A dark circle of trees stood starkly outlined against the racing clouds. The silence of the night was broken only by the gentle murmurs of the silver river, which fell over rock steps into the pool, and by the splashing sounds that had caught Gilthanas's attention. Now he knew what they were.

Silvara was bathing. Oblivious to the chill in the air, the elfmaid was submerged in the water. Her clothes lay scattered on the bank next to a frayed blanket. Only her shoulders and arms were visible to Gilthanas's elvensight. Her head was thrown back as she washed the long hair that trailed out behind her, floating like a dark cobweb on the darker pool. The elflord held his breath, watching her. He knew he should leave, but he was held fast, entranced.

And then, the clouds parted. Solinari, the silver moon, though only half-full, burned in the night sky with a cold brilliance. The water in the pool turned to molten silver. Silvara rose up out of the pool. The silver water glistened on her skin, gleamed in her silver hair, ran in shining rivulets down her

body that was painted in silver moonlight. Her beauty struck Gilthanas's heart with such intense pain that he gasped.

Silvara started, looking around her terrified. Her wild, aban

doned grace added so much to her loveliness that Gilthanas, though he longed to speak to her reassuringly, couldn't force the words past the pain in his chest.

Silvara ran from the water to the bank where her clothes lay. But she did not touch them. Instead, she reached into a pocket. Grabbing a knife, she turned, ready to defend herself.

Gilthanas could see her body quivering in the silvery moonlight, and he was reminded vividly of a doe he had cornered after a long hunt. The creature's eyes sparkled with the same fear he now saw in Silvara's luminous eyes. The Wilder elf stared around, terrified. Why doesn't she see me? Gilthanas wondered briefly, feeling her eyes pass over him several times. With the elvensight, he should stand out to her like a

Suddenly Silvara turned, starting to flee from the danger she could feel, yet could not see.

Gilthanas felt his voice freed. "No! Wait, Silvara! Don't be frightened. It's me, Gilthanas :' He spoke in firm, yet hushed tones-as he had spoken to the cornered doe. "You shouldn't be out alone-it's dangerous. . . :"

Silvara paused, standing half in silver light, half in protecting shadows, her muscles tense, ready to spring. Gilthanas followed his huntsman's instinct, walking slowly, continuing to talk, holding her with his steady voice and his eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone. I'll stay with you. I want to talk to you anyway. I want you to listen to me for a moment. I need to talk to you, Silvara. I don't want to be here alone, either. Don't leave me, Silvara. So much has left me in this world. Don't leave. . . :'

Talking softly, continuously, Gilthanas moved with smooth, deliberate steps toward Silvara until he saw her take a step backwards. Raising his hands, he sat down quickly on a boulder at the pool's edge, keeping the water between them. Silvara stopped, watching him. She made no move to clothe herself, apparently deciding that defense was more important than modesty. She still held the knife poised in her hand.

Gilthanas admired her determination, although he was ashamed for her nakedness. Any well-bred elven woman would have fainted dead away by now. He knew he should avert his eyes, but he was too awed by her beauty. His blood burned. With an effort, he kept talking, not even knowing what he was saying. Only gradually did he become aware that he was speaking the innermost thoughts of his heart.

"Silvara, what am I doing here? My father needs me, my people need me. Yet here I am, breaking the law of my lord. My people are in exile. I find the one thing that might help them-a dragon orb-but now I risk my life taking it from my people to give to humans to aid them in their war! It's not even my war, it's not my people's war:' Gilthanas leaned toward her earnestly, noticing that she had not taken her eyes from him. "Why, Silvara? Why have I brought this dishonor on myself? Why have I done this to my people?"

He held his breath. Silvara glanced into the darkness and the safety of the woods, then looked back at him. She will flee, he thought, his heart pounding. Then, slowly, Silvara lowered her knife. There was such sadness and sorrow in her eyes that, finally, Gilthanas looked away, ashamed of himself.

"Silvara;' he began, choking, "forgive me. I didn't mean to involve you in my trouble. I don't understand what it is that I must do. I only know . . ."

" . . that you must do it;' Silvara finished for him.

Gilthanas looked up. Silvara had covered herself with the frayed blanket. This modest effort served only to fan the flames of his desire. Her silver hair, hanging down past her waist, gleamed in the moonlight. The blanket eclipsed her silver skin.

Gilthanas rose slowly and began to walk along the shore toward her. She still stood at the edge of the forest's safety. He could still sense her coiled fear. But she had dropped the knife.

"Silvara;' he said, "what I have done is against all elven custom. When my sister told me of her plot to steal the orb, I should have gone directly to my father. I should have sounded the alarm. I should have taken the orb myself-"

Silvara took a step toward him, still clutching the blanket around her. "Why didn't you?" she asked in a low voice.

Gilthanas was nearing the rock steps at the north end of the pond. The water flowing over them made a silver curtain in the moonlight. "Because I know that my people are wrong. Laurana is right. Sturm is right. Taking the orb to the humans is right! We must fight this war. My people are wrong, their laws, their customs are wrong. I know this-in my heart! But I can't make my head believe it. It torments me-"

Silvara walked slowly along the pool's edge. She, too, was nearing the silver curtain of water from the opposite side.

"I understand;" she said softly. "My own . . . people do not understand what I do or why I do it. But I understand. I know what is right and I believe in it:"

I envy you, Silvara;' Gilthanas whispered.

Gilthanas stepped to the largest rock, a flat island in the glittering, cascading water. Silvara, her wet hair falling over her like a silver gown, stood but a few feet from him now.

"Silvara;' Gilthanas said, his voice shaking, "there was another reason I left my people. You know what it is."

He extended his hand, palm up, toward her.

Silvara drew back, shaking her head. Her breath came faster.

Gilthanas took another step nearer. "Silvara, I love you;' he said softly. "You seem so alone, as alone as I am. Please, Silvara, you will never be alone again. I swear it. . . :'

Hesitantly, Silvara lifted her hand toward his. With a sudden move, Gilthanas grabbed her arm and pulled her across the water. Catching her as she stumbled, he lifted her onto the rock beside him.

Too late the wild doe realized she was trapped. Not by the man's arms-she could easily have broken free of his embrace. It was her own love for this man that had ensnared her. That his love for her was deep and tender sealed their fate. He was trapped as well.

Gilthanas could feel her body trembling, but he knew nowas he looked into her eyes-that she trembled with passion, not fear. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her tenderly. Silvara still held the blanket clasped around her body with one hand, but he felt her other hand close around his. Her lips were soft and eager. Then, Gilthanas tasted a salty tear on his lips. He drew back, amazed to see her crying.

"Silvara, don't. I'm sorry-" He released her.

"No!" she whispered, her voice husky. "My tears are not because I am frightened of your love. They are only for myself. You cannot understand:'