“And not all the army,” Kellen said. “Even if they all volunteer. We could still be attacked.”
“Agreed,” Idalia said. “Kellen, you and Redhelwar make the disposition of the units that will not be involved. They’ll need to be well away from here when the spell is cast. And now, let’s get to work.”
—«♦»—
NORMALLY the charging of a keystone—even a big one—would have been simple, but for this, they needed a circle of protection as well. Idalia walked around outside the edge of the gathering, drawing a faint line on the snow floor of the pavilion with her walking staff. Then she returned to the center, and threw a handful of herbs on the waiting brazier.
Kellen felt the wall of protection go up around them, and a sudden sense of utter quiet descended upon him.
And more than that.
It was like that night at the battle for the farther cavern, when he had used his battle-sight to see every unit of the army at once. Only now it was the Wild-mages around him that he sensed, and he realized that he could draw upon their power as easily as he could call upon his own.
But right now that was not his task. Kellen relaxed as much as he could, remembering what Idalia had said—that this was like a Healing. He concentrated on not concentrating, on being a vessel of power for another to draw from. He felt the magic shift and flow through him—his own, others‘—strange, but not uncomfortable.
And then it was done.
Kindolhinadetil’s mirror radiated power like a furnace, the clear crystal sheet of mirror glowing with an inward light to the senses of a Wildmage—or Knight-Mage.
“One more of that will be more than enough for me,” Wirance said firmly, as soon as the shields had been dismissed. “Still, it will work.”
“And I think it is something we shall do more of in the future,” Atroist said, glancing at his fellow Lost Lands Wildmages. “With such strength to draw on, even the most difficult Healing could be made easy.”
“To each fox his own hare,” Wirance said agreeably.
The assembly began to disperse. Jermayan, Ancaladar, and Idalia would remain here tonight, to ensure that the mirror was not tampered with—for even the most benign of reasons.
Kellen took the opportunity to walk back with Atroist. He wanted to hear how the migration of the Lostlanders into the Wild Lands had gone.
“All came, as Drothi promised,” Atroist said. “By the grace of the Good Goddess, it was as if the attention of the Dark Folk was turned elsewhere for that time, for if their creatures had harried us upon the way, we would not now be here. And the Firstlings met us far outside their own borders, with mules and wagons to speed the journey and see us safely through their own lands. Once we are settled in the west, the young men and the rest of the Wildmages will return to honor our bargain and join with the army… though it is not comfortable to hear that the Dark Folk have been seen in the Western Lands as well.”
“I did not know it when I asked your aid,” Kellen said. “I’m not certain how They manage it.”
“Nevertheless, the west is a soft and pleasant land,” Atroist said, “much in need of strong backs and hard workers to make it bloom. The Springtide will be a glorious sight.”
If any of us lives to see it, Kellen thought.
—«♦»—
HIS work that night was far from done, but fortunately the spell of preparing the mirror had taken very little of his energy. He went from the ice-pavilion to Redhelwar’s pavilion, where he briefed the Army’s General on Idalia’s plans, and the part the army would share in the spell.
For a healing, a physical link was needed between the Wildmage and those who shared in the price. Fortunately that wouldn’t be necessary in this case—or Vestakia could weave a cartload of blankets out of all the hair that would have to be gathered.
“You say you would wish to withhold certain elements of the army from sharing in the spell-price,” Redhelwar said. “It is… unlikely… that any will wish to refuse to pay the price, so it will save time to make our dispositions now.”
“The wounded will not participate, of course, nor will the Healers,” Kellen said. “I would wish to withhold a third of the army and support troops—in case of attack, and to deal with those matters which cannot be set aside, such as the care of the horses. Those who participate… they could fight if they had to, but they will be exhausted. Losses would be heavy.”
“And we have had too many losses already. So.”
Redhelwar brought out a thick—and much-amended—scroll listing each unit by name, and they got to work.
—«♦»—
WHEN their dispositions had been made, Redhelwar summoned his senior commanders, and Kellen had to explain the entire matter again, albeit in a much shorter version this time. Next, the senior commanders would brief their sub-commanders, who would explain matters to their commands.
Tomorrow at the morning meal, Redhelwar would address the army. When those of his komentaiia who were to share in the price brought him their consent to participate in the Wildmage’s spell, they would also bring the consent of every person serving under them. Redhelwar would consent to share the price of the spell, and in doing so, would bring with him the consent of all the others.
If there were an attack, it would deprive the army of its general, which was why Kellen had been careful to exclude two of the senior commanders from the price. But it was the only way: in magical terms, Redhelwar was the army, just as in Sentarshadeen, Andoreniel was the city. Only Redhelwar could properly give consent to participate on behalf of the entire army. Otherwise, the Wildmages themselves, and not proxies, would have to hear consent from each of the soldiers individually—and they’d still be listening a sennight from now!
But though Redhelwar would be the only one formally asked, all who participated in the spell would have been asked, and consented. That was the way it must be.
With that accomplished, Kellen had one last task before him. Tomorrow he would be acting as a Knight-Mage… which meant he must ask his troop to share in the price.
He gathered them together in a corner of the dining tent. Of the original thirty he had been given to command, there were less than a dozen left. The others were all new to him, added to his command since the battle of the farther cavern.
Briefly he explained to them what was to be done tomorrow, and the part they would be asked to play.
“And now I must ask: is there anyone here who will share in the price of the spell?”
The Elves exchanged glances.
“Foolish human,” Ambanire—one of the new recruits—said. “We all will, of course.”
The others nodded.
“Kellen, you know you don’t have to ask,” Isinwen said.
“No, actually,” Kellen said. “I do. Trust me, that’s the way Wild Magic works. There is no such thing as implied consent. Isinwen, tomorrow you have command. I’ll be busy. Afterward, you’ll all be very… tired. I don’t know more than that. So I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep.”
—«♦»—
THERE was someone in his tent.
Kellen didn’t need the footprints outside in the fresh snow to tell him so. He knew. And it didn’t take a Knight-Mage’s Gift to tell him who it was: even here in a war camp, the threshold of one’s own dwelling was sacrosanct. No Elf would cross it without permission, even if its owner were not present. But a human— especially a young human entirely untutored in the courtesy that came so naturally to the Elves—
“What do you want, Cilarnen?” he said, stepping into the tent.
Cilarnen had left it dark; Kellen lit the lamps.
Cilarnen was sitting on the low stool that was the tent’s only seating—probably to keep himself awake, for he had been half-dozing when Kellen arrived, and sat up with a jolt. Kellen could smell a faint unfamiliar medicinal smell in the air. Idalia’s cordial? Well, exhaustion and strain could bring on a headache as well.
“I… I wanted to talk to you. Before tomorrow. Alone.”
Kellen didn’t want to talk. He wanted to sleep. But it must be something important—at least in Cilarnen’s mind—to bring him here when he was obviously so desperately tired.
“You’re here, it isn’t tomorrow, and we’re alone—as much as that’s possible,” Kellen said. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Cilarnen wanted to see him about, but after all that Cilarnen had done to help make tomorrow’s spell a success, he owed Cilarnen a hearing, no matter how much he’d rather be sleeping.