And that meant that someone was causing this.
High Mages? It wasn't impossible. Would Lycaelon attack the Elves indirectly this way, perhaps to drive them farther away from the City and the lands it claimed? It would be a clever way to do it, since he could, if challenged, easily deny any such thing, even to the Elves. High Magick, stolen as it was from all of the citizens of Armethalieh, and learned according to strict formulas, did not have a signature in the way that Wild Magic did, identifying who the Mage was that set it in motion.
But much as she'd like to place all the evils of the world at Lycaelon's doorstep, until the City had claimed and pacified both the Western Hills and the High Reaches, they had little motive for starting a war with the Elven lands—and war it would be, the moment the Elves discovered who was behind the drought. And Lycaelon could not have set a spell of this magnitude alone. He would have needed the backing of the rest of the Council.
No. Idalia abandoned the idea reluctantly. Though the City might yet be discovered to be behind this, the Elves had other enemies. Enemies older than the City, and more powerful…
Wearily, Idalia gathered up her empty keystones and got to her feet. Figuring out who was responsible for this would take a lot more work than she'd already put in. She'd have to rest first, and then make her plans— and weave her spells—very, very carefully.
If her suspicions were true, she could not afford even the slightest of mistakes in her hunting.
KELLEN slept deeply and well on his first night in Sentarshadeen, his dreams untroubled. When he awoke at last, it was to the gentle tickle of whiskers on his face, as the grey cat that seemed to have adopted them investigated him curiously.
A glance out the window told him he had slept far later than he could remember sleeping in—well, it would have to go back to before he began formal schooling. In the Wildwood, the day and its tasks started with the dawn, and back in the City, Kellen had always been in a hurry to be out of the house by Second Morning Bells at the latest in order to avoid Lycaelon.
But here there was nothing pressing that had to be done, and no one to avoid.
He lay there for a few minutes, examining the feeling and not certain how to label it, while he gave the grey cat the thorough head scratch she demanded. He was sure there were things to be doing here in Sentarshadeen, but at the moment he didn't have to do any of them. It felt peculiar.
The cat seemed to find some fault with his attentions, for she suddenly gave a violent sneeze directly into his face and bounded off through the window Kellen had left open the night before. 'Now, there's gratitude!' Kellen said, half annoyed, half amused. 'You ought to belong to Lycaelon.'
Yawning, Kellen got up and went in search of Idalia and breakfast.
He found breakfast—a plate of cold pastries, and tea-things laid out for him on the table beside the hearth- stove—but no Idalia. Her room was empty, the bed neatly made. Obviously she had gone out several hours before, leaving him to sleep.
He filled the kettle and put it on to heat, and while he was waiting for it to boil, he washed and dressed, being careful to use as little water as possible and marveling once again at the comfort and efficiency of the Elven plumbing. No shivering outdoors as he had in the Wildwood or waiting around for servants to bring water as he had back in the City. Everything was just there, exactly when and where you wanted it.
Clean and dressed—after a little hesitation, he'd chosen one of the new Elven outfits that had been left for him—he ate, savoring the unfamiliar Elven spices, while deciding what to do with his day. The view from the balcony was just as amazing this morning as it had been last night; now he noticed something else, the sound of Sentarshadeen.
In Armethalieh, he'd grown up listening to the harmonizing of the bells that marked the rhythms of the City's days and seasons; in the Wild-wood, he'd become accustomed to the way that random birdcalls, water sounds, and the song of the winds in the leaves created a background 'song,' of sorts.
Here in Sentarshadeen, the magic of the bells of Armethalieh had somehow been grafted onto the sounds of the Wildwood. The song of the forest, added to the wind chimes, the wind bells, and wind harps in the gardens, created a music unlike anything he had ever heard. Beautiful, peaceful—he wondered what it would be like if there wasn't a drought. Surely there would be the voices of a thousand fountains, waterfalls, and the great voice of the river as well, adding yet another note to the consort.
Then, as he finished his breakfast, a breeze brought him the scent of Sentarshadeen—or at least, the scent in drought time—and it was as subtle as the song. As in the Wildwood, Kellen could smell the aroma of warm grass and green leaves, but with a hint of sweet herbs and foreign spices added, a suggestion of something in flower. The scent was refreshing, but again, he wondered what it would be like if there wasn't a drought, and lusher flowers were in bloom, roses and phlox, and the water lilies of the ponds.
The scent, the sound, the sight, called to him, and Kellen felt a restlessness come over him. He didn't want to just sit around waiting for Idalia to come back, not with a whole exotic Elven city to explore. He supposed Sandalon must have had lessons this morning or else he would already be here; well, Sandalon would certainly be able to find Kellen anywhere he went, if what Idalia had told him abqut the Elves' penchant for gossip was true. And meanwhile, he'd take this chance to get a better look around. If everybody knew he'd had dinner at the Palace last night, they might be a little more forthcoming today.
