Paks knew Macenion had parted with the elf-wrought blade, if it was one, only because he wanted to soothe her after the snowcat's murder. The sword felt well enough—it was better than the one she'd bought—but she resented the whole incident. And she wasn't about to be grateful.

"And you say there's more. And, as usual, you want me to bodyguard you while we get it—right?"

"I will need your help." Macenion sighed again. "Paks, I'm sorry about the snowcat. I didn't know you'd feel that way—"

"I'd have thought an elf would—"

"So my human parentage betrayed me. It's not the first time. But listen, at least, before you stalk off in outrage."

Paks looked around at the tree-clad slopes. She thought she saw a faint trail across from them, leading south, but she knew the ways of apparent trails that appeared and disappeared and tangled together. She shrugged and stared down at the ruins while Macenion talked.

"This valley," he said, "is forbidden to elves. My mother's cousin told me that, and also told me how to find it. He meant the directions to keep me away. But here is a great treasure—the stories are clear on that—and much of it is magical. Something happened here that the elves don't want to talk about, and so they went away and never came back."

"Elves lived here?" Paksenarrion frowned. "I thought they lived in forests, not stone buildings."

"It's true that elven cities are surrounded by trees and water, but they're constructed, nonetheless."

Despite herself, Paksenarrion was interested. "What happened, then? Why did the elves leave?"

"I don't know." The answer had come so fast that Paks disbelieved it and gave Macenion a sharp look. He spread his hands. "It's true—I don't know. I suspect, but I don't know. They say they haven't come back because the valley is haunted by evil, but I'm fairly sure that they just don't like to admit mistakes."

"You were more than fairly sure that the wardstones wouldn't work any longer," Paks reminded him. Macenion scowled.

"This is different," said Macenion loftily. "Those were human artifacts. This is elven. My elven blood will sense the truth—and my magic will enable us to pass safely what might be perilous for others." He patted the pouch that held his magical apparatus. Paksenarrion said nothing. "And the treasures here are worth a risk. Elf-made weapons, Paks, and magic scrolls and wands: I've heard about them. They were all abandoned when the elves fled. My relatives—well, I hate to say anything bad about the elves, but they haven't been any too generous with their goods. I feel I have a right to whatever I can find in there." He nodded toward the ruins.

"But what about the evil whatever-it-is?"