—«♦»—
AT dusk Kellen collected Cilarnen from the Centaur encampment and went to join the Wildmages.
He’d worried about whether Cilarnen would be able to stand the proximity of so many Wildmages—he suspected, from what Kardus had told him, that being around Wildmages for Cilarnen was like being around non- virgins for Shalkan.
“It’s not too bad,” Cilarnen said. “It’s just… it feels as if something terrible is going to happen. But nothing ever does. I can stand it. As long as nobody casts a spell on me,” he added darkly.
“We’d almost always ask your permission,” Kellen assured him. “Unless you were unconscious, and it was for a healing—or to keep you from harming someone else.”
“Well, I don’t
Kellen didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to make a promise he might not be able to keep.
—«♦»—
THE Wildmages were gathered together in one of the great lodge-tents of the Mountainfolk, a structure large enough to accommodate several dozen people at once, and tall enough at its domed center for Kellen to stand comfortably upright.
Even Kardus was there, kneeling among the others and looking perfectly at ease, though Kellen wasn’t sure how the Centaur had managed to negotiate the narrow doorway.
Both Kellen and Cilarnen were carrying rucksacks. Though wine was difficult to find in an Elven camp, with Vestakia’s and Isinwen’s help, Kellen had managed to assemble a number of bottles of things that more-or-less fit the definition, from mead to hard cider to Elven fruit cordials to some actual bottles of wine. He hoped Idalia appreciated the effort.
The lodge was filled with the good smells of roast meat and fresh bread— and the residue of enough magic to make him want to sneeze, though Cilarnen didn’t seem to react to it. Looking around, Kellen saw a seat by Idalia and moved toward it. Cilarnen went to sit by Kardus.
“You look tired,” Kellen said, folding himself easily into a cross-legged position beside his sister.
“A long day of battering my head against the merely difficult,” Idalia said gloomily.
“We are to call hares and become mushrooms,” Jermayan explained kindly. “Presuming Kindolhinadetil will grant us the loan of a mirror.”
“Yes of course,” Kellen said, with only a touch of irony. “That makes perfect sense.” He opened the rucksack and passed Idalia one of the wine bottles.
“Spoiled fruit,” Jermayan pronounced, regarding it.
Kellen grinned and offered him one of the cordials.
The food had been cooked elsewhere. Now the platters of meat—roast mutton—and baskets of bread began to pass around. The meal was conducted in the style of the High Reaches, with several people sharing a communal platter.
As they ate, Idalia filled him in on what they’d accomplished that day.
“—so while we think we may have a spell that will allow us to see what’s going on in the City, we aren’t sure we have enough power to cast it,” she finished.
There were three components to each spell of the Wild Magic: the power to cast the spell—always paid personally by the Wildmage—the power of the spell’s work—which could be shared among many—and the Mageprice, which the Wildmage alone paid.
Idalia was saying that this spell was so powerful she didn’t even have the power to cast it.
Kellen looked at Jermayan.
“Not even Ancaladar and I .I have spoken to him. And there is yet another difficulty, were I to be the one who cast this spell.”
“One, we know they’ll notice. It’s only a matter of time. There’d probably be a little more time if a human were to cast it, instead of an Elf. Two, it’s not just a spell of Seeing, but of Knowing—” Idalia said.
