"Have you found anything?" he asked.

Magiere sighed. "Nothing that helps."

Wynn raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed as if holding back a retort. She turned all her attention to Leesil as she answered. "Conjurors can bind a spirit, but the body is still dead. I think Vordana's body is more a vessel for his spirit than anything. That means his body may not last. From Stefan's description, Vordana's body does not revivify like a vampire's would, but it also means taking his head may not be enough."

Leesil swallowed a mouthful of bread and leaned closer to peer over Wynn at the journals and parchment scattered before the young sage. The writing was in a language he couldn't read. On one parchment were strange diagrams and symbols, and a list with one word written in Belaskian- dhampir.

"So cutting his head off won't work?" he asked.

Strands of brown hair escaped Wynn's braid to curl in wisps about her tired face. "No, it might destroy him, but I'm not certain. At worst, severing the head would separate his vision from his body, making his continued actions more difficult."

Magiere rubbed her forehead. "Why didn't you just say that earlier?"

Wynn sucked in a deep breath and held it. When she finally answered, it was with a measured, forced calm that didn't quite hold. "Because I have no idea what Vordana truly is! I am making the best guesses-"

"What about garlic?" Leesil cut in.

Any diversion, no matter how annoying and weak, was better than these two taking out their frustration and fatigue on each other. Wynn shrugged and shook her head, and Leesil returned to sipping his tea. At least the sage had developed a backbone in dealing with Magiere's seething nature.

"The trouble I see," he said to Wynn, "is that he'll leech you and me on sight. Magiere and Chap don't seem affected by the consumption in the village."

"Yes," Magiere replied, "and I don't want you and Wynn facing something you can't fight."

"Don't even think about taking on Vordana by yourself," Leesil warned.

Wynn rolled up her parchments, slid them into a leather cylinder, and tucked the case into her pack upon the floor.

"Though Vordana drained Stefan's wife and child quickly, this would likely have required focus-again, only a guess. If Magiere and Chap can engage him immediately, he might not be able to center upon Leesil or me, and then perhaps Leesil can get to him."

"Sensible," Leesil said. "All you need do is point the way, where and when he comes."

The young sage closed her journal, one thumb rubbing repeatedly along its leather spine. She stared at the tabletop, lost in thought.

Leesil's wariness grew as he watched Wynn still worrying absently at the journal's spine. Before he could say anything, Elena entered, carrying a canvas satchel with both hands.

She wore a freshly pressed dress of forest green, and her wheat-gold hair seemed to bounce on the air as she walked. "I'm sorry for the delay," she said. "It took all day to raise the money."

Magiere sat upright. "What do you mean 'raise' the money? Stefan is paying out of his own coffers."

Elena looked at them all with confusion. "Stefan has no fortune. What Lady Byanka left him is beyond reach while he is trapped here. A small portion of the taxes supports the manor. For your fee, he contributed household money set aside for stores, though we have grain and crushed oats to keep us. Then this morning he also had two horses sold at a neighboring market. The rest of your fee was gathered from the townsfolk. They've been told of you and were glad to help pay."

Sounding neither bitter nor angry, Elena tried to explain as if she'd made some sort of mistake. The dhampir had come to save them, and Elena was openly grateful to live on porridge all winter to pay the agreed price.

Leesil looked away, unable to the meet the girl's eyes, and his gaze passed over the pewter pitcher of red wine that rested beside two goblets on a side table. It took all his effort to keep from striding across the room to drown his frustration. A quick glance from Magiere was all the confirmation he needed before he took the bag from Elena.

"How much did Stefan get for his horses?" he asked.

"There was his war stallion and riding horse. I think forty silver shils, or about nine sovereigns, among what is here. Is it not enough?"

Leesil knew Utile of the price of horseflesh, but it sounded like less than half of what such animals were worth. He reached into the satchel, counted out forty shils worth of coins, and handed the bag to Elena.

"Buy proper food for the household, and give the rest back to your people."

"But, the dhampir said-"

"Never mind. " Leesil dumped the coins in his hand onto the table. "This will be enough."

Elena looked at the pile and then at Leesil. Her perplexed frown didn't fade when she nodded and left the hall, satchel in hand.

Leesil offered Magiere a halfhearted smile. "Nothing ever changes."

"Not in this world," she replied, then shook off the moment and got up from her chair. "The sun is setting, and we should get to the edge of the town. Wynn, I want to keep this away from the people, if possible."

"Of course," the sage agreed. "But I cannot be certain where Vordana will come from until I sense him."

Leesil strapped on his studded leather hauberk and belted his punching blades as he watched Magiere prepare. She put on her own hauberk and made certain her falchion slipped easily from its sheath. Her black hair tied back with a leather thong, its red glints matched the firelight tinge on her pale face. He wished he could watch her a little longer like this. There were two crossbows, and he handed the smaller one to Wynn.

"Strap this over your back… just in case. I'll get the quarrels and meet you outside."

They walked out the manor's gate toward Pudurlatsat. As they neared the village, Wynn stopped in the road that led through its center to the river dock and knelt down. She rolled the cold lamp crystal between her trembling hands until its light burst forth, and set it beside her on the ground with her crossbow.

There was so much to remember from years past. She recalled theories and processes she had studied in her homeland guild, recorded in scant notes throughout her journals. It was little more than what all apprentice sages learned of the arcane, among all other subjects studied. All theories, summation and postulation, but it would have to suffice.

"I must focus," she said, "if I am to tune my sight to the element of Spirit that pervades this place and see any shift within it."

A simplified explanation. She wished it were as simple to accomplish.

"Get to it," Magiere said. "We'll keep watch."

Wynn clenched her hands to stop their trembling.

Ritual was the safest method, as she did not have the experience to hold all the symbols solely in her mind, as with a spell. It would also bolster potency and provide stability. She scratched the sign for Spirit in the earth with a wide circle around it, and then kneeled within the circle. She traced a smaller one around herself, and in the border between the two circumferences, she added shorthand sigils.

Wynn remained still, pushing down uncertainty, and silently recited the processes scribed in the earth. Shutting her eyes, she placed her hands over them.

She focused on letting the world fill her with its presence, its essence. She imagined herself breathing it in, and then made the essence flow through her palms and into her eyes. In her darkened sight, the scribed sigils appeared and rushed at her… into her… until her inner awareness spun with vertigo. Time stretched until she forgot how long she had knelt there, repeating the process until she felt her face-her eyes-begin to tingle beneath her hands.

"Wynn?"

"Shush… Leesil, leave her be."