To Light A Candle

“Will you—will we—join in this link Idalia proposes? I do not yet understand how it may be done, but she seems to feel it can be learned. And Cilarnen is anxious to teach it.”

“I could say no,” Ancaladar said.

Jermayan knew that the dragon’s greatest fear—bordering on paranoia—was to be taken—used as nothing more than a reservoir of magical power.

He knelt in the snow by Ancaladar’s head.

“Beloved, I will let no one harm you. At least… it is a risk all will share equally. Every Wildmage. Without our power, I do not think it will succeed. And nothing can destroy our Bond.”

“If I said no, you could force me,” Ancaladar said, very softly. “You could take what you needed.”

“But I would not,” Jermayan said, reaching out to stroke Ancaladar’s head. “I would only ask for your help. I would never take what you did not wish to give.”

Ancaladar hesitated. Jermayan could feel the dragon’s fear.

And felt it begin to ebb.

“Yes,” Ancaladar said at last. “We will share in the spells.”

—«♦»—

WHEN Kellen and his party reached the camp again, there was good news awaiting them.

“We’ve solved the problem—the first of them, anyway,” Idalia said. There’d been a message waiting at the horse-lines for Kellen to come and see her, and he’d finally tracked her down in her tent.

He was surprised to see Cilarnen there as well. He was lying on Idalia’s bedroll, a compress over his eyes.

Idalia shrugged, following Kellen’s look. “Oh, he doesn’t want any spells cast on him. But he doesn’t have any objection to casting spells on someone else. So after we spent the morning getting nowhere, Kardus finally got the idea of asking him about the other spells he knew. He cast something called Knowing on Atroist—all with permission, of course—and put the spell directly into Atroist’s mind. Atroist got a hideous headache and Cilarnen passed out. But then Atroist knew exactly how the High Mages perform the Linking Spell, and was able to explain it to the rest of us. We’re going to try it tonight, now that Kindolhinadetil’s mirror has arrived. We don’t need the link for that, but it’s a good idea to practice it. And how was your day?”

“Less exciting,” Kellen said, blinking at Idalia’s matter-of-fact summary. If you had asked him two days ago just how likely this was—a High Mage casting a spell on a Wildmage!—he’d have assumed the questioner was mad to even think the idea. “Vestakia says the Crystal Spiders think there’s at least one more cavern to clear, but she’s having trouble finding out just where it is.” He was still trying to wrap his mind about what she’d just told him so blithely. “Idalia, Cilarnen— Atroist—something could have gone wrong,” he finished inadequately.

“They both knew the risks. We all discussed them before we tried it. They both agreed. It was probably more dangerous to Atroist, all things considered.”

Considering, Kellen thought, that Cilarnen was a less than half-trained High Mage, it was entirely possible that he could have killed Atroist.

But this was war. And they had both known the risks.

“And it did work.” Cilarnen’s voice sounded faint, and very hoarse. He sat up with a stifled groan, running his fingers through his hair, and blinked owlishly at Kellen. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked as if he’d just recovered from a high fever. “And I didn’t kill anybody.”

“No,” Idalia said. “And you certainly put on quite a show.”

Kellen wondered what it was Cilarnen had done, exactly.

“I don’t think I could light a candle right now,” Cilarnen said. He felt around himself, obviously searching for something.

“It’s over here,” Idalia said, indicating the table. “I had one of the Healers— not a Wildmage—bring it, after you dropped it. I didn’t know if a Wildmage’s handling it would make a difference.”

“Neither do I” Cilarnen shrugged. “It’s just a tool, but no one but one of the Mages would ever touch one in the City.”

Kellen glanced over at the table. Lying on it was a crudely finished length of ash wood.