Leesil knelt and took the crossbow from Vatz. Smaller than most, its length was two-thirds of the boy's height.

"How did you load this?" Leesil asked.

"I didn't," answered Vatz. "My uncle loads it for me whenever he leaves for a night."

"We're safe here," Magiere said. "You shouldn't need it anymore."

"Course I will," he answered. "I'm gonna help you fight vampires."

Leesil looked at Magiere.

"I don't think so," she said, putting an end to the subject.

"It probably pays better than sweeping floors or packing some fop's baggage," Vatz added.

Leesil frowned and sat on the floor next to the boy, showing him how to put his feet against the bow and use his legs to help pull the crossbow's string back to the catch.

The sound of trotting feet — flooded in from the hallway. Wynn reappeared, followed by an older sage of medium build and close-cropped silver hair and beard with a few hints of black remaining. His bright green eyes appraised the room's occupants. Like Wynn, he wore a simple gray robe, and his expression was somehow calm and concerned at the same time. Magiere guessed this was the head of Wynn's order, Domin Tilswith.

He stepped close to Chap and said something to Wynn, though Magiere didn't understand the words he spoke. Wynn retrieved a small jar from a shelf behind the table and handed it to the domin, but her gaze was locked upon the dog.

"Can you fix him?" Vatz asked in a challenging tone.

The elder man smiled down at the boy. "Yes, but not know he need me." The accent of his broken speech was like Wynn's but thicker. He turned toward Magiere. "I Domin Tilswith, head of new branch of guild. Your dog heal now."

Magiere peered to where the domin gently fingered Chap's fur. A narrow cut along the hound's right shoulder was no longer bleeding and had closed. Wynn also studied the wound, and her lips parted, speechless.

"What about his front leg?" Magiere asked. "Is it broken?"

Tilswith felt gingerly along the limb, and Chap let out a low whine.

"Bone feel right, but…?" He paused to speak again to Wynn in their strange, guttural tongue.

"Fractured," she added for the old man. "It might still be cracked."

She quickly poured a liquid like brewed tea from the jar onto a large wooden spoon. She was about to lower it to Chap's muzzle but stopped. Looking to Magiere, she held out the spoon.

"This will help the pain and allow him to sleep. Perhaps you should try. He seems to listen to your words most."

"Not lately, he hasn't," Magiere said, but she took the spoon.

Putting one hand under Chap's jaw, she tilted his muzzle up. Leesil put his hands around the dog's shoulders to hold him steady. Oddly enough, Chap didn't struggle and lapped the fluid from the spoon.

"Good boy," Leesil praised.

Chap licked his jowls and laid his head down.

Domin Tilswith looked from Magiere to Leesil to Vatz and then chuckled.

"We not see visitor at night much. I have… salve? Yes, salve for wounds." He stopped suddenly and examined Leesil's cuts more closely. "Claws?"

"Fingernails," Leesil answered.

The domin raised one eyebrow and picked up another jar. Wynn fetched a bowl, filling it with water from a clay pitcher, and began washing Leesil's throat and shoulder with a clean cotton cloth. She worked gingerly, but Leesil still flinched, and Magiere tried to see how deep the cuts were.

"They're not bad," he assured her.

Once Wynn finished, the domin liberally applied white salve to Leesil's wounds.

"Good stuff," Leesil remarked with a soft smile. He rolled his wounded shoulder a little, but didn't wince at the movement.

"May I take that with me?" Magiere asked, pointing to the jar. "I may need some myself… later, in private."

The domin merely nodded and handed her the salve.

"What happened to all of you?" Wynn asked. She glanced up briefly from stroking Chap's back.

"Blazes and bloodsuckers is what happened," Vatz grumbled.

Before Leesil could add anything, Magiere presented a less colorful and somewhat sketchy account of the night's events. When she finished, the domin spoke with Wynn. The elder had some trouble with the Belaskian tongue, and it was annoying not knowing exactly what he now said. With a nod to her elder, Wynn turned to Magiere.

"You must be tired, and we have a room for you."

"A room?" Magiere asked, somewhat startled. "We just needed to get inside and didn't know anyone else in the city. We'll stay in the kitchen until sunrise and then find an inn."

"We know Lanjov," Leesil suggested dryly. "Perhaps he could put us up?"

Tilswith chuckled again. Wynn tried to scowl disapproval at him but couldn't hide her own smile. The two knew the council chairman well enough.

"Domin Tilswith says you should stay here," answered Wynn, "with us-for the remainder of your time in Bela. We have quarters set aside for scribes or visitors. You will be safe here and able to save your coins for other needs."

Magiere was uncertain but relaxed a bit more. These sages reminded her of Karlin back home, who still thought his own generosity of spirit was commonplace. She looked to Leesil to see if he agreed.

"Thank you," Leesil said to Wynn. "We do need the rest."

He picked up Chap, and Wynn grasped her lantern to lead them back through the passages to the far end of the building. Along the way, Wynn assisted Magiere in retrieving the chest. She showed them to a simple room with no door and two identical sets of stacked wooden bunks. Blankets had already been laid out, and another of the brilliant lanterns rested on a table at the room's rear.

"Will this do?" Wynn asked, as she led them inside.

"It'll do fine," Magiere answered.

Leesil laid Chap on the lower bunk to the left and gestured to the bed above it.

"Up you go, Vatz. We'll find your uncle tomorrow."

Vatz stood outside the doorway. His normally dour and serious expression had given way to worry as he glanced up and down the dark hall at the row of openings to similar rooms. Perhaps he'd expected to be placed in a separate room. At Leesil's words, he appeared openly relieved and scrambled into the bunk above Chap.

Leesil pulled a blanket over the boy and added, "Hunters of the dead stay together at night."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Vatz pulled the blanket under his chin and closed his eyes. Magiere wondered how often the boy was left on his own and what had happened to his parents.

After helping Magiere to settle the chest, Wynn placed her lantern on the table, sliding the one there closer. She removed its tin cap and frosted glass, and as she reached toward the exposed light, Magiere almost called out. The sage's slim fingers closed about it and were stopped firmly before pinching out the illumination. When she lifted her hand, the light came with it, perched between her fingertips.

"What are… what is that?" Leesil asked, stepping closer.

Wynn smiled. "It is a cold lamp."

Opening her hand, the light rolled down her fingers and into her palm, and though it was still painful to the eyes, Magiere saw the glimmering outline of a clear crystal against Wynn's skin. It was no longer or thicker than one joint of her finger.

"With all that we keep here-scrolls, books, and other precious knowledge-open flame is a risk we cannot tolerate," she explained. "Some of our people are thaumaturgical artificers, mages of making, and create the crystals we use in our lamps." She held it out. "Here, feel it."

Magiere set down the salve jar on the chest and took the crystal with some hesitancy. It was cool to the touch.

"Now rub it between your hands," Wynn instructed.

She did so gently, and when she opened her hands, the light was indeed too bright to look at.

"That is all you need do if it dims," Wynn explained. Taking the crystal again, she returned it to the lantern, replacing both glass and cap. "Sleep as late as you wish and come to the kitchen when you wake."