Cilarnen hated to think of how long Oakleaf had gone without proper care. At least he understood why this was happening; the poor mule didn’t.
At dawn they stopped, but only long enough to give the animals a little water and some broken cakes of journey-food. It was simple enough to melt a hole in the snow; the edges turned instantly to ice and formed a natural watering trough—as long as you could keep the water from freezing. Once Cilarnen saw what the Wildmages were doing, he did it as well, and allowed Oakleaf and the mules that were being led along behind him to drink. Though he could usually summon Fire without difficulty, this time the effort left him giddy and breathless, as though he’d run for a long time without stopping. He did his best to conceal his difficulty from Kardus, but he suspected the Centaur Wildmage noticed, all the same.
But the rest was all-too-brief, and soon they were on their way again.
They traveled faster with light to see by. Soon they were among the trees, where the snow was not as deep, and the wind did not cut so sharply. The only drawback to that was that at intervals the overburdened boughs would bend and dump a load of thick wet snow on whoever was unfortunate enough to be beneath them at the time.
He supposed it would be a breathtaking sight, assuming he could actually see it through the veils of snow. He’d read Perulan’s pastoral tales—along with everyone else in the City—with their detailed descriptions of woodland groves and shady glens. But Perulan had been describing the tame forests of the Delfier Valley, not something this… wild. The trees were taller than the masts of the Selken ships, larger than the pillars that lined the Great Temple of the Light. And those were just the ones he could see.
But even the forest could not distract him from his cold and exhaustion for long. He had never been so tired, and all he really wanted was to lie down in the snow to sleep forever. But of course, even he knew that was the last thing he could possibly do.
—«♦»—
THE sound of horns roused him, and Cilarnen realized he’d been asleep in the saddle—or near to it. He jerked upright, every frozen muscle protesting, and looked around wildly, certain they were being attacked. The light was the dark blue of twilight, and they had moved out of the shelter of the great trees.
“We’re within sight of the camp,” Kardus told him. “It’s nearly over.”
Cilarnen didn’t remember the rest of the ride at all. All he knew was that eventually someone lifted him down from Oakleaf’s saddle and carried him into a place filled with light and warmth. He roused enough to drink when a cup was held to his lips.
“Oakleaf—” he said.
And that was the last he knew for quite some time.
—«♦»—
IT was day when Kellen and the others reached the surface again—and snowing only lightly, which was a pleasant change. The air was drier and colder here than down in the caverns, but fresh, and Kellen breathed deeply as he walked down the ramp.
Kharren and a half-dozen Knights were standing guard outside the cavern. Kellen greeted her with a careless wave.
“I See you, Kharren. The Crystal Spiders tell us the caverns are now free of duergar,” he said.
“That makes good hearing, Kellen Knight-Mage,” Kharren responded. “I will send Elatar for your horses. Adaerion has news for you, but he will wish to give it himself.”
—«♦»—
SOON Kellen was following Kharren into Adaerion’s pavilion. He wondered what the news was, but if it had been anything truly urgent—and bad—Kharren would surely have delivered it herself.
“I See you, Kellen,” Adaerion said, motioning for Kellen to sit.
“I See you, Adaerion,” Kellen said, bowing respectfully before he sat.
Pircano poured tea for all three of them. Kellen sipped it gratefully; tea had never seemed to get hot down in the caverns.
“Perhaps you will indulge me by letting me know how your work fared below,” Adaerion said.
Bad news first. “As you know, we lost Tildaril,” Kellen said quietly. Now the good news. “But other than that, we were lucky, and sustained no real injuries. The Crystal Spiders tell us that we have killed all the duergar. Now Vestakia can go down and see if the caverns are indeed free of Taint. And the Spiders have agreed to talk with her as well, so that she can see whether they are truly able to communicate with others of their kind in other caves. It might take her a while to find out anything useful, though,” he added.
“That work may have to wait,” Adaerion said. “Four days ago, the Centaurs who came at Andoreniel’s summons reached our camp. Traveling with them was a High Mage of Armethalieh.”
Kellen stared at Adaerion in disbelief. A High Mage? Here?
“It would be interesting to know how it was that a High Mage was permitted to cross the border into the Elven Lands,” he said, after a long pause.
“We did not know, then, that this is what he was. He came in company with a Wildmage, whose price it was to bring him to you.”
“To me?” Kellen echoed blankly.
“He—and the Wildmage—were both quite certain of it,” Adaerion said kindly. “There is more. Linyesin—who has heard some of the boy’s story, but not, he thinks, all—says that he was living at Stonehearth, a Centaur village, when it was attacked by one of Them. Fortunately, there were Wildmages there as well, because some of the levy was mustering there, and they managed to kill the creature, with the High Mage’s help. The boy says that It mistook him for you, and when It realized Its mistake, set out to destroy the village.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Kellen said, puzzled. “High Mages don’t leave the City. They just don’t. And the only business any High Mage has with me is to finish what the Council started.” He shook his head, baffled. But… he killed a Demon? I’d certainly like to ask him how he managed that.
“Nevertheless, Kardus has his price to pay,” Adaerion said.
And only Kellen could help him pay it. But… a High Mage consorting with a Wildmage? Voluntarily?
“I will see him,” Kellen said reluctantly. Maybe he isn’t a High Mage, he thought hopefully. Maybe he’s lying.
He’d thought he was done with Armethalieh forever, and the thought of having to confront it—or one of its emissaries at least—unsettled him in a way that no battle could.
“But I want to make sure the caverns are clear first,” Kellen added, only partly from a desire to put off the confrontation with this ghost from his past for as long as possible. “If he’s waited this long, certainly he can wait a while longer.”
“Indeed,” Adaerion said, his voice conveying nothing of his thoughts. “And while you complete that task, we shall begin dismantling this camp, for its purpose is finished.”
—«♦»—
KELLEN collected Isinwen, and told him to ready Idalia’s and Vestakia’s horses. His troop would accompany him back into the cavern to guard Vestakia, while a second troop waited outside to guard the entrance.
Then he went looking for Idalia and Vestakia.
He found them in Idalia’s tent, playing xaqiue—or rather, Idalia was playing xaqiue against herself while Vestakia watched with interest, moving the green pieces at Idalia’s direction.
“Ah,” Idalia said, when Kellen poked his head into the pavilion. “You’re back. And Adaerion’s told you about our wandering Mageborn. Oh, come now, brother dear—what else could make you look like a faun dragged through a bramble bush backwards?”
“I want to know who he is and what he wants,” Kellen said, between gritted teeth. The anger in his voice surprised him.
“Well, his name is Cilarnen, and he wants you,” Idalia said matter-of-factly. “Leaf and Star know why. I don’t suppose you know him?”
“Cilarnen… Volpiril?” Kellen asked, stunned. No two living Mageborn bore the same given name, by the custom of the City, and Kellen knew of only one Cilarnen.
“Well, no one knows his family name; he didn’t give one,” Idalia said.
“You do know him!” Vestakia said. “I thought you might! Why else would he be asking for you?”
“I was at school with him.” Hazy memories surfaced, of a time so long ago that the events that occurred then might have happened to someone else. Cilarnen had always been everything Kellen wasn’t—the golden young Mageborn who’d excelled in all his studies and been the Masters’ petted darling. Except for one day, a few sennights before Kellen was Banished, when, for some reason, Master Hendassar had chosen to humiliate Cilarnen in front of the entire History of the City class. “He’s no more a High Mage than—than I am!” Kellen said indignantly.
“But if he is Cilarnen Volpiril, his father’s a member of the High Council, which makes it even odder that he’s here,” Idalia said, her eyes narrowing.