She ducked her head, but it seemed to him that she was so happy she was glowing.
—«♦»—
THEY reached the main camp just before dusk. Kellen sent the others on ahead. There was a stop he wanted to make first. It wasn’t just that he wanted to avoid the meeting with Cilarnen. It was that there were other obligations he felt he had to discharge that were just as pressing, and almost as uncomfortable to deal with.
In the sennight that he’d been underground, the Unicorn Knights had returned to their old camp. Many familiar pavilions had been struck—the encampment was barely half the size it had once been—but Kellen wanted to pay his respects. He’d fled like a coward the night he’d healed Gesade. The least he could do was ask after her. Perhaps someone here would know.
He rode into the center of the encampment and dismounted.
Riasen’s pavilion was now in the place where Petariel’s had been. He came out at the sound of Kellen’s arrival.
“Kellen! You come in a good hour,” he said. “We had begun to think you loved the caves so well you intended to spend the rest of your life underground.”
“It began to seem as if I was,” Kellen replied, with a shake of his head. “But Vestakia says that the caverns are now free of Taint.”
“And so I suppose we shall be moving on, once she finds the next one.” Riasen shrugged. By now the other Unicorn Knights had appeared as well. Kellen saw many familiar faces—but as many more were missing, gone forever. Petariel. Vandelt. Melchia.
Too many to count. He swallowed hard.
But Riasen was still speaking.
“—and once you have dealt with this High Mage who has come all the way from Armethalieh to speak with you, of course. Kardus says he was Banished—if this goes on, there will be no one left there at all, and we might as well live there ourselves.”
Kellen had forgotten how fast gossip traveled among the Elves. Riasen undoubtedly knew everything there was to know about Cilarnen. But before he had to reply to that, a welcome interruption spared him the need.
“I See you, Kellen,” Menerchel said with pleasure, poking his head out of his own pavilion. “I do not doubt that you have come for a proper cup of tea.”
“Tea would be welcome,” Kellen said gladly. “We could not make it properly in the caverns—at least it never tasted right.”
“It is a wonder you all did not die of thirst,” Menerchel said, in tones of mock concern. “I would not myself care to engage in such hazardous duty. No proper tea! It is not to be thought of. I shall see to it at once.” He disappeared back into his pavilion to bring out the tea-things.
“It would please me greatly to hear what you have heard of this Armethaliehan,” Kellen said, “but I came first of all to see if you were… well. And to ask after Gesade.”
“Why not ask me yourself?” a familiar voice came from behind him. “I’m only blind, you know. Not deaf.”
Kellen turned around quickly. Gesade and Shalkan were standing behind him, shoulder to shoulder.
“He looks stricken,” Shalkan said to her. “You know the look.”
“Indeed I do,” Gesade replied, sounding as if nothing much had ever happened to her. “Very much as if he’s done something wrong and is waiting to be scolded for it. Well, Kellen? Have you done something wrong?”
She looked completely restored to health—except for the closed sunken lids and the hollow eye sockets.
Kellen couldn’t speak.
Gesade walked carefully forward, with Shalkan at her side to guide her. She reached Kellen, and he automatically raised his hand to stroke her neck.
“Well, boy?” she said tartly. “Would you rather I was dead?”
“No!” Kellen said instantly—and honestly. “But—”
“—you’d rather I could see,” Gesade finished for him. “Well, so would I, of course. We’d all rather a great
