Mercedes Lackey: When Darkness Falls

But now, Cilarnen was sitting at a table in the far corner of the tent with Wirance — the High Reaches Wildmage who had accompanied him from Stonehearth into the Elven Lands — beside him. Cilarnen looked alert and vigorous — and actually more cheerful than Kellen could remember ever having seen him. The table before him was heaped with books — bound books, not the cased scrolls the Elves preferred.

And the books looked oddly familiar…

"Kellen!" Cilarnen called out excitedly, seeing him. "You missed all the excitement! Come and see what Kindolhinadetil has brought us!"

"Brought to you , you mean," Wirance growled good-naturedly, as Kellen reached the table.

"They were a gift to all of us — to the human mages — " Cilarnen said, trying — and failing — to sound apologetic. "I don't really think Kindolhinadetil can tell humans apart very well."

"Or one kind of magic from another," Kellen agreed, puzzled. "Except for Jermayan, who's Bonded to Ancaladar, all the Elves have is what they call 'small magics,' and I have no idea what…"

In the middle of his sentence, he looked down, and completely forgot what he'd been about to say.

The books were from his father's library.

Or — they could have been. Lycaelon Tavadon's passion was rare books, and it would have been amazing indeed if the Arch-Mage of Armethalieh did not own a number of rare and ancient books on the Art Magickal.

"What — " he sputtered. "Where — "

Cilarnen laughed. "I wanted to know the same thing — but you're the one who told me that it's very rude to ask Elves questions, Kellen! And anyway, I wasn't here when they came — so if you want to know, you'll have to ask someone else. All I know is that they're a gift from Kindolhinadetil's library."

Kellen sat down slowly opposite Cilarnen. He picked up a book at random and opened it to a middle page. There were no words — it was a table of complicated symbols, arranged in a grid. He turned the page. More symbols, this time arranged in a circle.

Meaningless.

He set the book down and tried not to look as baffled as he felt.

"They're books of High Magick, Kellen," Cilarnen said, his voice filled with excitement and delight. "Spellbooks. Glyphs — sigils — seals — wards — that one is for the wand; this one here is for the sword—these have spoken spells and conjurations — it is everything a Master Mage would have in his personal library! Kellen, with these I can finish my training — back home I was ready to test for Full Apprentice; Master Tocsel taught me well — I know I would have passed, and once you have made Apprentice, progress through the grades is mostly a matter of power and mastering the spellwork — oh, that and patronage, but that doesn't matter here!"

Cilarnen was practically babbling, his voice filled with relief. Kellen felt a pang of sympathy — as much as he was a Knight-Mage, or Idalia was a Wildmage, Cilarnen was a High Mage, and his unjust Banishment had cut him off from the only life he had ever known — or wanted.

"But… how did Kindolhinadetil… ?"

Wirance snorted. "Who knows what the Elves may choose to do or predict how they may choose to do it? A man might grow old wondering. For my part, I have heard that the library here in the Forest City is an amazing thing, containing books from many lands. It is plain that it also holds books from your Armethalieh as well, and that Kindolhinadetil decided to make you a present of them."

"I'm sure he meant them as a present to all of us," Cilarnen said, though it was obvious from his expression that it would take a more than a Wildmage — or several Wildmages — to get him to give them up.

"I have all the books I need—and so does any Wildmage," Wirance told Cilarnen. "Look at them! You'd need a packhorse just to carry them — and from all you've said, that's barely the beginning of what you need for that High Magick of yours. Faugh! Keep your bloodless nonsense, and welcome."

But though his words were rough, the Mountainborn Wildmage's expression was kindly. He had fought beside Cilarnen at Stonehearth, and though he understood High Magick as little as Cilarnen understood the Wild Magic, he respected Cilarnen himself.

"I shall keep my 'bloodless nonsense,' old man," Cilarnen answered lightly. "And you may go on babbling to empty air and burning wet leaves — and reading blank books — and I shall do nothing to stop you. Light knows, the world is big enough that I think there is room for us both in it."

"Then I shall leave you to it, and take my old bones to their rest," Wirance said, getting to his feet. "Mind that you do not do too much too soon."

"As if I could do anything at all," Cilarnen said, when Wirance had gone. His good humor had vanished as if it had never been, and the abrupt change startled Kellen. "I had nearly forgotten… seeing all this… what good will all the knowledge in the world do me without the power to cast my spells? I cannot forever be relying upon Ancaladar's power."

"No," Kellen agreed. The dragon had loaned his power to Cilarnen's Shielding spell to save all their lives, but Ancaladar was understandably touchy about being regarded as nothing more than a living storage battery. And besides, so far as Kellen knew, Ancaladar was only supposed to be able to express his magic through his Bonded — Jermayan. They had all been linked together in the Spell of Kindolhinadetil's Mirror, which explained, Kellen supposed, why Ancaladar had been able to loan Cilarnen his power. But that would hardly work as a regular solution.

"But the Wild Magic has arranged for you to gain the spellbooks you need to study the High Magick," Kellen said, "so obviously it wants you to be a High Mage. And that means you will find a way to power your spells, when the time comes."

Cilarnen regarded him as if he'd lost his wits. "'The Wild Magic has arranged,'" he quoted. "The Wild Magic didn't arrange anything . Kindolhinadetil made the Wildmages a gift of books from his library."

"Which only you can use," Kellen pointed out. "And which are exactly the books you need. That's how the Wild Magic works."

Cilarnen shook his head, plainly unconvinced.

"Have you eaten?" Kellen asked, changing the subject. "Because I haven't, and I'm hungry." Without waiting for an answer, he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

The kitchen staff knew him by sight; he'd barely opened his mouth before he was handed a heavily-laden tray. Hot cider, hot stew, several stuffed buns, and a large mug of Winter Spice tea as well. He took the tray back to the table.

Cilarnen was being as stubborn as… as an Elf. Why wouldn't he admit what was so obvious to Kellen — that the books were here because the Wild Magic willed it so? The Elves of Ysterialpoerin understood humans about as well as a cat understood maths; it was highly unlikely (in Kellen's opinion) that Ysterialpoerin's Viceroy would have simply decided to empty his library of every book Cilarnen would find useful and hand them over without the Wild Magic being involved somehow.

And it wasn't as if Cilarnen had never seen the Wild Magic at work. He'd seen Wirance casting spells at Stonehearth. He'd been part of the Spell of Kindolhinadetil's Mirror. He knew it was real.

But it functions very differently from the High Magick he's used to, Kellen reminded himself. The High Magick is mechanical, like — like a machine. The Wild Magic is alive; we speak to it, and it speaks to — and through — us. You remember when the Books came to you, and you felt the difference for the first time. But Cilarnen is not called to the Wild Magic. He cannot feel what a Wildmage feels.

He set the tray down on the table.

"Do you really think your — the Wild Magic arranged for me to have these books?" Cilarnen asked doubtfully.