He couldn't imagine what Magiere was thinking, as he was hardly playing the role of her drunken partner these days and now sounded more like some world-weary military commander.

"I'll help," Karlin said instantly.

"Me too," said Geoffry.

But the rest of the crowd spoke in low voices to each other or just muttered in discomfort. Whatever their expectations for this meeting, being asked to battle vampires wasn't on the list.

Leesil did not expect to win them easily, and he was about to speak again when the door to the common room burst open. The man who stumbled through it looked vaguely familiar, and then Leesil realized it was one of the guards who'd arrested Brenden that very first night the blacksmith came to the tavern to question Ellinwood. In fact, it was the guard who had tied Brenden's hands behind his back. He was panting hysterically, and his eyes were wild.

"Darien, what's wrong?" a young fisherwife asked, jumping to her feet and running to him.

"Korina's dead," he breathed. "I stood watch all night at the guard house. When I got home, I found her outside our window… Her throat's torn open."

He stopped talking and began to sob without sound.

"Who's Korina?" Leesil asked, even though the question hardly mattered.

"His wife," Karlin said flatly. "They'd only been married since winter."

Gripping the table before him, Leesil somehow managed to stand.

"These creatures are growing bolder. Magiere and I can't do this alone."

Several dockworkers crowded in around Karlin. Not pleased but resigned, one of them said, "Tell us what to do."

Sometime before sunset, Magiere stood in the street outside of The Velvet Rose, hesitant to go inside. She would rather have fought Rashed ten times than ask Welstiel for help again, but too many people depended on her now.

The lovely brocade curtains and white shutters seemed a travesty now. This pretty facade seemed to reinforce the notion that Miiska was safe and no unnatural beasts dug tunnels beneath it or fed on its people at night.

No one who lived here would think of helping her destroy vampires, much less admit the truth… except for Welstiel. But how much help was he? She'd grown tired of his cryptic advice by their second meeting. She needed specific information regarding the weaknesses of her enemies. Perhaps she never expected Leesil to win help from the common folk of Miiska. Though not exactly eloquent, his words were powerful and direct and convincing. He'd almost made her believe that part about him serving a warlord.

"Well, he's done it now," she said aloud to herself.

Back at The Sea Lion, he was overseeing preparations for an attack. Such work was his domain, although she had no idea how he managed to stay on his feet. Her task was more personal, more private. She required more information about herself and about finding an effective method to destroy Rashed.

In addition, she needed more help than a few untrained shopkeepers and laborers could offer, and sitting at a desk just inside the door of The Velvet Rose was someone she'd like on her side.

Loni, the handsome elven proprietor, raised his head as she entered and stunned her with an expression of relief.

"Magiere," he said instantly as if she were an acquaintance. "Master Welstiel is expecting you. Please come this way."

She stopped. "He's expecting me?"

"Yes, yes, he's asked about your arrival several times," he answered in near annoyance, as if any delay was too much. "Please follow me."

When he stood up, she noticed he was about the same height and build as her. He wore a plain, but well-made, white cotton shirt and a thick pair of black breeches. He seemed most eager to assist her and bring her down to Welstiel. Since he was being so obliging, a thought occurred.

"Loni, may I borrow some clothes?" she asked tiredly. "If you wish, I'll pay for them."

There was no time for a tailor, and she couldn't fight Rashed in this dress. Expecting Loni to give her a befuddled stare, she silently thanked him as he merely glanced up and down at her tattered clothing in comprehension.

"Of course," he said. "I'll have them ready before you leave."

He knew what was happening, she thought. Or at least he knew something critical was happening, and that his honored guest was waiting to see Magiere, the legendary hunter of the dead. Her falchion was hanging on her hip, and he did not ask her to remove it.

Loni led the way through The Velvet Rose's opulent main room, past the paintings and blooming flowers, and down the stairs to Welstiel's room.

He knocked lightly. "She's arrived, sir."

Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and ushered her inside, closing it quietly behind her.

Welstiel sat in the same chair as before, but he seemed to be brooding rather than reading this time. The room had not changed. However, his expression actually flickered in surprise at the sight of her. Not that she cared what he thought, but she knew her appearance was that of a barmaid who'd been rolled in the hay.

"How long since you've slept?" he asked.

"I don't remember. I didn't come here to discuss my sleeping habits."

She'd never noticed how black his eyebrows were before. They contrasted sharply with the white patches at his temples.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, without moving from his chair.

"I thought there might be a slight chance you'd actually offer some help instead of your usual riddles."

The absence of windows and the unnatural light from Welstiel's glowing orb now unnerved her slightly.

"I heard a rumor. Of course, I'm sure it's just a rumor," he said, "that you had enlisted some of the fishermen and dockworkers."

"It's no rumor."

He stood up, and his tranquil face showed a hint of anger.

"Send them home. All of them. You are dhampir. Involving commoners will only cause chaos. This whole affair should have been finished days ago."

Magiere crossed her arms. "Fine, then you and Loni carve some stakes and come fight with me."

Welstiel's flicker of anger disappeared, and he smiled.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, my dear. I once thought you clever, but perhaps you still don't understand. You are the dhampir. Your purpose, your existence, revolves around destroying the undead."

A mix of fury and frustration filled her, and on impulse, she drew her sword.

"I'm so tired of your games! If you know half as much as you pretend to, then spit it out now."

His dark eyes looked down to the falchion's edge and back up again.

"Can you feel the rage building? Every time you battle one of these vermin, does your strength not grow?" His tone dropped low. "Have you ever heard a foolish old saying that evil can only be conquered by good? It's a lie. Evil can only be conquered by evil. These bloodthirsty creatures are unnatural and have no place in the land of the living. However, one of them must have been wise enough, unselfish enough, to create you."

She lowered her sword. "What does that mean?"

Welstiel stepped a little closer.

"I have studied the ways of vampires at length. In the first days after being turned, it is still possible for one of them to create a child. One of your parents, probably your father, was undead. Half of you belongs to the dark world, a negative state of existence that needs to draw in and consume life in order to exist. But your mortal side is stronger. In dhampirs, this imbalance creates a hatred for their own unnatural half that they cannot control. By drawing on the powers of their black side, they become the only living weapon capable of battling and defeating vampires. Do you understand now?"

His words cut like a blade. She did not want to believe him, but could not deny recent events.