"Healer Dione," Gamon corrected flatly.

"Dione? I thought... We heard... " Moriko struggled to contain the anger that still colored his voice. "I didn't know," he said finally, to Dion. "But with Yrobbi dead, we... need you. We'd be honored by your presence."

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Jorg neSecton was hurt badly-that's his house there." He pointed shortly.

"You can see the corner of the roof sticking out from behind the bakery.

And Lege-he took a bad blow to the head. He's in the next hub over,

second house around the commons. Asuli's with him, I think. There are others, but they're not so badly off."

Dion nodded again, then went to her dnu and pulled her healer's pack from

her saddlebags. Moriko watched her move, noting the limp that still clung to her walk. Gamon gestured back at the street. "Get some people together.

Bury or burn your dead."

The other man eyed Gamon stonily. "I'll do it," he said, "because it has to be done, but I'd keep quiet with the others if I were you. You weren't here, and you don't have to stay to deal with what happened. We don't need your words rubbed into our ears like salt in a wound."

Gamon's expression didn't soften. "Truth in willing ears is sugar on the peach. It is the unwilling ear that needs honesty." He met the farmer's eyes steadily, as if to reinforce his message, then finally turned away. Dion went with him, her healer's pack slung over her shoulder. Tehena and Kiyun, ignoring the farmer, led the four dnu to the central commons, then made their way to the commons house, where they would wait till Dion was done.

Left behind, Moriko watched them for a long moment before turning to his mate. She eyed him warily. She could see the fury that laced his clenched

fists. When he gestured for her to go down the street and help get some others together to build the funeral pyre, she moved with alacrity to do it. When Gamon and Dion reached the first wounded man's house, Gamon knocked on the door. They could hear a child crying inside, then quick footsteps, and the door opened. The woman who answered looked pale and worn. "Yes? What do you want?'

"There's a healer here," Gamon said shortly. "She'll see to your mate if you wish it." Dion pushed back her warcap so that her healer's band was visible. There was no mistaking the intricate silver patterns and blue-stone inlay of its simple circlet, and when the woman saw it, her face cleared. "Oh, may the moons bless you," she cried in relief. "It was too much to hope that a healer would come in time. Asuli-our intern-has done what she can, of course, but Jorg was hurt badly-very badly this time. This way, Healer. Come in. I'm Cheria. Jorg, that's my mate, he took a cut on his thigh, and one on his ribs-I don't think that's too serious-and he's had a knock on the head, but it's the cut in his thigh that worries me. I nearly fainted when I saw all that blood-" She stopped abruptly as Hishn padded inside. She caught the violet of Dion's eyes. "Healer... Dione?" she asked. "The wolfwalker?"

Dion nodded briefly. The taller woman made the sign of the moonsblessing, then moved quickly to a curtained doorway. She pulled the fabric aside. "Our intern, Asuli, stitched him up and put the salves on, but we didn't know what else to do. I'm just trying to keep clean bandages on him. I'm afraid-" Her voice broke off as she caught sight of her daughter's face peeking around the corner of the hall. She lowered her voice. "He's so pale, Wolfwalker. And the swelling-his skin is so tight on his legs... "

Dion moved to the bedside and sat by the man who lay against the dark blanket. She felt his head and checked his eyes, then took a pulse. As she ran her hands over the man's body, lightly feeling the wounds within, Hishn

came and sat beside her. The gray wolf sniffed the unconscious man, then looked at Dion. His blood is slow in his veins, the wolf sent.Dion nodded absently. "His blood leaks from inside.""Wait in the next room," Gamon said to Cheria.The woman hesitated, then ducked through the blanket as if afraid to watch Dion work. "Lori," they heard her say to her child. "Go on down to Perix's house for me. I need that basket of thread she keeps upstairs."

"Can you do it?" Gamon asked quietly.

"It's not as bad as she thinks."

"But?"

"He is bleeding to death, slowly, from the inside. He'll be dead by dusk if we don't do something now."

"Dion, you are strong enough to do this now?"

Dion's face shuttered like the houses outside.

"Doesn't matter if you are, eh? You'll do it anyway."

"It's my stubborn streak," she told him.

