1 The Outstretched Shadow.3 (62 page)

 "And this is where I live," Sandalon said happily, pointing, after he'd spent most of the afternoon showing Kellen the high points of Sentarshadeen.

 Kellen looked out across a meadow covered with short silvery grass. Set in its center was the largest Elven building Kellen had yet seen, a low, deep-eaved house built of silvery wood and pale stone. Age and strength radiated from it, as from an ancient living tree, and Kellen would not have been at all surprised to discover dryads living here.

 "Come," Sandalon said, pulling at Kellen's hand. "I'll show you."

 Kellen followed him across the grass.

 The portico floor was covered with an intricate design of slatted wood, and by the time Kellen and Sandalon reached the doors, the soles of Sandalon's sandals and Kellen's boots were clean and dry. Though he knew this must be a very grand house by Elven standards, there was no sense of things being huge just to make people feel insignificant. There were double doors, wide enough so that several people could enter at once, but the doors themselves were not the towering things they would be in Armethalieh. They were simply the proper size for their function, just as the house seemed to be the proper size for its function, whatever that might be.

 Sandalon pulled one of the doors open—the door latch was of age-smoothed bronze, in the shape of a twist of vine-stock—and sketched a quick bow in Kellen's direction.

 "Be welcome in this house and find comfort at our hearth," Sandalon said. The words came out in a rush, as if the boy was repeating an only half-understood (as yet) lesson.

 "Um… thanks. Thank you," Kellen said. Sandalon seemed to be waiting for Kellen to go first, so Kellen stepped past him, into the house itself. He thought he heard Sandalon breathe a sigh of relief and follow him inside.

 "Here's where we live—me and Mother. And Father, too, only he isn't here right now."

 The main entry hall extended the entire height of the house, and there was a skylight in the ceiling to let the daylight down into the hall. Directly below the skylight was a reflecting pool and fountain (empty now), its intricate mosaic of colored tiles depicting fish swimming in a river. At the back of the hall, two curving staircases mirrored one another, framing a doorway with sliding panels that echoed the entryway. On both sides, galleries opened onto the main hall, so that people in the rooms above could look down to see who had entered. The walls were hung with tapestries that would each have commanded a mage's ransom in Armethalieh. The colors glowed jewel-bright, and the weaving was finer than anything Kellen had ever seen.

 Kellen would have liked to stay and gawk, but Sandalon was already halfway up one of the staircases, and Kellen had no choice but to follow.

 He was starting to get a pretty good idea of what was going on—and who Sandalon was—so it wasn't much of a surprise when—after another quick tour of several rooms—they ended up about where Kellen expected.

 "And this is my mother's dayroom," Sandalon said, opening the door.

 The first impression Kellen got was that they'd stepped outdoors again. The walls were made of glass—hundreds of tiny panes, all held together in a bronze latticework—and the room seemed to hang in space, surrounded by a lacework made of light and air.

 The second was that Sandalon's mother was the most beautiful woman Kellen had ever seen.

 Here was the beauty of the Elves as Kellen had read about it: as regal and distant as the Moon, as dangerous as fire. She was seated on a cushion, with a writing desk on her lap, wearing an elaborate gown of green and silver, embroidered with sinuous, twisting designs that seemed to catch and hold the eye, the edges of her trailing sleeves and the hem of her skirt ornamented with heavy silver lace as substantial as jewelry. Her black hair was braided with pearls and a bright green gem Kellen had never seen before, and she wore rings on every finger. She looked up when the door opened, and for a moment Kellen was caught in her gaze. It was like seeing Shalkan for the first time—just as transfixing; like being terrified without fear.

 Then she set aside her writing desk and held out her arms to her son, and the moment passed.

 "Here is my child—and here is half Sentarshadeen upon his clothes," she added good-naturedly. Sandalon climbed into her arms and hugged her unselfconsciously. She paid no heed to the mud on him, and the havoc it was making of her gown.

