Jermayan was still staring at him, as though he'd never seen Kellen before. 'I know what you are,' the Elven Knight finally said.
Kellen froze. For so many years of his life those words, or some variation of them, had made him flinch. They'd always been the prelude to yet another lecture on his many inadequacies. But Jermayan, it seemed, didn't mean them that way. The Elven Knight was smiling at him—a genuine smile at last, one of relief, and something like awe.
'You're a Knight-Mage, aren't you?' The words were spoken in tones of approval, even admiration.
Kellen shook his head wordlessly, unable to speak. He wasn't. He couldn't be. Could he? He didn't even know what a Knight-Mage was! The passage he'd remembered, the business about the Knight-Mages, it was just words in the Book. What he'd done was spur-of-the-moment, something he'd tried out of a desperate desire not to look completely foolish and a need he couldn't explain even to himself.
'You didn't know, did you?' Jermayan asked sympathetically. 'I suppose not: Knight-Mages are very rare. Even another Wtldmage won't always recognize one for what they are, though undoubtedly you would have figured it out eventually. It is said they only appear in times of direst need. I suppose you simply thought that you just weren't a very good Wildmage.'
Kellen nodded, unable to meet Jermayan's gaze. He had thought that, all the time. Idalia'd told him not to worry, but how could he not worry about it, seeing what she could do and knowing that the best he could accomplish was so much less?
'Well,' Jermayan said, breaking into Kellen's thoughts. 'You never will be, not in comparison with a true Wildmage, though you will master healing and fire-calling, and other useful skills; they will just never come as easily or naturally to you as to a Wildmage. A Wildmage's and a Knight-Mage's Gifts lie in opposite directions, though both belong fully to the Wild Magic.'
That was exactly how he'd felt! Kellen clutched the tankard desperately, and some of that desperation must have entered his expression, for Jermayan's face softened further.
'Here,' he said, pointing to a fallen limb in what passed for shade under the tree. 'Sit—and drink! I will tell you all that I know.'
Kellen refilled his tankard and obeyed, hardly able to contain himself. It was nothing short of a miracle, an Elf offering to tell him everything without having to coax it out, driblet by driblet!
Jermayan settled himself, and took a cautious sip of his water. 'A Wildmage,' he began, 'reaches out to all the world, knowing it intimately, in touch with all of it. A Knight-Mage's gifts turn inward, refining himself, so he cannot be turned away from his path once he has chosen it. A Knight-Mage can withstand forces that would destroy a Wildmage, for his power lies in endurance and the alliance of his knightly skills with his Wildmagery. You will never be what Idalia is… but she will never be what you will be, either, Kellen.'
'Is it—bad?' Kellen asked, tentatively.
'You mean, can a Knight-Mage be turned to the bad?' Jermayan asked. 'That is a foolish question, Kellen. All things can, as you know. But the Knight-Mage, even more so than the Wildmage, must choose that path, knowingly, and with forethought, and when he does, the Wild Magic will desert him, and he will retain only his own innermost gifts and training.'
So I can't just slide into evil. And it can't just sneak up on me and corrupt me. That was easily the most comforting thought he'd ever had.
He looked down at the sword at his side, remembering the feel of it in his hands. This was his, this skill. The sword was his tool. It felt right in his hands, an extension of himself. And with Jermayan's help…
'Never forget this,' Jermayan continued gravely. 'The Knight-Mage makes the choice of life and death, directly and immediately. Be certain that when you claim a death, your reasons are good ones, the death is necessary, and that, to keep your spirit clean, you forgive your foe when you slay him. Anger is not to be shunned. Anger can be useful, and for the Knight'Mage it is a weapon just as is your sword. Good clean anger, full of purpose, will focus you. But as your sword, it can cut you if you clutch it to you. Remember that, and when the time when it is useful is over, you must let it go.'
Kellen nodded earnestly, vowing to remember. He didn't entirely understand what Jermayan was talking about, but he sensed that he would understand it sometime later.
The Elven Knight smiled again, and drained his own tankard. 'Now, come. We have some distance to ride. And now that I know what you are capable of, you will not find your lessons so easy.'
Kellen grinned at him. Even more than that moment beside the spring, when Idalia had explained the truth about the Demons, he felt a sense of relief so intense it nearly made him weep. A Knight-Mage! There was a name for what he was. He wasn't a second-class anything—not a failed High Mage, not a not-good-enough Wildmage. He was a Knight-Mage.
'Just try me, Master.'
They returned the water barrels to the back of the mule, and Jermayan retightened Valdien's girths, and they rode on.
