To Light A Candle

“One observes,” he began, “that the Working last night went well, and that because of that, the Wildmage Atroist journeys back to the Wildlands.”

“So very direct,” Dionan sighed. “I will pour tea.”

“Thank you,” Kellen said meekly. He’d thought he was doing pretty good. He hadn’t come to talk about Atroist, after all.

“I have recently tasted a most exceptional tea,” he said, trying again.

“It would please me greatly to know the name of this tea,” Dionan said, setting a tall pottery cup before Kellen. Kellen lifted it and sipped, tasting the familiar flavor of Winter Spice Tea.

“The name told to me was Auspicious Venture,” Kellen said. “I am told it is a very rare tea. I am pleased to have had the opportunity to have tasted it.”

“A rare tea indeed,” Dionan said. “One may go half a lifetime without tasting it.”

“It had a strong flavor,” Kellen said. “And it seemed to me that the flavor changed constantly. I am sure I did not appreciate it sufficiently. I am gratified by the variety of teas available for me to taste.”

“Indeed,” Dionan said. “You will find the teas of springtime to be strong and complex, when they come into season. I look forward to aiding you in your education, should it be possible. Many humans are not interested.”

“I discover that I do not brew tea well,” Kellen said. “I do not see that this should be a drawback to appreciating its taste.”

“The two go together,” Dionan said, a note of faint reproach in his voice. “Still, if you will begin by appreciating the taste, you will come to understand the making, for they are both part of the same thing.”

The odd thing was, Kellen believed him. Tea and the making of tea had to go together, like—like swordplay and the proper stance. If you had one, you’d have the other.

“You enlighten me,” he said, bowing where he sat.

Dionan smiled. “Come to me to understand the spring teas, and I will teach you the making with the summer teas, for they are the most subtle, and in the summer teas, the making is all. Any fool may brew a winter tea.” He made an elegant motion—not a shrug, but an indication the subject was about to change. “But perhaps you did not come to speak of tea.”

“Perhaps I did not know that I needed to come to speak of tea,” Kellen said, “but wisdom is not summoned, only discovered.” Another of Master Belesharon’s favorite sayings. “What was in my mind when I awoke this morning that Redhelwar would wish to know what I had done and learned since I left him.”

“Perhaps it is so,” Dionan agreed. “If you come to his pavilion at the second hour after noon, you may speak to him of the Wildmage Atroist and other matters touching on the current campaign. I shall see to it that you have the opportunity to sample Ice Mountain Wind as well. You should find it interesting.”

“I look forward to that opportunity,” Kellen said, rising to his feet and bowing. And I hope we’re both alive in the spring, so you can teach me more about tea.

—«♦»—

KELLEN spent the time waiting for the next move in this “game” of war on the hundred homely tasks that had been neglected while he’d been in the field— laundry, a proper bath, a thorough cleaning of his sword and armor— and Shalkan’s armor—now that he had light and time to do them. He discovered that his helmet-crest needed refletching—the feathers had gotten thoroughly battered and blood-soaked—and dropped it off with the armorer on his way to Redhelwar’s tent.

Part of him chafed at this constant focus on inessentials—what did it matter whether he had feathers on his helmet or not, or what they looked like?—while another part of him was resigned to it. He could not change the way the Elves did things overnight. In fact, he probably could not change much—permanently—in his lifetime. When—if —they all got through this and beat the Demons back, the Elves would probably go right back to their old ways the next day. And until they found the next enclave of the Shadowed Elves, there was nothing more vital to be doing.

As he crossed the camp, he could see mounted parties out on the plain, drilling on horseback with the long Elven lance. It was beautiful to watch… but it would be next to useless fighting underground.

He reached Redhelwar’s pavilion and waited. After a moment, Dionan summoned him inside.

“Dionan observes that you have recently had the good fortune to taste Auspicious Venture,” Redhelwar said, once Kellen was seated. “Perhaps you would favor me with your opinion of it. It would be gratifying to perceive this tea through a human’s senses.”

Kellen’s heart sank. This was high formality indeed, something he was terrible at. And despite his growing