 "I see someone whom I have never seen before," she observed.

 Kellen made his lowest and most formal bow. If this wasn't the Queen of the Elves, he'd eat the hat Shalkan hated so much.

 "I am Kellen Tavadon, brother to Wildmage Idalia," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I am told that you were all expecting us for some time, so I hope that my presence is not an intrusion."

 The lady inclined her head graciously, at one and the same time acknowledging the truth of his words and welcoming him.

 "Please forgive me, but as I am a stranger here, I had no idea where this fine young fellow was leading me," he said, with a faint smile at the boy, "and no one has yet told me how to address you."

 "My name is Ashaniel, Kellen, and by right of Leaf and Star I am Queen over the Nine Cities. But the Elves have long memories, and do not require constant reminders of our rank and titles." In a human's mouth, the words would have been a false disclaimer, like as not. In hers, it had the ring of truth. "And now, the hour grows late, and I think, perhaps, you have not had the opportunity to truly settle into your home as yet. We would be honored if you would consent to share our evening meal with us."

 Kellen had been sure he was on his way to a polite dismissal, so the change of theme caught him by surprise.

 He managed not to gape. He managed to bow. "I— Yes. Thank you. I would like that very much, Lady… Ashaniel."

 "Good."

 She sounded pleased. She actually sounded pleased. She rose to her feet and set Sandalon on his. "Now my son will wish to go and make himself presentable, and perhaps you will enjoy the opportunity to see something of the House of Leaf and Star before dinner."

 Now this was a dismissal, for servants—at least Kellen was guessing they were servants, for Queens must have servants—had appeared while Ashaniel had been speaking. Sandalon skipped past Kellen, and took the hand of a woman standing in the open doorway. She was dressed in deep blues and violets, and regarded her charge with a fond smile. Kellen found himself facing an Elven man who regarded him with a visible absence of expression. He was dressed in similar colors to the woman, but not closely enough for Kellen to be sure it was house livery, and he was as richly jeweled as a prince.

 "There are things of great interest to be seen in this direction," the man said, gesturing.

 Kellen followed.

 He listened to a number of indirect remarks about the length of his journey and the difficulties of the road while they wandered through the halls before he realized his guide was suggesting it would be a really good idea if he cleaned up before dinner. Once he figured that out, he suggested it himself, and felt an almost tangible sense of relief radiate from the Elven man. He was quickly ushered to a sitting room.

 There was a large ornate sand-clock on a table in the center of the room. His guide moved to it quickly, making some quick adjustments with a series of crystal partitions that slid through the bowl. Kellen was fascinated to see you could change the amount of sand that could pass from one half of the clock into the other half, setting the amount of time that you measured.

 "When the sands run out, I will return," the Elf announced, bowing slightly. He upended the clock, turned, and left.

 Kellen watched the sands run for a moment, then looked around. As he'd suspected, another door led through to a bathing room, enough larger than the one in the guesthouse to contain a table and chair as well. And there he received another surprise.

 There was a suit of clothes waiting for him, neatly laid out over the chair, and a pair of soft ankle-boots set beneath it. He held up the tunic curiously. It would be a good—if loose—fit. And more, it was clearly designed to be a little loose.

 Just as well, Kellen thought. He wasn't sure he was cut out for the tight-fitting clothes he'd seen the Elven men wearing—it'd be too much like going naked, and he'd never cared for the tight-fitting fashions of the City, after all. And he was just as glad to be able to get out of the clothes he'd been wearing since—well, since he and Idalia had left the Wildwood, actually. If he hurried, he'd have time for a quick bath before his guide came back to conduct him down to dinner.

 Dinner.

 For the first time that day, his thoughts returned to Idalia. Would she worry when he didn't come home? He wondered if there was some way he could call the Elven servant back, maybe send her a message…

 But he couldn't think of any, just offhand. And knowing little more about his hosts than that their very long lives were hedged about by rigid etiquette and protocol, he didn't know what would offend them.

