'This time it won't matter. This isn't an ordinary keystone. It's holding the stored power of everyone in Sentarshadeen, not just mine, and more than that, besides. And the second keystone won't want to receive it, so you'll need to work to maintain the link between them and force the power from your keystone into the other one. But once it happens, it should happen fast.' She gave the top of his head a pat. 'Now let's get you dressed.'
Kellen crammed the last of a third pastry into his mouth and came to stand in the middle of the room. His armor lay in neat gleaming piles on the cushioned bench, as perfect as any of the finished pieces Kellen had seen the day before in the armory. He couldn't imagine how Tandarion and the others had finished it so fast. Even with 'small magics,' the armory must have been working all night—and that after everyone there had lent power to Idalia's spell.
Kellen felt suddenly very humble. I'll be worthy of everything you've all sacrificed for this. I will!
Idalia quickly helped him into his armor, explaining what she was doing as she fitted the pieces over his body.
'Don't worry. You'll be able to put it on by yourself with a little practice. Just remember: chest and backplate first, then leggings, then sleeves, then collar, then boots, then gloves, and you're done. I don't think you'll need to wear the helmet; you should be riding through Elven lands today.'
There were indeed feathers on the helmet, but Kellen was relieved to see that it was only a short brushy crest. He held the helmet up for closer inspection. The feathers were pale green, with the glittering iridescence of a hummingbird's down. They didn't seem to be dyed in any way. He set it down again, wondering what bird the feathers had come from.
'Here's your surcoat—no Elven Knight should be without one,' Idalia said with a determined cheer that seemed very forced, holding up a length of heavy sea-green fabric. She helped him slip it over his head. It hung down loosely to his knees in front and back. It had the shine of silk, but was much heavier, like a strong linen canvas, and there was a subtle pattern in the weave.
'And here is your sword, gentle Knight.'
The sword Kellen had picked out yesterday had indeed had a scabbard made for it as Tandarion had promised. It also had a swordbelt and baldric, a strap going over his shoulder and attaching to the swordbelt.
If the sword itself was plain, the swordbelt, scabbard, and baldric more than made up for it. They were of green leather, stitched in pale green silk the color of his surcoat (and, as Kellen suspected he was going to find, the same color of Shalkan's saddle and decorations) and stitched with silver wire and, to his faint dismay, studded with green moonstones. The sword and scabbard could be unhooked from the sword belt easily.
Kellen raised his arms so that Idalia could slip the belts into place and buckle the swordbelt. When she was done, the sword hung at Kellen's left hip. He reached down and clasped the hilt experimentally. The armored fingers of his glove closed over the hilt as fluidly as his unencumbered hand might; it felt as if he were wearing heavy leather gloves, nothing more. Kellen sighed in relief and appreciation, releasing the sword and taking an experimental step. The armor moved with him, heavy but not awkward.
Idalia went to get his packs.
There was a tap on the door. Kellen went to open it, finding that even in armored gauntlets, he could still manage the task of clasping the door handle and turning it. Perhaps the Chief Armorer had been right about being able to dance in it as well.
Shalkan was standing outside, saddled and ready. It seemed incongruous to see the unicorn wearing a saddle and armor. The saddle and armor didn't make the unicorn look more like a horse—quite the opposite. It just made Shalkan look as if he were wearing some sort of unconvincing disguise. Partly, Kellen supposed, it was because when you saw a saddle, you expected to see a bridle and reins as well, but there was absolutely no reason for a unicorn to wear them. A bridle and reins were to control an animal, and Shalkan wasn't an animal—or if he was, it was only in the sense that Kellen was an animal. Shalkan was a person with hooves.
And Kellen had been right about the color. The seat of Shalkan's saddle, the stirrup-leathers, the silk cords that knotted the bands of his armor together, and its sheepskin lining were all dyed the same shade of green as Kellen's surcoat and the equivalent parts of his armor.
'I see you're ready to go,' Shalkan said, regarding Kellen with approval. 'Very nice. We'll be meeting our escort at Songmairie.'
'I'll go with you that far,' Idalia said, following Kellen out the door with his packs slung over his shoulder. 'Someone has to carry the luggage.'
WHEN they reached the canyon floor, Shalkan stopped.
'Time to mount up,' he told Kellen. 'You do know how to use stirrups, don't you?'
'Of course I do!' Kellen said in automatic protest, though in truth he hadn't ridden horses very often, and Shalkan was nothing like a horse.
But the Elven armor was just as flexible as its designers had promised, and Shalkan was far stronger than
