Suddenly he knew that, out of the blue, and a chill of apprehension came over him, shaking him to the core and making him shiver. This is not a wondertale. It's dangerous. Really dangerous… Suddenly the glorious Elven armor was no longer just something to look good in; it was something to keep him from getting hurt. Or killed.
He sat down at the table in the common room and accepted a cup of tea, though he didn't think he could eat anything. Idalia produced a comb and began braiding his hair—by now it had grown long enough to make a short club at the back of his neck.
"You'll want to wear it this way," she said. "Otherwise your hair will just get caught on the inside of your helmet. Now. Where to go. You'll be riding north, toward the High Desert. Do you remember that vision you had, the first time you tried scrying?"
"I don't think I'll ever forget it," Kellen said, with an inward shudder. "I've been thinking about it, and I'm not sure it was meant to be a representation of an actual event—more the symbolic representation of the damage the Barrier is capable of causing—but I think the place you're looking for looks something like that, at least in essence, so you should know it when you see it. As for how you'll be drawn to it, well, the magic that has created the Barrier has imposed a unnatural sort of order on the natural world, and that kind of power leaves footprints of a sort. What you need to look for as you ride is abnormal patterns, things that are orderly in a way that Nature isn't when left alone. The Barrier is the source, and the closer you get to it, the more abnormalities you'll see."
"Like what?" Kellen asked. Despite his misgivings, the tea had awakened his appetite, and he reached for one of the morning pastries Idalia had set out on a plate on the table.
"Swirls of birds overhead that are flying in an odd pattern and can't seem to break out of it. Animals—especially small ones, like mice or squirrels—that are running aimlessly in circles or performing repetitive motions over and over. Swarms of insects, especially noxious ones, or ones that don't belong. Anything that seems wildly out of place. Anything nasty. Anything rotten, dead, or dying that has no business being there."
"But how will I know?" Kellen asked. "I saw new things in the Wild-wood every day, and we're miles to the west of that. I could guess wrong."
"That's what you'll have Shalkan for. And whoever's going with you. They'll know what's out of place if you don't: Shalkan, most especially, will be sensitive to the kinds of wrongness that you're looking for. And trust in the Wild Magic. When you're not sure, use Finding Spells to show you the way. But be careful about that. Using the Wild Magic may alert Shadow Mountain to your presence, so be sure to move on when you've done that."
It seemed, thought Kellen, that he was to be going off like a wonder-tale knight on a quest after all, looking for something he wasn't sure how to find, guided by mysterious signs and portents. He tried not to show the unease he felt. Idalia had said to trust in the Wild Magic, and Kellen already knew how much power it possessed. Once he began, in a way he'd be a part of Idalia's spell as well. He had to trust that.
"Okay," Kellen said, taking a deep breath. He had a thousand questions, but he knew they were mostly for his own reassurance. Idalia had already told him everything he really needed to know. "And when I get there?"
"You'll see another keystone—I'm not sure exactly what it will look like, but I do know that you'll know it beyond a doubt. When you've found it, you'll need to take your keystone and place it on top of the Shadow Mountain keystone, then trigger the counterspell. You'll do that by the same method you use to charge a keystone, only in reverse: this time you need to tap your keystone, but instead of pulling the power into yourself, you need to channel it directly into the other keystone."
Kellen thought about it for a moment, reviewing the steps of the spell for triggering a keystone's power in his mind. "Sort of like a healing, except instead of passing spell-energy into a living being, I'll be passing it into a second stone?" he said. Suddenly something occurred to him. "But, Idalia… you made the keystone. You charged it. You said that only the Wildmage who charges a keystone can use the energy within it. How can I… ?"
Idalia smiled encouragingly, and the expression only made her look more tired.
"This time it won't matter. This isn't an ordinary keystone. It's holding the stored power of everyone in Sentarshadeen, not just mine, and more than that, besides. And the second keystone won't want to receive it, so you'll need to work to maintain the link between them and force the power from your keystone into the other one. But once it happens, it should happen fast." She gave the top of his head a pat. "Now let's get you dressed."
Kellen crammed the last of a third pastry into his mouth and came to stand in the middle of the room. His armor lay in neat gleaming piles on the cushioned bench, as perfect as any of the finished pieces Kellen had seen the day before in the armory. He couldn't imagine how Tandarion and the others had finished it so fast. Even with "small magics," the armory must have been working all night—and that after everyone there had lent power to Idalia's spell.
Kellen felt suddenly very humble. I'll be worthy of everything you've all sacrificed for this. I will!
Idalia quickly helped him into his armor, explaining what she was doing as she fitted the pieces over his body.
"Don't worry. You'll be able to put it on by yourself with a little practice. Just remember: chest and backplate first, then leggings, then sleeves, then collar, then boots, then gloves, and you're done. I don't think you'll need to wear the helmet; you should be riding through Elven lands today."
There were indeed feathers on the helmet, but Kellen was relieved to see that it was only a short brushy crest. He held the helmet up for closer inspection. The feathers were pale green, with the glittering iridescence of a hummingbird's down. They didn't seem to be dyed in any way. He set it down again, wondering what bird the feathers had come from.
