In the darkness the first elf mistook her snow-covered body for a drift of snow, and stumbled over it. His muffled curse disturbed the pony, huddled in a thicket nearby, and she snorted.

Quickly the next elves found the pony and soothed her, whisking the snow from her back, and running deft hands over the pack straps. Meanwhile the first elf felt what was under the drift, and called for more light. Torches flared in the windy darkness.

"A human." Contempt laced the silver voice.

"A robber by the look of it—her," said another, holding out the patched cloak.

"Robber indeed," said one of the elves near Star. "This little one is loaded with such treasure that she can hardly walk. And more than that, it comes from the banast taig."

"Mother of Trees! I had not thought even the humans bold enough to rob there. Or skilled enough to escape." The leader of the group looked at a dagger and sheath from the pack and shook his head. "With such to carry, it must not be escape, but something worse."

"She is alive," said the first elf, after finding a pulse.

"Not for long," said the leader. "We may not be able to challenge that evil, but we can deal with its minions. We can leave—"

"Look at this," said one of those going through the pack. He held out to the leader the sealed message from the Halveric. "Is this stolen as well?"

"We must know what we have here, before we decide what to do," added the one at Paks's side. "I feel no great evil in her." He had brushed the snow off her, and now caught his breath as he saw the rings on her hand. He worked off the one with the Duke's seal, and read the inscription inside. "This is no common robber, cousins. Here is a ring given for honor to a soldier of the Duke Phelan—Halveric's friend, and—"

"And we all know of Kieri Phelan. Yes. If she did not steal that as well. We shall wake her, then, and see what she says. I doubt that any fair tale can be told resulting in such as this bringing treasure out of the banast taig. But we shall see."

Paks was vaguely aware of voices talking over her head before she woke fully. They were strange-sounding voices, musical and light but carrying power nonetheless. Light glowed through her eyelids. She struggled toward it, and finally managed to raise her heavy lids.

"You waken at last," said one of the strange beings before her. He turned to speak to another, and Paks saw torchlight play over the planes of his face. It was clearly unhuman, and in it she saw full strength the strangeness that Macenion had shared. These must be elves. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. "You were very cold. Can you speak now?"

Paks worked her jaw around, and finally managed to say yes, weakly.