"I hadn't noticed," he said sourly. "Do you need anything?"

"Just silence." She sighed at his expression. "I can do this, Gamon. It will

be a simple healing, and I've done almost nothing for ninans except treat

some of the wolves for fever."

"I thought you usually only treated parasites and gashes in the Gray Ones."

"It hasn't been a good year for them either."

The older man frowned slowly. "Dion, while you were still... recovering,

Gray Yoshi killed one of his own yearlings. Did it right in front of Aranur and me. Aranur said the yearling had to be sick. Was there fever in Hishn's pack?"

His voice broke off as Cheria moved in the next room, and Dion shook her head, nodding meaningfully at the curtained doorway.

Gamon nodded, but his eyes were watchful as she began to work.

She fell silent then. As if in a trance, she and the wolf sat unmoving, unblinking, almost as if they no longer breathed. Dion's hands hovered over the man's leg, not quite touching the stitched gash. Minutes passed. A shadow crept into Dion's blank face like a slow change of seasons, and Gamon could see where her hands were no longer steady as she held them out. "Get out of there, Dion," he breathed, watching the pull of physical weariness fight the needs of the mental healing. "Gray One," he said sharply. "Pull her out!"

As though Hishn heard him, she growled sharply. Dion started, blinked, and focused again. Gamon helped her to stand, and Hishn gave him a baleful look, but he nudged the wolf back with his boot. "Go on, you gray-eared mutt," he said. "The day your wolfwalker can't heal a simple gash is the day I hang up my own sword and retire." He ran his hand through his graying hair. "And all nine moons know I'm too young to retire, council seat or not."

Dion snorted. "If that's what it will take to get you off the council, I should fumble a healing deliberately. All nine moons know that the other elders would appreciate it."

Gamon grinned without humor. "Ah, yes, but guess who I'd recommend for

my replacement?"

"Don't even thing about it," she warned sourly. "There's not a chance in all nine hells that I'd bind myself to a council even more than I already am."

"Kiyun served his term. Tehena served hers, though she fought it like the plague. I've served two terms already to make up for the decades I avoided it. What makes you think you can escape your fate for so long?"

"The wolves, Gamon. They'd never let me step into such danger."

"Hah. I think they thrive on it."

But she didn't smile, and Gamon studied her for a moment before handing

her her cloak. "You want to look at the others now?" he said finally.

She nodded. She pushed the blanket aside and ducked through. Instantly, Cheria got to her feet. "How is he? Will he be all right? Asuli said-"

"He will be all right," Dion told her. "Your intern did a good job with the

stitching and herbs. She should be able to do the rest from here on out."

The woman's worn shoulders hunched slightly, but she forced herself to ask, "Will he... walk again?"

"It will be a while, but yes, he will walk again."

The woman sank down on the chair. For a moment she merely sat, looking

blankly at the rug. Then she sprang to her feet and hugged Dion fiercely.

Hishn, beside Dion, snarled, and Cheria didn't notice, but she did feel the

ridges of scar and gouged flesh on Dion's shoulders. Abruptly, she stiffened. "Healer, you- I'm so sorry-I forgot. We'd heard... " She stepped back abruptly. "You're so thin," she said finally, briskly. "You need food." She bustled to the kitchen.

Gamon watched the woman with a grin. "The ubiquitous stew, I imagine."

Dion shrugged.

"Better watch out," he warned. "You might start to like it."

Dion raised her eyebrow, but Gamon's sharp eyes noted the almost

imperceptible stretch of her lips. It was not a smile, but it was a lighter seriousness. He felt a tension release from his own shoulders. "Come," he said. "You have another house call to make."

Cheria hurried out of her kitchen then. "Where are you going? Healer, I'll just be a moment. It's small enough thanks to feed you supper for what you've done for my Jorg."

"Later," Gamon called back.

Outside, the village felt hostile and closed. The gray sky seemed to press down on the summer heat so that thought itself was stifled. A small party of men and women were building a funeral pyre off to the side of one hub of houses, and Dion and Gamon heard the curses clearly as they dragged the

raider bodies up. The two crossed the streets in silence, as if their own voices were themselves oppressed.

The door to the other wounded man's home opened before they reached the