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pushing in close with his hand on his dagger. His breath was foul upon my face, his expression feral. There was nothing to say, and so I said nothing. I heard his knife whisper from its sheath and I tensed myself for the lunge.
    Suddenly his head jerked, and I heard a soft thud and the crack of split bone. I blinked in amazement, for an arrow had sprouted from his temple. He stood for a moment, then I heard his knife drop to the snow; his hand slowly moved up to touch the long shaft jutting from the side of his head. His mouth opened, but no words came, then he sagged against me and slid to the ground with blood seeping from his shattered skull.
    The other two men stood transfixed.
    And Jarek Mace appeared from behind a screen of bushes, walking forward to the fire with his bow looped over his shoulder. Ignoring the corpse, he approached the two men. ‘Good morning,’ he said, his voice smooth, his smile in place. ‘It is cold, to be sure.’
    In that moment everything changed. The two robbers, who had looked so threatening and tough, appeared suddenly to have lost their power. I looked hard at them, but could see only unwashed peasants, confused and uncertain. What strength they had had was gone from them, their power leached away. They were wolves no longer.
    ‘I think,’ said Jarek Mace, ‘it is time for you to move on. You agree?’
    They nodded, but said nothing. ‘Good,’ Mace told them. ‘Very good. Leave your bows behind, and take the body with you.’
    Dumbly they dropped their bows to the ground, then walked slowly to where I stood. They did not look at me, but hauled the corpse upright and half-carried, half-dragged it away.
    Within moments the little clearing was bare, and apart from the dropped bows and the blood by my feet there was no sign of the intruders.
    ‘Thank you,’ I managed to say.
    ‘You are most welcome,’ said Mace, ‘but it was nothing.’
    ‘You saved my life. He would have killed me.’
    ‘Yes. Now for the breakfast I promised you.’
    ‘Breakfast? Shouldn’t we be gone from here? They might come back with others.’
    ‘They won’t come back, bard,’ he assured me.
    ‘How can you be certain?’
    ‘They don’t want to die.’ Standing, he strolled back to the bushes, returning with a small deer slung across his broad shoulders. Thankfully he had already gutted and prepared it, but even then I could not tear my eyes from the deer’s delicate features. I have no aversion to eating venison, but I prefer it skinned and boned. It does my digestion no good at all to see the meat in its original form - and it is hard to appreciate food when its owner’s head lies close to your fire.
    Even so the meat was good and Jarek cut the remaining portions and wrapped them in the hide for later use.
    ‘Well, what are your plans?’ he asked me as we finished our breakfast.
    I shrugged. ‘I was told there was a village some six miles to the north. I intend to walk there and try to earn my supper.’
    ‘And then?’
    ‘I have thought no further on the subject. I would have starved in Ziraccu had I stayed much longer. Perhaps I will try for the ports and seek passage south.’
    He nodded. ‘That’s good thinking. No one in their right mind would want to stay in this war-torn land. Is your power returned yet? I’m getting cold.’
    ‘No,’ I lied, basking in magick warmth. ‘Not for another hour-maybe two.’
    ‘Then let us be moving,’ he grunted, pushing himself to his feet and swinging the hide sack to his shoulder. Taking up my harp-bag, I walked alongside him.
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘To the village you spoke of. I have friends there.’
    I said nothing more and trudged silently behind him down the narrow trails through the trees. After a while we heard voices and laughter and emerged into a clearing beside the forest road.
    It was a scene of murder and pillage. A score or more of rough-garbed woodsmen were moving among the bodies of the slain, ripping away rings and