"I'm not a miser," she said, though he'd made no such claim. "That was robbery. " She wrapped her hands around his leg beneath the blanket.

Wynn sat cross-legged on Leesil's other side. The young sage looked physically healthier for two nights indoors and eating Bieja's lentil stew. Her mood was another matter, though she wasn't half as withdrawn as Chap. The talking hide was laid out before him, but Chap showed little interest in conversation. After days on that troublesome pony, the barge's flat deck was such a relief to Leesil's backside that he didn't care. There was little reason to think Chap would be any less secretive than always.

And Leesil's mother waited-or so he hoped.

This urgent desire made him understand Magiere's desperation to discover her past even more. It also made him anxious to head north and trace what had happened to Nein'a. But the better part of him would still leave no stone unturned for Magiere's sake, and so they continued east, deeper into Droevinka.

Clear roads paralleled both riverbanks, and a stout oxen team on the south bank pulled them at a steady pace until dusk. Although they'd planned to sleep aboard the barge, at nightfall the vessel docked at another waterside settlement large enough to be a small town.

The trees nearby were too faded for this wet land, lacking the typical dark green, yet full winter was still a ways off. Between the clusters of huts spreading along the river to both sides of the landing, taller wooden buildings stuck up at the village's center and near the river. Along the road out the town's west end was a stable with a smithy. Just shy of this was one large, well-lit building.

"Is that an inn or common house?" Leesil asked one bargemen, and then he added to Wynn. "Perhaps we don't have to sleep outside again."

Wynn sat up expectantly and chattered to Chap in Elvish. The young bargeman looked at Leesil hesitantly.

"This is Pudurlatsat, a regular stop," he replied. "It's a strange place. Townsfolk will bring out any cargo in the morning."

"What do mean by strange?" Magiere asked. "If there's trade here, we should try to resupply."

The bargeman shook his head with a shrug. "Suit yourself, but this place is too dull for my taste, even when we land at midday."

Leesil raised an eyebrow, looking to both Magiere and Wynn.

"I prefer to sleep inside if possible," Wynn answered.

Magiere folded the blanket and picked up her falchion. "We'll see what they have to offer. There wasn't an opportunity to gather stores while we stayed with my aunt."

Leesil strapped on his punching blades and fastened his cloak so the weapons wouldn't attract attention. He didn't expect to need them, but the past few days had him on edge. He looked the place over as they walked up the dock and toward the sloping path to town.

Street lighting was scant as they approached the center of town. Oil pots hung from tripods at the four corners, where the dock path crossed the main road running through town. Wynn was a step ahead of Leesil, cold lamp crystal in hand to the light their way.

Chap growled softly and moved out ahead of her.

A tall wolfhound limped around the corner to peer at them from beside a tripod lamp. It didn't growl in return.

Leesil saw the animal's gaunt build and dull eyes coated in a film of age. He stepped up next to Chap, ready to grab the dog. Chap reacted to other canines in varied ways, sometimes friendly and at other times attacking without warning. Leesil never knew what to expect. Chap sniffed toward the newcomer and offered a soft whine.

"I think we should go back to the barge," Wynn said.

A trickle of fatigue washed over Leesil. He couldn't fathom why, and shrugged it off as he stepped onward past the wolfhound. "Let's at least check for an inn."

Once in the town's midway, Leesil made out signs above one shop for a leatherworker and another for a woodwright. There were a few people about, closing up for the day and going off to their homes or elsewhere. Most appeared to be old or middle-aged, moving slowly with a tired gait. He was about to head for the well-lit building they'd seen upon docking, when he realized Magiere was no longer beside him. She'd stepped beyond the intersection and stood looking down the main road the other way.

"What?" he asked, joining her, then noticed her worried expression.

"I'm… it's nothing," she answered. "It's a bit dreary compared to Miiska."

"You figure that out all by yourself?" he chided. "What tipped you off?"

She didn't even snap at him. As she turned around to head up the road, Leesil sighed and followed, waving Wynn on ahead of him.

Several villagers paused as they passed, but no one gave them much notice. The most distinct expression Leesil caught was a weary curiosity from a man with a burlap sack over his shoulder. He looked back once, for the man moved too slowly for his age, as if walking were an effort. The villager trudged along with his head down. The buildings around them gave way to small huts and cottages, and ahead Leesil caught the charred scent of the smithy.

"What can we do for you?" a voiced called from his left.

Leesil slipped his hand down to one blade strapped on his thigh. Magiere turned toward the voice as Chap circled back.

From a side path stepped a short, compact man in a leather hauberk wearing a sword sheathed on his hip. In the glow of Wynn's crystal, his eyes were light brown and alert, but his sand-colored hair showed hints of gray. Beside him was a petite young woman so pretty that Leesil blinked.

She resembled the man in coloring, but where his short hair was dull and lank, hers hung in a wheat-gold wave to the small of her back. Her eyes, round and large above a tiny nose, were nearly gold in the crystal's light. Her dress was the color of a sunflower, less drab and dingy than that of the other townsfolk.

"We're passing through on a barge," Magiere said, "and hoped to sleep indoors tonight, if you have an inn."

The man didn't answer at first, gaze dropping to her sword sheath peeking from beneath her cloak. "I am Geza, captain of my lord's guard," he said. "This is my daughter, Elena. The inn closed up a while ago, but there's the old common house."

He pointed to the well-lit building Leesil was steering them toward.

"The inn closed?" Leesil asked. "On a main route to the capital?"

"The proprietor passed away with no one left to take over," Geza answered.

Elena took a step closer, staring at Magiere's sword, as well as her bone amulet. She smiled at Wynn and Leesil.

"You are welcome," she said. "Father and I live near the manor, though I often come down with him on his rounds. I will help you settle in the common house, if you like. It's seldom used but for our own gatherings. Bring your dog, and I'll find supper for you."

"We can pay," Magiere answered.

"Of course," Elena replied.

She led them onward, and Geza followed behind, surveying all they passed along the way. There were fewer folk about and far more homes with scant light slipping through shutter cracks. Chap paused once along the way, head up and ears perked.

Beside a wide lumber cottage with a split shake roof was a small pen, its fencing made of scavenged branches bound by grass twine. The three thin goats within the enclosure made no sound, not even shuffling nervously at Chap's presence. Leesil noticed that the tall wolfhound was still following behind Chap at Geza's side.

"This is Shade," the captain said, and passed by to open the common house door. "She's a good dog, a fine hunter."

Leesil patted Shade's head, and the wolfhound wandered into the common house ahead of everyone. Wynn followed with Chap, but Leesil turned around. The road back through town was empty. The bargeman had called this place dull. A severe statement coming from one who lived in this land.