"Here's your surcoat—no Elven Knight should be without one," Idalia said with a determined cheer that seemed very forced, holding up a length of heavy sea-green fabric. She helped him slip it over his head. It hung down loosely to his knees in front and back. It had the shine of silk, but was much heavier, like a strong linen canvas, and there was a subtle pattern in the weave.
"And here is your sword, gentle Knight."
The sword Kellen had picked out yesterday had indeed had a scabbard made for it as Tandarion had promised. It also had a swordbelt and baldric, a strap going over his shoulder and attaching to the swordbelt.
If the sword itself was plain, the swordbelt, scabbard, and baldric more than made up for it. They were of green leather, stitched in pale green silk the color of his surcoat (and, as Kellen suspected he was going to find, the same color of Shalkan's saddle and decorations) and stitched with silver wire and, to his faint dismay, studded with green moonstones. The sword and scabbard could be unhooked from the sword belt easily.
Kellen raised his arms so that Idalia could slip the belts into place and buckle the swordbelt. When she was done, the sword hung at Kellen's left hip. He reached down and clasped the hilt experimentally. The armored fingers of his glove closed over the hilt as fluidly as his unencumbered hand might; it felt as if he were wearing heavy leather gloves, nothing more. Kellen sighed in relief and appreciation, releasing the sword and taking an experimental step. The armor moved with him, heavy but not awkward.
Idalia went to get his packs.
There was a tap on the door. Kellen went to open it, finding that even in armored gauntlets, he could still manage the task of clasping the door handle and turning it. Perhaps the Chief Armorer had been right about being able to dance in it as well.
Shalkan was standing outside, saddled and ready. It seemed incongruous to see the unicorn wearing a saddle and armor. The saddle and armor didn't make the unicorn look more like a horse—quite the opposite. It just made Shalkan look as if he were wearing some sort of unconvincing disguise. Partly, Kellen supposed, it was because when you saw a saddle, you expected to see a bridle and reins as well, but there was absolutely no reason for a unicorn to wear them. A bridle and reins were to control an animal, and Shalkan wasn't an animal—or if he was, it was only in the sense that Kellen was an animal. Shalkan was a person with hooves.
And Kellen had been right about the color. The seat of Shalkan's saddle, the stirrup-leathers, the silk cords that knotted the bands of his armor together, and its sheepskin lining were all dyed the same shade of green as Kellen's surcoat and the equivalent parts of his armor.
"I see you're ready to go," Shalkan said, regarding Kellen with approval. "Very nice. We'll be meeting our escort at Songmairie."
"I'll go with you that far," Idalia said, following Kellen out the door with his packs slung over his shoulder. "Someone has to carry the luggage."
WHEN they reached the canyon floor, Shalkan stopped.
"Time to mount up," he told Kellen. "You do know how to use stirrups, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Kellen said in automatic protest, though in truth he hadn't ridden horses very often, and Shalkan was nothing like a horse.
But the Elven armor was just as flexible as its designers had promised, and Shalkan was far stronger than any horse. He set his feet and stood rock-steady as Kellen slipped his left toe into the stirrup and swung his right leg determinedly across Shalkan's back.
Instead of the narrow slippery surface that Kellen had been forced to contend with when riding Shalkan bareback, the saddle gave him a wide comfortable seat, and the stirrups gave him someplace to put his feet and a way to brace himself. The broad curl of the saddle in front of him would give him something to hang on to, too, if Shalkan broke into one of his bounding runs.
There was a place at the back of the saddle to hook his helmet, so Kellen did.
"Tuck your knees in," the unicorn said sternly, looking over his shoulder. "You ride like an arthritic granny."
Meekly, Kellen did as he was told.
Subconsciously, Kellen had expected that everyone in Sentarshadeen would turn out to see him off, but it seemed that the Elves had too much of a sense of propriety for that. The early-morning streets were deserted.
He wasn't certain for a moment whether he was disappointed or relieved. He finally settled on the latter. It was one thing to daydream about setting off on a quest amid cheering crowds; it was quite another to have a crowd come to see you off when you were not altogether sure you were going to be able to do what you were supposed to do… and actually, didn't know what you were supposed to do, when it all came down to cases.
As they passed the House of Leaf and Star, in the distance he saw Sandalon standing forlornly in an open window, watching them ride out.
"He will miss you," Shalkan said quietly.
"I'll miss him," Kellen said. He raised his hand and waved. He didn't care if it was bad manners. Ashaniel would forgive him.
The boy waved back energetically, and Kellen saw Ashaniel come to stand beside him. He forced himself to turn away and not stare after her like a moonwit. Sandalon would know that he'd said good-bye, and that was enough.
The spring was deserted when they arrived.
Unconsciously, Kellen expected to see the landscape veiled in mist, but the air was far too dry for that. Everything was bright and crystal-clear. Idalia set the packs down and looked around.
"I wonder… ?" she began.
An Elven Knight in dark gleaming armor was walking toward them from the direction of the Palace, leading a black horse and a white mule.
Jermayan.