"No, I haven't! He's an elf, after all."

Frightened by her own feelings, nervous and tense, furious at herself and at her brother, Rega spoke with more force than she intended. Her lips curled at the word "elf," she seemed to spit it out in disgust, like she'd tasted something foul and nasty.

Or at least that's what it sounded like to Paithan.

The elf had risen from his place overlooking the drop and gone back to report to Roland that he thought their ropes were too short, there was no way they could lower the baggage. Moving with elven lightness and grace, he hadn't intentionally planned to sneak up on the two. That was just the way it turned out. Hearing clearly Rega's last statement, he crouched in the shadows of a dangling evir vine, hidden by its broad, heart-shaped leaves, and listened.

"Look, Rega, we've come this far, I say we carry the plan out to the end. He's wild about you! He'll tumble. Just get him alone in some dark patch, maneuver him into a clinch. I'll rush in and save your honor, threaten to tell all. He forks over the cash to keep us quiet and we're set. Between that and this sale, we'll live high for the next season." Roland reached out his hand, affectionately stroked Rega's long, dark hair. "Think about the money, kid. We've gone hungry too many times to pass up this chance. Like you said, he's only an elf."

Paithan's stomach clenched. Hastily, he turned away, moving silently through the trees, not particularly watching or caring where he was going. He missed Rega's response to her husband, but that was just as well. If he had seen her look up at Roland, grinning conspiratorially; if he had heard her pronounce the word elf in that tone of loathing one more time, he would have killed her.

Falling against a tree, suddenly dizzy and nauseous, Paithan gasped for breath and wondered at himself. He couldn't believe he was acting like this. What did it matter, after all? So the little slut had been playing with him? He'd noticed her game in the tavern before they ever left on this journey! What had blinded him?

She had. He'd actually been fool enough to think she was falling in love with him! Those conversations they'd had along the trail. He'd told her stories about his homeland, about his sisters, his father, and the crazy old wizard. She'd laughed, she'd seemed interested. Her admiration had shone in her eyes.

And then there had been all those times they'd touched, just by accident, bodies brushing against each other, hands meeting when they reached for the same waterskin. Then there'd been the trembling, quivering eyelids, heaving breasts, flushed skin.

"You're good, Rega!" he whispered through clenched teeth. "Really good. Yes, I'm 'wild about you'! I would have 'tumbled.' But not now! Now that I know you, little whore!" Closing his eyes tightly, squeezing back tears, the elf sagged against the tree. "Blessed Peytin, Holy Mother of us all, why did you do this to me?"

Perhaps it was the prayer-one of the few the elf had ever bothered to make-but he felt a jab of conscience. He'd known she belonged to another man. The elf had flirted with the woman in Roland's very presence. Paithan had to admit to himself that he'd found it exhilarating, seducing the wife beneath the husband's nose.

"You got what you deserved," Mother Peytin seemed to be saying to him. The goddess's voice bore an unfortunate resemblance to Calandra's, however, and it only made Paithan angrier.

"It was all in fun" he justified himself. "I would never have let it go too far, not really. And I certainly never meant to ... to fall in love."

That last statement, at least, was true and it made Paithan believe profoundly in all the rest.

"What's wrong? Paithan? What's the matter?"

The elf opened his eyes, turned around. Rega stood before him, her hand reaching for his arm. He drew back, away from her touch.

"Nothing," he said, swallowing.

"But you look terrible! Are you sick?" Rega reached for him again. "Do you have a fever?"

He took another step back. If she touches me, I'll strike her!

"Yeah. No, uh ... no fever. I've been ... sick. Maybe the water. Just... leave me alone for a bit."

Yes, I'm better now. Practically cured. Little whore. He found it difficult not to let his hatred and disgust show and so he kept his eyes averted, staring fixedly into the jungle.

"I think I should stay with you," said Rega. "You don't look good at all. Roland's gone off scouting around for another way down, maybe a shorter drop. He'll be gone for quite a while, I imagine-"

"Will he?" Paithan looked at her, a look so strange and piercing that it was Rega who now fell back a step before him. "Will he be gone a long, long time?"

"I don't-" Rega faltered.

Paithan lunged at her, grabbed the woman by the shoulders and kissed her, hard, his teeth cutting her soft lips. He tasted berry-juice and blood, Rega struggled, squirming in his grasp. Of course, she'd have to put up a token resistance.

"Don't fight it!" he whispered. "I love you! I can't live without you!"

He expected her to melt, to moan, to cover him with kisses. And then Roland would come along, shocked, horrified, hurt. Only money would ease the pain of betrayal.

And I'll laugh! I'll laugh at both of them! And I'll tell them where to stick their money ...

One arm around her back, the elf pressed the woman's half-naked body up against his. His other hand sought soft flesh.

A violent kick to the groin sent a flash of pain through Paithan. The elf doubled over. Strong hands hit him on the collar bone, knocking him backward, sending him crashing into the underbrush.