 Idalia knew the Elves far better than he did. He'd just have to hope she'd guess that wherever he was, he wasn't in any trouble.

 He set the plug in the tub, turned the taps, and began to undress as it filled.

 A short time later, damp, dressed, and smelling faintly of flowery Elven soap, Kellen stood watching the last of the sands run out. He'd folded his trail-clothes as neatly as possible and left them on the chair. He could come back for them later.

 Although, if these were the sort of things he was supposed to be wearing around here, he really didn't want those old clothes!

 KELLEN had been stuck with attending more than a few formal banquets at his father's house, and deep down inside, he'd been expecting and dreading that this would be more of the same: a lot of people he didn't know, a lot of boring conversation about things he didn't care about, and too much really unpleasant food to try to figure out how to eat while he worried about his table manners.

 Dinner at the Queen's Palace was nothing like that.

 There probably was a grand formal dining room for state occasions here somewhere, but Kellen didn't see it that night. The four of them (the Elf woman that Kellen supposed was Sandalon's nurse, Lairamo, ate with them) sat together at a comfortable unpretentious table in a room whose enormous, leaded-glass windows were open to the first breath of evening. The walls were inlaid wood, carved to mimic the living forest, and done with such attention to detail that it was hard to tell in the mellow, dusky twilight where the forest he could see outside the windows ended and the carved forest on the walls began. Lanterns hung from the carven tree branches, casting a soft golden light over the table.

 The tableware was simple as well, plain silver with sinuous curves— but jewel-encrusted gold would be vulgar, Kellen realized. The plates and cups they ate from were Elvenware, but a form of it that make the examples that he'd seen in the City—and the pieces in his and Idalia's house—look as if they were made out of mud. The pieces on the Queen's table were so light and glowing they looked almost ready to float away, and Kellen was nearly afraid to touch them.

 The food was wonderful as well—simple and fresh, with an emphasis on perfectly ripe vegetables and fruits, wonderful breads, savory meat. There were no cleverly disguised, complicated dishes, no culinary oddities. You didn't have to guess at what it was, or how to eat it, either. Kellen found himself starting to relax, as Ashaniel led the conversation into safe easy topics that centered around Sandalon's day and how he'd spent it. The Queen obviously adored her son, and Sandalon was both young enough to think everyone should find Kellen as fascinating as he did and naive enough to be unaware that describing someone in the manner of a new menagerie animal might be less than flattering. More than once, Kellen caught Ashaniel suppressing a fond parental smile.

 But the smiles quickly faded, and Kellen realized that Ashaniel had a lot more on her mind than being kind to her son's new friend. The Queen was worried about something—badly worried, if even Kellen could pick up on it—and doing her best to hide it.

 The last course was raspberries served in frozen cream, accompanied by tiny cups of a dark sweet wine for the adults, and a large mug of berry-cider for Sandalon. The child lingered over his drink, unwilling to finish it, until at last Ashaniel regarded him sternly.

 "It is time for you to seek your bed, my young son," she said in a voice that brooked no argument. "I do not think our friend Kellen plans to leave us soon, so you need not fear he will be gone before you wake again. And it is time for you to sleep."

 Sandalon looked just as rebellious as any other youngster at being told to go to bed, but he promptly drained his mug and got to his feet. It was obvious that however defiant he might feel, he would behave obediently. Everyone stood, and Sandalon bowed—first to his mother, then to Kellen—before allowing himself to be led off by his nurse.

 "Will you come and see me tomorrow?" Sandalon asked, stopping at the doorway and looking over his shoulder.

 Oh, bless the little fellow — Sandalon sounded positively mournful!

 There was a sudden wariness in the air, and Kellen realized both women were looking at him intently, though he didn't know why.

 "I will," Kellen promised. "Or you can come and see me. I had a good time today with you!"