To Light A Candle

Even if he had to wait a long time, there was much here to keep his attention. At one end of the room was an enormous fireplace, its elaborate hearth stretching all the way to the ceiling. It was designed after the fashion of a dragon—the hearth being in the belly—and the outswept wings were carried out in tiles that covered the entire wall of the room. A cheerful fire leaped and crackled on the hearth. It was an astonishingly cheerful-looking dragon. Quite friendly, in fact. More like a winged cat with scales than a dragon; the artist had managed to convey the impression that this dragon not only did not mind that its belly was being used to warm the room, but positively welcomed the idea.

At the opposite end of the room, a fountain played. A column of water bubbled high into the air, falling back into itself and down into its catch-basin. There were glittering motes of color caught within the water; coming closer and inspecting it, Kellen realized they were tiny shapes of colored glass, but they were moving too fast for him to be able to tell quite what they were meant to represent…

“I see that the fire-and-water room pleases you,” Ashaniel observed from behind him.

Kellen turned around. While he’d been studying the fountain, Ashaniel had entered the room, Morusil with her. A servant entered behind them, bringing a wheeled cart with tea-things.

“Yes, it does. Very much,” Kellen answered honestly. Looking around—now that he was not so thoroughly distracted by the fountain—he could see that the end of the room with the dragon fireplace was decorated in reds and oranges and fire motifs, while the other end, where the fountain was, ran to greens and violets, and the walls were covered, not with tiles, but with seashells in every shape and size. It should have looked garish or busy, but somehow it managed to be a harmonious whole.

“And Morusil,” he said, bowing. “I am happy to see you again.”

“And I to see you, and to have the opportunity to thank you for bringing me such an eager student,” Morusil replied.

“I am glad that Vestakia has found a friend in you,” Kellen said, as sincerely as he could manage. “Your wisdom inspires her, and your encouragement heartens her.”

“It is always a privilege to hear the words of the young,” Morusil said. “But you will have come to visit with Ashaniel, and I do not wish to intrude.”

“I don’t wish to interfere with your plans, but I would welcome your company as well,” Kellen said hopefully.

“Then we shall all take tea,” Ashaniel said decisively.

They settled themselves around the fire, and the servant set out the teapot, the cups, and a plate of assorted cakes on a small table between them. When she had left, Ashaniel and Morusil began discussing the weather, and the prospects for the Winter Running Dance, which would be held on the first Full Moon after the first snowfall, which was expected any day now.

“Perhaps you will not wish to participate in the Dance, young Kellen—not everyone does, you know—but it is quite beautiful, and few humans have seen it,” Morusil said.

“I am quite certain it is worthy of seeing,” Kellen agreed politely. Elves do not rush, he reminded himself. And it would be nice to finally know what a “Winter Running Dance” was, since people had been mentioning it, one way and another, since he’d gotten here.

“But though we find your company agreeable, of course, and it has been too long since you visited the House of Leaf and Star, I think perhaps you did not come to talk upon these subjects,” Ashaniel said with a teasing smile.

Kellen found himself smiling in return, half-dazzled, as always, by her beauty. “I am afraid I’ve come for something else, and perhaps to raise a subject that you will find tiresome, for I have probably spoken of it far too much for your comfort.”

Morusil and Ashaniel exchanged a look, one that Kellen was unable to interpret.

“It is to be hoped that you will always feel free to speak your heart here in the House of Leaf and Star,” Morusil said, after a pause. “Even if the ways of humans are not our ways, there is often much wisdom to be gained from listening to the words of those who are unlike ourselves.”

The two Elves regarded Kellen expectantly.

Kellen took a deep breath, trying to get everything he was about to say organized in his mind.

“I know I’m not going to get this all right, but… at the Council meeting, I know you really didn’t want to send someone to tell Armethalieh about the—the Enemy. Because, well, you didn’t think it would do any good. And you thought it might make matters worse. And you might be right. But, well, what if—I mean, that might not be true. And they need to know. They hate De—the Enemy there. Really, they do! The reason I was cast out was that they believe that the Wild-mages are allied with—the other side. If they knew the Enemy were active again, they might not help us—they probably wouldn’t—but they’d at least protect themselves. And that’s important, too. So is there—Maybe there’s some way to get a message to Armethalieh that they’d listen to. Because I think it’s important to try, at least.” He swallowed, his mouth gone dry despite his tea, feeling as if he must have sounded as clumsy as an untutored bumpkin. “And I think we ought to try