To Light A Candle

up the camp of the Unicorn Knights. “I’d suggest stealing some clothes, but nothing will fit.”

“Where is everyone?” Kellen asked, looking around. None of the lanterns in front of the pavilions were lit, and even the communal brazier was cold and dark.

“Probably off at Ysterialpoerin,” Shalkan said. “Where I’m going, to get this armor off and get a good meal, as well as to catch up on the gossip, so don’t worry about me. Now, go—straight to the Healers, if you please. I can smell that potion Idalia gave you, that and the goblin poison both. You need to get them both taken care of. Now.”

“I’m going,” Kellen said meekly.

He’d forgotten what a long cold walk it could be from the Unicorn Camp back to the main camp—of course, he’d never done it wearing nothing more than a cloak and a pair of too-tight boots before. At least there was a string of lanterns to mark his way, though the snow—the everlasting snow—had drifted so high that they seemed to rest directly on its surface, and some of them had melted small craters in it, so their light gleamed against walls of ice.

And he had the awful feeling that Idalia’s potion was wearing off very quickly now, because he didn’t seem to be able to keep the cloak closed. It seemed to take too much effort, somehow, and he had the strongest desire just to lie down right here in the snow and sleep.

“Halt and declare yourself.” A sentry’s voice came out of the darkness.

Stopping was the best idea Kellen had heard in hours. He opened his mouth to explain who he was.

And that was the last thing he remembered.

—«♦»—

“—BE all right now. The poison is gone, and I’ve healed him of the potion’s effects. All he needs now is rest and food.”

A stranger’s voice, one that Kellen didn’t recognize.

“Thank you, Arozen. I’ll see to it that he gets both.”

Idalia.

“You should rest as well, Idalia,” Arozen said.

“Hey,” Kellen said weakly. He pried his eyes open, though that seemed to take a great effort.

Idalia was glaring down at him as if he were a personal enemy. A man stood next to her, dressed in High Reaches furs: Arozen, presumably.

Vestakia was there, too, and Ciltesse, Isinwen… all his command. He struggled to sit up.

“Don’t—you—dare—move,” Idalia said, strong-arming him flat with one expertly-placed blow.

“I’m not moving,” Kellen said hastily, now entirely bewildered. Why was Idalia so angry with him?

“It was… a difficult healing,” Arozen said, explaining. “The potion Idalia gave you is, in its way, a kind of poison as well, and you were already poisoned. And you were also paying Mageprice, so… you were closer to death than you realized. And it is cold out there in the night.”

“Well, I’m not dead now,” Kellen said. “Honest.” Paying Mageprice? He couldn’t think of any spells he’d cast.

Unless… back in Redhelwar’s pavilion… what he’d done to Belepheriel had been a spell after all? If the price had been to go off to the Shadowed Elf cavern in the middle of the night, taking complete disgrace on himself, then he guessed he’d paid the price in full.

“Idalia—Vestakia—Ciltesse—I’m fine,” he said. “Tired, but—fine.” He knew Arozen wouldn’t have let Idalia share the Mageprice of his healing, as tired as she’d been, but he suspected that the reason the others were here was because they had.

Including Vestakia.

“That makes good hearing, alakomentai,” Ciltesse said.

“Now go and rest,” Kellen demanded. “All of you. Please. Idalia, if you don’t think I’ll be smart enough on my own to stay here, you can find… you can find…”