If it doesn't work, bring him back. Oh—and you might want to see about getting him something warmer to wear. What he's got is good enough for Stonehearth, or for camp, but if we have to go any further north, he's going to freeze, and he must be cold already."

Kellen sighed—he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. But when had he been appointed Cilarnen's nurse? Still, proper Mageborn like Cilarnen were small and slender. They might even be able to fit him from the clothing the dead had left behind.

It was a gruesome thought, one he wouldn't have had a moonturn ago, but it came to him now with simple matter-of-fact practicality.

"I'll see to it," he said. In fact, he'd tell Isinwen to see to it. That way, Cilarnen's clothes would not only be warm, but suitable.

Idalia went to see to the making of the cordial, taking Vestakia with her. Kellen went over to Cilarnen.

He really did look better. Whether it was the sudden shock, or just because the headache had run its course, he seemed to be fully recovered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt her feelings," Cilarnen said quietly. "I didn't think…"

No, Kellen thought. They didn't teach any of us to think in the City, did they? But you started thinking there—or trying to—and that's what started all your problems.

Just the way it started mine.

"The fault was mine," he said. "I didn't think, either, and as a result, I gave you a terrible shock, and she was upset. Let it be forgotten."

"If I will not be needed here," Kardus said, "there are matters elsewhere that require my attention. Follow the Herdsman's Path, Cilarnen. Kellen will be your friend."

"I have kept you too long already," Cilarnen said, with automatic courtesy. "Go with the Light."

The Centaur trotted quickly from the tent, leaving Kellen and Cilarnen to share an awkward silence. A few moments later Idalia came back with a bottle of amber liquid and a horn spoon.

"Here you go," she said to Cilarnen. "It's not the same thing you were taking in Stonehearth, from what Yatimumil says, but if your head starts hurting again, take two spoonsful of it. If that doesn't work, come back here."

"Yes," Cilarnen said. "Thank you." He was regarding Idalia curiously, as if there were questions he longed to ask her, but didn't quite dare.

Kellen felt—strongly—that those questions had better go unasked just now. Cilarnen might have been able to repair his lapse with Vestakia, but Vestakia had an essentially forgiving nature. He wasn't quite sure how Idalia would react to any questions along the lines of how she—a mere female—had managed to learn magic.

"Come on," he said, giving Cilarnen a quick gentle shove toward the opening of the tent.

"NOW," he said, once they were outside. "We are going to see Redhelwar's adjutant, whoever is on duty. He may offer us tea. Drink it; believe me, it is an honor to be offered tea. Do not tell him it tastes like boiled grass. Do not even think that it tastes like boiled grass. Elves have very sharp hearing. And—"

"Don't ask them any questions?" Cilarnen suggested.

"Right," Kellen said, relieved that Cilarnen had figured out that much. "They may ask you questions. Don't be surprised. It's called War Manners, and this is an army in the field, so in an emergency, the forms of etiquette are relaxed. But generally questions are considered incredibly rude. Like—" He groped for the proper comparison. "Like barging into someone else's house and making yourself at home, I guess."

"You lecture like Master Tocsel," Cilarnen grumbled, shivering. "How long did it take you to figure all this out?"

"I didn't figure any of it out," Kellen told him honestly. "Fortunately Idalia— my sister—had lived with the Elves before, and she told me so I wouldn't make, well, too many mistakes."

"Sister?" Cilarnen said, blankly. He might not have noticed the last time Kellen had mentioned having a sister, but he did now.

Just too late Kellen remembered that Cilarnen would have known perfectly well—along with everyone else in the City—that Kellen Tavadon was Arch-Mage Lycaelon's only child. For a brief moment, he wondered how Lycaelon had managed that. Cilarnen was Kellen's age, or near it; certainly he wouldn't have known about Idalia any more than Kellen knew about Cilarnen's family. But there was Volpiril—or Cilarnen's mother, who might actually have known Idalia… Kellen wondered for a moment how many other nasty little secrets the Mageborn families shared.

"She's my older sister. Lycaelon's firstborn. Banished for practicing the Wild Magic ten years before I was," Kellen said.

"You never mentioned her."

In all the intimate conversations we had at the Mage-College?

"Lycaelon made sure I didn't remember her," Kellen said briefly.

"I don't think that's right," Cilarnen said, a new, hard note in his voice. Then a few moments later, he spoke again. "Kellen?"

"Yes, Cilarnen?" Trying very hard not to sigh.

"If she was Banished ten years before you were, you would have been seven, and I would have been eight. Was it a full legal Banishing?" His voice was full of a sharp urgency. "Did she appear before the High Council? Did she wear the Cloak? Did they send the Hunt?"

"Yes, and yes, and yes, and yes, and why does it matter?" Kellen said, beginning to get irritated despite his best intentions.

Cilarnen swallowed audibly. "It matters because of a course at the Mage-College you never took: Jurisprudence of the City. They taught that there hadn't been any Banishings for over a century, that it was an ancient custom from the Dark Times, fallen into disuse now." And now there was yet another note in his voice—one that said the bottom had fallen out of his world. "They lied, Kellen!"

Kellen stopped and turned around. "Yes, Cilarnen, they lied," he said patiently. "About the Banishings, about Wild Magic being evil, about the so-called Lesser Races, about—too many things to go into right now. The entire City is built on lies. We're going to save it anyway."

