"What?" Magiere stared at him incredulously. "How, and with what? We don't even have a place to live in the meantime."

Karlin knelt and pointed at the smoldering tavern.

"The land plot is still yours. And the payment the shopkeepers tried to give you is still sitting in my kitchen. Those coins will buy supplies to get started. We'll work in the evenings and at week's end. Some of the stonework in the kitchen, and fireplace, might not even need to be replaced.

It may take a moon or two, but I think enough folks will be willing to help."

Magiere couldn't respond. Karlin did not seem to see himself as unselfish or astounding. The whole resolution seemed so simple, so clear to him.

"Brenden's home is empty now," he chatted on. "It may seem a bit odd at first, but he'd want you there until we've got The Sea Lion rebuilt. There's grain and firewood already stored at the place, and the rest can be dealt with along the way."

He talked as if Magiere and Leesil's current situation were commonplace, and a bit of planning and polish would fix everything. Magiere wasn't nearly so certain.

She looked down at her partner, whose amber eyes were still fixed on the sky. His hands trembled slightly. She carefully touched him on the shoulder to return his attention.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He nodded once without speaking.

"Done then," Karlin said, and he stood up. "Ah, here come Caleb and Darien with a door."

His words confused Magiere, and she looked over to see Caleb and Darien, the guard, lifting a fisherman with a bleeding thigh onto a door they were using as a stretcher.

"I'll send them for Leesil next," Karlin said. "We don't want to jar his ribs again."

The portly baker walked away with purpose, calling out instructions along his way. Magiere smelled smoke from the embers mixed with salt from the ocean. She looked down at Leesil.

"I'll be right back," she said, getting up.

Leaving her partner's side, she walked to the crumbled remains of The Sea Lion. She stepped into its black and slightly smoldering cinders, her boots growing warm but not hot. Pulling her falchion, she used it to dig about in the debris until it clanked against something in the ashes. She cleared some of the ash, uncovered Rashed's longsword, and used her own blade to lift it out into plain sight.

She flipped Rashed's sword out onto the bare ground and stepped out after it, again finding herself unable to feel triumphant. The ash of Rashed and Teesha's bones had mingled with that of her home.

A gust of cool air blew in from the sea. As it filled her lungs with its freshness, she watched it swirl and carry off traces of ash in its passing. This place, this town, was home now, and perhaps that much, at least, felt certain. And Leesil was alive to share it. In a few days, mortals would clear all this away and rebuild over Rashed and Teesha's graves.

She glanced back at the half-elf, his head rolled to one side to watch her intently.

"Keep the sword," he said. "Hang it over the new hearth."

"As a trophy?" she asked.

"As redemption. We did do something good here-something real. You know that, don't you?"

When had Leesil grown wise?

"I won't be able to offer much help with the rebuilding. I barely faked my way through running a tavern," she said. "What am I going to do for the next moon?"

His narrow eyebrows arched. "Why, play nursemaid to me, of course. Not a bad job."

"Oh, shut up."

She turned away as if continuing to sift through the ashes, hiding the near smile she tried to suppress. No, it would not be a bad job at all.

Epilogue

Late the following night on the north edge of Miiska, at the entrance to Belaski's long coastal road, Welstiel Massing sat on his bay gelding in the darkness. The horse trembled and shied away at his touch, but it would obey. He turned for one final look at the sleepy town. Everything he needed was packed into his saddlebags.

He felt no regret at leaving, for he had no attachments to sever here. His work was done. In this place, Magiere had come as far as he could compel her along the path he had set. Setting events in motion had been easy enough, once her banker in Bela informed him that Magiere was looking to buy a tavern. There had been time enough to meet the owner of The Sea Lion, Dunction, remove him, and quietly assist her behind the scenes with the actual purchase. The banker was glad for his commission and the ease of the transaction.

Pitting Rashed and Magiere against each other had been equally simple. Dhampir and vampire-from all he had learned over the years, their natural state was to be at each other's throats. All he needed to do was raise her awareness of her true nature, carefully, just a bit at a time.

Miiska was now cleansed, and Magiere's self-awareness awakened. This place served no more useful purpose. The next stage in her development now had to be planned, and she still had far to go before she would be of real use to him.

"Until we meet again, Magiere," he whispered.

He reined his horse around and began his journey up the dark road.