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〃Ah。 A good man； from all I've ever heard about him。 We in Tasavalta honor him； though we don't know。。。 but never mind。 I must try to do something for that cut on your forehead。〃
Kristin closed her eyes； and muttered spells； and Mark could feel a shivery tugging at the wound； a quasimaterial endeavor to pull out the knife of pain。 But then the knife came back； twisting more fiercely than before； and he cried out。
〃At least the bleeding has stopped；〃 Kristin muttered； with heartlessly reassuring calm。 〃But there's more wrong。 I can do little for you here。〃 She glanced up for a moment at the stars； evidently trying to judge her position or the time or both。 〃Have we any food？〃 No。
She began to move around； looking for something。 She was inspecting some of the nearby plants when Mark lost consciousness again。
When he awoke again it was still night。 He was shivering violently； though he alone was now wrapped twice round in the cloak of black and gold。 His head was supported gently in the warmth of Kristin's lap； and her warm magical fingers were trying to soothe his head。
But he hardly noticed any of that。 Something that seemed more momentous was happening also。 The tall circle of the gods had formed around them both。 Once before； when he was a boy in danger of freezing to death in the high Ludus Mountains； he had seen the gods； or dreamt them； surrounding him in such a way。 He tried now to call Kristin's attention to the ring of observing deities； but she was busy with her own efforts； her own spells。 She raised her head once to look； and murmured some agreement； and then went back to trying to soothe and heal him。
He could tell she was not really aware of the surrounding presences。 But he knew that they were there。 And； just as on that other night when he had seen them in a ring about his lonely fire； they were arguing about him。 Tonight what they were saying was even less clear than it had been then； nor were the faces of the gods as clearly visible tonight。
Eventually the vision passed。
Kristin's voice had a different tone now； murmuring real words； not incantations。 It sounded as if she were angry with him。 〃I am not going to let you die； do you hear me？ I will not let you die。〃 She raised her head。 〃This much I can do against you； Dark One； for what you did to me。 Damn you； I will not let you have this man！〃
And back to Mark： 〃You saved my life。。。 saved more than that。。。 and I am not going to surrender yours to them。 Poisoned wound or not； you'll live。 I promise you。〃
The night passed for him in periods of unconsciousness； in visions and intervals of lucidity； in a struggle to breathe that at last he seemed to have won。
In the morning they moved on。 There was no water where they had spent the night； and they were still unfortably close to Vilkata's army。 Now it was Mark who needed help to get aboard his riding beast； and Kristin who led his animal as they traveled； and she who chose the route； and sometimes kept him from falling out of the saddle in his weakness。 He endured the day。 He chewed on roots and berries when she put them into his mouth。 Again he experienced difficulty in breathing。 But he stayed alive； supported by his own grim will and Kristin's magic。
Another night passed； much like the one before； and another day of traveling much like the last。 After that day Mark lost count。 His whole life had vanished into this hideous trek； it seemed； and often now he no longer cared whether he lived or not。
At night； every night； his fever rose； and sometimes the gods regathered round Kristin's magical little fire to taunt him and to argue among themselves。 Each dawn Mark awoke to see them gone； and Kristin slumped beside him in an exhausted sleep。
A night came when his chills were more violent than ever。 Kristin bundled herself with him inside the cloak。 She slept； he thought； while the usual parade of deities walked through his fevered mind。 He awoke again at dawn； his mind feeling clearer； and told himself he had survived another night。
And then he got a sharp shock； jolting his mind into greater clarity。 This morning not all the deities were gone。 A woman； statuesque； magnificent； as real as any woman he had ever seen； stood across the ashes of the fire； holding in her strong right arm a Sword。
The goddess was looking down at Kristin； who was asleep sitting beside Mark； the hunting shirt half open at her breast。
〃I am Aphrodite；〃 the goddess said to Mark。 〃I was called； I had to e to you； and now I see I must do something。 How sweet； the mortal child； to give you everything。 She is restoring your life to you； and giving you her entire life as well in the process； and I hope you appreciate it。 But men never do； I suppose。〃
Mark said； 〃I understand。〃
〃Do you？ No； you don't。 You really don't。 But perhaps one day you will。〃
And the goddess approached the two of them with long unhurried steps； meanwhile raising the Sword in her right hand。 Mark； alarmed； sat bolt upright。 Before he could do more； the Sword in Aphrodite's hand was thrusting straight for Kristin's sleeping back。
The Sword in its swift passage made a sound like a gasp of human breath。 Mark saw the wide； bright steel vanish into Kristin's back and emerge quite bloodlessly between her breasts； to plunge straight on into his own heart as he sat beside her。 He cried out once； with a pang more intense than that of any wound that he had ever felt； and then he fell back dead。
But then he realized that he was only dreaming he was dead。
Actually； he thought now； he was waking up。
He was lying on his back； that much was real and certain。 And the endless pain in his head was gone at last。 It was too much trouble； his eyelids were much too heavy； to try to open his eyes to discover if he was asleep or dead。
With a sigh of contentment； knowing the inexpressible fort of pain's cessation； he shifted his position slightly； and quickly fell into a natural sleep。
When Mark awoke again； he thought that daylight was fading。 Had it really been dawn before； when the goddess and her Sword appeared？ That might have been a dream。 But this； Kristin and himself； was real。 The hunting shirt was cast aside now； but she was here； inside the cloak that enfolded both of them。
It was as if her blood flowed now in his veins； giving healing； and his blood crossed into her body too； giving and receiving life。
Into her body。 His own life flowing 。。。
It was morning again when he awoke； gently but at last pletely； at first accepting without wonder the pressure of the warm smooth body beside his own。 Then he began to remember things； and wonder rapidly unfolded。
In an instant he was sitting upright； raising both hands to his head。 He was still caked with old； dried blood and dirtier even than he remembered； and he felt thirsty and ravenously hungry； but the pain and fever were entirely gone。 Kristin； as grimy and worn…looking as he felt； but alive and safe and warm； was snuggled naked beside him in an exhausted sleep。
The sun was about an hour high。 Nearby were the ashes of a long…dead fire。 They were camped in a grove； with running water murmuring somewhere just out of sight。 Mark could not recognize the place