"Stay behind me!" Rodian shouted at her. He swung, aiming for the black figure's wrist just above the clutched folio.

Too much happened at once.

The black figure swung its free hand and latched it solidly around Ecgbryht's throat. Rodian's blade passed through the figure's wrist with no resistance, and its tip clanged off a street stone.

Garrogh bolted out of the shop's front door with two guards, Lúcan and Taméne, running behind him… just as Ruben charged the figure, trying to force it off Ecgbryht.

The second killer upon the sill, sword in one hand, reached out and grabbed the folio.

All this passed by the time Rodian righted his sword.

Locked in the figure's grip, Ecgbryht drew short, rapid breaths. His features twisted and paled. The robed one released him, and he crumpled instantly. It tried to pull the folio back, and the second killer slipped off the sill to the street. Garrogh closed on the other would-be thief clinging to his end of the folio.

"Get back!" Rodian shouted at his men. "It's a mage!"

The robed one turned its hood toward Wynn.

"No!" the other thief hissed. "You will leave her alone!"

He jerked hard on the folio, and Rodian faltered.

The two caught in his trap were at odds, but not just over the folio. Another conflict existed between them over the journeyor. Rodian set himself against either coming at Wynn.

And then a snarl trailed into a howl somewhere in the open street. He heard rapid claws on cobblestone and had to turn his head.

A tall, dark-coated dog charged along buildings in the thicker shadows beneath their eaves. Or was it a wolf?

Rodian thought he saw a streetlight catch upon its eyes, which glittered like pale blue gems.

Wynn barely spotted Chane before Rodian stepped in her way. All she saw around the captain was the robed figure. When she stared into its hood, the pitch-black within it seemed to bleed over everything in her sight. She couldn't look at anything else.

Then she heard a distant snarl.

It seemed so far away, but so did every other noise around her. Then it trailed into a familiar wailing howl. She'd heard it so many times she knew it like the voice of an old friend in her head.

Chap was here, and he was hunting!

She wasn't mad, delusional, like everyone whispered. This thing killing her people was an undead. No other reason would cause Chap to howl like that.

For an instant his face rose in her thoughts—fur so silver it might tint blue in moonlight, and eyes like crystals catching an afternoon sky.

A hissing shriek rang in her ears as she heard claws scrabbling on cobblestones. Another deep snarl sounded as a dark gray form rushed past her. It spun and circled before her on four long legs ending in large paws, and its head swung briefly toward her.

Wynn saw the outline of tall peaked ears over a long muzzle—and pale blue eyes gazed at her. Then the dog wheeled, facing the robed undead beyond the captain. She reached out, screaming his name.

"Chap!"

Rodian sucked a breath. He'd lost all control here. Everything splintered into chaos.

Garrogh grabbed the pal [rabplie-faced man by his cloak, jerking him back. The man lost his grip on the folio but ducked around the lieutenant and took a swing. His fist landed hard, and Garrogh twisted away under the impact, slamming against the shop's front.

"Don't let him escape!" Rodian shouted.

Lúcan rushed the pale man, while Ruben swung his sword at the robed figure's back.

A hissing shriek broke over the noise and shouts.

Rodian lurched sideways as the robed figure recoiled. Only then did Ruben's sword connect and pass straight through, not even ruffling robe or cloak. The figure's hood remained fixed on Wynn somewhere behind Rodian. He glanced back.

Her eyes were wide yet vacant as she stared up and beyond Rodian, as if locking her gaze with whoever hid inside the robe's large cowl.

And the wolf rushed in between him and Wynn.

Rodian instinctively turned his sword point toward the animal, but it didn't go for the sage. It circled her quickly, coming around between her and everyone else. Its charcoal fur was nearly as dark as the robed thief, but strange shimmers showed wherever muscles rolled beneath its coat. It was taller than any wolf that Rodian had seen, and its eyes scintillated blue in the dark.

The animal glanced once at Wynn and then rushed at Rodian, snapping its jaws.

Rodian lunged aside, raising his sword.

"Chap!"

He flinched at Wynn's voice and saw her reaching out after the wolf, and the animal raced by him. Jaws clacking beneath snarls, it went straight for the robed figure.

The murderous, faceless mage cowered back—and then bolted, folio still clutched in its hand. Ruben was behind it, and Taméne was the only guard still standing in its path. The figure struck him across the face. Rodian heard bones crack as Taméne went down limp and flopping.

And the wolf ran after the figure. An eerie baying rose in its wake.

Rodian was stunned. But Ruben and Lúcan both instantly spread wide to either side, boxing the pale man against the shop's front. Garrogh climbed to his feet, blinking as he shook his head once. The lieutenant spun about and lifted his sword.

Rodian regained his wits, pointing at the pale man. "Put him down, if you have to," he barked at Ruben and Lúcan. "But don't let him get away."

With a quick wave for Garrogh to follow, Rodian rushed after the fading howls of the wolf.

Chane locked eyes on Wynn, but she did not look at him. She looked down the way, where the officer had vanished.

"Chap?" she whispered weakly.

She teetered around, and at the sight of him, Chane heard breath rush between her clenched teeth. The fear in her eyes was nothing co [wased mpared to the hate that followed, spreading quickly over her face.

He had fallen so far from what she had once thought of him.

He had given her up that night in the ice-bound castle. With all the time that had passed, it should not still hurt this much. But after all she had been through, and seeing him in Welstiel's company, what else could he expect from her now?

"Drop your weapon!" one guard barked.

Chane let the sword sag in his hand and could not take his gaze from Wynn's hate-filled brown eyes.

Wynn's head ached. She had to find Chap, but here was Chane, staring at her. How could his gaze hold even a hint of remorse after all he had done?

"Drop your weapon!" one guardsman ordered.

Chane sagged, but he never looked at the pair of guardsmen ringing him in. He looked only at her, eyelids drooping, and his sword tip dipped toward the paving stones.

And Wynn faltered.

Three city guards lay in the street, the first still staring up at the night sky with a mangled hole in his chest. Chane hadn't done that, and something else had come for the folio as well.

"I said drop it!" the guard shouted again.

Wynn looked from the dead man to Chane. His eyes were fully open again as he studied that same lifeless body.

The guards inched in on him, yet he neither released nor raised his sword. He turned his eyes on her, nearly colorless in the dark, and slowly shook his head.

"Not me," he rasped.

He spoke in Numanese, her language. How had he learned it so quickly? When his gaze returned briefly to the mangled body, it suddenly hardened. He shook his head again.

"It was not me!" he snapped hoarsely.

"Shut your mouth and do as you're told!" the second guard demanded.

Doubt crept in upon Wynn.

She knew nothing of how he was involved here, but she might never learn if he were arrested. Not that two living men had a fair chance of containing an armed undead. There was only an impulse to guide her.