Idalia was standing in the tent where the Healers kept their stores. Trunks and baskets of supplies stood everywhere, with half-empty shelves a mute testimony to what she had been doing when Vestakia interrupted her.
She hugged Vestakia in return, then placed her hands on her hips and regarded Jermayan.
"He must have had some excellent reason for shaving half a sennight off the time between Ondoladeshiron to Halacira and in this season," she said.
"And he looks forward to telling you what it is," Jermayan agreed. He had no intention of spreading the news about Andoreniel about the camp here, even if it had been his secret to tell. "He has asked me to bring you and Vestakia, and Cilarnen to the camp at Halacira as soon as I can. Mirqualirel is having carrying-baskets made, so you will be able to bring more than your clothes, though not a great deal, apparently. Vestakia tells me that the High Magick requires many… objects."
* * * * *
IDALIA shook her head, torn between the vast burden of work she would have to leave undone here, and the certain knowledge that Kellen would not have asked her to come if his need of her were not great. It was plain that Jermayan now knew the full content of whatever message Keirasti had brought but Elves' ears were sharp, and he certainly wouldn't blurt it out in the middle of the camp. Not when Keirasti had gone to such agonizing lengths to keep it secret.
"He has not yet told Cilarnen that he must leave his precious library and all his toys and fly over the mountain, has he?" she said to Vestakia, nodding toward Jermayan.
She saw Vestakia's face light with a flash of inner mischief, and rejoiced inwardly. Since Kellen had left, and Vestakia had taken on the burden of trying to discover the location of the Shadowed Elves, Vestakia had been wearing herself down to nothing but a haggard shadow of her normal self. Now, at least, that was over.
Though apparently they now faced an even more appalling problem.
"He has not," Vestakia agreed. "I think he hoped you would help."
"I suppose I must," Idalia said, with an exaggerated and very theatrical sigh, the behavior assumed for Vestakia's benefit. "Elves are very timid creatures, you know. Timid, and… shy."
* * * * *
CILARNEN stared at the three of them as if they'd all gone mad.
The ice-golem had not appeared this time as they rode up to the mirror-pavilion, and Idalia could only assume that he'd already disenchanted it. If he'd had more than one, disenchanting all of them might take a lot of work, nor could he leave his protective wards standing in place. Those without any trace of magic might never notice them, but for Elementals and the many Brightfolk races that made their homes in the Elvenlands, Cilarnen's wards might as well have been stone walls. Depending on how they were constructed, innocent creatures of magic might become trapped within them and die. So he must remove them all. and Idalia suspected it might be a long process.
It certainly explained why he was not farther along in his packing.
An entire half-wagon had been reserved for Cilarnen's use. He would need all of it, between his pavilion itself and all of the equipment he had collected. So far it stood completely empty, though with Kardus and the driver's help he'd gotten as far as removing all of the trunks from its bed.
"Leave?" he said. "Now? With Ancaladar? But… Ancaladar can't carry all this!"
"Kellen wouldn't have asked for you if it wasn't important," Idalia said gently. Vestakia had gotten another good night's rest, but it was clear that Cilarnen hadn't. He'd told her he'd rest better behind his own wards and shields, but it was plain that the moment he'd heard that the army was to move, he'd begin dismantling his temple, working through the night.
He ran a hand through his hair. "How much can I take?"
Vestakia looked at Idalia.
"I'm sure Kellen has nearly everything I need," Idalia said. "I'll want to take a chest or two of medicines. Nothing more."
"And I don't need anything," Vestakia said. "I already have more than I ever had in my life, right now."
Cilarnen smiled. "I'm sorry, but… I'm sure Kellen doesn't want to see me just so he'll have someone to beat at gan. So I'll need my spellbooks. My workbooks. My robe. My sword, my wand, my staff. My scrying-crystal. All my incenses and herbs. I imagine he can provide braziers and candles, so I suppose I can leave those." He groaned. "I won't be able to take my tabulum. I might not be able to take my floor-cloth, either."
He ran a hand through his hair again, causing it to stand up in short auburn tufts. "I suppose it's just as well I hadn't really started packing yet."
