Harkon had made it plain he would punish anyone who harmed them, but there were things in the land that would care more for the killing than the punishment afterward. Harkon sympathized, and once he had the body, the land could slaughter every man and woman among them.

But for now, Harkon Lukas stood knee-deep in snow-cold, irritable, and watching over them all. The bard of Kartakass guarded the sleep of Jonathan Ambrose, mage-finder.

Harkon, who enjoyed irony when it was at someone else's expense, chuckled in the winter's dark. Perhaps he would tell the mage-finder what had kept him safe in his travels, tell him, watch his face crumble in disbelief, then kill him. A low, growl trickled from his lips. Yes, that sounded like fun. A poor wolf-were was entitled to a little fun in the middle of a larger plot. A little frivolous cruelty always made him feel better.

«^»

SEVENTEEN

The next morning, the sky was an unrelieved white that promised snow. Beneath that sky came Elaine's horse, wandering back into camp without the slightest hint of apology for nearly breaking the girl's back. There was a gleam in its eyes that said it would be happy to give it another try. Elaine had hoped it had been eaten by wolves.

Thordin spooned stew into thick pockets of bread that he had made to hold the stew. It was an invention of his from his homeland. He called them "kangaroo sandwiches." A much younger Elaine had asked what a kangaroo was, and his description had been so funny, she hadn't believed him. Carrying its young around in a pouch, indeed. It was a tale to enthrall travelers who could never check one's story. But she, like all the others, dutifully called them kangaroo sandwiches.

Elaine sat on a log by the fire, Blaine beside her. He was on his second sandwich. Silvanus and Averil sat across the fire, eyeing the morning fare.

"How are you this morning?" Elaine asked.

"I feel quite myself again." Silvanus gave her a small nod.

Konrad had convinced the strangers not to mention anything to Jonathan of Elaine's new talent, fearing that one more magical ability would make the mage-finder send her packing. Elaine had told no one of what she and Jonathan had discussed before the fire last night. She doubted Jonathan could think less of her than he already did, nor she of him.

Fredric and Randwulf reclined before the fire, wrapped thickly against the cold. Konrad had bandaged the wounds that still bled. Silvanus had been too weak to heal them yesterday, so Elaine had volunteered, but the elf thought she was too new. He had helped her heal himself. Neither of the warriors could do that.

Fredric took a small bite of the kangaroo sandwich. He rolled it round, tasting. Then a broad smile spread across his face. "This is wonderful." He finished the rest in three bites. Randwulf matched him, bite for bite. Being wounded clearly hadn't affected their appetites.

The elf and his daughter took smaller bites, but seemed to enjoy the food. Anyone who had eaten Blaine's dinner of gray stuffing, herb-sauced sausages, and rock-cake cookies was grateful for the simpler but more edible meal. Thordin had no gourmet pretensions, but he could cook anything and make it tasty. On really long trips, it was best not to ask what was in the stew. There are some meats that, despite their pleasant flavor, turn the knowing stomach.

Elaine glanced back at Silvanus. There was something different about him, some change overnight that her eyes noticed but her mind could not make sense of. What was it? Something had changed in his appearance. Mot that she had become an expert on what elves, even this particular elf, should look like.

Silvanus had no trouble eating the sandwiches one-handed. Had Thordin made them knowing the wounded could eat them easily? Probably. Thordin was thoughtful and courteous, when he could be so quietly.

"Which one are you staring at?" Blaine asked. He spoke low, face nearly touching her hair.

She felt the heat climb up her face and knew she was blushing. It was like an admission of guilt though she was entirely innocent.

"It is impolite to stare at people," she said. She was now staring fixedly at the ground. Mo matter what had happened between them, Silvanus was a near stranger, and she had been staring. It would be too awful if Silvanus thought as Blaine did, that she was staring at him.

Blaine grinned. "Then what were you staring at?" His grin was the crooked one he wore when he was determined to tease.

"There is something different about the elf this morning, but I can't figure out what it is."

Blaine glanced across the fire. Averil caught him looking and smiled. He grinned back, not upset in the least to have been caught looking at a pretty girl.

"You two look a fine pair, whispering before the fire." The voice made her whirl. The wizard was behind them. He had come quiet as a cat, unheard through the snow.

He smiled. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Elaine wanted to say he hadn't, but her heart was beating in her throat, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"I've never heard a man move like that. Silent as a spy," Blaine said.

The wizard shrugged. "Live long enough and you learn a few useful tricks."

"That was no trick," Elaine said softly.

"Nor was it magic," the wizard said.

She frowned at him. She didn't believe him.

"We all have inborn abilities, Elaine. I was called Gersalius Catpaw in my youth. I once thought of being a thief, but my mother said she'd cut off my ears if I disgraced the family." He laughed. "She was always threatening such dire things. I don't think she ever took a switch to any of us."

The wizard sat down next to them. Thordin handed him food. "I hope your old bones find this traveling easier than mine," the fighter said.

The wizard nodded. "It isn't only age, Thordin. I have hidden away in my own cottage for years. I haven't gone on a long journey for over a decade."

"You don't complain much," Thordin said.

"Complaining about hardship doesn't drive it away, though it does drive away one's companions."

"True."

Elaine leaned close to the wizard and whispered. "Is there something different about the elf? I think there is, but I can't quite see it."

Gersalius nodded, mouth too full to speak. He swallowed and said, "Observant girl. His arm's longer."

She sat very still, looking at him. "What do you mean, his arm's longer?"

"The wounded arm is growing back." He ate more sandwich, smiling and happy as if what he had just said were perfectly possible.

"But the arm was torn off, completely. It's gone."

The wizard finished his sandwich, wiping his hands on his robe. "You saw him call the dead back from the beyond. Why shouldn't the arm grow back?"

"I… don't know, but… but. ." She just stared at him. She wanted to sputter and say it was impossible. She had half convinced herself that the two men hadn't really been dead, just gravely injured, and he had healed them. That was miracle enough. But the elf's arm was longer. The arm had been missing above the elbow, now there was almost a whole joint there. It was a hand-span longer.

Was the skin still smooth and thick with flesh? Elaine had an almost overwhelming urge to unwrap the arm, to see it bare. Was bone poking through the skin? Did it bud like a flower?

Silvanus met her gaze. "Do you have a question for me, Elaine?" His liquid-gold eyes were calm and smiling. There was about him an aura of peace that Elaine found intriguing.

"I didn't mean to stare."

"It is all right to stare when your intentions are to learn. I see a question in your eyes. Ask it."

She took a deep breath and asked the question quickly, as if it would sound less strange if she rushed through the words. "Is your arm truly growing back?" No, even fast, the question seemed ridiculous. And yet. . she could see for herself that the arm was longer.