To Light A Candle

—«♦»—

BEFORE he’d gotten his own command, he’d participated in a few of these games, but even a Knight-Mage’s skill couldn’t quite make up for years of practice, and he still hadn’t entirely mastered the long Elven lance.

Both teams were armed with the lance. The object of the game was a small leather ring, to be picked up on the lance point, carried off, and defended.

There were, as far as Kellen could tell, no other rules.

He and Cilarnen stood well back from the edge of the field as the unicorns darted in and out among each other, springing like deer, as their riders vied strenuously for possession of the mostly-invisible object. Occasionally one unicorn would leap right over another, and woe to the rider who didn’t duck in time.

“They ride them?” Cilarnen asked, sounding surprised.

“By mutual consent,” Kellen said.

“Why are they all the way out here?” Cilarnen asked.

Kellen suspected the direction this conversation was going to go, but he really had no choice. There were things Cilarnen needed to know, and if he found out things Kellen would rather he didn’t know in addition, well, that was a part of paying his price.

“Unicorns are creatures of magic. Magic has limitations as well as advantages. What did they teach you about unicorns in Armethalieh?”

Cilarnen frowned. “Their horn is proof against poison. That they share the nature of both the goat and the lion. And only virgins can tame them.”

“Their horns purify just about anything. Their ‘nature’ is their own, and no one can actually ‘tame’ a unicorn. But only virgins can be around them,” Kellen corrected. “Virgin meaning someone who is both chaste and celibate—and they can definitely tell.”

“So that’s why they’re all this way from the rest of the camp?” Cilarnen said, accepting Kellen’s explanation without a blink.

“That’s right.”

“Come to tell us what’s going on?” Shalkan asked before Cilarnen could come up with any more questions. “Or is the game more interesting?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve come for a quiet chat,” Gesade said.

Kellen looked over his shoulder. The two unicorns were standing behind them.

“Let’s go back to the Unicorn Camp,” he said to Cilarnen.

When they reached the edge, he swung down off Firareth and patted his shoulder.

“Drop Anganil’s reins to the ground and tell him to stand,” Kellen said to Cilarnen. “He won’t wander.”

Cilarnen looked dubious, but followed Kellen’s suggestion.

They made their way to the center of camp. Kellen added more charcoal to the communal brazier.

The two unicorns waited expectantly. Gesade’s ears flicked back and forth as she followed the sound of his movements. If Cilarnen noticed her blindness, he had the sense not to mention it.

Kellen told his part of the story, and encouraged Cilarnen to add his own, just as he had told it to Kellen early this morning.

“I hardly think that was fair,” Gesade said when Cilarnen had finished. “You were trying to do the right thing.”

“I didn’t think,” Cilarnen said, still sounding confused by his own actions. “My—my father would not have listened. The whole City knew that. But any of the Mageborn has the right of personal appeal to the Arch-Mage. It would have been a hideous scandal. I would certainly have been disowned. But… it would have been better.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Kellen said flatly. “I don’t say this because…” Because he’s a hidebound monster who tried to kill me twice.