Mercedes Lackey: When Darkness Falls

"Yes, I do," Kellen said honestly, picking up a bun and biting into it.

"I think you're mad," Cilarnen said simply. "A magic that thinks — that wants things… " He took a deep breath. "But I know there is a Wild Magic. And you haven't been wrong so far. And the books are here, and they're what I need. I suppose it doesn't matter what I believe about how they got here. Now all I have to do is study them. And learn in a few sennights what ought to take me years."

There was a grim note in his voice, and that made Kellen take a moment to think about what Cilarnen was intending to do.

The study of the High Magick was dangerous and fraught with peril. All of his Mage-teachers had said that so often — and in so many different ways — that

Kellen had simply started ignoring it years before he'd been Banished. His own lessons had been merely boring, not particularly hazardous.

Of course, he'd never gotten beyond Student Apprentice work.

The look he must have had on his face made Cilarnen laugh out loud.

"Oh, Kellen, if you tell me it will be dangerous I promise I will get Kardus to throw you into the nearest snowbank! I am not planning to practice in the middle of the camp, I promise you — I think that might only do The Enemy's work for him! No, when the time comes I will find a place that is safely out of the way — I think that ice-house your Elven Mage built for your working will do, as I am sure it is not going to melt any time soon. And wards are simple, and can be built up over several days.

"But there are things I must know, especially now that we know that Anigrel is Their agent. He meant me to escape my Banishing alive, and with my Magegift intact. Why?"

"I don't know," Kellen said slowly. It was a puzzle that needed more thought than any of them had been able to devote to it. "You aren't Tainted in any way. Shalkan — Idalia — Vestakia — they all agree on that. And I would trust any one of them with my life. With all our lives."

"But there are other ways of tampering with a mind — as you well know," Cilarnen answered bleakly. He would not meet Kellen's eyes. They were both thinking of Magecraft that owed nothing to Demontaint — the High Mage's ability to remove memories, and even implant false ones, seamlessly and undetectable It had been done to Kellen when he was a child, to erase his memories of his sister.

If Anigrel had done it to Cilarnen — with the High Magick — there was no way for either of them to know. Wild Magic would not detect the alteration.

"I know my Magegift was suppressed, until seeing that Thing at Stonehearth made it come back. I want to know why — and what else might have been done to me. And I will discover a way to be of some use to you all — without taking that which can only be freely given. I swear it by the Eternal Light," Cilarnen vowed.

"If anyone can — in or out of Armethalieh — it's you," Kellen said.

He was sure of that — Cilarnen had abandoned none of the good things about Armethalieh, but somehow he seemed able to cast off much of what was hidebound and bad. If anyone could manage to look at the High Magick in a new way, and find some way to use it, even here, it was Cilarnen Volpiril.

"Now eat something." Kellen pushed one of the stuffed buns across the table.

* * * * *

AFTER they'd both eaten — Kellen bullied Cilarnen into making a proper meal — he helped the young High Mage catty his library to his new quarters.

Cilarnen was still living in the Centaur encampment, but now he had what Kellen unconsciously thought of as "proper" accommodations: one of the Elven pavilions. It looked as if it had formerly belonged to one of the Healers, for even in the dark and the snow Kellen could see that its surface was covered with some sort of design, though he could not make out precisely what it was.

"Well, come in," Cilarnen said when Kellen automatically stopped at the threshold.

I've spent much too long with the Elves , Kellen thought ruefully to himself. Their ways were starting to seem automatic to him, to the point that it did not occur to him to enter a dwelling-place without being expressly invited. He followed Cilarnen inside.

The interior of the pavilion was much like his own — though of course, having been a Healer's pavilion, it was slightly larger. A brazier had been left burning, and it was… well, it was as warm as the pavilions ever got.

Cilarnen set his armful of books down on the nearest chest and motioned for Kellen to do the same with his own burden. He kindled a spill from the brazier and lit the hanging lamps by hand, shrugging apologetically.

"I'm no better off," Kellen told him. "I couldn't even cast Coldfire in the caverns today."

Cilarnen smiled in acknowledgment. "What will we do, Kellen?" he asked seriously.

There were too many possible answers to that question.

"The best we can," Kellen answered. "There is hope, you know. They would not be working so hard to convince us there was none if that was not the case."

"I think you truly believe that," Cilarnen said after a moment. "And, for what it's worth, I think… I don't care whether you're right or not. I'm going to believe you."

"Thanks… I think," Kellen answered. "Now you should get some rest. I certainly intend to."

Cilarnen looked longingly toward the pile of books, then sighed. "I suppose you're right. I won't become a Master Mage in one night."

"Sleep well," Kellen answered, stepping from the tent.

* * * * *

THE next morning, after checking with the Captain of the Day Watch to see what duties might be required of his troop, Kellen saddled Firareth and went in search of Jermayan. Though the Elven Knight had quarters within the camp itself, he rarely used them, preferring to spend his time with Ancaladar, in the ice-pavilion he had built near the edge of the forest to shelter the great black dragon from the wind and the storm. Kellen was fairly sure that Ancaladar didn't feel the cold — at least not the way he did, or even Shalkan did — but nobody liked to be crusted in ice and buried in snow if there was any way to avoid it. And Jermayan and Valdien certainly did not.

But when Kellen reached the ice-pavilion, it was deserted. Nor was Valdien awaiting his master's return in the stabling Jermayan had built to shelter the Elven destrier from the storm. That implied to Kellen that wherever Jermayan was, he did not expect to return soon.

He glanced up at the sky, squinting against the ice-laden wind. Not the best weather for flying, and the clouds were low; he doubted that the two of them were on patrol. To see the ground, Ancaladar would have to fly beneath the cloud-cover, so low that he'd be constantly at the mercy of the strong winds of the lower air.

Perhaps Idalia would know where they were.

Kellen turned Firareth's head back toward the camp.

* * * * *

"HE has gone to Lerkalpoldara to begin the evacuation that Andoreniel ordered," Idalia said when Kellen finally tracked her down. "They left last night, when the winds dropped. I do not know when he will return — sennights, perhaps, as Ancaladar cannot carry very many passengers at a time, but no other way is actually safe."

Kellen took a deep breath. He hadn't realized until just this moment how much he'd wanted to talk things over with Jermayan and get his opinion of how matters stood.

"You look like you've just lost your last friend," Idalia said. "Anything I can do to help?"

Kellen shrugged. "I'd wanted Jermayan's advice. We can't move all the Allied women and children to the Crowned Horns, and if they can't all go, moving any of them there is going to open a pretty ugly can of worms, as the Mountainborn say. But we can't just leave them without protection, especially when we have some. So I was going to ask Jermayan what he thought."