Kellen stopped a few yards up the forest path, fretting. The sweets would all be gone if he didn't go back for them now. He sighed, looking back at the lights in the clearing. It was quiet out here, and he could hear the music drifting enticingly through the trees behind him. It was a little chilly, and back there were fires and warmth. The air smelled of damp earth, and back there were the scents of cooking meat, mulled ale, and woodsmoke. He knew it would be a bad idea to go back there. He'd gotten away once by doing the unexpected. He couldn't expect to be so lucky twice, and of course everybody wanted to wish both him and Idalia well. And with those wishes came tankards of drink from the men, and kisses from the women and girls. One or two of those farewell kisses had left him feeling flushed and uncomfortable already, and those were from the girls he knew the least…
But he'd promised…
As he stood in the darkness of the forest he realized that it was dark here under the trees, too dark to find his way, and the moon wasn't going to be high enough to show him the way to where he'd left the horses for several hours.
Great. Now I do have to go back. Honey-cakes and a lantern…
He looked back at the clearing, and for a moment had the unsettling impression that one of the lights was swelling like a frog about to sing. Then he realized that it was moving. Away from the party. Moving toward him?
Kellen slithered behind the nearest big tree and waited.
Merana came walking slowly down the trail, placing each hoof slowly and carefully. She had a basket over one arm, and was holding a lantern high over her head and talking to herself in a loud whisper.
"Idalia said he'd be out here somewhere. Kellen? Are you here? Kellen?" She held the lantern down near the ground and peered at it, looking for footprints that weren't there, then straightened, and peered at the trees on either side of the path.
"Kelleh?" she called in a louder voice. "Are you here? Kellen?"
When Kellen didn't immediately answer, Merana took another couple of hesitant steps down the path, then stopped, fidgeting and whispering to herself again. "She must have been wrong. Why would he be wandering around alone when he could be snuggled under a blanket and a cart with a nice warm willing—"
Kellen decided he didn't want to hear any more, and stepped out from behind the tree. Merana squeaked, and for a moment he thought she was going to rear up like a startled horse.
"Kellen?" she said out loud. "What are you doing here? You gave me such a fright!"
"Sorry," Kellen said. He couldn't exactly say what he was doing out here, because he didn't really know himself. "Idalia sent you to look for me?"
"Uh-huh." Merana nodded. "She packed a basket for you, with a warm cloak and everything. Are you sure you don't want to stay for the rest of the dancing and all?" she added pleadingly, switching her tail so that the bells braided into it jingled. "I've—we've hardly gotten warmed up."
He shrugged. "Guess not. It's a great party, though."
"The best," Merana said eagerly. "Almost as fine as Harvest Home— though I don't know as anybody's going to be doing much celebrating of that this year," she added, with a hint of that dark mood that seemed to be underlying everything at the festivities. She set down the basket and held out the lantern. Kellen took it.
"Won't you need it?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I can make my way back by the lights, fear you not. Well, I guess this is good-bye, then. A kiss for luck?" she added hopefully.
Kellen took a step back, shaking his head apologetically.
"I was right then," Merana said with satisfaction. "It is a Wild Magic thing! Oh, don't worry—I won't tell. I can keep my mouth shut when I ought. And don't you worry about Cormo, either—Haneida and I have him all settled between us."
"Good," Kellen said, and meant it. "You take care of him. He needs— somebody to boss him around and make it stick, I guess. If he gets that, he just might turn out all right."
"He might." Merana's spirit of mischief must have fought clear at that moment, for she added saucily, "Still, it's too bad you aren't coming back to the party. You'll miss the rest of the dancing—and other things besides."
She turned away, and with a last flirt of her tail, trotted back quickly toward the lights and the music.
It's the "other things" I'm worried about, I guess, Kellen thought doubtfully.
He set down the lantern, and investigated the basket. A warm cloak was folded on the top—not necessary just now, but if he was going to be spending most of the night out in the woods, it might be later. And beneath it, a selection of delicacies from the feast, including a generous number of honey-cakes and several patties of maple sugar.
Thank you, Idalia.
Kellen picked up the lantern and the basket and went to find the animals and Shalkan.
"I wondered how long it would take you to figure things out," the unicorn said when he arrived.
"You could have told me," Kellen grumbled, setting the basket down and hooking the lantern over the stub of a branch. The horse and the mule dozed placidly nearby.
"You might have said that the girls would be"—he felt himself blushing—"well, frisky. Especially Merana."
"Where's the fun in that?" Shalkan asked. "This was an easy one, and I was nearby to warn you if necessary. There may be others that aren't as obvious, and I might not be around for them."
