"Pals?" she answered softly, tentatively.

"Do you know your full name?"

Paks thought a long moment. Something seeped into her mind. "Paks. Paks-Paksenarrion, I think."

The man and woman looked at each other and sighed. "Well," said me woman, "that's something. How about breakfast, Paks?"

"Breakfast-" she repeated slowly. "Are you hungry?"

Again Paks thought her way to the meaning of the v- words. Hungry? Her stomach rumbled, answering for her. 3 "Food," she murmured.

"Fine," said the woman. "I'll bring it." She strode off. :Paks looked at the man. "Who is that?" she asked.

*~;"The woman? Pir. She's a knight." His voice held slight ' coolness.

"Should-should I know her?"

i', "Yes. But don't worry about that. Do you remember ^ anything of what happened?"

'*>*'. Paks shook her head before answering. "No. I don't remember anything much. Did I-did I do something -Y bad?"

:"Not that I know of. What makes you ask that?"

"I don't know." Paks turned her head to look the other

way. She was looking up a narrow valley or canyon walled I with red rock on both sides. Nothing looked familiar.

The woman returned, carrying a deep bowl that steamed, a mug, and a waterskm slung from one wrist. "Here- stew, bread, and plenty of water. Can you sit up?" Paks 5 tried, but again was too weak. The man propped her *-. against a pack he dragged from a few feet away. The woman set the bowl on the sand, poured water into the mug, and offered it. Paks tried to wiggle a hand free from die blanket around her, but the woman had to help her even with diat. When she took the mug, her hand shook ; so that much of the water slopped onto her face and neck; it was icy cold. But what she managed to drink refreshed her. "I'll help you with the stew," said the woman. "You're -;; too shaky to manage it." She offered it spoonful by spoon-&, fill. Paks ate, at first without much interest, but with 432.

increasing relish. She began to feel more alert. A thread of memory returned, though she could not tell if it was recent or remote.

She looked at the man. "Is this Duke Phelan's camp?"

His fece seemed to harden. "No. Do you remember Duke Phelan?"

"I think so. He was-not so tall as you. Red hair. Yes-I thought I was still in his Company. But I'm not. I don't think so-am I?"

"Not any more, no. But if you remember that, then your memory is coming back. That's good."

"But where-? I should-I should know you, shouldn't I? You asked me that. And I can't-I don't know you-any of you-or this-" Her voice began to shake.

'Take it easy, Paks. It will come back to you. You're safe here." The man turned away for a moment, and waved to someone Paks could not see.

"But if I-when I was with the Duke, I was a soldier. I must have been. And you're wearing mail. What happened?" Paks tried again to push herself up; this time she got both arms out of the blanket around her. She had on a loose linen shirt; below its sleeves her arms were seamed with the swollen purple lines of healing wounds. Her wrists were bandaged with strips of linen. She stared at them, and then at the man. "What is this place? Did you-"

He reached out and took her hand; his grip was firm but gentle. "No, Paks, I did not deal those injuries. We brought you out of the place where that happened." He tumeatp another man who had just walked up to them. "She's awake, and making sense, but her memory hasn't returned. Paks, do you know this man?"

Paks stared at the lean face framed in iron-gray hair and beard. He looked stern and even grim, but honest. She wanted to trust him. She could not remember him at all. "No, sir," she said slowly. "I don't. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," said the second man. "I wonder," he said to the first, "whether we should try to tell her what we know."

"Names, at least." said the dark man. "Or sh.e.l.l be .

433.

completely confused. Paks, my name is Amberion; I'm a paladin of Gird. And this is Marshal Fallis, of the Order of the Cudgel."

The names meant nothing to Paks, and the men looked no more familiar with strange names attached. She looked from one to die other. "Amberion. Marshall Fallis." They looked at her, glanced at each other, then back at her.

"Do you remember who Gird is, Paks?" asked Marshal Fallis.

Paks wrinkled her brow, trying to think. The name woke a distant uneasiness. "Gird-I-I know I should. Something-it's-what to do-to call-when-" She stopped, breathing hard, and tried again. "When you start to fight- only-I couldn't say it aloud! I tried-and it wouldn't- something on my neck, choking-No!" Paks shouted this last loud enough to startle the entire camp. She had shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head, her body rigid. "No," she said more softly. "No. By-by Gird, I will fight. I will-not-stop. I vri&fightl"

She felt both men's hands on her shoulders, steadying her. Amberion spoke. "Paks. Listen to me. You're out of that. You're safe." Then, more quietly, to Fallis. "And what do you suppose that was about. Surely she wasn't free to fight them?"

"I don't know," was Fallis's grim reply. "But I suspect we'd better find out. Considering how we found her-"

"I won't believe it," said Amberion, but his voice had thinned, Paks opened her eyes. For a moment she stared blankly at the sky, then shifted her eyes to look at Amberion. She could feel patches of memory coming back, unconnected still, but broadening. "Amberion? What-"

"You were injured, Paks. You don't remember much."

