Chapter Eighteen

Magiere knelt upon the floor and bandaged Leesil's ribs las best she could, while the half-elf sat numbly on the side of his bed. According to Caleb, Miiska had possessed a competent healer until the previous winter. The healer's wife suffered from a breathing illness, and he'd taken her south to a drier climate. Caleb said the few others in town who claimed to be healers were probably less skilled than Magiere herself at dealing with cracked bones, and the last knowledgeable herbalist was Brenden's mother, who died years ago.

Although alarmed that Leesil was injured again so soon, Magiere felt a guilty sense of purpose for the task of tending him. It gave her an activity to focus on. Leesil had not spoken a word since hearing of Brenden's death and stared at the wall of his bedroom while she used torn sheets to wrap his broken ribs. His jaw was now several shades of purple and yellow. Some of Welstiel's salve remained, and she carefully applied it to his face.

Chap paced about the room. Twice, he came over and shoved his wet nose into Leesil's dangling hand, who did not respond.

"You'll heal," Magiere said finally.

"Will I?" he answered.

"Yes, you will."

He was quiet for a while and then drew air in through his mouth, wincing slightly.

"I thought they were gone, Magiere. I swear to all the gods that I thought them dead."

"I know. We all did. It isn't your fault."

Magiere remembered how in the beginning she'd been desperate to avoid becoming embroiled in all of this. How foolish. There was no way to avoid it. There never had been. And now these undead creatures would not rest until she and any near her were dead and buried in a local graveyard.

"I won't pretend to understand how you feel, but the worst is yet to come," she said, and her voice failed her for a moment. "I need you. Are you up to making a defense plan with me?"

He blinked in sadness. "I honestly don't know."

She got up from the floor and sat beside him on the bed.

This was a pleasant room. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, not straw, and everything smelled of Leesil, a mix of earth and spices. There was also a slight musty smell, and she knew his bedding had not been aired since Beth-rae's death. A small table and one chair were in the corner, but with the exception of a fat, white candle, the table was bare. For the most part, his room was neat and spare. Although he had the ability to go through money at an amazing rate, material objects held little interest for him.

Magiere still wore her blue dress, but the skirt was now torn and muddied. The faded cotton shirt she'd pulled off him and dropped on the floor was stained and torn beyond repair.

"We're going through a lot of clothes," she said, more to break the silence than for any other reason.

Leesil did not respond for a long while, then finally looked at her.

"I know." He nodded. "I was thinking about that earlier tonight… seems like a long time ago. Everything was different."

"The three of us aren't enough to deal with this," she urged, now that she had his attention again. "We need help from the townsfolk, as much as we can get. I don't know how to manipulate people, and you do." She paused and added in apology, "I mean that as a compliment."

He didn't even pretend to bristle or take offense. His lack of reaction was beginning to gnaw at her insides. How much spirit did he have left?

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. Magiere took a deep breath, slowly and quietly, trying not to let him see her own unease.

"Get some rest first," she answered, standing up. "I'll call for a town meeting downstairs later in the day. When it's time, I'll come for you. I need you to convince these people that we need their help. I have to face Rashed myself, but we need to lay a trap and that is going to take numbers. Once we get these creatures in the open, inside of town, they can't be allowed to get out again. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." He nodded again, and she put her hand carefully against his back and helped him lie down.

Magiere pushed white-blond hair back out of his eyes and noted again how the long scratches on his face didn't really mar his narrow features. Before their arrival in Miiska, she'd never realized just how much she liked his face. "What are you going to do now?" he asked. She attempted a half-smile. "I'm going to make you some soup, and hopefully not poison you in the process."

Something in her words or manner shook him from his passive state, and he grabbed her hand. The strength in his grip surprised her. It almost hurt.

"I'm not a coward," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course," she said. "Don't be a fool."

"There are ships leaving dock all the time. Nobody would even notice if you and I and Chap slipped out of here. We could be halfway down the coast in a few days and start over someplace else."

The thought of flight had never occurred to her, and she did consider Leesil's words briefly. Sailing away from all this, the three of them intact and alive, was suddenly enticing. The mere thought of it brought a feeling of release that washed through her. They had enough money to start a new life and leave this horror to the people of Miiska.

But faces and names kept surfacing in her mind. Beth-rae. Brenden. Eliza.

And all the others they'd heard of. The town's main warehouse was now gone, and so many lives were now affected.

"No," she said. "We can't just leave. If we do, everything we've done here would be for nothing. Everyone who has died will have died for nothing. We have to finish this."

Leesil looked away.

"And this is our home," she went on, urging him to understand. "I've never had a home. Have you?"

Resignation cleared some of the sorrow from Leesil's expression. He let go of her hand and relaxed against his pillow.

"No, not really. You and that dog and this broken-down tavern are the most I've ever had."

Magiere started for the door. "I'm going to make soup. You rest."

Before she stepped in the hallway, he called out softly, "I want to bury Brenden."

She didn't answer.

Later that morning, Magiere made large pots of tea and opened a cask of good ale, while Caleb left to call a town meeting. He promised to speak to as many people as possible. By midday, when he returned, Caleb had learned a number of important revelations that he reported to Magiere.

First, the bodies of two sailors were found dead on the beach. One's throat was literally torn open. The other was found up shore, closer to Miiska. His wrist and throat were punctured. Although no one spoke of it, Caleb said both bodies were so pale that the cause of their deaths left little to mystery.

Secondly, he told her Constable Ellinwood had vanished. One of Ellinwood's guards had gone to notify him after the bodies of the sailors were discovered. His office was empty, and so were his rooms at The Velvet Rose. According to rumors-which Caleb heard through friends among the guards-nothing in either place appeared to have been packed or removed. An urn of yellow powder and a bottle of whiskey were found near a used glass, though no one seemed to know the nature of the strange powder. Loni reported that Ellinwood had left with a companion quite late in the night, or perhaps quite early in the morning, and had not returned. The constable simply disappeared.

Magiere puzzled over this. Where had he gone? In spite of the man's possessions being left behind, Magiere certainly considered Ellinwood capable of flight.

"Are the guards still looking for him?" she asked. "Perhaps he simply spent the night with a lady friend?"

Caleb nodded. "Yes, they've combed Miiska. No one has seen him since last night."