"What is it?" she asked. "Are you ill?"

He didn't answer and stood mere whispering to no one. He came back to himself and escorted her inside.

After that night, Welstiel changed in small ways.

He was never unkind, but their limited conversations became almost nonexistent. When he did speak, it was only to ask about her health and the baby. Some nights he appeared more rested, but often he would come down in the evenings looking exhausted, as if he hadn't slept at all. On those nights, he would whisper to himself and rub his temples as if a persistent ache troubled him.

For two more moons, Magelia's stomach swelled, and the baby kicked inside her. She found the sensation pleasant and spoke to the child, as there was no one else left for her. She didn't care who its father had been. This child was hers, and hers alone.

Welstiel mixed elixirs and drank them and spent more time chanting in the nights. His state of mind improved. He seemed to gain control over whatever plagued him, but his interest in the child increased.

One night as he worked in his room, she entered without knocking to find him sitting at his desk with a bloody bandage wrapped around his left little finger. He dropped something into a bowl on the desk, and the liquid inside hissed and bubbled. She came up behind him, and he was so intent that he didn't notice her. Next to the bowl were the beginnings of a pendant with a tin backing and a stout bloodied kitchen knife.

She looked down and gasped. The object hissing in the bowl was the top of his little finger. Acid began eating away the flesh.

He was startled by her touch on his shoulder, and he whipped around. "Get out," he ordered. "I am working."

Magelia fled to her room, holding her stomach. The old Magelia, the fierce Magelia, began to whisper inside her that she might need to protect this child from more than Ubad.

The night her pains began, Welstiel behaved like the politely concerned man she had known in the early to mid-months of her pregnancy, before his dreams. He had the man-at-arms, whose name she never learned, help her into bed, and he called the serving girl to assist her.

"I will bring the midwife," he said.

"Her name is Betina," Magiere told him. "She brought me into the world."

Even through her labor pains, she could not help smiling at him. He was going for the midwife himself instead of sending one of the guards. The pains grew closer together, but she did not cry out. Sometime after he left, she rolled on her side and looked to the doorway.

Master Ubad stood there, as if watching her through his eyeless mask.

"Stay away from us," she said.

He glided slowly down the hall beyond the door's frame and out of sight.

Welstiel seemed to be gone too long, but this was Magelia's first child, and the labor took time. She felt the child coming and needed to push. The shock of pain when she tried to do so made the room dim, and she screamed.

The serving girl ran to her side. "What is it, miss?"

Before Magelia could answer, the child inside pushed downward on its own accord, and she screamed again.

Welstiel hurried into the room, and the midwife, Betina, followed close behind him. He was carrying a small bundle in a bloody, tattered blanket.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"Get out!" he ordered the serving girl.

The young woman rushed from the room, and Magelia was alone with Betina and Welstiel.

The child pushed again, and the pain was so sharp, she couldn't speak or breathe. Tiny knives seemed to cut her from inside, like the child was clawing its way out. Betina was standing over her, and the woman's face was white, as if she had been through an ordeal or was ill.

"Magelia," she said. "Hold on, my girl. Let me see what is wrong."

Welstiel set his bundle down and crouched beside Magelia near the bed's head. She felt a rush of wet warmth between her legs and thought perhaps her water had finally broken.

Betina gasped, and Magelia knew she was wrong.

"Am I going to die?" she whispered to Welstiel.

"Yes."

"Did you know?"

"I suspected."

"You must protect the baby," she begged. "Keep it from Ubad."

He looked into her eyes and then reached out to grasp her hand. It was the first and only time he had ever touched her.

"I have planned for this," he said. "Ubad will never have this child… if he is convinced it is dead. If you love your child, you will help me."

She didn't understand what he meant, and her mind went white with pain as the knives began cutting again. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the child slide from inside her into Betina's hands.

"Is it all right?" she asked, growing weaker.

"A girl," Betina answered. "A healthy girl with your black hair."

She wiped off the newborn, wrapped it in a soft cotton cloth, and laid it beside Magelia. Though still blood-smeared, the child was beautiful.

Welstiel stepped around beside Betina, who looked down upon mother and child with a forced smile.

He reached out and snapped her neck with his hands.

Magelia thought she had slipped into a nightmare as Betina's body dropped from his hands to crumple on the floor. Welstiel retrieved the bundle he had entered with and opened it. Inside was a dead baby girl with dark hair. Its throat had been cut.

"What have you done?" she whispered.

He pulled the brass ring from his pocket and slipped it onto his finger. "Ubad will come soon. When he does, tell him that I did this. Tell him I murdered the child to avenge my father, and then I fled. He will come after me, but he will not find me."

She glanced at the ring, which had made the topaz's light wink out when he'd first put it on in his room months ago. Magelia didn't understand what it meant, but Welstiel was certain of his ways for dealing with the sightless old mage.

"I have things to collect for the child," he said, "and then I promise to take her out of here. If Ubad believes the child is dead, he will not return."

He picked up her baby, and Magelia reached out. Welstiel paused long enough for her to touch her daughter, and then he turned away to wrap the child in a clean blanket. He placed the murdered infant at the foot of the bed.

'Tell Ubad, Magelia, and your daughter will be safe."

"My blue dress," she whispered. "Save it for her."

He nodded, and that was all. When he stepped to the door, he looked both ways before slipping out.

Lingering moments passed, and Magelia fought to keep her eyes open, to hold out until her enemy showed his face.

A blurred figure of dark robe appeared beside her bed. His cowl drooped down as he looked at Betina's body and then the dead child upon the foot of the bed.

"Welstiel," she whispered, "to avenge his father. You will never have my daughter."

Ubad became nothing more than a dark shape in the dimming room, but his rolling moan of anguish brought her relief. "Where is he?" the mage shouted.

"Away," she whispered. "Away from here."

Magelia's eyes closed, their lids too heavy to keep open.

Magiere felt her knees strike the cavern floor. Above the cauldron, Magelia's face materialized with a sad smile, and then the apparition was gone.

"You murderer," Magiere whispered at Ubad.

She lunged to her feet, swinging the falchion at him. Suddenly, he was gone. When she heard his voice behind her, she whirled to face him.

"You feel for her, and you should," he said. "But think, dhampir. You were born from life and death, day and night. Think of the preparation necessary, all the sacrifices made for you to rise up in this world. You are years behind where you should be in your power and awareness, but you have come back to me of your own choice. This was not mere chance."

"You did that to her, and then you just let her die."