Unbelievable.
"Come on, Kellen, on your feet. We've got to get you to the armory," Idalia said, pulling him out of his chair.
"Huh?" Kellen said inelegantly, roused from his reverie.
"Armory? Where they fit you with armor? You're going up against Shadow Mountain; you can't do it in a silk tunic, you know. You've got a lot to do before tomorrow morning, and so do I," Idalia said.
"Tomorrow? He didn't really mean that," Kellen said, dropping his voice to a whisper, as the King and Queen were still on the other side of the room, giving orders to their counselors.
"He did. You'll see. The Elves can do things in a hurry when they want to. Come on," Idalia said.
Morusil was moving away from the knot of Elves around the King and Queen. He stopped in front of Kellen as the three of them reached the doorway.
"It grieves me to know I will not have the opportunity to tell you more of my stories, young Wildmage. But perhaps upon your return we will all have more leisure," Morusil said, and laid a hand on Kellen's arm in a gesture that was at once protective and fatherly, and the comradely reassurance between equals. "I think, perhaps, there is a great deal you should know, in the fullness of time."
"I'd like that very much," Kellen answered.
Idalia stared after Morusil as he left, then back at Kellen.
"I didn't know you knew him," she said curiously.
"I met him while I was out walking around the city. He was out watering his garden. I didn't know he was one of the royal counselors."
"He ought to be. He's the Queen's uncle. Now come on."
IDALIA was right about Elves being able to do things in a hurry when they wanted. Less than an hour later Kellen was standing in the armory, having his first-ever suit of armor fitted to his body.
The process was a lot more complicated than the morning he'd spent at Tengitir's getting new clothes.
All Kellen knew about armor was that it was heavy, expensive, took several moonturns to make, and was designed to keep you from getting killed by somebody who had a sword, mace, spear, or bow. And that even if the Elves did have a spare suit of it lying around, it wasn't going to fit him.
It turned out that the only thing he was right about was the last. There wasn't a spare set of armor in his size lying around the armory, but it looked like he was going to have a full suit of Elven armor by tomorrow morning anyway. And—as he soon discovered—Elven armor was almost as light as a suit of clothes.
They began by taking wax molds of his arms and legs, bending thick sheets of warmed and oiled beeswax over his bare arms and legs and pressing it into place, then carrying the pieces away into the mysterious inner regions of the forge. Kellen was allowed to get dressed again, but not to wander very far; the Master Armorer told him he would be needed for fittings again almost at once.
As it turned out, Kellen had too much to occupy him in the interim to be able to wander anywhere at all, even if he'd wanted to. Elven armor was designed to be worn over a narrow quilted undertunic and leggings, and Tengitir was sent for to supply that. The measuring began all over again, for apparently the measurements she had taken for suits of clothing were not the right ones for the undertunic.
And there were a few items Kellen would be needing that did not have to be made.
An Elf named Tandarion entered, carrying a tray on which lay four swords. Kellen was obscurely relieved to see that none of them was jeweled. Jeweled swords were all very well for wondertales and Festival plays, but this was real life.
"Fortunately we had been forging for the Flower Wars next spring, so there are several here to choose from. Even the King's command could not forge a sword overnight," the Master Armorer said. "Choose whichever pleases you best, Kellen. All are fine weapons, suitable to your needs."
"But how do I—I mean, I've never handled a sword before. I would welcome your advice," Kellen said awkwardly.
The Master Armorer smiled indulgently. "Try them all. I believe you will know the proper one when you heft it."
Doubtfully, Kellen did as he was told. He lifted each of the swords in turn, flourishing them in the way he'd seen swordsmen do in plays back in Armethalieh. He had no idea of what to do with one, really, but he supposed it came with the armor, more or less. All of them were light, moving through the air like an extension of his arm. He was sure each of them was sharp. How could he possibly choose?
But he kept coming back to one in particular. It just felt better in his hand than the others. It wasn't that it was prettier—all of them were beautiful, in the simple perfect way of Elven things. It wasn't much different in size or shape than the others, and Kellen had no way of judging what was a good size and shape for a sword blade anyway.
It just felt right.
"The body sees what the mind cannot." The Book of Stars says that. Okay. "I'll take this one."
"An excellent choice, Kellen. I'll send it to the cordwainers to have a scabbard made immediately."
