'No, sir,' Kellen said contentedly, steam rising about his face. 'I only just came here a few moonturns ago. But I like the Wild Lands very much. Especially your village. I've never seen anyplace like it before.'
Idalia had promised there'd be time for a proper exploration of Merryvale tomorrow before they left, but on his way here, Kellen had already seen enough to fill his head with wonders.
Compared to Armethalieh, Merryvale was tiny and primitive, but spending most of a season living in a rustic cabin in the wilderness with Idalia had changed Kellen's standards for comparison. He was now able to see that on its own terms, the little village was quite sophisticated—and a very happy place, as far as he could tell.
While Armethalieh traded constantly and uneasily with the lands across the sea and the lands Beyond the Forest, Merryvale supplied nearly all its own needs, from cloth woven from the wool of its own sheep and the linen threads spun from its own flax, to honey from its own bees, fruit from its own orchards, and grain from its own fields. The villagers kept cattle and pigs and domestic fowl of all sorts as well, and for the very few things that they didn't produce for themselves, they had a fairly simple method of obtaining them.
From what Idalia had already told him, and the conversation of his companions in the soaking pool, Kellen was able to figure out that Merryvale traded with other villages farther west of Merryvale at the yearly Midsummer Fair, a fortnight-long gathering that attracted people from hundreds of miles around, including the Mountain Traders.
Kellen would certainly have liked to have seen that, but it didn't take much thought to figure out why Idalia had delayed his first visit to Merryvale until the time of the Fair was safely past. The Mountain Traders still traded with the farming villages that served Armethalieh, and if Lycaelon Tavadon didn't much care what had become of his daughter, the same could not be said of his interest in his son.
It might be comforting to believe that Lycaelon assumed that the Outlaw Hunt had taken care of Kellen for good and all, but Kellen doubted it. Lycaelon could easily have scryed the Hunt, or viewed it through the eyes of one of the Hounds, and the High Mage probably knew very well that Kellen had been left wounded, but alive. If he'd been furious enough to send so many Hounds in the first place, he would still be looking for a way to end the embarrassing problem of his wayward son once and for all.
If Kellen had been seen at the Fair, if word somehow got back to the City that Kellen had recovered and was living in the Wildwood, well…
He didn't know exactly what would happen, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't care for it. And neither would anyone else who could even have been considered to have helped him.
But those were unpleasant thoughts, and this was a most pleasant place. Idalia's foresight had protected his whereabouts for now, and Kellen had the shrewd notion that any attempt by Lycaelon to use High Magick to locate his son would meet with failure…
After all, High Magick had been no match for the power of a unicorn's horn.
At last—after what seemed far too short a time to Kellen—it was time to get dressed again. His clothes had been cleaned for him while he bathed—not a usual service of the bathhouse, but as the attendant had cheerfully explained, he and Idalia were honored guests. He toweled himself dry in front of one of the large iron stoves that kept the soaking room warm against the evening chill, and then dressed in smallclothes that had been washed and dried, and leathers that had been brushed completely clean.
It was a level of service that he had accepted unquestioningly, growing up in House Tavadon, but now it made Kellen oddly uncomfortable. He had been waiting on himself for so long that it now seemed as if he was receiving something he was not entitled to, though Master Eliron's clothing had gotten the same treatment.
Master Eliron tied the laces at the throat of his blue robe shut, and seemed to divine Kellen's unease and the cause of it.
'Don't worry,' the Healer said, patting Kellen on the shoulder. 'These services are available to anyone who wishes to pay for them, and your sister has already paid their cost.'
'Um… okay. Good,' Kellen said awkwardly. He wasn't sure which made him feel worse: worrying about it, or being reassured about it.
He didn't have long to fret over the matter though. Idalia appeared in the doorway, her dark brown hair shining-clean and braided back into a single tail with a length of glossy red ribbon. She regarded the two of them, fists planted on hips and an expression of mock-fierceness on her face.
'Well, come along, lazybones! The two of you may want to spend the entire evening stewing like prunes, but I'm hungry! And Merana won't thank you for making her wait to catch up on the gossip!'
By the time they reached the street, Kellen realized that he was hungry as well. Hungry? That was too mild a word; he was ravenous. The sun had gone down behind the hills, but the long summer twilight still lingered, and many of the cottages had set out lanterns before their doors, the candles gleaming softly through the translucent oiled-parchment walls of the copper lanterns. It was easy to find their way, even though many of the streets were far narrower and more twisty than any of the streets of Armethalieh. The village might be built for both humans and Centaurs to live in, but obviously not to wander through in crowds.
Master Eliron's house was on one of the wider streets—which made a great deal of sense, since the Master Healer must receive a great number of visitors of both races. It was a fine two-story cottage, and the shutters of