"I feel-strange. Will you tell me what happened?"

"We don't know all that happened. And it might be better to let you remember it for yourself."

Paks looked around. "I don't recognize this place. But the color of the rocks-something-is familiar."

"We moved the camp after you-after the fight."

434.

"Are we in Kolobia yet?" Paks saw Araberion's face relax a little.

"Good. You- are remembering. Yes, we're in Kolobia. How much do you remember of the trip here?"

"Some of it-we were in a caravan, for a long way. We saw the horse nomads, didn't we?" Amberion nodded. "And I remember a bald-faced red horse, bucking-"

"That's my warhorse," said Fallis. "Do you remember why we were coming to Kolobia?"

Paks shook her head. "No. I wish I didn't feel so peculiar. Did something hit my head? Was it a battle?"

Fallis smiled at her. "You've been in several battles. Both on the caravan, and here as well. I think you'll remember them on your own when you've rested more. Your wounds are healing well. Do you need anything more?"

"Water, if there's enough."

"Certainly." The Marshal walked away and returned with a lull waterskin. He set it beside Paks, then he and Amberion walked upstream, looking at the cliffs on the for side. Paks managed to get the waterskin to her mouth. She took a long drink, then looked around again. The dwarf was looking her way, talking to the woman. When he caught her eye, he rose and came toward her. She tried to think of his name.

"Good morning, Lady Paksenarrion," said the dwarf. His voice was higher and sweeter than she'd expected. She wondered how she knew what to expect. "How fare you this day?"

"I'm all right. A little-confused."

"That is no wonder. Perhaps even names have escaped you. I am Balkon of the House of Goldenaxe."

The name fit; Paks could almost think she remembered it. As she looked at the dwarf, the distant silent sc.r.a.ps of memory came nearer and seemed to fiise in his face. "Yes," she said slowly. "Master Balkon. You came with us from Fin Panir. You know about rock, where it will be solid or weak. You are a cousin of the Goldenaxe himself, aren't you?"

"Eighth cousin twice removed," said the dwarf with a .

435.

smile. "I think you must be recovering very swiftly. We are glad it should be so, who saw you in such dismay."

"Dismay?" Paks felt a twinge of fear.

The dwarfs face constricted into a ma.s.s of furrows and then relaxed. "Is that not the correct term? You must excuse me, Lady Paks. I have not the skill in wordcraft as were I an elf. Dismay? Distress? Dis-oh, I cannot find the word, plague take it! But you were much hurt by those blackhearts, and that your friends sorrowed to see. And you are now much better, and we are glad."

"Thank you, Master Balkon," said Paks. She did not understand what he was talking about, exactly, but his kindness was welcome.

"I wanted to ask you-if it will not be too great a sorrow to speak of it-what those rockfilth used on your injuries."

Paks stared at him. "Rockfilth?"

"They corrupt the very stone, good stone, by living in its heart. Those blackheart elf cousins, I mean, who took you."

"Took me?" Paks shook her head, as a sudden chill ran over her. "I have no memory of such a thing, Master Balkon."

"Ah. Magicks, then." The dwarf muttered rapidly in dwarvish; Paks caught only one or two words. He stopped abruptly and looked sharply at her. "You remember none of it at all?"

"None of what?" Paks began to feel a p.r.i.c.kling irritation. Everyone else knew something about her, but wouldn't tell what it was. It was unfair. She glared at the dwarf.

"Tech! Be still. That Lord Amberion, your paladin, and the Marshal Fallis, they will not have you told too much, for seeing what you shall remember in time. Do you make noise, they will come to see what we speak."

"Will you tell me?" asked Paks with rising excitement.

The dwarf smiled, a sly sideways smile. "And should I say what such men of power want not to be said? I am no prince or lord to rank myself above them. But they did not say to me what not to say-it is a point on which it is possible to differ. So-" he looked at her again. "I will say what I think should be said, as it would be done in the House of Goldenaxe."

436.

Paks forced herself to lie still, remembering this much about dwarves, that they cannot be hurried in the telling of anything. The dwarf pulled out his curved pipe, packed it, lit it, and drew a long breath. He blew three smoke rings.

"Very well, then," he said, as if he had not paused. "You were taken by those blackheart worshippers of Achrya," he spat after saying that name, "such as elves like Ardhiel do not like to admit exist and are of elvish origin-despite having their own word for them. That was when they attacked our camp, the second night in this canyon, and they carried you away down their lairs, under that cliff yonder-" he jerked his head to indicate the cliff across the stream. "And there they held you, some days. We know not what befell you in that dark place, save the marks you carry. Dire wounds enough, they must have been, to deal such marks. We had some trouble to follow your path and find you-do you truly remember nothing of this?"

Paks had been listening in rising horror. She stared at the cliff, the rust-red and orange rocks streaked with black, and shook her head. "I don't-don't remember. Yet-^as you talk-something comes back. Like-like seeing a valley from a hill, faraway and hazy."

