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speak the Common tongue,” he observed, his voice as steady as the elf s.
    “I am Elmanesse. My tribe used to trade with your people until the risks became too high. But this is not a time for the telling of old tales. Why have you come to the forest?”
    “Justice,” the man said in a grim tone.
    Foxfire blinked. On the lips of such a man, the lofty declaration seemed strangely out of place. “How so?” the elf demanded, giving his knife a little twitch to speed the man’s reply.
    “Come now,” Bunlap chided him. “Do you claim to have no knowledge of the attacks your people have made upon human caravans and settlements? The looting, the helpless people they have slain?”
    This cannot be,” the elf protested, although in truth he was not entirely certain it might not be so. The vast forest was home to several small groups, and there was little contact between them. It was entirely possible that some of the more reclusive and mysterious elven clans had decided to take up arms against the humans.
    The human leader seemed to sense the doubt in Foxfire’s voice. “I myself have done battle with wild elves,” Bunlap asserted. “I stood beside the farm folk they tried to massacre. Some of the surviving marauders
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    have been put to work, to take the place of the men they felled with their accursed black arrows!”
    “Forest People, enslaved?” the elf demanded incredulously. Even among the lawless humans of Tethyr, there were strictures against such things!
    “A life for a life,” Bunlap said coldly. “Justice comes in many forms.”
    For a moment Foxfire stood silent as he tried to assimilate the possibilities. But even if the man’s claim of elven attacks held some truth, they did not begin-to explain all the things this particular human had done. Nor could Foxfire overlook the fact that these men had come to the forest for the purpose of taking more elves as slaves, perhaps to satisfy this bizarre and illogical code of justice. Was it possible these humans actually believed that the death or enslavement of one elf could redress the grievances caused by another?
    By the sky and spirits, he swore silently, if the forest People thought that way, they would slay every human who ventured within reach of their arrows! In truth, some elves did think along these terms, and at the moment Foxfire was less inclined to disagree with them than usual.
    “My tribe will not stand by to see the People enslaved. If you come to the forest again, my warriors will be here to meet you,” Foxfire said softly. “I myself will be watching for you. I know your face, and I have seen your mark. Know me by mine.”
    The bone knife slashed up, tracing a tightly curved arch through Bunlap’s thick beard and up onto his cheek. With astonishing speed, the elf changed the direction of the cut, curving the knife down and then lifting it for another deft, curving slash. The man let out a roar of pain and rage as he clapped one hand to his bleeding face. Bringing his other arm up, he lashed back hard with his elbow.
    And met nothing but air. The elf was gone.
    “Release the dogs!” Bunlap yelled, and the mop. has—

Silver Shadows
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    tened to obey, although they suspected it would do no good. The animals dutifully put their noses down and circled and sniffed, but the wild elf had well and truly disappeared.
    The man with the elven bow pulled a wad of dirty cloth from his pack and offered it to the leader. Bunlap pressed the makeshift bandage to his cheek and glared into the silent forest.
    “Think he took the bait?” the archer ventured.
    A slow, grim smile spread across the leader’s face, made ghastly by the smears of drying blood. “I would wager on it. They will come, and we’ll be ready to greet them. But mark me: that elf is mine.”
    “I thought you wanted to stir up their war leaders, not take ‘em out!”
    Bunlap turned his cold gaze upon the archer. “My dear Vhenlar, this is no longer merely a