To Light A Candle

“Well?” Idalia said, swinging into the saddle. “Are you ready?” Quite as if they were going off for a snow- picnic.

Kellen nodded, taking off Petariel’s cloak and exchanging it for his own now-dry one. He swung into Shalkan’s saddle.

“Don’t worry about the pickets,” Gesade said. She’d backed away when Idalia entered the camp, but her voice was quite audible. “We’ll take care of them.”

“Thank you,” Kellen said meekly.

“Fare well and safe journey,” Petariel said. “And return to us in a good hour.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Idalia said.

Shalkan took off at a brisk trot, and Cella followed.

—«♦»—

FOR a long time they rode in silence, wary of their voices carrying back to the camp. The trees were few and far apart, not thick enough to blunt the force of the wind, and it was so cold that the snow was more like powdered ice. Finally the wind shifted, and then dropped altogether. Kellen could tell that the clouds would probably start to break up soon. That meant it would get colder. There were two kinds of weather in winter, he’d learned—bad and worse.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said, now that the wind had slacked enough to make conversation easy. They were riding side by side—though far enough apart to be comfortable for Shalkan.

“You’re welcome,” Idalia said. “You may be deserting your command, but I am a Wildmage, and if I want to go wandering off into the Shadowed Elf caverns on a whim, that’s my business.”

“Oh.” Well, at least there was one person who wasn’t risking Redhelwar’s displeasure tonight.

“Kellen, what did you See?” Idalia asked.

“Nothing. I don’t know.” He shook his head, wishing desperately that he had something more concrete to tell her. “I really… I couldn’t tell Redhelwar either. But we—I have to go look.”

She gave him a long look, her face hidden in the shadows of her hood. “Petariel said you told Redhelwar you wanted me along.”

“You’re better at maps than I am,” he told her honestly. “But he said he couldn’t risk us.”

She coughed politely. “That’s not all that got said in Redhelwar’s tent tonight, from what I hear.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry about Mindaerel, by the way.”

“Belepheriel’s son was one of the scouts who died out here tonight. And then, later, in Redhelwar’s pavilion, I called him a fool,” Kellen said, half answering.

Kellen could feel Idalia’s gaze even though he wasn’t looking at her. “They said he challenged you to a Circle, and you refused, but I’m sure that’s wrong. Redhelwar wouldn’t permit it.”

“Redhelwar would permit it,” Kellen said wearily. “And I challenged him. He called me… well, he said the warnings I gave were conveniently useless.”

“Let’s go back,” Idalia said after a pause, and now her voice had an edge to it that could cut the wind. “I’ll challenge him myself.”

“No,” Kellen said, feeling tired of it all. “It’s all right. Well, it isn’t. I’ll have to make it right later. But he apologized.”

“Storytelling is obviously not a Knight-Magely gift,” Shalkan said. “I heard that after he apologized to Kellen, and wished him all honor and long life, Belepheriel left Redhelwar’s pavilion, and so did not take part in further discussion of the planning and strategy.”

“Did he?” said Idalia in an odd voice. “What did you say to him after he’d apologized, Kellen?”

Kellen thought back. “He didn’t give me a chance to say anything. I challenged him, nobody said anything, Redhelwar demanded his answer, he gave it and asked to be excused, Redhelwar said ‘go,’ and everybody started acting as if he’d never been there.”

“Elves,” Idalia sighed. “Well, what else?”