His voice was music. I sat entranced as he spoke to Mast. I didn’t hear a word he said but just basked in the melody of his speech.

  “Well, girl?” Mast was growling at me.

  “Well, what?”

  He huffed in exasperation. “Can you heal the child?”

  “Ah,” I stalled, “I’ll have to see. Him. In person.” I was stammering like an idiot. I looked at the elf’s ears. Goddess—they really were pointed. What would it feel to run my palm over one?

  I shook myself. I really had to focus.

  “Well, go.” Mast pointed at the table. “Paperwork isn’t going to do itself.”

  The elf turned on his heel and headed out the door. He walked with easy stride, back straight, a curved blade sheathed at his left hip. I followed on his heels, trying not to stare. We headed across the beaten earth of the campsite towards a cluster of battered wagons, painted green and amber. As we approached, I saw more elves: children sitting quietly around a women reading from a book; and a cluster of men fletching arrows. None greeted us.

  “I’m Circe,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “None of your concern,” he said. He motioned me into a wagon near the edge of the group. The light inside was dim, and I made out the shape of a woman sitting at a bedside. On the mattress lay a young boy. His leg was bound in crude dressings, stained with yellow. I could smell an acrid and unpleasant odour that permeated the room. His forehead was beaded in sweat, and he moved restlessly.

  The woman looked up at us. Her eyes were bereft of hope. She looked me up and down and spoke to my guide.

  “Why have you brought her here?” she asked.

  I realized that they were not speaking Tariba. With a startling lack of originality, I dubbed the new language Elvish.

  “The rude caravan master says she may be able to heal,” he said. “So, he sent her here.”

  “Nonsense.” She blinked back tears. “Are we children’s toys to him?”

  “Hello—” I said, “—I’m standing right here. And yes, I am a Healer.”

  They stared at me in shock. The woman was the first to recover.

  “You speak Lyona.”

  So much for ‘Elvish’. Oh, well.

  “Apparently,” I said. “Please, can I look at the child? I cannot promise I will help him, but I do promise not to cause harm.”

  She held my gaze for a long moment and then nodded and stepped back. I sat down in her place. Up close, the stench from the wound was worse. I could feel heat radiating off the leg.

  “I need these dressings off,” I said.

  She shook her head. “They are not for changing until this evening.”

  I looked at the stains. “I’d say it’s past time. Please.”

  She paused. “Very well.” We unwrapped the bandages together. The boy whimpered and stirred on his bed. I looked at the man.” Open the window, please. I need better light.”

  In the rays of the sun the injury was revealed. The leg bore three deep incisions, two down to the bone. The tissue around was inflamed and leaking pus. Streaks of red ran up to the groin.

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “He and his friends were attacked by two theranaq,” she said. “He survived. His friends did not.”

  “Ah,” I said, “Well, for what it’s worth, the theranaq are no longer a problem.” I considered the wound and surrounding infection. “I think it’s worth trying to heal this.”

  “What happened to the theranaq?” asked the man.

  “I killed them,” I said absently. “I need silence so I can concentrate, please.”

  I focused hard and spun out a healing spell. The wound encompassed most of the lower leg, and the infection involved the entire limb. The green fibres purled out of my hands, spread over the incisions, and wrapped around the leg from ankle to groin. I fed in mana slowly and deliberately. The swelling began to resolve, and the redness faded. Then the wounds began to close from their depths to the surface. Lastly, the skin regenerated, covering the remnants of the damaged tissue.

  The boy opened his eyes and blinked in confusion.

  “Mother,” he said, “I’m thirsty.” He looked at me. “Who are you?”

  “Circe,” I said. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Ryanth,” he said.

  I looked at his mother.

  “Raina.” She bowed her head. “Lady Circe, I am in your debt.” The words had a palpable weight.

  I shook my head. “Some things are their own reward, Raina. There is no debt between us.” I stood up to stretch, then looked at the man.

  “Well,” I said, “who else here needs healing?”

  A fractured clavicle in a 14-year-old boy. Two minor lacerations. And a bladder infection in a new mother.

  I was done in less than two treks. Spell repetition seemed to be paying off.

  Except when it counted, I thought. The image of Rory lying on the floor haunted me.

  “Lady Circe?” It was the elf speaking to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “What did you say?”

  “Have you overextended yourself?”

