She shook her head, huddling her cloak tight around her. With a little water, she had cleaned off what blood she could, but the blood had frozen in her hair in crimson ice. She needed a hot bath.

The second deadman was young, about the same age as Elaine and herself. His curly brown hair was cut unfashionably short. His face was handsome even in death, soft as if he had smiled often. Two wolves lay dead at his feet. One had been pierced through by two arrows. The fletching matched the pattern in the arrows in his quiver. Two arrows loosed, with the beast barreling down on top of him. It had died, and the second had come in. Barely time to draw a sword. He and the wolf seemed to have killed each other.

Only the woman and the wounded … man-creature still lived. They were still in front of the tree where they had been in her vision. The spell that had saved them was still in place. As it had kept the wolves out, it now kept them in.

Gersalius knelt in the snow in front of the spell. It glowed very faintly, the purplish-pink of wild roses. If he looked directly at it, there was nothing to see, but from the corner of his eye, half-glimpsed, it shimmered. Gersalius ran long fingers along its winking surface. Tiny sparks of violet-pink sizzled in the cold air. The sparks had a more solid color than the shield itself. That's what the wizard called it, a shield spell. Elaine had never heard of such a thing.

"I cannot dispel it," Gersalius said, at last. He stood slowly, as if his knees ached from touching the cold snow. He looked suddenly old. "You must help me, Averil."

"How?" the woman asked. Her unnerving eyes, the liquid gold of a gaudy sunset, stared at the wizard.

Elaine couldn't meet the woman's gaze. She had never seen a human with such eyes.

The rest of her was ordinary enough, if lovely. Her hair was a rich, chestnut brown with a deep copper gleam where the winter sunlight touched it. She was not overly tall, in fact thin, dainty as bird to look at. Her face was delicate, but human enough. Only the eyes gave lie to the rest. Her cloak was black, thick, but not expensive. The dress she wore was a reddish brown with white linen showing at its square neckline and wrists. Her only decoration was a golden chain with a charm on the end of it. It was the tiny carved figure of a stylized human.

The man still lay on the snow inside the shield. His left arm was gone, torn away in the fight. The arm lay by the shield, encased in its stout brown sleeve. Blood stained the snow from its broken end like a bloomed flower.

His skin was like the shield in a way. If you looked directly at him, he seemed pale, but here and there from the corners of your eyes, his skin was dusted with gold, like highlights in hair. But his hair seemed beaten gold, so metallic it didn't look real. His eyes were the same color as his daughter's.

Averil, the woman, was his daughter.

Averil had tied a tourniquet on the stub of his arm. Without it, he would have been as dead as the others. "How can she aid you, magic-user?" the elf asked. Elaine had heard of elves but never seen one. She found it easier to look at him, alien from the top of his head to his toes, than to meet Averil's eyes. The elven eyes in that human face were more disturbing somehow, as if the eyes had only borrowed the face and did not really belong there.

"If she would place her hands on the shield and try to dispel from your side, while I do the same out here, perhaps we can break it."

"If you saved us, Gersalius, why can't you dispel it?" Averil asked.

"I never took credit for this piece of work."

"This is not your spell?" Jonathan asked.

"No."

"It is not mine, either," Averil said.

"Whose then?" Jonathan asked, his voice thick with suspicion.

"Elaine's," the wizard said. As he said it, he turned and smiled at her.

She shook her head. "I didn't do it." Everyone was looking at her; most didn't look happy. "I've never heard of such a spell. How could I have done it and not known?"

"What did you do in the vision, just before the wolves leapt?" the wizard asked.

Elaine looked down at the snow as if it held some clue. "I didn't want to see them killed. I couldn't just watch." She looked up, staring at Gersalius. "I thought, 'I won't let it happen. I remember reaching out to them as if I could touch her, save her."

"And so, you did," he said.

Elaine shook her head. "I couldn't. I wouldn't know how."

"Whether you knew how or not, Elaine, you have done it. Now we must dispel it."

"Can I do that?"

"Yes."

"Then why were you asking Averil to help you, and not me?"

"Because I thought it would upset you that you had cast yet another spell without realizing it. If Averil and I had failed …" He shrugged.

"I know now, so how do I dispel it?" She walked toward him, the furred cloak whispering over the snow. The shield seemed brighter, the color of spring violets. With every step she took toward it, color flowed into it, until it bathed the snow in a soft purple glow.

"Your magic recognizes you," Gersalius said.

Elaine stared at the glowing shield. It recognized her? She tried to be afraid but wasn't. In fact, she wanted to touch it, to run her fingers along its gleaming surface. It was akin to the desire she'd had to touch the wizard's hands in the kitchen. Magic called to magic. Her own magic called most strongly.

"Touch it," he said softly.

Elaine reached out to it. Her hands tingled with its nearness. Her skin was stained violet, as unnatural-looking as the elf's, but she didn't care. Her hands sunk into the glow with a gush of sparks that flared and blinded her. She took a sharp breath, and as the air went into her lungs the spell went into her skin. She felt its being absorbed, like a tingling lotion. Then it was gone.

Elaine stood in front of Averil and her father, face-to-face, no shield. She felt clean and fresh, as if she had been bathed in the purest of water. She raised a hesitant hand to her hair and was surprised to find the blood still there. Her body felt clean, but her skin still bore the stains. It seemed wrong somehow, as if the magic alone should have been enough.

Averil's golden eyes stared at her. Elaine forced herself not to look away, not to show that it bothered her. That would have been the height of rudeness. The woman could not help what she looked like.

"How long have you been studying magic?"

Elaine thought about that. "Three days."

Averil's eyes widened. "Only three days? You are very accomplished for that short space of time. I still can't cast a shield spell after four years of study."

Elaine glanced at Gersalius. "He's a good teacher, I guess."

The wizard waved the compliment away. "It is not my tutoring but her natural abilities. Elaine had delayed her formal study of magic until recently, but she has been keeping her hand in, here and there."

Averil's stare was too intense, too thoughtful. It wasn't the alienness of her eyes that made Elaine look away.

"A person can study for years, but natural talent like that-" she shook her head "-it cannot be bought, or even learned." She looked envious.

"You are a good mage, Daughter."

She looked down at the elf still sitting on the snow. "But I will never have ease such as she has, such as Mother had."

The elf sighed. "Your mother was a great crafter, but what one can accomplish with talent, another can accomplish with sheer hard work. Is that not so, mage?"

Gersalius nodded. "Very true. You will find very few in Kartakass that have Elaine's natural flare."

"Kartakass?" the elf said. "Is that the name of a nearby town?"

"I am afraid not," the wizard said.

Thordin strode forward. "I thought you all might be new to the land." He didn't sound happy about it.

"What land?" Averil asked. "We crossed no borders."