“Fortunes of war,” Riasen said. “We’ll draw lots for it.”
“I— Hey— Wait—” Kellen said desperately. How had things gotten so completely out of his control?
“Tea,” Menerchel said, passing Kellen a cup.
Kellen took it. “You can’t do this,” he said, trying to make them understand. “It’s one thing for me to disobey orders. I’ll be in trouble—I don’t know how much, but probably a lot—but if you help me, you’ll all be in trouble, too. I can’t let you—”
“Kellen,” Shalkan said, interrupting him, “tell them what will happen if Redhelwar proceeds as he plans, and no one scouts the nearer cavern before he sends the army in.”
Kellen focused on what he’d felt in Redhelwar’s tent, trying to bring it into words. There was nothing but dread—a terrible sense of death and loss. “I—” he began.
“No,” Riasen interrupted somberly. “Your face tells us too much. Once I said you might call upon the Unicorn Knights at need. Now the day has come.” He glanced at the others. Petariel and Menerchel both nodded. “Drink your tea before it cools.”
Kellen drank the tea.
This was mutiny. A whole troop of the Elven army—the Unicorn Knights, the elite scouts—were disobeying Redhelwar’s orders to follow his. Or at least to help him, because try as he might, he didn’t seem to be able to order them not to help him.
“I give up,” he muttered.
“Good,” Shalkan said, nuzzling his ear. “I’d almost thought you were going to be as stubborn as an Elf.”
On the other side of the brazier, the three Elves were playing an elaborate— and quick—guessing game: Wind, Water, Tree. Kellen had never been able to master it—the Elves learned it as children, and played it all their lives, and though Kellen had mastered the simple gestures easily enough, he’d never understood it well enough to play. Petariel lost the round, and shook his head with a sigh.
“I will go to waken Idalia and tell her what she must know. But you, Menerchel, will bring Shalkan’s armor here.”
Menerchel bowed elaborately, a courtly reverence filled with mockery. He straightened, fading into the darkness beyond the edge of the lantern light.
“There will be time for a meal before you go, if we are quick,” Riasen said. He went into his tent.
“I don’t understand Elves,” Kellen said to Shalkan.
“The beginning of wisdom,” Shalkan said.
Kellen opened the jar of honey-disks and fed several to Shalkan. “Won’t they get into trouble? Someone’s sure to look for me in the morning.”
“And displease us?” Shalkan asked haughtily, switching his tail. “But you’re asking the wrong question. The question is, will they say they’ve helped you? And will Redhelwar ask them?”
Kellen thought about that for a few moments as he finished his tea.
“I really don’t understand Elves,” he finally said.
Riasen came out of the tent with a large bundle of cloth and a flask. He spread out the bundle near the brazier. It held half a chicken, a meat-pie, and some tarts.
“The cordial will be warm, but the rest must be cold,” Riasen said. “It’s the best we can do.”
“You honor me,” Kellen said, pulling off his gauntlets and reaching for the chicken.
By the time he’d finished eating, Menerchel was back with Shalkan’s armor, and the cordial was warmed. Like most of the decoctions of Elven brewing, it contained very little alcohol. This one tasted strongly of sweet cherries, and banished the last of Kellen’s chill. When he’d drunk it, he got to his feet and began armoring and saddling Shalkan, first rubbing him dry with his discarded cloak. It wasn’t much of a chore—the downy unicorn fur seemed to shed snow as if it were bespelled; and maybe it was.
“You’d better dry that if you’re going to wear it,” Shalkan pointed out, so Kellen stood over the brazier, holding his cloak to the heat. Soon Petariel would return—without Idalia, he was sure—and they could be on their way.
But not long after that, Petariel returned—with Idalia.
She was leading Cella, saddled and ready for a journey. The palfrey even had full saddlebags and a bedroll lashed to her saddle.
“Well?” Idalia said, swinging into the saddle. “Are you ready?” Quite as if they were going off for a snow-picnic.
Kellen nodded, taking off Petariel’s cloak and exchanging it for his own now-dry one. He swung into Shalkan’s saddle.
“Don’t worry about the pickets,” Gesade said. She’d backed away when Idalia entered the camp, but her voice was quite audible. “We’ll take care of them.”
“Thank you,” Kellen said meekly.
“Fare well and safe journey,” Petariel said. “And return to us in a good hour.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Idalia said.
Shalkan took off at a brisk trot, and Cella followed.
—«♦»—
FOR a long time they rode in silence, wary of their voices carrying back to the camp. The trees were few and far apart, not thick enough to blunt the force of the wind, and it was so cold that the snow was more like powdered ice. Finally the wind shifted, and then dropped altogether. Kellen could tell that the clouds would probably start to break up soon. That meant it would get colder. There were two kinds of weather in winter, he’d learned—bad and worse.
“You didn’t have to come,” he said, now that the wind had slacked enough to make conversation easy. They were riding side by side—though far enough apart to be comfortable for Shalkan.
“You’re welcome,” Idalia said. “You may be deserting your command, but I am a Wildmage, and if I want to go wandering off into the Shadowed Elf caverns on a whim, that’s my business.”
“Oh.” Well, at least there was one person who wasn’t risking Redhelwar’s displeasure tonight.
“Kellen, what did you See?” Idalia asked.
“Nothing. I don’t know.” He shook his head, wishing desperately that he had something more concrete to tell her. “I really… I couldn’t tell Redhelwar either. But we—I have to go look.”
She gave him a long look, her face hidden in the shadows of her hood. “Petariel said you told Redhelwar you wanted me along.”
“You’re better at maps than I am,” he told her honestly. “But he said he couldn’t risk us.”
She coughed politely. “That’s not all that got said in Redhelwar’s tent tonight, from what I hear.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry about Mindaerel, by the way.”
“Belepheriel’s son was one of the scouts who died out here tonight. And then, later, in Redhelwar’s pavilion, I called him a fool,” Kellen said, half answering.
Kellen could feel Idalia’s gaze even though he wasn’t looking at her. “They said he challenged you to a Circle, and you refused, but I’m sure that’s wrong. Redhelwar wouldn’t permit it.”
“Redhelwar would permit it,” Kellen said wearily. “And I challenged him. He called me… well, he said the warnings I gave were conveniently useless.”
“Let’s go back,” Idalia said after a pause, and now her voice had an edge to it that could cut the wind. “I’ll challenge him myself.”