Leesil glanced back to see Vatz in the doorway with an empty crossbow in his hands. He was trying to recock the string, his face scrunched in determination.

"Run!" Ratboy shouted, clambering through the window. "Now."

Chap lunged after the sailor, but his front leg gave way. Ratboy suddenly reached back through the window from outside, grabbed the undead sailor's arm, and they both were out the window and gone.

"Vatz, stay with Chap," Leesil snapped.

He pushed the boy aside and dodged into the hallway. Magiere's door was half-open, and the room inside burst into flames.

Too many impressions spilled into Magiere's awareness at once.

She didn't need to look down, for the topaz amulet's glow filled the space in front of her. Leesil had shouted and was likely under attack as well. She felt relief when Chap charged out the door, and inwardly willed Leesil to stay alive until she could get to him. A tall undead with a long sword, dressed like a nobleman, stood in her room by the window. He was broad-shouldered and clean-shaven, his red-brown hair tucked behind his ears. She didn't know him, but marked him as someone of means.

And his black gloves fit well.

A gnawing began in her stomach and raced up her throat as the ache spiked through her jaw.

"Come for me," he said, throwing his cloak off.

Instinct flooded Magiere, and the room lit up in her sight until she could clearly see its darkest corners. A hiss escaped her throat, followed by hunger rising from her stomach.

His cold face was void of emotion or thought. He simply stood, waiting as she charged.

Magiere swung the falchion for his neck. He blocked and turned his own sword at the point of contact, trying to slide hers away. She shifted and pulled her slash to the right. His long sword's tip cracked down on the bed's end, and Magiere rammed her knee into his rib cage, sending him tumbling over the bed and his own sword. She sidestepped to the room's center to go after him, but he'd already righted himself with his sword at guard.

Emotion now registered on his face. Hunger. Arousal.

Flickering sensations passed through Magiere. She'd felt this enough times before that it was now familiar.

His desire to feed on her slipped inside her head. When she'd fought Rashed or Teesha, the only impressions she'd felt were hatred and the wish to see her dead. But this creature hungered for her.

Magiere fought down the answering desire to tear him open with her teeth. She matched his stance, blade at ready, and her wits returned.

She had to get back inside his guard and take his head, but a flesh wound might give her an opening. Her falchion had proven painful to undeads in the past, though she didn't understand why. If she could just slice his chest or sword arm…

He made a fast slash, slipping over the top of Magiere's sword before she could counter, and she was forced to retreat. At that he circled near the window again. He straightened slightly, his features smoothing to a calm, calculating expression.

His hunger faded from Magiere's awareness, leaving nothing in its wake.

Instead of the impressions themselves, the instant loss of them broke Magiere's concentration. A small panic set in. She could no longer feel what drove him.

She feinted to his right, and when he moved to block, she reversed and slashed him across his upper left arm. He didn't cry out but reared backward in shock, and she swung at his throat.

His swiftness surprised her as he dropped and crab-stepped back to her right, and her falchion cleaved through empty air. He kicked out, and his booted foot caught her in the side and stomach. Magiere's bare feet slipped, and she fell back against the wall beside the window.

"Sestmir!" he shouted. "Now."

Someone dropped feet-first through the window, landing on the floor between her and the undead nobleman. His eyes were bright, and his open mouth showed jagged teeth between elongated canines. Point downward in each fist, he held long, triangular daggers.

He lunged, stabbing down at her chest.

Magiere rolled right, coming to one knee. She clenched the falchion's hilt with both hands as she reversed her twist and brought the blade down on the back of his neck. As the edge hit, he jerked upward in panic, and the blade cleaved through.

His body toppled backward. His head struck the sill and bounced down between his legs. Dark liquid pooled on the floor around the corpse.

Before the head had even stopped rolling, Magiere was on her feet. She felt something cool and wet flowing around her left foot as she faced her first opponent again.

For the first time, he looked uncertain. He'd moved like a much better swordsman than his actions portrayed. Why the toying, and why the loss of bloodlust she'd felt from him? He no longer showed an interest in killing her, yet he also made no overt move to flee.

She still felt her own hunger, and stepped away from the cold wetness around her feet.

The tall undead began whispering, the movement of his lips quick, and his eyes rolled up once before he made a flashing gesture with his hand.

The clothing of the headless corpse upon the floor burst into flames.

The heat was blinding, and Magiere shielded her face with her free hand. When she looked back a moment later, the nobleman was gone. The fire climbed the wall around the window.

"Magiere!"

Leesil burst through the door and held one arm up at the sight of the flames. He looked about frantically, until she reached out and grabbed his arm.

"I'm here."

Something metallic brushed against her, and she saw his new blade still clenched in his fist. It was stained black, and fluids smeared on her forearm as he turned toward her. Shallow, jagged cuts ran along his throat and shoulder, bleeding down his chest.

"You're cut," she choked through the smoke.

Leesil crouched, shielding his face from the blaze, and he reached out to grab the nearest handle of their chest across from the bed. He jerked it toward the door. The fire now lapped across the ceiling, and its crackle grew deafening in Magiere's ears as the air became painfully hot in her chest.

"Grab the other end," he yelled. "We have to get out of here."

She spun around the chest and grabbed its other handle. Leesil had never been one to care much for possessions, but hauling on the chest, he pulled it and her out into the hall. As she passed through the frame, Magiere snatched her sheath by the door where she'd left it.

Leesil dropped his end of the chest, leaving his blade on top, and ducked inside his room. He picked up his sheath from the bedside and tossed it to her. Magiere slapped it down on top of the chest with his blade.

Magiere was stunned to see young Vatz kneeling next to Chap, an empty crossbow in his arms and quarrels tucked through his belt. His overlarge hazel eyes watched the animal in either worry or anger. Leesil scooped up the hound in his arms.

"Hurry up," Magiere said. "Vatz, where's your uncle?"

"He's out," the boy answered, and followed Leesil to the door. "I take care of things when he's with his lady friend, and he…" His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he looked back down the hall. "What the hell did you do?"

Smoke rolled along the hallway ceiling from out of Magiere's room.

"Not now," she snapped, and shoved him toward the stairs.

Leesil hurried after Vatz, Chap in his arms. Magiere tucked their weapons under one arm and dragged the chest behind her. It suddenly occurred to her why Leesil wouldn't leave the chest behind: His box of tools was inside. She shuddered at the thought of what he'd wanted to save as she glanced back at the smoke-shrouded hallway.

Ashes and fire, as well as blood, seemed to follow wherever they went.