Paks nodded, meeting Amberion's eyes with difficulty. She could tell that he was concerned—even worried. For herself, she felt more annoyance than anything else. In time she would heal, as she always had, and be strong again; the memories would come, or not come. She wanted to hear what they knew—wanted them to trust her enough to tell her, as Keri and Volya had told her about the sack of Sibili.

"Amberion tells me that these wounds were already so healed when they found you, Paksenarrion." Ardhiel laid his longfingered elven hand on her wrist. Paks tried not to flinch. "You were missing so short a time—either the wounds were never what they look like—that is, they were not real wounds, but created in this half-healed state—or they were magically healed."

Paks looked at her arms again. "Could they be made that way? I never heard of such—"

"No. It's not widely known that it can be done, and it would only be done by evil intent. But the other is bad, too. To force flesh to such healing, out of time—that has its own hazards. I have known an elf, long ago in your time, and far from here, who could speed growth and healing. He used the gift on plants only, but animals too could be treated so. What we will do now, Paksenarrion, is try to lift the cloud from your memory. If it is what I think it may be, a cloud the iynisin placed there, you can then remember what you need."

As much as Paks had wanted to know what happened, she still shrank from this. Now that she knew her memories could be made or unmade at elven will, as the iynisin had shown her, she wanted no more of that. But some doubt of them kept her from mentioning the Halveric's scroll. The elf's glowing eyes seemed dangerous as coals. She looked at Amberion. He nodded. "Ardhiel has convinced me that this is best, Paksenarrion. The iynisin powers should be countered as soon as possible."

"Then Balkon was right—" she murmured.

"Right in his way," said Ardhiel. "You do need to remember, but you need to remember for yourself. It is this I will try."

"Well, then—go ahead." Paks looked from one to the other of them. "What should I do?"

"Think on Gird and the High Lord," said Amberion. "They will guide your thoughts—and your memories, we hope—while we free them."

Paks closed her eyes and lay still. She could not keep from pushing at the dark curtains in her mind, and felt more and more breathless and trapped as she lay there. She was hardly aware of Ardhiel's hand when it moved to her brow, or Amberion's firm grip. Ardhiel began chanting something in elven—she did not even try to follow the meaning.