Face flushed, eyes flaring, Rega stood over him. "Don't you ever touch me again! Don't come near me! Don't even talk to me!"

Her dark hair rose, ruffled like the fur of a scared cat. She turned on her heel and stalked off.

Paithan, rolling on the ground in agony, had to admit he was now extremely confused.

Returning from his search for a more suitable way down onto the trail below, Roland crept back stealthily over the moss, hoping-once again-to catch Rega and her "lover" in a compromising position. He reached the place on the trail where he'd left his sister and the elf, drew in a breath to yell the outrage of an offended husband, and peeped out from the cover of a gigantic shadowcove plant. He exhaled in disappointment and exasperation.

Rega was sitting on the edge of the moss bank, huddled up in a ball very much like a bristle-back squirrel, her back hunched, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. He could see her face from the side and, by her dark and stormy expression, could almost imagine the quills standing up all over her. His sister's "lover" stood as far from her as possible, on the other edge of the bank's lip. The elf was leaning at rather an odd angle, Roland noticed, almost as if favoring some tender part of himself.

"Strangest damn way to conduct a love affair I ever saw!" Roland muttered. "What do I have to do for that elf-draw him a picture? Maybe baby elves are slipped under the cracks of the doors at night! Or maybe that's what he thinks. We're going to have to have a little man to man talk, looks like.

"Hey," he called aloud, making a great deal of noise plunging out of the jungle, "I found a place, a ways down, where there's what looks like a rock ledge that sticks out of the moss. We can lower the baskets onto that, then drop 'em down the rest of the way. What happened to you?" he added, looking at Paithan, who was walking hunched over and moving gingerly. "He fell," said Rega.

"He did?" Roland-who had felt much the same way once after an encounter with an unfriendly barmaid-glanced at his sister in some suspicion. Rega hadn't exactly refused to go ahead with the plan to seduce the elf. But, the more Roland thought about it, he recalled that she hadn't exactly said she would, either. He didn't dare say anything more, however. Rega's face might have been frozen by a basilisk, and the look she cast him might have turned her brother to stone, as well.

"I fell," agreed Paithan, voice carefully expressionless. "I-uh- straddled a tree limb coming down." "Ouch!" Roland winced in sympathy.

"Yeah, ouch," repeated the elf. He didn't look at Rega. Rega wasn't looking at Paithan. Faces set, jaws rigid, both stared straight at Roland. Neither actually saw him.

Roland was completely at a loss. He didn't believe their story and he would have liked very much to question his sister and worm the truth out of her. But he couldn't very well drag Rega off for a chat without making the elf suspicious.

And then, when Rega was like this, Roland wasn't certain he wanted to be alone with her anyway. Rega's father had been the town butcher. Roland's father had been the town baker. (Their mother, for all her faults, had always seen to it that the family was well fed-) There were times when Rega bore an uncanny resemblance to her father. One of those times was now. He could almost see her standing over a freshly butchered carcass, a bloodthirsty gleam in her eye.

Roland stammered and waved his hand vaguely. "The ... uh , . . spot I found is in that direction, a few hundred feet. Can you make it that far?"

"Yes!" Paithan grit his teeth.

"I'll go see to the tyros," stated Rega.

"Quin, here, can help-"

"I don't need any help!" Rega snapped.

"She doesn't need any help!" Paithan muttered.

Rega went one way, the elf went the opposite, neither looking at the other. Roland stood in the middle of the empty clearing, rubbing his stubbly brownish blond growth of beard.

"You know, I think I was mistaken. She really doesn't like him. And I think her hate's beginning to rub off on the elf! Things between them were going so well, too. I wonder what went wrong? It's no good talking to Rega, not when she's in this mood. There must be something I can do." He could hear his sister pleading, flattering, trying to get the reluctant tyros to move. Paithan, hobbling along the edge of the moss bank, cast a disgusted glance in Rega's direction.

"There's only one thing I can think of to do," Roland mused. "Just keep throwing them together. Sooner or later, something's bound to happen."

CHAPTER 17.

IN THE SHADOWS, GUNIS.

"ARE YOU SURE THAT-S ROCK?" PAITHAN ASKED. PEERING DOWN INTO THE gloom at a patch of grayish white beneath them, barely visible through a tangle of vines and leaves.

"Sure, I'm sure," answered Roland. "Remember, we've traveled this route before."

"It's just that I've never heard of rock formations this far up in the jungle."

"We're not exactly that far up anymore, remember? We've dropped quite a ways down."

"Well, we're not getting anywhere standing here staring at it!" put in Rega, hands on her hips. "We're cycles late with the delivery as it is. And you mark my words, Blackbeard'll try to shave off the price. I'll go down, if you're afraid, elf!"

"I'll go," countered Paithan. "I don't weigh as much as you do and if the outcrop is unstable, I'll-"

"Weigh as much! Are you saying that I'm fa-"

"You both go," interrupted Roland in soothing tones. "I'll lower you and Rega down there, Quin, then you lower Rega on down to the bottom. I'll send the packs to you and you can pass them on down to my sis-er-my wife."

