“Perhaps we shall allow our guest to give his opinion first,” Dionan said. “Cilarnen High Mage, perhaps you would wish to favor us with your opinion of this brew, of your kindness.”
Cilarnen considered the matter for a moment, taking a second sip of the tea. “It lacks the body of a cured- leaf tea, of course, though perhaps that is not a flaw, as it allows the subtle interplay of flavors to bloom more fully upon the tongue. I taste saffron and ginger—a
Kellen stared at Cilarnen, nonplussed. Cilarnen shot him a triumphant look.
“An excellent description indeed,” Dionan said, with approval. His gaze shifted to Kellen expectantly.
“I must thank Cilarnen for giving me the words to say what I am yet too untutored in the Way of Tea to yet express,” Kellen said, firmly suppressing a flash of jealousy. “I could only have said that it made me think of homely things, like bread, without knowing why it did. And I would give much to know how a thing can seem sweet, and yet not be so.”
“Ah, you would be instructed in
“I had hoped, if it was not inconvenient, that it might be possible to make Cilarnen known to Redhelwar, were Redhelwar not occupied with more important matters. It would please me greatly if Idalia might also be present to hear what might be said then, and whoever Redhelwar thought prudent, that Cilarnen might be made known to all at once. Though he has journeyed for many sennights through the Elven Lands, he has seen little of Elven ways, and what he would speak of is a grave matter indeed.”
“Indeed, and grave matters must be conducted with unseemly haste,” Dionan agreed. “Present yourselves at Redhelwar’s pavilion in three hours, and all shall be as you desire.”
“I thank you for your courtesy and your quickness,” Kellen answered. He stood and bowed.
“A bell and a half is unseemly haste?” Cilarnen demanded, once they were a few yards away.
“Unless someone is actually attacking—yes,” Kellen said. “Elves live a thousand years, and they do not hurry.” He shrugged. “Well, think about it. If you lived for a thousand years, what would a few bells seem like to you? And we have plenty to do between now and then. And for somebody who thinks Elven tea tastes like boiled grass, you certainly seem to be able to say a great deal about it.”
“Awful, wasn’t it?” Cilarnen said, grimacing. “Give me a good pot of Phastan Silvertip any day. Still, you don’t spend hours in the Golden Bells without being able to talk about tea, no matter what it tastes like. And you said to be polite.”
—«♦»—
THEIR first stop was Isinwen’s tent. Kellen’s Second was still asleep, but Kellen showed no pity. He shook the bells until Isinwen unpegged the flap and stood in the doorway.
His long black hair was still loosely braided for sleep, and he had hastily thrown his cloak on over a tunic and leggings, but he regarded Kellen alertly.
“
“I make known to you Cilarnen of Armethalieh,” Kellen said. “Idalia assures me he will surely freeze if we do not find him something warmer to wear. And we are to go before Redhelwar in three hours.”
“So it would be as well if we could present him to advantage,” Isinwen said, stepping out of his tent to regard Cilarnen critically. “Armor will be impossible. Not in three hours.”
“He is no knight,” Kellen said. “But he’ll need something soon. Not today, though. Clothing, however, he is in great need of.”
“Artenel will rejoice to hear it,” Isinwen said blandly. “I go upon the wings of the wind, though Leaf and Star alone know what I shall find. I shall leave my poor scavengings in your pavilion.”
“I thank you for your help and courtesy,” Kellen said. “And I am sorry to have interrupted your rest.”
“At that,” Isinwen said, slanting a glance at Cilarnen, “I think I must have gotten more than you did. But we were all sure you could handle two intruders by yourself.”