"Immediately." Now there's a word I never thought I'd hear around here.
Just then Shalkan walked in.
"Shalkan?" Kellen said, surprised. He wondered if everyone in the forge was, well, fit company for a unicorn, so to speak. But Shalkan seemed comfortable enough.
The unicorn tilted his head, regarding Kellen. "Did you think you were going alone? Or that you were going to be the only one wearing armor?" Shalkan said. "The great Elven Knights used to ride unicorns into battle. You may not be an Elven Knight, but I suppose I'll have to get used to that."
Kellen watched with interest while Shalkan discussed his needs with the Elves. Kellen realized with relief that this time, when he rode out with Shalkan, he'd be doing it with a proper saddle; the Master Armorer took Shalkan's measurements, and in a few moments, several sets of saddles and barding had been brought for Shalkan to choose from. That, in itself, would have been a pretty amusing idea, if Shalkan hadn't been so deadly serious about it—the mount choosing the saddle and harness, instead of the rider!
Kellen had seen horses in armor at parades in Armethalieh on high Festival occasions. Shalkan's armor was quite a different matter. For one thing, the unicorn was built nothing like a horse. For another, the unicorn was a thinking, reasoning, independent creature, not a beast meant to be controlled by a rider. Kellen gradually came to realize that it made good sense for Shalkan to choose his own protection; he was the only one who could say what was, and what was not, comfortable for him.
Shalkan chose armor that covered his chest and shoulders, leaving his legs and haunches free. The lower part of his long sinuous neck was encased in a long collar of interlocking rings that moved and flexed as fluidly as Shalkan himself, lined in sheep's wool to prevent chafing. The armorer urged him to add a shanfron to his armor, a close-fitting piece that went over his head and cheeks and latched beneath his throat and muzzle, and in fact Shalkan tried several. But in the end Shalkan rejected them all, saying they were too confining.
Privately Kellen thought that was too bad, as the shanfron had looked very dashing.
"We will finish these pieces and have them ready for you by tomorrow, Shalkan," Tandarion said.
Shalkan bowed his head. "Green for the lacings and ornaments, I think," he said gravely. "To match my eyes, of course."
Kellen wasn't sure whether the unicorn was serious or making a joke, but the Elves seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable request.
Once they'd removed the armor, he wandered over to Kellen.
"Nice sword."
"Not that I know the first thing about using one," Kellen said under his breath.
"Just think of it as a large, pointy, sharp-edged club," Shalkan said helpfully. "You're good with a club. If you can't actually cut at an enemy properly, at least you can bash him with the flat of the blade. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few more arrangements to make before tomorrow, and your work here has just begun." He pointed with his horn, and Kellen saw the Master Armorer and several apprentices coming out of the forge area with several pieces of what could only be Kellen's new armor.
THERE was a helmet, a sort of collar, pieces to cover his chest and back, and long metal sleeves with segmented elbows, held in place by gauntlets so meticulously jointed that Kellen could touch each finger with his thumb, just as if the gauntlets were leather instead of metal. The closer he looked at the armor, the more small interlocking pieces he could see: it was as unyielding as any of the hard metals (quite harder than bronze, though it didn't seem to be steel), but nearly as flexible as his own skin. The armorers swore a man could dance wearing this armor, but Kellen wasn't looking forward to trying. It might be much, much lighter than anything he'd ever seen of the sort before, but that didn't make it light.
The entire surface of the armor was ornamented, or would be when it was complete, with subtle patterns that were almost like the pattern of wood grain.
"It adds strength, you see," one of the armorers told him, seeing his confusion, holding up a finished piece of another suit of armor for Kellen's inspection. That one didn't have a wood-swirl pattern, though; its surface pattern looked more like clouds, or billows of smoke.
"A good beginning, though of course much more work will be needed. You may remove the armor if you wish."
Kellen pulled off the helmet (there would be feathers, he'd discovered to his dismay, in a green to match Shalkan's ornaments) and slipped off the belly-and-back pieces, which were all he'd had on at the moment, the others having already been returned to the forge for more work. It looked like it was a good thing he was going to have an actual Elven Knight with him, because otherwise he wasn't sure how he'd get in and out of all this stuff every morning, even if most of the parts did stay permanently connected to each other once the armor was finished.