'That will be the magicks, I don't doubt, or the knocks on your head that left such lumps. Well, then, when we found you, that was a strange thing too. We had fought several times in the dark ways, and came to another band of the enemy. None of us knew what was that black warrior so tall behind the others, all in black armor. You- but we didn't know then it was you-were killing them, the ones we faced, and when they parted seemed like to kill us too. Then-" he paused to puff on his pipe and blow more rings. Paks waited impatiently, a feeling of pressure swelling her head. "Then, Lady Paksenarrion, you were still, all at once, sword arm so above your head. Very strange. Very strange indeed. Lord Amberion and Marshal Fallis went to look-being careful, too, for any treachery. Then they lifted the visor of the helmet-and a nasty, evil thing that was, that I could sense from where I .

437.

stood-and there was your face behind it, pale as cheese, and your eyes seeing nothing. All that bad armor was magicks-enchanted-your paladin and Marshal had their way with Gird. It split, finally, lying around you like a beetle's wingcases, then it shrivelled and was gone. But that wasn't all. Around your neck-"

"Master Balkon!" Neither Paks nor Balkon had noticed Amberion's approach. He looked more than a little displeased. "Is this well done, to tax her beyond her knowledge?"

"Tax her? I but tell her what things are lost to her."

"But you knew we thought it wise to tell her nothing."

"That you thought it wise, yes-but you never forbade such telling to me. And of the ill-doing of elves and their kindred we dwarves have more knowledge than those the elves would make their allies. To my wisdom it seems right that she should not be left to anxious wondering."

Paks felt a wave of irritation that they would talk over and about her as if she were not there. "I asked him, Sir Amberion, as I asked you. And he chose to think me whole-witted enough to answer me as one fighter to another, not as if I were a witless child." She surprised even herself with the bitterness in her voice.

Amberion looked at her, brows raised. "Surely, Paks, you realize that we do not think you a child-you, of all people. We were concerned that if we told you what we knew, you might never again regain your own memories, which must include much that we cannot know. Have you so forgotten the Fellowship of Gird, that you mistrust a paladin this way? It must be your wounds that make you so irritable."

Paks felt herself flush at the mild reproof. "I'm sorry," she muttered, still angry. "I-I was worried." Her voice trailed away, and she looked beyond Amberion to the cliffs beyond.

"Are you in much pain?" Amberion went on.

Paks realized that she did, in fact, ache all over as if with a fever; her head throbbed. "Sir, I do ache some."

He felt her forehead, and frowned. "It may be fever- and no wonder with your wounds-yet you feel cold. Let 438.

me see what I can do." He placed a hand on either side of her head, and began to speak. Paks felt she should know the words, antic.i.p.ate the phrases, yet she could hardly concentrate enough to hear them. Her vision hazed. For a few moments the throbbing in her head merged with her aching body in one vast rhythmic pain, then it eased. As it disappeared, she knew how much pain she had felt, and wondered for an instant why she had not known it-had it been even worse, that she could accept it as normal? Her vision cleared. She felt Amberion's warm palms leave her head.

"Does that ease the pain?" he asked, Paks nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you. I had not realized how much it was." Now her outburst of a few moments before seemed unreasonable to her; she could not understand why she had said such a thing to Amberion.

"Good." Amberion sighed, and sat beside her, across from the dwarf. He looked tired. "Master Balkon, I heard but the last of what you told her. Was it just the tale of her capture and our pursuit?"

"Aye, it was, and scantly told, at that. I did not speak of the capture itself, since none of us saw it, only that she was taken. Nor did I speak of the debate when she was found missing, or-"

"Well enough," Amberion interrupted. The dwarf scowled at him. "Paks, has any of that come back to you as he was telling it?"

"It seemed, sir, almost as if something were trying to break into my head. Something I shoula know. But as I told Master Balkon, what I do recall seems faraway, dreamlike."

"That's not unusual. By Saint Gird, I wish that elf would wake!"

"By his face," said the dwarf sourly, "that one is enjoying some rare dream such as elves delight in, too rare a dream to wake for our need."

;'Elf?" asked Paks.

" Ardhiel," said Amberion. "From the emba.s.sy to Fintha-"

"Oh!" A live memory flashed into Paks's mind. "I remember him. In Fin Panir, when we-" she looked at .

439.

Amberion, then went on more slowly, with dawning comprehension. "When we planned this expedition-I remember that now. I was there. I was taking training, and then-" In her excitement, Paks tried to sit up, but could not.

"Ill get another pack for you," said Amberion. He brought a fat blanket roll, and propped her higher on it. For an instant she was dizzy, but recovered.

"I do remember,' she said eagerly. "On the caravan, and when we turned off-those canyons with the white stone high above. A black hill with a dip in the top. Is this farther down the canyon we went into, the one Master Balkon said was not as deep as it was meant to be?"

"Yes, Lady," said the dwarf. "This is the canyon choked with sand. I have not yet had the time to look, but I expect something-some rock fall, perchance-has blocked the downward end."