"So I'm supposed to consider this a learning experience?" Kellen asked, spreading the cloak on the ground and beginning to unpack the basket.
"Are those honey-cakes I smell?" Shalkan responded eagerly.
IT was very late—or very early—by the time that Kellen, carrying the empty basket and leading the two animals on their halters, returned to the clearing. The chill had turned to cold, but he'd been more than warm enough in the cloak. He was young enough to think a night without sleep to be a grand prelude to a long day's ride, and in fact he'd even dozed for a few hours before Shalkan had nudged him awake. It was still dark, but it would be dawn in an hour or two, and he knew that Idalia wanted to be on the road as soon as there was light to see by. There was a hint of fog in the air, and a suggestion that in a day or two, there might be rain.
The canopies and garlands were all still there—they, like the cabin itself, would be removed over the coming days and taken elsewhere. The clearing was quiet, if not silent, and far from empty; though most of the partyers had gone home or off to nearby villages there were still a few late revelers remaining, sitting and lying in twos and threes and fours, some sleeping, some talking together in quiet contented tones.
Kellen stopped to tie the animals to a tree, then walked into the clearing. Almost at the cabin door, Kellen passed a tangle of sleeping fauns. They smelled strongly of mead, and some kind soul had rolled them into a cloak. As he watched they squirmed over one another, as blissfully indifferent to their surroundings as a basketful of puppies.
He turned and walked into the cabin.
Just as he suspected, Idalia was already up and dressed, but in clothes he'd never seen before. Gone was the woodland ranger dressed in beaded buckskin, horn, and feathers: the boots and tunic, cloak and breeks Idalia wore now would have looked unremarkable anywhere from the High Reaches to the gates of Armethalieh herself: sturdy wool cloth, dyed with indigo and butternut, sturdy leather riding boots with hard soles and stacked heels to hold the stirrups, with a wide felt hat to shade her eyes and face from wind and weather… Idalia looked like a stranger.
She glanced over at his entrance, and saw his startlement, and smiled crookedly. "Quite a different look for me, isn't it? There's a set for you, too. It's what they wear in the High Hills; that Mountain Trader I bought Prettyfoot from felt guilty about his good fortune and threw in a few trade gifts, and then I did a little tailoring. We have a lot of territory to ride through, and we won't stand out as much this way. The boots I ordered in Merryvale; when you're running, it's always a good idea to have boots you can trust. Go ahead; I'll start getting the beasties ready."
She picked up an armful of saddlepads and blankets and walked out. Kellen went on into the empty room that had once been the bedroom.
The shutters were closed and pegged now, and the room seemed close and airless, but a fat candle stuck in a wall sconce gave sufficient light for Kellen to see what he was doing. A similar set of traveling clothes were laid out for him: cloak and gloves, too.
After spending so many sennights in supple buckskin, wool and homespun were scratchy and harsh against his skin, and the new clothes itched. Kellen sighed, stamping his feet into the boots. He only hoped it wouldn't be too hard to get used to them after wearing moccasins for so long.
But at last he was dressed, and there was no more point to delaying. He even spared a moment to wish for a mirror to see himself in, though he knew all he'd get would be a shock.
He pushed aside the deerskin curtain and stepped back out into the main room, his new cloak folded over one arm. Idalia thrust a comb into his hand.
"Comb your hair out, and braid it, or tie it back. You won't want to be combing knots and twigs and heaven knows what else out of it at the end of the day," she said, brushing past him to get at Coalwind's saddle and bridle.
Kellen started in on his hair, and discovered to his dismay that there were knots and twigs in it now. But he managed to drag the comb all the way through it at least once, and then discovered that in one of the pockets of his new breeks was a long leather tie-band, ornamented with some of Idalia's careful beadwork. So they wouldn't be leaving the Wildwood completely behind! He looped it around his unruly hair, then picked up the heavy wooden packsaddle, and followed Idalia outside.
The day was already appreciably lighter than when he'd gone in, but the world was still the ghostly no-color of false dawn. Out in the forest, wisps of fog drifted among the trees, like spirits. Idalia had led both animals up to the door while he'd been dressing. She'd just finished tightening Coalwind's girths, and Kellen set the packsaddle on the ground and held the mare steady while Idalia soothed her into accepting the bit and bridle. Coalwind was fascinated by Idalia's trader hat, and kept trying to seize it and pull it off Idalia's head; Idalia finally let her have it for an instant, taking it back once the last buckle was tight.
"There you are, my girl. I'm afraid you'll be less frisky by the end of the day." She sighed. "Of course, so will I."
"Me too," Kellen offered. "It's not like either of us have done a lot of riding lately."