straight.
'You'll soon find, Kellen, that it's impossible to keep a secret in Sentarshadeen—or anywhere else in the Elven lands, for that matter. The Elves are masters of all the arts—and gossip is also an art form. Not only did three people stop by this afternoon to pass the time and tell me Sandalon had made a new friend, but when Astallance brought your other clothes back from the Palace, she told me you'd been invited to dinner.' She smiled then. 'I would have expected that, anyway; the Queen is famous for her hospitality and if you hadn't been invited today, you certainly would have been tomorrow. The only reason I wasn't, was because I haven't left our house.' Now she raised an eyebrow. 'I told you that in their way, the Elves are sticklers for etiquette. Until I go into public, I don't officially live here. Or rather, there is a strange female human who is a guest here, who may or may not be Idalia the Wildmage.'
'Then you know about the drought already?' Kellen asked, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Idalia leaned forward, her smile fading.
'Perhaps you'd better come and sit down and tell me all about your day,' she said. 'Don't leave anything out just because you think I might have heard it elsewhere.'
Kellen sat down beside her and told her about meeting Sandalon and then Ashaniel. He told her what Ashaniel had told him—that there had been drought since spring, that it had begun when the spring rains failed to arrive, and nothing the Elves could do could end it. He told her how tinder-dry the forest was, and traced for her (as well as he could remember) the territory affected, in all directions, as far as the Elves themselves knew it.
Idalia listened intently, and with growing worry of her own. It was clear that although she had heard some of this from other sources, she had not heard the whole, and that what she had heard had only served to increase her concern.
'And she asked if you'd help. I said you would—I said I'd ask at least, and that I'd try—was that all right?' Kellen finished anxiously.
'Of course it was,' Idalia said absently, patting his knee. 'I'll do what I can, and by that, I mean I will try everything to help them. We both will. If Sentarshadeen should fall…' She left the sentence unfinished, gazing off into space, her mind obviously elsewhere. 'Go to bed, Kellen. You've had a long day, and tomorrow will be just as long.'
It wasn't the dismissal of an adult to a child; it was said in a tone of comradely kindness, a gentle reminder that the excitement of being in this amazing place would carry him only so long until it ran out and left him staring exhaustedly into space.
It was hard to remember with all that had happened since then, but this morning Kellen had been on the road, and had gotten up before dawn to feed and water the animals before the day's ride. Since then he'd spent much of the day walking all over Sentarshadeen with Sandalon, so even though it was only just a little while after sunset, he realized that Idalia was right. He was tired, and going to bed actually seemed like a good idea.
A very good idea, in fact. Idalia had been wiser than he, to spend the afternoon and evening here, quietly, resting.
'You're right, as usual,' he said, and found himself yawning. 'Very right,' he added, and took her hand for a moment, giving it a quick squeeze before he got up. She looked surprised, then touched, and squeezed her hand back.
The lamps in his room had also been lit, and his Mountain Trader clothes were folded neatly on the bed, cleaned and brushed, just as Idalia had said. Even his boots had been polished.
A quick inspection of the drawers and cabinets as he put away the clothes revealed that Idalia had stowed away the rest of his gear, and someone had made him a gift of a few more sets of Elven guest-clothes, including a dark blue night-robe of some weaving that was as soft as fur. Kellen removed his Palace-clothes and slipped it on, marveling once more at the simple perfection the Elves brought to everything they did.
There was a bowl of fruit and a slender carafe of juice on the table beside his bed, and on the small desk beside the door, his copies of the three Books of the Wild Magic were stacked neatly. The bed was turned back, and soft linen sheets gleamed invitingly. He hadn't slept in a bed this fine since he'd left the City.
But even tired as he was, Kellen realized that he wasn't quite ready to sleep. He picked up The Book of Moon and the desk-lantern and went over to the window seat, opening the windows to the cool of the night. He came back and quenched the other lanterns, so that the room was in darkness, the only light coming from the lamp beside the book and the gentle radiance of the city's many-colored lanterns spilling in through the window. He set the lamp carefully on the sill and settled down to read.
Simple spells of seeing and finding and knowing: most of the spells of the Wild Magic were contained in The Book of Moons, the first of the three Books—it was the art and craft of using and adapting them, the philosophy behind them, that were held in The Book of Sun and The Book of Stars. You could start to practice the Wild Magic within minutes of picking up the Books, but it would take you a lifetime to understand it. He'd barely begun.
His thoughts drifted away from the Book in his hands as he gazed out through his window into the lighted city below. Standing in the Low Market in Armethalieh, holding this Book in his hands for the first time, could he have ever imagined he would be here? Could he even have imagined this place existed?