I hope.

DIONAN was not there when Kellen and Redhelwar arrived, only Dionan's assistant, who was tidying the tent and setting out the tea service. After a moment, Kellen dredged up his name. Alenwe.

"I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage," Alenwe said, bowing courteously.

"I See you, Alenwe," Kellen said. "I make known to you Mage Cilarnen of Armethalieh."

"I See you, Mage Cilarnen," Alenwe said, bowing again.

"I See you, Alenwe," Cilarnen said, following Kellen's lead.

"Perhaps, if you are not called elsewhere, it would please you to enter and take tea, for I know you have been welcome in Dionan's tent many times before," Alenwe said.

"To be welcomed into Dionan's tent is always an honor, each time as much as the first," Kellen said.

There was no need for Alenwe to send anyone in search of Dionan; even if Dionan weren't planning to return immediately from whatever errand had called him away, the Elven gossip-chains that ran faster than a bolt of summer lightning would ensure that he knew Kellen was here.

And in fact, before the tea-water had boiled, Dionan came walking into the tent, as unhurriedly as if he'd been out for a morning stroll.

"I do thank you for your patience with me, Alenwe, and your hospitality to my guests. Let us find something new for Kellen to try, and to honor the visitor from Armethalieh. I think perhaps Golden Pearl would be suitable. It is an excellent warming tea."

As the tea was prepared, they discussed the weather, which, according to Dionan, would continue hard and cold, but without any more blizzards like the one they had just weathered, or so the Wildmages said.

At least Kellen and Dionan discussed the weather. Cilarnen remained resolutely silent, though Kellen could sense his growing frustration and bewilderment as if it were itself a gathering storm.

The tea was poured. Kellen sipped.

Most Elven teas were herbal. Some were heavily-spiced as well. This was one of the heavily-spiced ones. It tasted… not like fresh-baked bread, but like the idea of fresh-baked bread: warm with more than heat. It reminded him of honey, though it was unsweetened, yet it had a subtle biting undertaste he couldn't quite identify.

"Perhaps we shall allow our guest to give his opinion first," Dionan said. "Cilarnen High Mage, perhaps you would wish to favor us with your opinion of this brew, of your kindness."

Oh, please, don't let him say it tastes like boiled grass! Kellen thought in near-desperation.

Cilarnen considered the matter for a moment, taking a second sip of the tea. "It lacks the body of a cured-leaf tea, of course, though perhaps that is not a flaw, as it allows the subtle interplay of flavors to bloom more fully upon the tongue. I taste saffron and ginger—a very slight hint of chamomile—and, I think, rendis. The illusion of sweetness, along with the complex hot finish, makes this, as you say, an excellent warming tea. But I do not believe it would keep well, or repay oversteeping. Of course," he finished modestly, "I am no expert. My own tastes, as I have said, run to the cured-leaf teas."

Kellen stared at Cilarnen, nonplussed. Cilarnen shot him a triumphant look.

"An excellent description indeed," Dionan said, with approval. His gaze shifted to Kellen expectantly.

"I must thank Cilarnen for giving me the words to say what I am yet too untutored in the Way of Tea to yet express," Kellen said, firmly suppressing a flash of jealousy. "I could only have said that it made me think of homely things, like bread, without knowing why it did. And I would give much to know how a thing can seem sweet, and yet not be so."

"Ah, you would be instructed in all the arts of Tea," Dionan said, with the faintest of smiles. "If Leaf and Star permit, someday you will not only brew properly, but blend. What a joyous day that will be for us all. But I have indulged myself sufficiently. Perhaps you would wish to share with me your purpose in coming to drink tea before the day has fairly begun, for I know you came weary from your labors at the caverns yesterday."

"I had hoped, if it was not inconvenient, that it might be possible to make Cilarnen known to Redhelwar, were Redhelwar not occupied with more important matters. It would please me greatly if Idalia might also be present to hear what might be said then, and whoever Redhelwar thought prudent, that Cilarnen might be made known to all at once. Though he has journeyed for many sennights through the Elven Lands, he has seen little of Elven ways, and what he would speak of is a grave matter indeed."

"Indeed, and grave matters must be conducted with unseemly haste," Dionan agreed. "Present yourselves at Redhelwar's pavilion in three hours, and all shall be as you desire."

"I thank you for your courtesy and your quickness," Kellen answered. He stood and bowed.

"A bell and a half is unseemly haste?" Cilarnen demanded, once they were a few yards away.

"Unless someone is actually attacking—yes," Kellen said. "Elves live a thousand years, and they do not hurry." He shrugged. "Well, think about it. If you lived for a thousand years, what would a few bells seem like to you? And we have plenty to do between now and then. And for somebody who thinks Elven tea tastes like boiled grass, you certainly seem to be able to say a great deal about it."

"Awful, wasn't it?" Cilarnen said, grimacing. "Give me a good pot of Phastan Silvertip any day. Still, you don't spend hours in the Golden Bells without being able to talk about tea, no matter what it tastes like. And you said to be polite."

THEIR first stop was Isinwen's tent. Kellen's Second was still asleep, but Kellen showed no pity. He shook the bells until Isinwen unpegged the flap and stood in the doorway.