Vatz finished his own repast and grabbed the sausage's end from under the dog's paw. "You stupid mutt, you're never going to get a bite that way."

Leesil was caught unaware as the boy snatched a stiletto right out of his wrist sheath.

"Give me that," Magiere said, grabbing for the blade.

"I can handle this," Vatz growled back, evading her.

Chap backed between Leesil's legs, growling and refusing to release his would-be meal. Vatz laid hold of it with both hands, unable to cut off a piece with the stiletto. Leesil grabbed the dog to get the sausage out of his mouth while Magiere grappled with Vatz again for the stiletto. Wynn leaned away, protecting her potato pasty from getting smashed in the four-way flailing until it all ended quite suddenly.

The sausage snapped.

Chap lurched back against Leesil, muzzle flung up, and grease and ground meat spattered across Leesil chest. Magiere grabbed Vatz's wrist as the boy recoiled against her, and his half of the sausage was slung into the air.

It smacked against the coach's roof, slopped down on Chap's head, and spattered sausage guts all over Leesil's sleeves.

Everyone fell silent as Leesil stared down at himself in disbelief.

Wynn dropped her pasty out the window, apparently losing her appetite. Magiere merely wrinkled her nose in disgust before hailing the driver to stop the coach.

"You're supposed be a Fay?" Leesil hissed at the hound.

With a whine, Chap snapped his jaws once and the sausage stump vanished with a gulp.

Leesil held out his hand to Vatz.

The boy made a hurried attempt to wipe off the stiletto's handle on his pants and only managed to smear the blade with grease before handing it back hilt first. Leesil stepped out of the coach to brush himself off and scrape the remaining mess from the coach floor. Chap whined again.

"You disgusting pig," Magiere muttered. "Get up on that seat and stay there."

Chap gave Vatz a quick snarl before doing as ordered.

"What?" Vatz asked, looking at Magiere. "I was trying to help."

"Move," she answered with a swat across the top of his head, and pointed to the coach corner farthest from Chap.

Leesil shouted to the driver to move on. His new shirt was ruined, though he didn't know why that bothered him, as he hadn't wanted it in the first place. He rolled up the grease-covered sleeves, picking off sausage bits along the way.

Once again, he caught Magiere watching his every movement. Trying not to alert her to his awareness, he let his arm drop to his lap and her gaze followed again. He looked down, thinking perhaps he'd missed some smear on his arm, but it was clean right down to the scars.

Leesil traced the white line where he'd slashed his wrist open, and then the jagged arcs made by her teeth. Magiere shied away to stare out the window.

Cold awareness raced through Leesil.

The prey they sought, her uncertainty of their future, or even the anmaglahk, weren't the reason for her distance or fear for him.

The danger that Magiere feared most was herself.

Magiere watched the stone houses of the quiet, wealthy street pass by outside the coach.

"We only have one more," Wynn said. "Then we are done, if it is not the lair."

Leesil glanced out the window, then turned to Magiere. "Sun's going down. You want to leave it until morning?"

"No, we still have time," Wynn added. "We are near enough."

Leesil was correct, but as much as the sage's insistence surprised Magiere, she preferred to have it all over and done. The day was wasted and, by midafternoon, she'd given up hope of finding what they sought.

"All right, the last one," she agreed.

Wynn called out the final location to the driver, and they rolled on. The young sage stayed at the window, leaning out for fresh air. The smell of sausage still lingered inside the coach. Vatz grumbled a bit, but otherwise had remained quiet for the rest of the day. And so had Leesil, strangely enough.

When he'd touched the scars, her mouth and throat turned dry. Perhaps they still itched or ached.

Chap suddenly raised his head and sprang up on the seat to stare out at the passing houses. A low rumble began in his throat as the fur along his back rose. Vatz tried to climb out of his seat to get to Chap's window. Magiere pushed the boy back and crouched on the coach floor at the hound's side.

Leesil swung out the other coach door and spoke softly to the coachman. "Don't stop yet."

"We should be right in front of it, I believe," Wynn whispered.

Magiere watched Chap closely. The hound's eyes shifted back and forth as he sniffed the air, and then settled on one house.

It was a three-story, solid stone structure with arched windows and a wide front door, much like many along the street. Chap's rumble grew as his jaws opened and his jowls pulled back. Magiere closed her hands over his muzzle.

"Don't!" she ordered. "No noise. The sun is almost down, and we don't want to warn them. Understand?"

Chap rolled his eyes toward her and let out a muffled yip.

Magiere shivered and released him. She still wasn't accustomed to the idea that Chap understood her words and even responded intelligibly in his own fashion.

The coach continued another four or five houses down the street, then rolled to a quiet stop. As Magiere opened the door, Chap leaped out. He didn't run toward their destination but stood waiting, fur bristling.

Magiere glanced down, but the topaz amulet wasn't glowing. Perhaps she needed to be closer. As Leesil came around to join her, Wynn and Vatz stepped out as well. To Magiere's surprise, Wynn reached up and handed the coachman some coins.

"What are you doing?" Magiere asked.

"This is the correct house, is it not?" Wynn answered.

"Wait…" Leesil started.

Before Magiere could respond as well, Wynn waved the driver off. The coachman cracked the reins, and the horse stepped into a trot down the street.

Leesil put a hand over his face, and Wynn looked completely perplexed at his reaction.

"You and Vatz can't be here for this," he finally added. "We don't even know what we're dealing with."

Vatz's little face flushed. "I didn't sit in that damn coach all day for nothin‘. I'm here to earn my share of the coin."

Magiere's voice dropped to a deep menacing tone.

"When exactly did we agree to that?" She turned on Wynn without pause. "And you… you can barely keep your food down when facing a stale sausage!"

Wynn pursed her lips at the insult. "I am no true mage," she said as if it were a confession, "but all sages learn the simplest things in their general studies. Domin Tilswith has trained me in the principles of thaumaturgy. Though we do not know the kind of magic you faced, I may be able to help, perhaps, if such arises again from… Chane."

As she spoke the name, her oval face flushed slightly, but her back remained straight.

"You're no more than an idle dabbler," Magiere scoffed. "Whatever Chane is, he's far beyond what you could deal with."

"Oh, for the love of mutton," Leesil spit out. "This is madness."

"You two are staying outside," Magiere said. "And that's the end of it."

"That won't work," Leesil said. "We can't protect them if anything gets out of the house. And if we wait to get rid of these two, any undeads inside might sense we've been here already. By tomorrow morning the place would be empty… or worse, they'd be waiting for us."

Leesil was right, again, and Magiere found it intensely annoying. If only they'd come to this house first. Catching their prey in daylight was now hopeless, and they couldn't afford to wait.

"All right, we may yet have surprise on our side," she said with disgust, and then turned on the sage and the boy. "But you two do as you're told and keep silent."