  “Eh?” I frowned at him. “Oh, you mean my mana. No, I’m fine, thanks. I apologize for being distracted.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  We were standing under a shade tree. I noted that his eyes seemed to change color with the light. In the glow of the yellow sun, they shone hazel, while in the dimness of the wagon, they had been grey-blue. How curious. Around his neck hung a small green oval pendant, embossed with an outline of a winged creature.

  He licked his lips. “Aelyn.”

  “Sorry?”

  “My name is Aelyn. I apologize for my earlier rudeness—” he ground to a halt.

  “No offence taken. Aelyn—” I sampled the name, “—is much easier to say than ‘Lord None of Your Concern’.”

  The tips of his ears turned pink. It was adorable.

  “Perhaps we should speak with Mast again, my Lady.”

  “Just Circe, please,” I said.

  I could hear raised voices from Mast’s wagon. When we entered, he was still seated behind his desk. Facing him was a middle-aged woman, whose face was flushed with anger. Behind her stood a man wearing a harness from which hung a sword and dagger. His gaze flickered to Aelyn.

  “You had no right,” she said to Mast, “I am the senior Mage of this caravan.”

  “And I am its master.” Mast was unperturbed. He turned his gaze on us. “Well, elf?”

  “She heals,” said Aelyn.

  The woman glared at me. “Who are you?”

  “Circe,” I said. “And you are?”

  “You, girl—” she stabbed a finger at me, “—are not to engage in any magic without my permission and supervision. Is. That. Understood?”

  “By no means,” I said. “I have no idea who you are, why you think you command me, and why on Nah’Nua you would prevent me from healing a sick child.”

  “I am Katrina. I command the Mages of this caravan. As such, you answer to me. I do not even know that you are a Mage. What gives you the right to practice sorcery here?”

  “There was a sick boy in the Elven wagons,” I said. “So far as I could see, no Mage was tending to him. I did what was necessary. No more, no less.”

  “You are a fool. For all we know, you may have made him worse.”

  “I saw his wounds heal with my own eyes,” said Aelyn.

  “As if you could evaluate sorcery,” spat Katrina.

  I glanced out the window. “Well,” I said, “You can judge for yourself, then. Because I can see him running around with his friends now.”

  Mast rose to his feet and rested his elbows on the window ledge. “Good job,” he said. He looked at Katrina. “She stays. Reports to me.”

  Her face twisted in anger. “She does not.” She motioned to the other man. “Bring her along, Randol.”

  Randol took one step towards me and halted. The point of Aelyn’s blade rested in the hollow of his throat, slightly indenting the skin. I had not seen the draw, or the movement of the sword. As I watched, a single drop of blood slid down Randol’s neck.

  “Found yourself a Blade, did you?” said Mast to me. He fixed Katrina with a flat stare. “Out.”

  Her face was very white. She sidled past us to the door. Aelyn pulled his blade back slightly and jerked his head. Randol followed her.

  “We leave in the morning,” said Mast.

  We left the wagon.

  Raina met us in the Elven encampment. She looked at me carefully and shook her head.

  “This won’t do at all,” she said. “You need a bath. And something clean to wear.” She jerked her head at Aelyn. “Go and bother someone else.”

  One of the tents had been set up as a bathhouse. Women and children were pouring buckets of water into an enormous copper tub; others were piling firewood underneath.

  “This will take some time to heat,” said Raina. “In the meantime, we can see about a dress.”

  “Actually,” I said, “I think I may be able to help with that.”

  “I’ll wait to the end,” I said.

  “You are a guest,” said Raina. “You will bathe now.”

  “Well, you know—”, I said. I waved my hand at my crotch.

  “Pfft.” She pulled a clump of what seemed to be moss from a nearby container. “This will absorb any blood. Where are you in your cycle?”

  “Well,” I said, “I’ve sort of lost track. Halfway through?”

  “Good. What are using to catch the blood?”

  I wordlessly showed her my remaining pads. She snorted in disgust.

  “These are worse than useless. Where did you get these from? Here.” She pulled open a small bundle. “These are much better. Moss from spangram trees, wrapped in larba leaves. Very absorbent, very soft, very clean.” She threw my old pads in a barrel.

  “Goddess,” I thought, “you had better not be enjoying this. Because I’m not.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Bath.” She pointed at the tub.

  Bathing seemed to be a social activity for Elves. I relaxed and allowed the conversation to flow around me. One of the women turned to me.

  “I am Alea,” she said. “You speak excellent Lyona; your accent is of the court. Where did you learn our tongue?”

  “I’m good with languages,” I said, “You could say it’s a gift from my Goddess.”

