the House of Leaf and Star before dinner.'
Now this was a dismissal, for servants—at least Kellen was guessing they were servants, for Queens must have servants—had appeared while Ashaniel had been speaking. Sandalon skipped past Kellen, and took the hand of a woman standing in the open doorway. She was dressed in deep blues and violets, and regarded her charge with a fond smile. Kellen found himself facing an Elven man who regarded him with a visible absence of expression. He was dressed in similar colors to the woman, but not closely enough for Kellen to be sure it was house livery, and he was as richly jeweled as a prince.
'There are things of great interest to be seen in this direction,' the man said, gesturing.
Kellen followed.
He listened to a number of indirect remarks about the length of his journey and the difficulties of the road while they wandered through the halls before he realized his guide was suggesting it would be a really good idea if he cleaned up before dinner. Once he figured that out, he suggested it himself, and felt an almost tangible sense of relief radiate from the Elven man. He was quickly ushered to a sitting room.
There was a large ornate sand-clock on a table in the center of the room. His guide moved to it quickly, making some quick adjustments with a series of crystal partitions that slid through the bowl. Kellen was fascinated to see you could change the amount of sand that could pass from one half of the clock into the other half, setting the amount of time that you measured.
'When the sands run out, I will return,' the Elf announced, bowing slightly. He upended the clock, turned, and left.
Kellen watched the sands run for a moment, then looked around. As he'd suspected, another door led through to a bathing room, enough larger than the one in the guesthouse to contain a table and chair as well. And there he received another surprise.
There was a suit of clothes waiting for him, neatly laid out over the chair, and a pair of soft ankle-boots set beneath it. He held up the tunic curiously. It would be a good—if loose—fit. And more, it was clearly designed to be a little loose.
Just as well, Kellen thought. He wasn't sure he was cut out for the tight-fitting clothes he'd seen the Elven men wearing—it'd be too much like going naked, and he'd never cared for the tight-fitting fashions of the City, after all. And he was just as glad to be able to get out of the clothes he'd been wearing since—well, since he and Idalia had left the Wildwood, actually. If he hurried, he'd have time for a quick bath before his guide came back to conduct him down to dinner.
Dinner.
For the first time that day, his thoughts returned to Idalia. Would she worry when he didn't come home? He wondered if there was some way he could call the Elven servant back, maybe send her a message…
But he couldn't think of any, just offhand. And knowing little more about his hosts than that their very long lives were hedged about by rigid etiquette and protocol, he didn't know what would offend them.
Idalia knew the Elves far better than he did. He'd just have to hope she'd guess that wherever he was, he wasn't in any trouble.
He set the plug in the tub, turned the taps, and began to undress as it filled.
A short time later, damp, dressed, and smelling faintly of flowery Elven soap, Kellen stood watching the last of the sands run out. He'd folded his trail-clothes as neatly as possible and left them on the chair. He could come back for them later.
Although, if these were the sort of things he was supposed to be wearing around here, he really didn't want those old clothes!
KELLEN had been stuck with attending more than a few formal banquets at his father's house, and deep down inside, he'd been expecting and dreading that this would be more of the same: a lot of people he didn't know, a lot of boring conversation about things he didn't care about, and too much really unpleasant food to try to figure out how to eat while he worried about his table manners.
Dinner at the Queen's Palace was nothing like that.
There probably was a grand formal dining room for state occasions here somewhere, but Kellen didn't see it that night. The four of them (the Elf woman that Kellen supposed was Sandalon's nurse, Lairamo, ate with them) sat together at a comfortable unpretentious table in a room whose enormous, leaded-glass windows were open to the first breath of evening. The walls were inlaid wood, carved to mimic the living forest, and done with such attention to detail that it was hard to tell in the mellow, dusky twilight where the forest he could see outside the windows ended and the carved forest on the walls began. Lanterns hung from the carven tree branches, casting a soft golden light over the table.
The tableware was simple as well, plain silver with sinuous curves— but jewel-encrusted gold would be vulgar, Kellen realized. The plates and cups they ate from were Elvenware, but a form of it that make the examples that he'd seen in the City—and the pieces in his and Idalia's house—look as if they were made out of mud. The pieces on the Queen's table were so light and glowing they looked almost ready to float away, and Kellen was
