He walked up to her.

"Lookin‘ for company?" she asked. Her voice was defeated and cheerless, and she was missing several teeth.

"Yes, but not here. Come home with me?"

She hesitated and took in the cut of his cloak and boots. Men dressed like Chane did not often patronize the poor side of the lower merchant district.

"I got a room. Not far from here," she suggested.

He held out his purse. "I'll pay for the entire night."

She wavered, captivated by the click of coins and yet still wary. She moved closer to him, nervous but determined, and slipped her arm into his.

Finding a coach was difficult in this part of the city, so it was several side streets later before he called one to a stop. To Chane's relief, the girl neither offered nor expected conversation during the ride. When it ended, they walked to the house together, and Chane was surprised to find the front door bolted.

He knocked, and Tibor cracked it and looked out. At the sight of Chane, he opened it fully and stepped back.

Chane motioned his companion in and said to Tibor, "Tell the master I'm home."

The sound of Sapphire screeching and glass objects shattering floated down from upstairs. The woman looked up and glanced warily at Chane.

"You got a master? I thought you was the master?"

Chane didn't answer, and she began backing toward the door.

"I changed my mind," she said. "I'll just walk back. You don't owe me nothin‘."

Chane grabbed her upper arm.

She didn't scream but quickly lifted one leg to jerk a fish knife from her boot. Slashing across the back of his hand, she surprised Chane into releasing her. But when she turned toward the door, it was already closed. Tibor stood silently in front of it.

Chane snatched the back of her neck with one hand. Though he'd fed earlier, the slash on his hand drove him to salivate. She swung back blindly at him with the blade, and he grabbed her thin wrist as well. Sheer will kept him from setting his teeth to her throat.

"Is that for me?" came Toret's voice from behind.

Pulling his captive toward the stairs, Chane saw his pale little master descend the last steps, his one good eye fixed on the woman.

"Yes… of course," he answered.

He was loath to offer such a delight to Toret. This woman, as tiny as she was, brimmed with life and survival instinct. It was like serving a vintage wine to a drunkard gone too long without ale.

Chane held her out like a gift as she struggled. He closed his hand on her wrist until the muffled crack of bone was heard. She dropped the knife in a whimper of pain.

Toret enveloped the woman in his thin arms and bit into her throat so rapidly that Chane lost his grip on her neck. He let her arm drop, as he suppressed a sneer of disgust.

Such a waste.

Above in the house, a door banged open or closed, followed by hammering footfalls on the upper stairs. Sapphire shortly appeared at the top of the stairs to the foyer. Her normally perfect curls were disheveled, and she appeared beyond one of her usual tantrums.

"Don't you walk away from me, you little rodent!" she shouted. "I'm not going anywhere, do you hear me? Anywhere!"

Toret dropped the dead girl and opened his tunic. The gaping rent in his chest was closing. The sunken eye socket was now full, and when he opened it, a clouded orb filled it. He turned toward the staircase.

"Close your mouth," he ordered Sapphire. "Go and pack, now."

Sapphire's mouth snapped shut as she twitched, one hand coming to her head as if a sudden pain struck her behind the eyes. She turned around to shuffle back up to her room.

"Pack?" Chane asked.

"We're leaving."

"The house?"

"The city. We're going home, to my home. We'll bribe smugglers to get us off the docks tomorrow evening and sail south to the Suman Empire. It's been too long since I've been home." He paused. "If we stay, the dhampir will find us. We survive only if we leave. You'll like the desert-it's clean."

Toret climbed the stairs, leaving the prostitute's body on foyer floor.

"If a man with dark hair and white temples comes," he added, "don't let him in."

Then he stopped and turned.

"It's a slim chance in a city this size that the dhampir will find this place before we leave, but we should take no chances. There's one more day to get through. Set up a ward or a trap, or something, in case anyone breaks in. Anything simple that will slow her down and warn us."

Holding his composure, Chane nodded obediently. "Leaving Tihko and your wolf loose on the main floor should provide warning, and I will arrange another suitable deterrent."

"Nothing with a tripwire," Toret said. "Use your craft. I think that half-blood can spot a trigger from a league away."

"Very well," Chane replied. So much for simplicity.

This turn of events was disturbing. If Toret's new plan came to fruition, they would all be bound for the Suman Empire by the following night, living among camels, nomads, and who knew what else. It could take years or decades before he found or arranged another opportunity such as this dhampir offered.

Something had to be done. But what?

Although Welstiel had never visited the sages, he had met several through Lanjov at the council hall. The aging Domin Tilswith showed up at odd times to badger the councilman about improving their arrangements. Seeing the barracks firsthand, he better understood the domin's perspective. One intact and weather-aged building was not large enough for a library, as well as housing a handful of sages.

He knocked on the door. A female voice called from the other side.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Welstiel Massing. I believe some of your people know me. I have assisted Councilman Lanjov on occasion."

The door cracked open, and a young woman in a gray robe with a long braid peered out.

"Young Wynn, isn't it?" he asked. "Do you remember me? We met once in the council hall."

"Yes, I remember you, but it is quite late." Her oval face was marred with worry, and she glanced furtively in both directions along the street. "Do you have a message of some kind?"

"No," he said reassuringly. "But after speaking with the council chairman, I thought to offer you my assistance. I have some experience with the dhampir's current pursuits, and I understand you are working with her."

She paused in consideration, and then stepped back so he could enter.

"Please come in. I am sorry if I seem overly cautious, but we have had an eventful evening."

He stepped into the entry way and offered a polite bow of thanks.

She led him to what appeared to be an old officer's chamber. It had been transformed into a common study room, complete with all the trappings and Fixtures of sequestered scholars.

"Have you seen the dhampir of late?" he asked. "I assume she found new lodging for herself and her companion. Councilman Lanjov was concerned."

"Oh," Wynn said. "He has not heard? I meant to send word but so much has happened. I thought Domin Tilswith had informed him, but if not, please tell the councilman that Magiere and Leesil are safely housed with us."

Welstiel stopped. "She's here? Now?"

"Yes, would you like to see her?" she asked. "I believe she and Leesil are tending to Chap in the kitchen. He is fine but received a few burns earlier."

Welstiel did not wish for Magiere to see him yet. That would create even more complications than he already faced.

"The kitchens are far?" he asked.

"At the back of the building." She pointed toward a side entrance in the study.

"Then do not bother her. How was the dog burned?"

Again she did not speak, and he suspected that whatever weighed secretly upon this young sage was connected to Magiere. Focusing his will, he gently poured a suggestion into her thoughts.