  “Oh, how lucky,” she said. She concentrated for a moment, tongue stuck out between her lips. “How about: ‘Karach-tal. Se tellach-le?’”

  “Se tellach-la,” I corrected her. “You’re addressing a woman.”

  “Of course.” She shook head. “I’ve known very few orcs, so I have little chance to practice.”

  “Well,” I said, “I can’t say I’ve met any more than you.”

  Raina was waiting with fresh clothes when I reluctantly climbed out of the tub. I towelled off briefly and picked up the undergarments. The loincloth and breast band felt like silk compared to my old pair. She passed me a dress; I slipped it over my head, and it clung to my body like a second skin. The color was a rich green that shimmered in the late afternoon light. Flecks of gold decorated the sleeves and front. The arms terminated slightly above the wrists and flared out into cuffs.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I said, “How much will all this cost me?”

  “How much do we owe you for healing our children?” She smiled. “And don’t you want to look your best for Aelyn?”

  “I barely know him.”

  “We’ve all seen the way he looks at you.” I blushed, and she laughed. “And the way you gaze at him.”

  “Oh, Goddess.” I hung my head. “Am I so obvious?”

  She placed a pair of sandals at my feet. “Come. It’s time for dinner.”

  I was seated beside Aelyn. Because of course I was.

  He was close enough that I could smell him; a warm, earthy odor that was reminiscent of a garden after an early spring rainfall. When he reached out to pick up a dish, or place a piece of food on my plate, his shoulder would brush mine. We were speaking Lyona.

  “You say that you killed both theranaq.” he said. “How?”

  I loved hearing his voice. I stared at him for a few tocks before I realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “Well,” I said. “A bit by accident.” I spun him the same tale that I’d told Mast.

  “Ah,” he sipped from a wineglass thoughtfully. Then: “I suspect you have elided over some of the details.”

  “Why would think that?” I asked.

  “I hunted theranaq. Once. I would not care to repeat the experience.” He examined me. “They do not make mistakes when they stalk their prey.”

  “Oh.” I considered him. “Then what do you think happened?”

  “I suspect that you can do more than heal. And thank you for the bathwater.”

  I held his gaze and tried not to fall into his eyes. Tonight, they were grey-green.

  “I am—” I searched for the right phrase, “—being sought. By some truly evil beings. As is my companion. We had to separate a few days ago. To mask our trail, I came north, and he went south. I am trying not to attract further attention.”

  He cocked his head. “Is he your Blade?”

  “By no means. We have no relationship.” Did his shoulders relax, or was I imagining things?

  “So,” he said carefully, “You have no Blade?”

  “I did.” I felt my lip begin to quiver. I clenched my fists and focused on the wall of the tent. “He was killed defending me a few days ago.”

  Aelyn said nothing. He reached over and placed his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into his side and drew in his scent.

  “I’m frightened, Aelyn,” I said. “I am tired of being hunted.”

  “By the theranaq?”

  “Oh, no.” I shook my head. “They scared me, but they were…straightforward.” I looked at him. “Have you heard about the collared?”

  “Rumors only. Each more fantastical than the last.”

  “Don’t discount what you have heard. They are like a plague that spreads itself intelligently. My Blade and my Mentor were from Chai’noch. They told me their story.”

  “And?”

  I shuddered. “Another time.”

  He nodded. “So, you need a Blade.”

  “I don’t know, Aelyn.” I felt a tear on my cheek. “I couldn’t stand to lose another.”

  His hand stroked my hair, and I closed my eyes, not caring who saw me.

  “I think,” he said, “that you forfeited that choice once I saw you care for my people.”

  Raina showed me to a wagon near the centre of the encampment. It was lit by a single candle on a low table. There was a largish bed at one end, and a sleeping pad near the door. I was puzzling out this arrangement when Aelyn entered and took off his boots, leaving them at the entrance.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “How else can I guard you?” He seemed genuinely confused.

  I sat down on the bed and looked at him.

  “I’m fine on my own, Aelyn.”

  He gestured at the bed. “You should sleep. Mast likes to leave early in the mornings.” He busied himself with the sleeping pad. Apparently, personal space was not an Elven thing.

  “Fine.” I pulled the dress over my head in a single motion and dropped it on a chair. I was definitely not watching Aelyn. I loosened the breast band, slipped it off, and then tossed the loincloth on top of the pile. I glanced over at him to see his head down as he tugged at his bedclothes.

  “Goodnight, Aelyn,” I said. I slid in between the sheets. “Put out the candle when you’re ready, OK?”

  Sleep did not come easily.