"Who are you?" Magiere asked.

"I am Wynn Hygeorht, apprentice in the Guild of Sage-craft under Domin Tilswith, my teacher and head of our branch here. We reside in the old guard barracks of the inner ring. The domin was playing Hounds and Foxes with Councilman Lanjov last night when word of the disturbance at the Rowanwood reached them."

"Well, that was quick," Leesil mumbled, and he stepped back to allow her in. "Thought we might at least make it through breakfast before anyone caught up with us. So who brought word? The city guard?"

"Yes," she answered. Her attention was diverted by Chap's sleeping form. When she saw the water bowl and rag, her expression became instantly concerned. "Is your dog ill?"

"A thump on the head, but he'll be all right," Leesil said.

"I might be able to help. We have medicines of many types at the guild."

She knelt down next to the bed, eyeing Chap curiously, and then put her hand out. Leesil was about to stop her, when Chap opened his eyes, lifted his muzzle, and lapped her fingers once before settling himself again. Wynn took her hand back with a smile.

"He appears well enough," she said. Her brow wrinkled slightly as her smile faded, and she stood up to face Leesil again. "The day in the council hall, when I… spoke to you…"

She appeared embarrassed and briefly dropped her eyes before returning her gaze to Leesil's tan face.

Magiere felt a sudden flare of ire again. How many strange women were going to fawn over Leesil before they got out of this cursed city?

"I was surprised that you do not speak Elvish," Wynn said. "One of your parents was of that race, yes?"

"I was never taught," he answered flatly.

Again Wynn appeared embarrassed, and then confused.

"I see. I was only commenting on how beautiful your dog was and wondering what breed, as I have never seen his like before."

Leesil merely shrugged. "My mother gave him to me when I was boy and he was just a pup."

"You mother, she was your elvish parent?" Wynn asked.

"Yes." Leesil leaned down and stroked Chap's back. "He's probably just a mutt of some kind. We mixed-breeds tend to be the smartest."

Chap rolled his head at Leesil's touch, shifting for comfort on the bed.

"There was this loon of a man in Miiksa," Leesil added, "who called him a majay-hi."

Wynn's head tilted. "Majay-hi?" she asked, the word smoother and more rolling than Leesil's pronunciation.

"Yes, that sounds about right."

"Perhaps a colloquial reference or a regional nickname for the breed." She shook her head in what appeared to be quaint amusement. "In the Elvish dialect that I know, it might mean something like ‘fay hound' or ‘hound of the elementals, though I have never seen his kind before. He seems a very amiable creature."

"You don't have to hunt with him," Magiere said under her breath. "Now, what was Lanjov's reaction to what he heard?"

The barest hint of disapproval surfaced on Wynn's face as she looked at Magiere.

"Councilman Lanjov was quite upset. He seems to think the creature that killed his daughter is to be found among the common folk and cannot understand why you keep plaguing respected members of society."

Magiere rose and sighed. "Did he mention dismissing us?"

"I do not recall this," Wynn answered. "But my domin was interested in the event. A woman dressed in silk"-she faltered, and swallowed hard-"speared a house guard through the throat with only her fingers. And your dog was reported as turning savage toward the woman and frightening the patrons. Then all of you pursued her into the back alley."

Magiere grew more uncertain as to what this young woman wanted.

"Do you believe in undeads?" she asked.

"I've read of such," Wynn answered politely, "though only in my homeland's legends. Having heard Councilman Lanjov's story, I looked into what little I could find of this land's folklore, though we have yet to begin setting up a proper library and collecting texts. In my tongue there are fables of the atheldeth, which surprisingly means almost the same as Noble Dead in your language."

"So you do believe," Magiere said.

"To study a concept is not same as believing it," Wynn continued. "Domin Tilswith considers Lanjov superstitious, but we have learned more since meeting him, and I began searching for what I could learn. The Noble Dead are accounted as the highest forms of the undead. Unlike lesser forms, they retain all memories, consciousness, and self-awareness from their mortal life. Among them are your vampires, high revenants found in our legends, some wraiths, and the like."

"What about methods for destroying these Noble Dead?"

Magiere asked, turning the conversation to her own agenda. "We know most of the myths and superstitions, such as a wooden stake through the heart, which we now have reason to doubt."

Wynn shook her head and returned Magiere a dubious but polite scowl.

"Most works on the subject are legends, fables, and stories. Some accounts involve staking the creature in its burial place and beheading it. Perhaps the stake was intended to pin the creature, keeping it from escaping, and that became a further superstition as a way to destroy them. There really is no way to be certain… if one believes any of this."

Magiere fell silent. All their skills in battling undeads had been learned through trial and error, along with the cryptic advice of Welstiel Massing back in Miiska, who seemed obsessed with the Noble Dead. But this young woman appeared to know a bit and was far more open than Welstiel had ever been. Magiere pulled out the stool.

"Please sit. Would you like some tea? The kitchen folk are probably up and about by now."

Wynn smiled openly and shook her head.

"I cannot stay, but the domin and I are interested in your experiences. In return, we offer the support of the guild's resources, though our materials are scant compared to the main branch in our homeland. I will help translate any document I can."

"We don't have time for schooling," Leesil put in. "And it won't help track… unless you can access recent deeds on houses purchased in Bela, those of middle to upper quality."

"This information should be available," Wynn answered with hesitation. "If the local city government keeps such records."

Leesil smiled. "Oh, I'm fairly certain this city does."

"What are you up to now?" Magiere asked.

Leesil settled on the bed next to Chap. "The woman we chased last night said she had a three-story house. Chetnik's reports of her go back only a few moons. There's a great deal of old money in the city, so buying and selling that kind of dwelling won't be too common."

Magiere quickly caught up to where Leesil's thoughts had turned.

"We find recent purchases," she added, "and pick up a trail or even locate this woman's exact hiding place-if she wasn't lying." She looked at Wynn. "Can you help us with this?"

"Yes, but I must speak to my domin first. He is interested in your exploits in Miiska and seeks an exchange of information."

A thought occurred to Magiere. "This domin of yours was at Lanjov's last night? Lanjov told us he never has visitors."

"Oh, Domin Tilswith visits now and again to play Hounds and Foxes with the councilman. But I believe Count Lanjov discourages other visitors."

Magiere glanced toward Leesil, who now wore an irritated frown.

"What does Domin Tilswith look like?" she asked. "Is he noble? Does he wear black gloves?"

Wynn laughed. "No, he dresses as I do. Why do you ask?"

"We believe Chesna knew her killer," Leesil answered. "So if no one besides your domin visits, and he doesn't fit the description, then where and how did Chesna meet this man?"

At that, the young sage's oval face grew puzzled.

"Most nobles acquainted with Count Lanjov would be on the council as well. Perhaps his daughter went with him to the hall or to his bank."