“Shalkan will assist you,” Redhelwar said to Kellen. “Go to him. Dionan will see what may be done. And… my thanks to you. You have saved me from a great error.”
Kellen bowed. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Idalia grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back toward Shalkan.
Shalkan’s horn was back to its normal pearly-white color now. “Get on,” he said, seeing Kellen.
It took Kellen several tries to mount—by now he couldn’t feel either his hands or his feet—but once he was on Shalkan’s back, he felt better. Even through the armor, the unicorn was radiating heat like a furnace, and soon Kellen’s teeth stopped wanting to chatter, and he stopped shivering.
Was everything going to be all right now? Or as all right as things got these days? At least Redhelwar had believed him.
It hadn’t occurred to him until just now that the Elven general might not have. What could he possibly have done then?
“Where am I going to get another set of armor?” he said aloud, turning his mind with relief to things that didn’t matter quite so much. “And another sword?” He was beginning to feel a bit of that muzziness return; he wasn’t quite sure where the broken one had gotten to—or his dagger. He thought he’d left them both back inside the cavern just after the last trip-wire.
The majority of the Elven army had withdrawn to beyond the river now. Only Redhelwar and his adjutants remained, and Belepheriel and his command.
“Both of those things are Artenel’s problem, and I’m sure he’ll rise to the challenge,” Idalia said. “How are you planning to trigger the traps in the cave?”
“That’s Jermayan’s problem,” Kellen said, with a certain amount of relief. “I’m sure he and Ancaladar will rise to the challenge. Tomorrow.”
“I take it Redhelwar didn’t have a problem with that?” Idalia said.
“I think he’d have given me the whole damned army if I’d asked for it just now,” Kellen said.
“Ah,” Idalia said. “There’s Cella.”
Ninolion had led the palfrey up to Redhelwar’s side. Idalia went out to the mare and led her back to Kellen and Shalkan. She was carrying something else in her other hand, but by now it was too dark—and, once again, snowing too hard—for Kellen to see it clearly.
“Here,” she said. “Put these on.”
Kellen reluctantly untucked his hands from his cloak to take what Idalia was holding out to him. It was a pair of the long heavy sheepskin boots that were worn over armor as a further protection against the cold. They were an Elven pair, of course, so even without armor, Kellen could barely cram his feet into them.
Idalia rooted around in her packs and came up with several blocks of journey-food. She gave one to Shalkan, handed one to Kellen, and unwrapped the third for herself. Kellen wolfed it down as quickly as he could, then wrapped himself tightly in his cloak again.
“Let’s go,” she said, mounting Cella. “I want to get you back to camp and into the hands of the Healers before you fall over.”
“You go ahead,” Kellen said. “Shalkan and I will follow as closely as we can. I promise.”
Idalia nodded, and trotted after the retreating army.
Kellen glanced once more at Redhelwar and the others. Without Shalkan, he might have been tempted to join them—or at least think it was his duty—but with Shalkan, it was impossible. Shalkan made an exception for Idalia —at need—but for a whole troop of Elves?
Impossible.
Fortunately. No doubt now; he was beginning to feel unpleasantly drunk.
“Let’s go home.”
—«♦»—
“YOU’LL have to make your own way from here,” Shalkan said, trotting into the circle of pavilions that made