"I can help," Vestakia offered. "I would have come earlier, but… "
"I'll need your help and Kardus's, too," Cilarnen said simply.
* * * * *
WHILE Vestakia and the Centaur Wildmage helped Cilarnen separate those items of his Art that were absolutely vital from those that were merely desirable to bring along, Idalia and Jermayan occupied themselves in preparing soup and tea to keep everyone going, and in packing those items of a non-magickal nature that would have to be sent with the army.
"I must say," Idalia said, bundling and tying a roll of blankets, "being a Wildmage seems much easier somehow. Cilarnen has said that he thinks the High Mages fought in the Great War but frankly, I can't see how they would have managed it."
"Perhaps their spells were less elaborate then," Jermayan answered. "Or perhaps they had the luxury of preparing them in advance. I have heard all my life of what grim and terrible days those were but at least that war was fought openly, against an enemy willing to challenge us upon an honest battlefield."
"Yes," Idalia answered tartly, dropping the bundle atop several others and kneeling to roll the first of the carpets beneath. "And we all know how well that worked out. Most of the land scoured to bare rock where nothing still grows a thousand years later. Half the races of the Light destroyed completely, and the rest slaughtered to a tenth of their populations. The Great Flower Forest of Ulanya, burned to ash. And we still didn't win."
"Idalia, my heart," Jermayan said, dropping an armful of Cilarnen's clothes into a open chest and coming to kneel beside her. "It is only simple truth that out circumstances are worse now than ever before. We do not know what the future may hold, save that we may only hope that we may all stand together to welcome victory. And I would be greatly honored, in such uncertain times, were you to consent to wear my betrothal pendant now."
Once before Jermayan had offered her his betrothal pendant. And Idalia had refused, because to accept it would form a link between them that might allow him to see into her mind, and know the secret she dared not let him guess.
The magic she had used to keep the rains from destroying Sentarshadeen had come at a very high Price.
Her life.
The Price was yet to be paid, but Mageprices always came due. Idalia did not know when it would be, but the knowledge of it was a burden she would not add to the ones Jermayan already carried.
"At the proper time," she said. "That time will come, and we will both know when it is. That much I promise you."
"Then I will take your promise," Jermayan said. "And only remind you of it on those occasions when you say to me that it is the Elves who delay when matters could profitably proceed with more… swiftness."
* * * * *
BY the time everything was ready, it had been dark for several hours, but by now Ancaladar had made this flight several times, and he assured Jermayan that even with the additional burden, he did not mind flying at night.
"Besides," the dragon told Cilarnen, "you won't be able to see the ground that way."
"I think that's probably best," the young High Mage said nervously. He didn't look at all pleased with the idea of going up into the sky, though the others knew he had gotten a dragon's eye view of the ground many times with his magick.
Of course, it was different if you were actually there.
"I am afraid the flight will be neither smooth nor short," Ancaladar went on, sounding concerned for his young passenger's nerves, "yet the weather will get no better over the next several days."
"I'm not complaining," Cilarnen said, with stubborn bravery. "I'm just not going to enjoy it. But I'm sure you'll get me there alive and safe. Just don't expect me to be of any use to anybody for a few hours after we land."
"Well in that case," said Idalia, who had come prepared, "you might as well drink this. It's a sleeping cordial. I don't think you'll actually sleep, of course, but it might take the edge off. Don't worry, there's not a drop of magic in it, just herbs and a touch of dream-honey."
She held out the tiny glass vial to him. Cilarnen drained it quickly, without a single word of complaint.
Mirqualirel had provided six baskets, as many as Ancaladar could carry attached to his flying harness. The other four had already been packed with what they were taking with them, most of it Cilarnen's supplies, all of the pieces thickly-wrapped, most of them first in bespelled silk, and then in leather. Now Vestakia helped Cilarnen into one of the two remaining baskets and assisted him as he pulled the straps tight. Once he was secure, she climbed quickly into her own.
"I feel like a basket of cheeses set to go to market," she commented as Jermayan checked her straps.