going to turn her to the Dark, it had certainly had plenty of opportunity to do that already, and if it had, surely he'd have seen some sign of it by now. And Shalkan did like her. It was just that Idalia wasn't, well…

After the healing this afternoon, Kellen could hardly believe how stupid he'd been. Shalkan didn't avoid Idalia because she was a Wildmage gone bad (and it should have occurred to him that Shalkan wouldn't have brought them both straight here if there had been something wrong with her) it was just that Idalia wasn't, well, a virgin. (Kellen winced. How in the name of the Light had he managed to miss that? But she'd been a bird. Being a bird didn't count… )

Resolutely, he turned his thoughts away from the subject. He had his vow to consider. He shouldn't even be thinking about things like that! Anyway, Idalia just wasn't. And that mattered a lot to unicorns, apparently—look at the way she'd been unable to touch the colt, even though it would have made things a whole lot simpler in the healing today if she hadn't needed Kellen's help. And what if he hadn't been there? What would she have done then?

Really, he should have put two and two together the moment the whole herd appeared, looking for help.

Sometimes I am so dense…

But no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't get his father's parting words out of his head, and the fact that Idalia wasn't any kind of Demonspawn or Darkmage didn't solve Kellen's problem, not really. Lycaelon's words and his own fever-spawned nightmares still haunted him and plagued him with doubts to which there didn't seem to be any easy solution.

Because out here, outside the City walls, nothing was simple or straightforward anymore. Every answer turned out to be a gateway to more questions, more ambiguities. And instead of being given rules to follow, he was presented with choices. Idalia had said that the Gods used the Wild Magic to give Wildmages the tools to help them become better—if they wanted to become better. But that meant that down deep inside, it was still up to each of them to choose how to use those tools. That meant Lycaelon could still be right—that the Wild Magic might open the path to Demonkind by giving Wildmages the power to choose to be good or evil, and the freedom to make the wrong choice.

And Kellen wasn't really sure he knew himself well enough to be sure he was safe—that in becoming a Wildmage, he wouldn't end up exactly the way his father had said he would. Surely nobody started out using the Wild Magic intending to get involved with Demons? So how could you know you were going to get into trouble before it was too late to turn back? He already knew he'd made some really stupid decisions in his life. What if choosing to become a Wildmage was another one?

What if—not now, but in ten years, or even fifty years, if he managed to live that long—he did something really really horrible just because he didn't have the sense to stop using the Books now! How could he know? How could anybody know? Was that why the High Council forbade the study of the Wild Magic? Were they actually (for once in their twisted little lives) right? What if the Wild Magic really was dangerous—not for everyone, but just for a few people—and you couldn't know who those people were going to be until it was too late? If that was true, wasn't it best to just forbid everyone to use it, just in case?

But what if that wasn't true? Why should the Council be right about this when they were wrong about everything else?

How would he know before it was too late?

Maybe it was already too late.

Kellen sighed glumly, which earned him a sidelong glance from Shalkan, although the unicorn didn't comment. Once they'd left Idalia's cabin behind, there was no sign of civilization at all, and he was startled to find how much he missed the familiar walls and roads and buildings he'd grown up with all his life. Even in the large parks in the City that were designed so that all you saw were trees and flowers—no buildings at all, not even the City towers— everything was carefully planted and manicured and designed. You never forgot that someone had planned it. Out here, everything was just growing with no plan or pattern to it. Trees fell down, and nobody came to tidy them away. Flowers grew wherever they wanted to. No rules, no order, and no sign that any human had ever done anything here. It was all…

'Messy, isn't it?' Shalkan asked. 'No, I can't read your thoughts,' he added, regarding Kellen's guilty and startled expression. 'Or, let's say, I can't read them in the normal course of things. But you wear your thoughts on your face, City-child.'

'As bad as that?' Kellen said despondently.

'You'll learn,' Shalkan said kindly. 'And there's no reason for you to expect to like something you've never seen before, just because you think you ought to like it. Give yourself time.'

'But what if I don't like it?' Kellen burst out. 'What if I never like it? What if I always hate it? What if I should have stayed in the City after all?' He looked around at the forest, at the untidy ramble of trees and vines and flowers. Everything was in full leaf, the season racing forward toward high summer. Maybe it was pretty, maybe it was even beautiful, but his eyes longed for patterns.

'Do you think that's likely? There's beauty and wonder here beyond the stunted dreams of City-folk. And things you never knew existed. You only think that you know all that's to be found out here. Look.'

Shalkan was pointing with his horn. Kellen looked sharply in the direction that he pointed.

Вы читаете The Outstretched Shadow
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату