Death of a Darklord

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.

He smiled. "Yes, it is growing back."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, but it does itch abominably." He gave a small laugh like the distant ringing of bells. Human throats did not sound like that.

"How does it grow back? I mean …" Elaine tried to think how to phrase the question.

"Elaine, just ask, the perfect words for such questions are never found," Gersalius said.

"Is the arm growing back in stages? Is the bone growing first, then the flesh covering it, or does it grow all at once like a tree limb?" It sounded a very personal question, but she wanted to know. Her hands itched to touch the growing stump.

Elaine looked down at the ground, afraid he would see the eagerness in her eyes and mistake it for something else.

"Would you like to see it?" Silvanus asked.

She looked up at him, studying his face. Was he teasing her? No. His face was pleasant, but serious.

"Yes, very much." Elaine was surprised by the eagerness in her own voice. She had to learn magic, for it would control her otherwise, but healing. she wanted to learn healing, too.

Blaine was looking at her strangely. She had not told him she might be a healer, like Silvanus. It wasn't that she had tried to keep it from him. It was more that she herself didn't believe it yet. It was both too wonderful and too frightening to share, even with Blaine.

She touched his arm, leaning close to whisper. "I'll explain all later. I don't want Jonathan to know."

Blaine tipped back from her to see her face, then leaned in, breathing words against her skin. "Is it another magic?"

She nodded.

He hugged her briefly. "You must tell me everything later." His face was very serious when he said it.

"Promise," she said softly. She caught movement from the corner of her eyes. Jonathan was walking toward them, his cloak held close to his body against the cold. It was hard to see his expression with the hood up, but Elaine thought he was scowling.

Of course, that could have been her own insecurity. She hadn't realized she did anything differently, but Blaine touched her arm. "What's wrong?"

What could she say-that Jonathan was afraid of her? That he hated what she was? Elaine shook her head. "Jonathan is unhappy with me."

"With the magic?"

She nodded.

Blaine squeezed her arm. "It'll be all right. He'll come around."

She looked into his face, trying to see if he were just saying something to comfort her, or if he believed what he was saying. His eyes, his face, his touch were utterly sincere. He believed. Elaine wished she did.

Silvanus's sleeve was tied up with string. He undid the string and began to push back the cloth.

"What are you doing?" Jonathan asked.

"Elaine wishes to see my arm. She is curious about how it grows," the elf said. He said it as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Jonathan stared down at him. "What do you mean, your arm is growing?"

"It is growing back," Silvanus said.

Jonathan shook his head. "I do not think I can face another miracle before breakfast."

Silvanus smiled and continued to roll up his empty sleeve.

Jonathan put a hand outward as if to push something away. "Please, I do not wish to look at your.. injured arm while I eat."

Silence fell on the little group. An appalled silence. Thordin stood, spoon dripping stew on the ground. "Jonathan, the cleric is a guest at our fire."

"I have no problem with him as a guest, but surely it is rude even in your homeland to show wounds at a meal."

Put like that, Jonathan might have a point. Yet he should have let it go. They were guests. You did not make a guest uncomfortable, not deliberately.

Silvanus gave a small bow from the neck. "I have no desire to be offensive." Averil had to help him refold his sleeve and tie it in place.

Elaine felt her face burn with shame. Silvanus didn't seem offended, but she didn't know him well enough to know if it were just a polite act.

She stood. "I asked him to show me his arm." She faced Jonathan across the fire, not flinching from the disapproval in his eyes.

"Then you should have gone to a tent. I do not see why you would want to see it."

"It doesn't bother you that the arm has been cut off. It bothers you that it is growing back. That it is magic." There was scorn in her voice, scorn bordering on hate. She still loved Jonathan, but she was beginning to detest his narrow-mindedness.

Jonathan stared at her. His expression was unreadable.

"You're afraid of it," she said.

"What do you want of me, Elaine?" His voice was suddenly tired.

She suddenly realized what she wanted. She wanted him to be someone else. To be fair. Elaine was beginning to realize that he might not be able to be fair, might not be able to move beyond his vision of evil. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.

"I need to finish healing Fredric's and Randwulf's wounds," Silvanus said.

Jonathan and Elaine looked at him as if he had just appeared before them. They had been intent on each other. The elf's voice was an intrusion. Whether a welcome one or not, Elaine wasn't sure.

"I had planned to heal them out here in the open, but if it will make you ill, we can retire to a tent."

Jonathan shook his head abruptly. "No, heal them. It was unfair to protest just a moment ago. I am unaccustomed to such strange magic. It is … uncomfortable for me."

Silvanus looked at him, his face thoughtful. "Thank you, Jonathan. I will heal them here by the fire. It is warmer here than in most of the tents."

Jonathan gave a curt nod. He took his sandwich from Thordin and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, his back to them so he could not see. But Elaine could see his face. That one look was enough to know what it had cost him to let the elf heal by the fire. He was trying. Maybe he was sorry about last night, too?

He glanced up and caught her eye. They stared at each other. Elaine gave a small smile, and Jonathan answered it. The first stirrings of 'magic' tickled over her skin. She turned from Jonathan's smile to the cleric, the healing. She wanted to see the wounds close, instant healing. It was the stuff of legends. Hopeful stories told round winter fires when the wolves howled at the door.

Elaine stood and took a few steps toward the cleric. She did not glance back at Jonathan. She was afraid he'd be frowning. She didn't want to lose what good will they had gained, but she didn't want to miss seeing this miracle, either.

Silvanus clasped Fredric's bandaged arm in his one good hand. He did not throw his head back, as he had to raise the dead. It was a simpler task he set himself. He merely touched the wound and drew power.

Elaine felt the power breathing along her body, but something was wrong. She wasn't sure what, but it felt different. Incomplete.

Silvanus hunched his shoulders. She could see the tension in his body. The effort shuddered along his collarbones. His hand trembled. He lifted his palm from the bandaged area.

"Take off the bandage," he said.

"What's wrong, Silvanus?" Fredric asked.

"Please, just take off the bandage."

Fredric didn't argue again, but did as he was told. When the bloody bandages came away, the wound was still there. It had not healed.

Fredric's eyes widened. "Silvanus, what has happened?"

The elf shook his head. "Randwulf, bare one of your wrists wounds for me, please."

The younger man had no teasing words, he simply unwrapped his right wrist. The wound no longer bled, but it was still an open bite, nasty to look at and painful. Without a word, Randwulf offered his arm to the cleric.

Silvanus touched the wound, delicately, fingertips alone. He traced the laceration as if exploring it. Randwulf winced, but made no sound.

The elf closed his hand over the wound and bowed his head, concentrating. Again the soft, growing magic built, fluttering in the air like a trapped bird, a bird that had no where to fly. Something was very wrong. Elaine had no words for exactly what, but she knew it shouldn't happen like this. Even without the ability to sense the healing, the looks on the two fighters faces was enough. They were shocked, frightened.

Averil knelt by her father. He was still shuddering, struggling to heal. She touched his shoulders, gently. "Father, Father, please."

He shook her hands off and half fell to the ground. His cloak trailed into the fire. Elaine knelt and rescued the cloth. It hadn't begun to burn yet.

He turned to Elaine. "I cannot do it. I cannot heal them." His face was raw with anguish.

"Of course you can," she said. It was a lie, even as she said it, she knew that, but she said it anyway.

"Wizard," Silvanus said, eyes searching for Gersal-ius.

Gersalius came to stand in front of the elf. "Yes, my friend." His voice was full of a deep pity.

"You said I should not be able to heal here in Kar-takass. Why was that?"

"I do not know why, Silvanus, but I know that it is so." He turned to Thordin, who was kneeling by the fire, stirring his stew but watching the cleric. "You had a cleric friend who came over. Did she know why she could no longer heal?"

"Kilsendra said she could no longer reach her god, that she was somehow cut off from her deity." Thordin's voice was heavy; he didn't like saying it.

Silvanus shook his head. "That is not possible. Bertog cannot be separated from his clerics. No, that is not it."

Thordin shrugged. "I can tell you only what Kilsendra told me. I was never a healer."

Silvanus turned to Elaine. His glittering eyes searched her face. "Elaine …" He let the sentence trail off. He did not look to where Jonathan still sat. He did not have to. Konrad had explained some of Elaine's plight, and the cleric had promised not to reveal that she, too, knew some magic.

Elaine glanced back. Jonathan was watching. His squeamishness forgotten in the novelty of it all. His face was watchful, curious. If he hadn't been so terribly afraid, he might have been nearly as curious as she was, as he was curious about everything else. But his fear stood like an unbreakable wall.

If Jonathan knew what she had done, she would be even less human to him. She turned back to Silvanus. He watched her with quiet eyes. He would not berate her if she refused. She knew that. If he had argued, or threatened, Elaine could have said no, but those quietly patient eyes. she could not say no to them. More than that, she didn't want to say no. She wanted to know if she could do it, if she could close a wound with a touch.

She nodded. "Show me how."

Silvanus flashed her a smile that warmed her like the glow of the sun itself. "Touch Fredric's wound."

"What are you saying?" Thordin asked. "Elaine is no healer."

"Oh, but she is," Silvanus said. "She helped heal me yesterday."

"Elaine," Gersalius said, "that is wonderful."

"Why didn't you tell us," Thordin said.

Elaine glanced at Jonathan.

Thordin said, "Oh."

They all turned back to the cleric, determined as far as possible to ignore the mage-finder-if one could ignore a storm that might break any minute.

"Touch the wound, Elaine, explore it. Memorize the feel of it in your fingertips," Silvanus said.

Elaine hesitated, hands just above Fredric's bare flesh. Her skin ached to touch the wound, to explore it, but… "Won't it hurt him?"

"A little, but you are new at healing. You must understand the nature of the injury before you can heal it. You must be free to touch the wound as much as necessary." He glanced up at the big warrior's face. "Fredric takes pain well. He won't hold it against you."

"If you can heal me, girl, I will have only praise for your name."

Still she hesitated. "And if I can't?"

"Then you will have tried, and I will sing your praises for that." A smile peeked from behind his mustache.

Elaine gave a nervous smile in return and let her fingers touch the wound. The skin folded back on itself where the teeth had torn it. She ran fingertips over the gash, over bumps in the skin with slick holes underneath.

She glanced at Fredric's face, but it was blank, unreadable. "If I hurt you, tell me, and I'll stop."

He shook his head. "I've had far worse done to me than to suffer a lady to touch a small wound."

The injury was not small, and they all knew it. The partial healing that Silvanus had managed yesterday had given him use of the arm, but until it was healed completely, he would not be at full fighting strength.

He wore a great two-handed sword strapped to his back and needed two good arms to wield it.

She had trailed over the surface of the skin, but her fingers wanted to go deeper. Elaine glanced at Silvanus. "I don't want to hurt him."

"Do you remember in the tent how you explored my life-force until you could sense the darkness?"

She nodded.

"You must explore the wound the same way. You must know if the damage is shallow, or if muscles or bones are involved. What you did yesterday is really much harder, for you cannot hold an aura in your hands. You can't even truly visualize it. You can see the bite with your eyes, touch it with your own skin. When you know the surface of the wound, reach inward, but not with your fingers. Yesterday, you felt like you could hold my heart in your hand, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Search this wound until you can feel your fingers melting into his flesh, searching his muscles for injury."

Elaine bent back over the wound. She took a deep breath, then pressed her fingers deep into the teeth marks. Fredric let out a sharp, soft exhalation of air. Elaine didn't look up. If she saw pain in his eyes, she wasn't sure she could do this. And she wanted to do this. She could feel that same growing power. It flowed through her, from Kartakass. The land was with her. She could feel it, almost as if it were curious.

Her fingers dug into flesh. There was a soft grunt of pain. Elaine closed her eyes, pressing her hands around the arm. She pushed her hands over the wound, fingers half-curled, searching the torn flesh, sinking deeper through the injuries. It was as if her fingertips slid inside the wounds and kept going. They traveled through layers of muscle. Blood flowed around them, all safely below the surface, like a hidden river. She touched the bone itself, fingering it like a piece of jewelry, trying to memorize the feel of it.

"Is there any injury below the surface?" Even Sil-vanus's soft voice made her jump. She lost that feel of slick bone, and working muscle. She blinked and dropped her hands to her lap.

"There is some bruising, but nothing more. Nothing's broken."

Silvanus smiled. "Good, now it is time to close the wound."

"How do I do that?"

"You must heal it from inside out. Find the bruised flesh and heal it, then come outward and close the wounds behind you."

She stared at him, frowning. "I think I understand healing the inner bruising, but how do the wounds close up behind my fingers? Wouldn't it make more sense to smooth the wounds shut, like making pottery, and mending holes in the wet clay."

"If that makes sense to your mind, do it, Elaine. I do not know about wizardry, but healing is a very individual thing. Each healer uses her own imagery. You use visuals similar to my own, but I know other clerics that go entirely by feel. As long as it works, it does not matter how it works."

Elaine reached for Fredric's arm again. She gave a quick glance to his face, then back to the wound. She had hurt him, she knew that, but it was more important to heal the wound than to ease the pain.

It was easier this time for her fingers to flow into the flesh. The tips of her fingers ran down the length of the bone in its muscle and blood sheath. She opened her eyes, just to see, but her hands sat on top his arm, looking ordinary. If she hadn't been feeling it herself, she wouldn't have known anything unusual was happening.

Now that she had opened her eyes and could still feel the bone, she kept them open. It was odd, almost dizzying; sight told her she was merely holding Fredric's arm, but touch told her her fingers were deeply imbedded in his flesh. She shouldn't have been able to see her fingers at all, but there they sat.

"Do not become distracted," Silvanus said softly. He was kneeling by her, shoulder almost touching hers. She hadn't felt him come up so close beside her.

"Keep your hold on the deep sensation, but remember why you are there. You are there to heal, not to simply sightsee."

Heat crept up her face. She had been playing inside the man's arm without healing him at all, simply enjoying the sensation. She glanced up at Fredric's face. His face was calm, but puzzled.

"I am sorry," she said.

"No, Elaine," Silvanus said. "Do not become distracted-not even by words or pity. Concentrate on the injury. Heal it."

"How?" Elaine started to turn to look at the elf. He touched her gently and turned her face back to the wound. "See only this. Feel only this."

She took a deep breath and did as she was told. She felt the bruising; it went all the way down to the bone. A breaking of blood vessels, a near crushing of flesh. She wanted to heal the broken blood vessels, to smooth the flesh inside as well as out. She drew her invisible fingers through the tissue, as if combing them through putty.

The broken flesh closed behind her touch, like a wall mending itself. Her fingers drew outward until Elaine could feel them resting on Fredric's arm. She stared down at the torn flesh.

Elaine drew her hand over the tears. She smoothed the outer skin, and it moved under her touch like clay. The flesh melting together, mending itself as she ran her fingers and thumb over the wound. She ended by holding his forearm between her hands and smoothing her palms down his arm, as if working in lotion.

She lay his arm in her lap and looked at it, turning it from side to side. But Elaine didn't need her eyes to tell her it was healed. With that last smoothing motion, she had felt the flesh whole, of one piece, with no imperfections in it.

"It is done," she said. Her voice sounded a little surprised, even to her own ears.

Fredric lifted his arm before his face, turning it, staring. He ran his hand over where the bite mark had been. "There isn't even a scar. Silvanus, there's no scar."

The elf crawled forward and grabbed the arm. He ran his fingers over the healed flesh. "Bertog be praised. It is as if the skin were never broken."

"I knew a healer that could do that," Thordin said, "but he was a temple elder."

Silvanus looked up at the fighter. "I have known only two clerics that could do this." He traced fingers back and forth over the smooth flesh. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

Fredric raised his arm, flexing the hand. "It feels wonderful, almost better than new."

"My turn next," Randwulf said. He held out his wounded arms. He wasn't smiling when he said it, no teasing now. Elaine didn't know him well enough to read his expression, but it was solemn, perhaps impressed.

"How do you feel, Elaine?" Silvanus asked.

"Fine."

"Do you feel at all tired?"

She shook her head. "Mo."

"Not at all?" Silvanus asked. "Be sure you are not tired, Elaine. You have just done your first major healing. You must be careful to conserve your strength."

Elaine sat back and thought, how did she feel? She wasn't tired. In fact, she felt wonderful. Refreshed, alive.

"I'm not tired at all. I feel wonderful."

Silvanus stared at her, as if trying to gauge her reaction. "Don't feel you must be strong for others. If you are too tired to heal Randwulf, you could harm yourself."

"I feel fine."

"How could she be harmed?" Jonathan was standing just behind her, tall and forbidding, though he was asking after her safety. Even after last night, he was worried about her. Elaine reached out to touch his hand, to let him know his concern meant something to her. Jonathan jerked his hand away, as if her touch burned him.

Elaine let her hand fall back into her lap. She stared at his face. She would not look away, would not make this easy for him. Jonathan would not meet her gaze. He stared fixedly at the elf.

"If she is too tired and persists in trying to heal, she may tap into her own life-force. Elaine could use up her own life, spilling it away into Randwulf. She is new enough to healing that she does not know the signs. She could kill herself giving others life."

Jonathan finally did look at her. He stared into her face. He took a deep breath and touched her hair with his fingertips.

Elaine raised her hand slowly. He didn't move away. She touched his hand, and he returned the touch, squeezing the fingers gently. "I would not want anything to happen to you, Elaine."

"I feel fine, truly." She laid his hand against her cheek as she had as a child. He smiled, and she felt better than she had in hours.

"Then heal him, but be careful." He patted her cheek and pulled his hand gently from her own.

Elaine turned back to Randwulf. "Do I heal him just the same?"

"Yes," Silvanus said, "it is nearly the same type of wound. You can either heal one wrist at a time or both together."

"How do I heal them both?"

Silvanus smiled; it held almost bitterness. "You are eager, child, aren't you?"

"It feels. wonderful."

Silvanus touched her face, looking into her eyes as if they would give away secrets. "Are you saying it feels good to heal?"

"Yes." There was an expression on his face that made her say, "Don't you feel that way when you heal?"

"No, Elaine," he said, softly, "I do not."

"Is that bad?"

"Not at all. It is merely rare."

"How rare?" Jonathan asked.

"Rare enough that I've read of such things but never known of anyone who could do it," Silvanus said.

"I don't understand," Elaine said. "Why should the fact that I feel better after healing Fredric's wound be so unusual?"

"In a battle situation, you could heal many more people than I. I would grow tired and begin to draw on my own life-force. If you are doing what I believe you are doing, you will never grow tired. You will always be able to heal, over and over again. It is a great, great gift."

"Enough talk about magical theories," Randwulf said, "I'm tired of these wounds." He held his arms out to her once more.

"Randwulf, you are being impertinent," Silvanus said.

The young man smiled, then winked at Elaine. "If you all quit talking, this beautiful woman will lay her sweet hands on my bare flesh. Sorry if I'm impatient."

Elaine stared into his smirking face. She didn't like Randwulf, but she wanted to touch the wounds. The injuries were what was important. It didn't matter whom she was healing.

"Apologize immediately," Averil said. She sounded outraged.

"No," Elaine said, "it's all right." She should have been embarrassed but wasn't. She wanted to heal, not just Randwulf, but any ruined flesh, touching it and making it whole. Her hands itched with desire.

Elaine ran her fingers over Randwulf's wrists. The flesh was punctured, but not torn as badly as Fredric's arm. The wolves had simply bitten down, held him so the death blow could be dealt.

She clutched one of his wrists in either of her hands. Randwulf brought his arms up, putting the backs of her hands in a position to be kissed. Elaine plunged fingernails into the open bite wounds. Randwulf drew back with a hiss. Elaine's invisible fingers plunged into his flesh, tickling along his bones. It was almost disappointingly easy to heal. She drew out the bruising, and her hands sat on his skin. She squeezed down until Randwulf gasped, then pulled downward smoothing the teeth marks in one hard movement.

Randwulf drew his arms to his chest, grimacing. "Silvanus never hurt me like this."

"You never tried to kiss my hand," Silvanus said.

"I promise not to tease her anymore. Just don't be as rough with the wound on my neck." He touched it lightly as he spoke. "It hurts already."

"If you behave yourself, I promise not to hurt you on purpose," Elaine said.

He placed a newly healed hand over his heart. "My word of honor," he said.

"Is the skin as perfect as mine was?" Fredric asked.

Randwulf offered his arms to the big fighter. Fredric rubbed his hands over Randwulf's arms. "No scars." The big man seemed amazed. He glanced at Elaine. "If I'd had you around, my body wouldn't look like a map of every fight I've ever had."

"Father did his best," Averil said.

Silvanus patted her hand. "He is teasing, Daughter."

"Ah," Fredric said. "I'd be dead a dozen, times over if not for your father."

"I am in some pain here," Randwulf said. "Could she heal me now?"

Averil slapped his newly healed arm. "You are an ungrateful wretch."

He grinned. "Yes, I am."

"If you could just heal him before he makes a bigger fool of himself," Silvanus said, "we'd be most grateful."

Elaine looked at Randwulf, ignoring the smirk. She was thinking about the injury, visualizing it in her mind. "I think he'll need to lie down to be healed."

"Don't say it," Averil told him.

Randwulf ducked his head, pretending to be embarrassed but not succeeding. "I didn't say a thing."

"Keep it that way," Fredric said.

Elaine wasn't sure she had followed all the conversation, and didn't care. She wanted to see the wound again. She started to take off her cloak.

"What are you doing?" Jonathan asked.

"He'll need something to lie down on."

"I think we can fetch a blanket for that," Jonathan said. "We don't want your getting sick from the cold."

She retied her cloak.

"I've missed the chance to lie down on something warm and smelling of her body, darn."

Elaine looked at Randwulf. Last night his words would have bothered her, but not now. She was almost as eager to touch him as he was to touch her, but for very different reasons.

Blaine brought a blanket and laid it down before the fire. Randwulf knelt on the blanket.

"Could you loosen your collar so I can lay hands on the wound?" Elaine asked.

He opened his mouth to say some smart, teasing thing. She raised a hand, and said, "You are wasting my time. Do you want me to heal you or not?". Randwulf looked as chastened as he was capable of and said, "Yes, please."

"Then loosen your collar and lie down before the fire."

He did as he was told. Elaine knelt over him, folding the fur back below his shoulders. She pulled the cloth away from the wound. Every tooth mark was like a small, frozen puddle of blood, except the blood trembled and shook, held in place by something more mysterious than ice.

"Your healing did this?" she asked.

Silvanus peered over her shoulder. "Yes. I did not have enough strength to heal it completely, but enough to heal the spine and the deeper injuries."

Her fingers hovered over the wound. "Will it be different healing a more serious wound?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. You seem to have a quick grasp of such matters. Explore the wound and see."

Her hands fell against the skin, almost without her wanting them to. Her fingertips traced the edges of the sunken wounds. Elaine almost expected to feel something holding in the blood, but her fingertips touched wetness. The blood was surprisingly warm, skin temperature.

The blood welled around her fingers, trickling in tiny rivulets down his skin. She dug fingers into the open wounds. Randwulf gasped, raising his head. Elaine forced his head down with one hand. Blood stained his curls.

Her invisible fingers slipped below the skin. The spine was not smooth. She could trace the joints between the vertebrae, but the neck vertebrae were thick with extra bone, scar tissue. Two of the vertebrae were fused together. No wonder his neck hurt. If the bones were left to heal bound together, he would lose some of the movement of his neck. Elaine wasn't sure how she knew that, but she could suddenly see not only his injury but what it meant for him, what would happen if it weren't fixed.

It was as if some window in her mind that had been closed had opened, and she could see things she hadn't before.

She touched the bone and rubbed it between her fingers. It wasn't like healing an injury. The bone was healed, but it wasn't right, and she sought the flaws. Blood flowed in a sheet across her hands, down his neck. She rubbed the bump down and down, until the vertebrae were even. Her invisible fingernails found the fused line and cut it open again. Her hands easily moved the neck back and forth.

"Does that hurt?"

"Mo, it doesn't." Randwulf said. He sounded surprised.

The blood flowing down her hands was so warm. It spread into the snow like red punch. She was fascinated with the crimson splashes. There was so much of it that the blood began eating through the snow like warm water.

"Close the wounds, Elaine." Silvanus's voice was still calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency.

She turned to him, slowly. She didn't want to look away from the blood, wanted to stare at it, feel it pour down her hands forever.

Silvanus touched her shoulder. "Elaine, close the wounds."

She turned back to the bloody neck. Elaine couldn't see the injuries anymore. The blood covered them, but she could still feel the bite marks under her hands. Randwulf lay very still under her touch. She turned her invisible touch deeper into his body. She found his life fluttering. He was dying. Why?

She stared at the blood spreading into the snow. "I'm killing him," she said softly.

"Yes," Silvanus said.