"Look, Roland, I think the elf should lower you and I down-"

"Yes, Redleaf, that does, indeed, seem to me to be a much better solution-"

"Nonsense!" Roland interrupted, pleased with his own deviousness, further plots fomenting in his mind. "I'm the strongest and from here down to that outcrop is the longest haul. Any arguments there?"

Paithan glanced at the human male-with his square-jawed handsome face and his rippling biceps-and clamped his mouth shut. Rega didn't look at her brother at all. Biting her lip, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared down into the shadowy gloom of the jungle below.

Paithan fixed a rope around a tree limb, cinched it tight around himself and hopped over the edge of the moss bank almost before Roland was there to steady him. He rappelled himself easily off the steep sides of the bank, Roland holding the line to keep the elf steady.

The line suddenly went slack.

"All right!" came a shout from below. "I'm here!" There was a moment's silence, then the elf s voice echoed upward, filled with disgust. "This isn't rock! It's a damn fungus!"

"A what?" Roland yelled, leaning as far over the edge as he dared.

"A fungus! A giant mushroom!"

Catching his sister's fiery-eyed glance, Roland shrugged. "How was I supposed to know?"

"I think it's stable enough to use for a landing anyway," Paithan returned, after a moments pause. The two humans caught something additional about being "damn lucky," but the words were lost in the vegetation.

"That's all I needed to know," said Roland cheerfully. "All right. Sis-"

"Stop calling me that! You've done it twice now today! What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing. Sorry. Just a lot on my mind. Over you go."

Rega tied the rope around her waist, but she didn't lower herself over the edge. Looking out into the jungle, she shivered and rubbed her arms. "I hate this."

"You keep saying that, and it's getting boring. I'm not wild about it either. But the sooner finished the sooner ended, as the saying goes. Hop on over."

"No, it's not just ... the darkness down there. It's something else. Something's wrong. Can't you feel it? It's too ... too quiet."

Roland paused, looked around and listened. He and his sister had been together through tough times. The outside world had been against them since they'd been born, they'd learned to rely on and trust only each other. Rega had an intuitive, almost animallike sense about people and nature. The few times Roland-the elder of the two-had ignored his sister's advice or warnings, he'd regretted it. He was a skilled woodsman and, now that she drew his attention to it, he, too, noticed the uncanny silence.

"Maybe it's always quiet down this far," he suggested. "There's not a breath of air stirring. We're just used to hearing the wind in the trees and all that."

"It's not just that. There's no sound or sign of animals and hasn't been for the last cycle or so. Not even at night. And the birds are silent." Rega shook her head. "It's as if every wild creature in this jungle is hiding."

"Maybe it's because we're near the dwarven kingdom. That's got to be it, kid. What else would it be?"

"I don't know," Rega said, staring intently into the shadows. "I don't know. I hope you're right. Come on!" she added suddenly, "Let's end this."

Roland lowered his sister over the edge of the moss bank. She rappelled skillfully down the side. Paithan, waiting below, reached up his hands to steady her landing. The look she gave him from her dark eyes warned him to stand clear. Rega landed tightly on the wide ledge formed by the fungus, her lips curling slightly as she eyed the ugly gray and white mass below her feet. The rope, tossed over the edge by Roland, snaked down and landed in a coil at her feet. Paithan began attaching his own length of rope to a branch.

"What's this fungus attached to?" Rega asked, her tone cool and business-only.

"The bole of a tree," said Paithan, his tone the same. He pointed out the striations of the bark, wider than both elf and human standing side by side.

"Is it stable?" she asked, looking over the rim uneasily. Another moss bank was visible below, not that far if you had a rope tied securely around your waist, but a long and unpleasant drop if you didn't.

"I wouldn't jump up and down on it," suggested Paithan.

Rega heard his sarcasm, cast him a angry glance, and then turned to shout above. "Hurry up, Roland! What are you doing?"

"Just a minute, dear!" he called down. "Having a little trouble with one of the tyros."

Roland, grinning, sat down on the edge of the moss bank, leaned up against a tree limb and relaxed. Occasionally he poked at one of the tyros with a stick, to make it bellow.

Rega scowled, bit her lip, and moved to stand on the edge of the fungus, as far from the elf as she could possibly get. Paithan, whistling to himself, fixed his rope tightly around the tree limb, tested it, then began to fasten Rega's.

He didn't want to look at her, but he couldn't help it. His eyes kept darting glances in her direction, kept pointing out things to his heart that his heart wasn't the least bit interested in hearing.

Look at her. We're out in the middle of this Orn-cursed land, alone, standing on a fungus with a twenty-foot drop beneath us and she's as cool as Lake Enthial. I never met a woman like her!

With luck, whispered a certain vicious part of him, you'll never meet one again!

Her hair is so soft. I wonder what it looks like when she lets it down out of that braid, falling over her bare shoulders, tumbling around her breasts... . Her lips, her kiss was just as sweet as I'd imagined ...