To Light A Candle

as soon as possible; I can’t tell you why I feel this way, because I don’t know, and even though I’ve tried scrying, it hasn’t told me anything. But I still do. That’s all.”

Kellen sat back in his seat, trying not to look as agitated and anxious as he felt. Some diplomat he turned out to be!

But maybe he hadn’t been as persuasive as he could have been? Maybe, secretly, he didn’t want Armethalieh to be warned, because he still resented the Golden City, but he wanted to be able to say—assuming anyone ever asked— that he’d done everything he could to save it.

Maybe he should go himself. Or try to. Perhaps with a suitable disguise…

“I think perhaps that you are right, Kellen Knight-Mage,” Ashaniel said after a very long pause. “Perhaps we have been overhasty in dismissing the threat the Enemy poses in human lands. Certainly a timely word of warning would not go amiss, could the Golden City be persuaded to accept it. Yet the selection of a proper envoy is a delicate matter.”

“I would say that it must be either Bevar or Hyandur,” Morusil said consideringly. “Both have been to the Golden City in the past—though not for many years, of course—and both are familiar with the ways of humans. I shall speak to each of them within the moonturn to see if he is willing to go. I believe that one of them will be, and if he is, he will leave before the heavy snows. Rest assured, young Kellen, warning of the Enemy’s intentions will be carried to the human city in a timely fashion, though whether it may be successfully delivered is something which only the Gods Themselves may say.”

“Thank you both,” Kellen said feelingly. “I know it doesn’t seem like a very important matter to you—”

Ashaniel raised her hand, silencing him.

“In the tapestry of the weaving of the Gods of Leaf and Star, none who are living may see the whole pattern and know its completion,” Ashaniel said gently. “Perhaps the threads of your spinning are as important as the rest.”

Perhaps so. Kellen only hoped the Gods thought so—and that they could make someone in Armethalieh listen to whoever Ashaniel and Morusil sent.

—«♦»—

ABOUT a sennight and a half after the caravan left, the first snowfall came to Sentarshadeen, and a few days after he went to the House of Leaf and Star, Kellen awoke to find Sentarshadeen transformed once more. Snow had begun to fall during the night, making the whole city silent and white. As a result, he slept later than usual, only to be awakened by a messenger from the House of Sword and Shield, who had come to tell him that Master Belesharon had decreed that there would be no classes today, so that all could honor the first fall of snow.

Kellen stood in the doorway, wrapped in his house robe, watching the messenger leave. He stared up at the sky, then looked away quickly, blinking and shaking his head.

Snow was dusty. And cold.

He brushed his face clean and stepped back inside, closing the door and frowning suspiciously.

Idalia had described snow, of course. It was fluffy frozen water that fell from the sky in winter whenever it felt like it. But they’d barely had rain in the City, and the only snow Kellen had ever seen was either already on the ground in the City parks—since the Mages in charge of the weather made sure it fell only on the parks, and only at night—or sold in the City markets in Preservation-spelled containers. It had not been coming down from the sky as if it would fall forever.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Was there someone at the door?” Idalia slid open the door of her sleeping room and poked her head out, her sleeping-braids hanging loose about her face. “It’s snowing,” she added unnecessarily.

“Vinshan came to tell me that there are no classes today. We’re to honor the snow,” Kellen said, hoping he didn’t sound too grumpy about it. He didn’t know why, but the snow made him feel uneasy. As if there were something bad about it.

“Then I guess you should do that. At least it will be warmer now that it’s started snowing,” Idalia said, which certainly didn’t make any sense.

She retreated back into her room and came out a few moments later, her braids secured on top of her head with a few bone pins, and wrapped in her favorite winter house robe. She moved immediately to the stove and began building up the fire.

Kellen went over to the window and stared gloomily out at the snow. It sifted down steadily, making everything white. Even the pines in the forest opposite had turned a pale silvery grey. The only spot of color in the landscape was the surface of the swiftly-moving river below.

“Will you stop pacing, please?” Idalia said a few minutes later. “You’re acting like a caged bear.”