Mercedes Lackey - To Light A Candle

“You look tired,” Kellen said, folding himself easily into a cross-legged position beside his sister.

“A long day of battering my head against the merely difficult,” Idalia said gloomily.

“We are to call hares and become mushrooms,” Jermayan explained kindly. “Presuming Kindolhinadetil will grant us the loan of a mirror.”

“Yes of course,” Kellen said, with only a touch of irony. “That makes perfect sense.” He opened the rucksack and passed Idalia one of the wine bottles.

“Spoiled fruit,” Jermayan pronounced, regarding it.

Kellen grinned and offered him one of the cordials.

The food had been cooked elsewhere. Now the platters of meat—roast mutton—and baskets of bread began to pass around. The meal was conducted in the style of the High Reaches, with several people sharing a communal platter.

As they ate, Idalia filled him in on what they’d accomplished that day.

“—so while we think we may have a spell that will allow us to see what’s going on in the City, we aren’t sure we have enough power to cast it,” she finished.

There were three components to each spell of the Wild Magic: the power to cast the spell—always paid personally by the Wildmage—the power of the spell’s work—which could be shared among many—and the Mageprice, which the Wildmage alone paid.

Idalia was saying that this spell was so powerful she didn’t even have the power to cast it.

Kellen looked at Jermayan.

“Not even Ancaladar and I .I have spoken to him. And there is yet another difficulty, were I to be the one who cast this spell.”

“One, we know they’ll notice. It’s only a matter of time. There’d probably be a little more time if a human were to cast it, instead of an Elf. Two, it’s not just a spell of Seeing, but of Knowing—” Idalia said.

“Which means it would work best of all if somebody familiar with the City cast it,” Kellen finished. “Because they’d already have some idea of what they were seeing, and wouldn’t have to learn as much. That means you, me, or Cilarnen.”

“That means me,” Idalia corrected. “Cilarnen’s not a Wildmage, and you’re a Knight-Mage. I’d have the best chance of success—if I had the power to cast it.”

“What about using a keystone?” Kellen said. “Like before?”

Idalia shook her head firmly. “We thought of that, and Drelech cast the talking stones to see if that would work. It needs to be a living source.”

As the platters were cleared away, the discussion returned, once more, to the spell. Kellen could tell that the Wildmages were now covering ground they had covered before, hoping for a solution.

He could see Cilarnen and Kardus talking quietly between themselves. Jermayan was watching them alertly, probably able to hear what was being said.

At last Cilarnen—who had obviously needed to be persuaded of something—made his way into the middle of the lodge and got to his feet.

The discussion stopped.

“I am unfamiliar with your… magic,” he began hesitantly. “And I do not mean to offend. But Kardus tells me I must ask. Why do you not simply link your magic as the High Mages do?”

Kellen had rarely had the pleasure—if that was the word—of seeing his sister so completely nonplussed.

“Sit down over here,” she said. “Explain.”

Cilarnen darted an agonized glance at Kellen. Kellen did his best to look encouraging.

Cilarnen came and sat down in front of Idalia, doing his best to keep a respectable distance between them.

“In Armathalieh,” Cilarnen said, obviously searching for just the right words, “the High Mages work together, sharing their power. It is part of every Mage’s training to learn to meld the power each holds into a greater whole, for the good of the City. I had thought…” he faltered to a stop.

But it was something Wildmages never learned—never needed to learn. Because Wildmages were usually solitary creatures, who drew their power from themselves, from willing donors, and from paying their Mageprices.

“It’s true,” Kellen said, shrugging. “Anigrel told me. They may steal the citizens’ personal power with the Talismans and use that instead of their own, but they still share the power among themselves when they do a Working. Somehow.”

“Is that—” Cilarnen began, staring at Kellen.

Idalia interrupted him. “Do you know how this is done, Cilarnen? Can you tell me?”

“I know how to do it,” Cilarnen said slowly. “I can tell you what the High Mages do—but I cannot do it with you! Not with a Wildmage!” His voice held unfeigned horror.

“I promise you, Cilarnen, if we figure this out, I will only practice on another Wildmage,” Idalia said gently. “Jermayan, would Ancaladar consent to be a part of such a… sharing?”

“I do not know,” Jermayan said. His voice was troubled. “First we must see if such a thing can be learned.”

—«♦»—

BUT before even that could be attempted, it had to be explained—and there they nearly came to grief, for Cilarnen was a High Mage of the Golden City… and High Magick and Wildmagery were nothing alike.

“Prayers to the Light? Fasting? Proper incense? Huntsman strike me if I do any such thing,” a Wildmage named Kerleu growled, a few moments into Cilarnen’s explanation.

“Nor am I going to wave my hands and babble to empty air like a mad thing,” Cilarnen muttered under his breath.

“Patience, friends,” Wirance said, his hands out in a placating gesture before things could grow more heated. “We will take what we can use—but we cannot do even that if you do not let the boy finish his explanation.”

“Proper preparation. Proper intent,” Kellen said, struggling to translate between the magic he only dimly remembered—and hadn’t studied all that closely—and the one he knew. “Shielding?”

“Of course the working areas are shielded!” Cilarnen snapped. “Even you should remember that!”

Kellen held on to his temper with an effort. “What comes next?” he asked evenly.

Cilarnen explained.

And explained again.

And again.

“We’ll try this again tomorrow,” Idalia said with a sigh. “Maybe it will make more sense then. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m tired. Cilarnen, you’ve been very patient and you look like you could use a good night’s sleep—and I know you can, Kellen.”

And better to call a halt now, before tempers were well and truly lost, Kellen thought.

“Right. Come on, Cilarnen.”

They were the first out of the lodge, but waited outside for Kardus.

“I’ll see you back to your tent,” Kellen said.

“You don’t have to,” Cilarnen said.

“Oh, but how else will I know where it is—so I can wake you up in the middle of the night?” Kellen said lightly. They walked a little to the side, out of the path of the emerging Wildmages.

“Why can’t they understand it?” Cilarnen said in frustration. “It’s so simple.”

“It’s a different kind of magic,” Kellen said. “It’s like—like trying to learn to play a lute when you’ve only ever played a trumpet. Wildmages generally work alone. It’s even possible a Wildmage might not meet another Wildmage in his or her entire life.”

Cilarnen shook his head, obviously finding the very concept unnatural.

“What you said back there—about the City Talismans—”

“It’s why your spells don’t work very well—and why the High Mages are so powerful,” Kellen replied instantly, glad for the opening to let the boy know the truth about the Talismans. “Here, outside the City, the only thing that fuels your magic is your own personal power. Haven’t you felt weak after casting a spell?”