be simple enough to kill. The
“There might be a spell that would help. I’ll ask Jermayan and Ancaladar. And the Crystal Spiders don’t like the
“Then we are well begun by honoring our promises to them. And now, perhaps, once you have settled a matter of no small interest to the army, we shall ride out to the nearer cavern and see that promise completed,” Redhelwar said, rising to his feet.
—«♦»—
KELLEN was never precisely certain exactly how the Elven destriers were organized. He did know that taking care of several thousand horses—even several thousand horses who knew their names and invariably came when called—was a large job for someone. Several hundred someones, probably, even though the Knights did much of their own horse-work.
The animals that were going to be immediately needed waited in the horse-lines, standing quietly in orderly ranks. Those that would not be needed as quickly seemed to wander at will, though Kellen was sure that was only an illusion.
He saw Idalia’s Cella and Redhelwar’s blood-red bay waiting patiently; Dionan’s stone-grey mare and the thirty mounts of his own troop standing by as well, all under saddle and ready to ride out.
Ciltesse had been loitering nearby—there was really no other word, Kellen thought ruefully, to describe his second-in-command’s behavior.
“I See you, Ciltesse,” Redhelwar said, greeting him. “It would be pleasant to discover the nature of Kellen’s new mount.”
“That is yet to be known,” Ciltesse said gravely. “I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage,” he said formally.
“I See you, Ciltesse. It would please me greatly to be presented with the fruits of your wisdom,” Kellen said, bowing.
Ciltesse led him to the end of the line of horses. Three destriers, without saddle or bridle, stood waiting.
“Here are those which I judge could best meet your needs, gathered from those which are available,” Ciltesse said. “It is for you to choose, of course.”
“Nor will you tell me their names, for the whole camp is betting on which one I will choose,” Kellen said, smiling. He wondered if his choice would match Ciltesse’s.
He turned and regarded the horses.
Two were stallions, one was a mare. They all regarded him with wary curiosity, ears flicking back and forth.
As he had when he had chosen Deyishene, he cleared his mind and regarded them through spell-sight.
The young stallion he rejected immediately. The black was a beautiful animal, young and filled with fire and spirit, but Kellen neither needed nor wanted that much eagerness in a mount.
He considered the mare next, and shook his head. She was a dark dapple grey, and had the grace and quiet spirit he wanted and needed, but she had loved her rider too deeply to be quite ready for a new master yet. He paused to stroke her neck gently. Would he have to reject them all? Maybe Jermayan would loan him Valdien for the day. Or he could take the mare—but not as a permanent battle-mount.
He turned his attention to the last of the three. The buckskin stallion was by far the oldest of the animals Ciltesse had collected, and though his coat was well-kept and without flaw, Kellen’s battle-sight showed him the ghosts of old wounds, well-healed. To his surprise, Kellen could feel that he was being judged as much as he was judging. He could tell that if the destrier found his rider lacking, it had an arsenal of tricks that would put anything Valdien had ever imagined to shame. But he could also tell that the stallion was calm, steady, and smart. It would stand unafraid in the face of a pack of coldwarg—if it trusted its rider to know his business.
Animal speech was one of the gifts of the Wild Magic, but like so many of the powers of a true Wildmage, it was one that Kellen lacked. Yet the stallion seemed to understand
“This one,” Kellen said, staggering back a step.
