To Light A Candle

I have to find a way to make them listen.

And I have to figure out what Shadow Mountain’s REAL plan is.

Without thinking, he broke form and spun around, his sword raised to block. Master Belesharon was standing behind him, his teaching staff raised to deliver an admonitory blow to an inattentive student.

“You seemed lost in thought, young Kellen,” Master Belesharon said mildly.

“I was,” Kellen said, smiling wolfishly. But not so lost in thought that his Master could catch him out as if he were a novice.

Master Belesharon smiled in turn. “Come. Bathe. Take tea.”

When they were both immersed in the deep tub of the bathhouse—Kellen no longer even noticed having to walk through the snow to get to and from it— and a younger student had poured them both cups of dark fragrant tea, Master Belesharon broached his point with the unusual directness that Kellen had come to believe was a privilege of age among the Elvenkind.

“Soon you will hear, young Kellen, that Hyandur the trader has returned to Sentarshadeen. As you know, it was thought appropriate that he approach the City of a Thousand Bells to bring them warning that the Shadow walks the hills once more.”

Kellen considered all the appropriate things he could say, considering what he knew about Armethalieh, and what the High Council thought about Elves. “I am pleased to hear that he has returned safely,” he said at last.

“Doubtless this is because he was never permitted to enter the city, nor to deliver his message,” Master Belesharon said, his voice neutral. “The city of your birth remains unwarned, and has promised death to any of our kind that approaches its walls again.”

“That…” Makes perfect sense. Because they’re idiots. “I thank you for telling me this, Master,” Kellen said. Even though the water of the bathhouse tub was as hot as he could stand—hot enough to soothe away all the aches and bruises of a day’s hard training—he felt his muscles tense beneath the scented water. Any mention of Armethalieh was like poking at a sore tooth.

“Hyandur said further that the City of a Thousand Bells begins to expand its borders once more. They had reclaimed the Delfier Valley as he left. Perhaps they will attempt to reclaim more land. He believes there had been unrest in the city before he came, and it seemed to be of a serious nature. Two were Banished that he knows of. Perhaps more. He warned those villages he passed on his way here of the city’s plans. Word will spread.”

“Wonderful,” Kellen said with a sigh. He wondered what had changed on the Council. The last time Idalia had scryed and gotten a view of the Armethaliehan Council chambers, Lord Volpiril had pulled the City boundaries all the way back to the City walls. “At least it will take them time to reclaim all their old lands. Time and energy. And they hate all the Other Races—I’m sorry, Master—so at least we can be sure there’s no way they’ll ally themselves with Them. And I don’t think one of Them could get into Armethalieh, anyway, even if it made itself look like a human. Armethalieh’s… not a very nice place, but it’s still the City of Mages. There are Wards everywhere. No one who isn’t a citizen can pass them.”

“So if they will not aid us, at least they will not give aid to the Enemy,” Master Belesharon said. “Unfortunate, but not the worst that could happen.”

“I suppose not,” Kellen said. But something in his own words made him feel uneasy. He ducked his head under the surface of the water, dousing himself thoroughly, and came up, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes. “I suppose I’d better go and make sure Idalia knows. Maybe she’ll be able to guess more of their plans.”

—«♦»—

THE ice storms were long past, and though the winter snows were heavy, the streets were kept clear enough so that walking—at least in cleated snow boots— wasn’t difficult. Getting off the streets, now—that meant wading through snow that was up to the knees at least, and sometimes waist-deep, but Kellen didn’t have to do that nearly as often as Jermayan did. Ancaladar was rather diffident about coming down into Sentarshadeen, where his appearance still rattled some of the inhabitants.

By now, Kellen had been to Jermayan’s house at the forest edge many times. He admired it, while having no desire to possess anything like it. He’d grown up in one of the most intimidating mansions in the largest city in the world, and even though Jermayan’s cottage could probably have fit comfortably in the suite of rooms Kellen had possessed in House Tavadon, it was still more room than Kellen wanted for himself.

Kellen crossed the arching footbridge—carefully, as the slatted wood was icy and slick—and approached the house. It was still too early for lantern-lighting time, though the lanterns stood ready and waiting, and he noted that the seashells that had hung outside the door the last time he’d been here had been replaced with a set in the shape of golden flames. He wondered why. It might be a reflection of the seasons: the lanterns outside his own house had also been changed while he was gone, and were now pale blue.

He knocked at the door.

After a moment Idalia opened it.