'No fear of that,' Shalkan said, stepping daintily out of the woods, hidden until that moment, though how something the size of a pony and whiter than new velum could hide that easily, Kellen could never figure out. 'I'll keep an eye on them.'
'Will you?' Kellen regarded the unicorn with relief. 'Thanks. That'll be a great help.'
Shalkan dipped his horn, acknowledging the thanks. 'I was waiting for you to ask.'
Kellen shrugged. 'I didn't want you to miss the party if you were in the mood for it. It just seems like I'm asking you for so much already.'
'You mean, being your noble conveyance to the Elven lands?' The unicorn snorted. 'I'd be going there anyway. If it's a choice between that and facing another dozen packs, I'd say it's no choice at all, my friend. And you'll find the Elves… interesting. Humans do.'
Kellen would have dearly loved to ask Shalkan more about the Elves, but this was no time to get into one of the unicorn's elliptical conversations. Idalia already blamed him for springing the party on her. If he disappeared for most of the day, she'd probably arrange to have him drowned in a keg of cider. So he abandoned the interesting topic in favor of telling Shalkan what the selkie had told him.
'They'd take the fish from the lakes as well, if they could, as the dryads would take the fruit from their trees,' Shalkan said. 'The City will find no welcome in the Western Hills when it comes, nor do I think the farmers who remain will have an easy life. They will not thank the City for that.'
'No,' Kellen agreed glumly. He hobbled the mare and the mule once again, and turned them out to graze, retrieving the bucket from where he'd left it.
'Well, see you later. I'll save you some honey-cakes.'
'See that you do,' Shalkan said with mock severity, switching his tufted tail. 'And if anyone's brought any of those maple-syrup candies, and I find out you didn't save me at least two…'
'At least!' Kellen promised, and hurried back toward the cabin.
Shalkan, of course, stayed out of sight with the mule and the horse— he wasn't at all comfortable, Kellen had noticed, with so many people about, most of them (probably) not virginal—and Kellen was just a little bit curious about how Shalkan and Idalia were going to handle traveling in close proximity together, though both of them agreed it was necessary. Finally he decided there was no sense worrying about it. He'd be finding out. And soon, too.
KELLEN spent the rest of the day helping with the preparations for the party. His own and Idalia's arrangements for leaving were all but finished, and there was really nothing left for him to do there. Besides, working kept him from thinking. And there was plenty of work to do: helping to put up the poles that would hold the various awnings and canopies, climbing trees to hang lanterns (knowing he—or someone—would have to climb them again later to light the lanterns), fetching and carrying kegs and bundles, all the while sniffing glorious smells and stealing tastes of delicacies that would be unveiled later.
And hearing people talk about the days ahead, which sometimes meant hearing more than he wanted to.
'I'M not going without you, you damned foolish old besom,' Cormo rumbled, in what was—for him—a quiet undertone. It was entirely audible ten feet away, where Kellen was digging a new firepit.
'And I'm not going,' Haneida said peaceably. 'These old bones are much too old to be bundled up like a goosedown mattress and hie themselves up into the mountains like someone's luggage. And what would I tell my bees? I'm staying.'
Cormo stamped his hoof. 'Then I'm staying too, you senile old halfwit.'
Haneida tsked. 'Such love-talk! Cormo, your mother fell in love with a donkey. You can't stay, and I won't go,' Haneida said reasonably.
'I promised,' Cormo growled in dangerous tones. 'And I'm not leaving you with nobody to take care of you.'
Suddenly Kellen realized that there was more at stake here than one stubborn old woman, and an equally stubborn Centaur. Cormo had promised the Wild Magic to haul Haneida's cart to market for a year and a day. Very quietly, Kellen set down his shovel and went looking for Idalia.
He found her inside the cabin, with several of the village women. All the furniture had already been taken outside, even the bed, and the doors had been removed to serve as tables. Their equipment was in the bedroom; they'd sleep on their bedrolls on the floor tonight and get an early start in the morning. The main room was filled with more provisions; stacked hampers and sturdy boxes, making it look less like a cabin and more like a small supply pantry.
'Idalia, can I talk to you? Alone?'
