To Light A Candle

He used his battle-sight to spot the sentries, and their movements to mask the sounds of his own. He carried a blanket with him, and dragged it behind him to blur his tracks in the powdery snow. It was snowing again, and the wind was a constant wail through the trees, and that helped to mask the sound of his movements as well. The greatest danger of discovery would come when he had to strike off away from camp. They might well see him then.

But the outer ring of sentries rode to a fixed pattern, and by now Kellen had timed it out exactly. When they were on the opposite sides of the camp, he would run. When they were in a position to see him, he would throw himself down in the snow and wait until they’d passed. After half a league of that, he should be out of sight.

They were in position. Kellen grabbed up his blanket and began to run. At the end of ten minutes, he flung himself facedown in the snow to wait.

“I do hope you weren’t planning to go anywhere without me,” a familiar voice said from above his head.

“Yes,” Gesade added. “Where were you going?”

Kellen choked on a mouthful of snow, barely managing not to yelp. Knight-Mage Gifts were one thing, but unicorns were sneaky.

He thought about ignoring them. He thought about telling them to go away. He might as well have wished for a tarnkappa—or wings.

He rolled over on his back, looking up at the two unicorns. Both of them were gazing down at him with identical expressions of polite interest, their bodies white blurs against the snow.

“I’m deserting,” Kellen said, after a long pause.

Shalkan cleared his throat in the manner of a unicorn that was trying very hard not to laugh and wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

“In that case,” he said mildly, “I’m going to need my armor and my saddle.”

“Come and have tea,” Gesade said. “You look half-frozen. Humans don’t like snow-baths. Come to that, Elves don’t like snow-baths either. Petariel will get Shalkan’s things.”

I wonder if you can strangle a unicorn? Make that two unicorns.

“Look,” Kellen said, gritting his teeth. “I’m telling the truth. I really am deserting. Redhelwar told me not to leave the camp, and I’m leaving. So no one can know. Do you understand?” The snow had now had ample time to melt, and he’d have to wait at least another ten minutes—probably more—before he could move again, even if he could talk the unicorns into leaving. His cloak felt damp, and his armor… well, his armor felt like cold metal. Which it was.

“All right,” Gesade answered reassuringly, as if to a small child. “We won’t tell anyone. Come and have tea. Because if you don’t, you’re going to find out how loud I can scream,” she added, her voice taking on a warning edge.

“Oh, do get up, Kellen,” Shalkan said, sounding bored. “You can’t desert if you’ve got the coughing sickness. Everyone will hear you for leagues. And I understand that Idalia’s remedy for that tastes really awful.”

“One…” Gesade said, laying her ears back and switching her tail meaningfully.

Kellen scrambled to his feet.

—«♦»—

“THIS is important,” Kellen said to Shalkan, as the two of them followed Gesade back to the camp of the Unicorn Knights.

“It’s all right,” Shalkan said, rubbing his head against Kellen’s arm.

For a moment Kellen almost felt an urge to hit Shalkan, then draped an arm over the unicorn’s neck instead. “People are going to die,” he said, and heard his voice tremble.

“No,” Shalkan said firmly. “I told you not to try to go off somewhere interesting without me, didn’t I? You should have remembered.”

—«♦»—

THE camp of the Unicorn Knights was silent and dark—no need of Elven sentries here, with the unicorns to keep watch. Gesade walked into Petariel’s pavilion—opening the flap neatly with her horn—and a few moments