"Done," he said with confidence. "You heal soon."

Magiere looked tiredly into his eyes and lined face. She wondered if he was speaking of more than just her body. The old sage turned to Leesil.

"Teeth?" he asked, pointing to the base of Leesil's neck. "And bruise."

For a moment, Leesil appeared puzzled, lifting a hand up to feel. Then he winced. The domin motioned for him to sit beside Magiere, and Leesil became the object of ministrations. As Wynn helped Leesil remove his armor, Tilswith suddenly turned his curiosity back to Magiere.

"This man-Noble Dead-who kill Chesna. You know him?"

"Yes," Magiere said bitterly. "We know him."

Leesil looked at her in concern. "There's no way we could have guessed. None of this is our fault."

"Isn't it?" she asked. "Dunction, our tavern's previous owner, also mysteriously ‘disappeared' one night. Somehow Welstiel made certain I would buy the Sea Lion, and we would end up in Miiska, stumbling upon disappearing townsfolk and uncovering Ratboy, Rashed, and Teesha."

Realization spilled across Leesil's long features.

"He knew what I was before I did," Magiere added. "Watched us on the game. And I think he knows a great deal more about my past, about what I am, than he's told us. He's been playing us… like everyone else."

Tilswith was listening carefully as he dressed Leesil's wound. "Why? Why he know these and want you learn?"

Magiere remembered Welstiel's urgency in the sewers.

"Something he's after," she said thoughtfully. "Something old, a long-forgotten object that will give him power, and he thinks it's guarded by ancient Noble Dead. He's been preparing me for that task."

Tilswith stopped and looked her full in the face. "This he say? Exact he say?"

"Yes," she answered with a frown. "What does it matter?"

Wynn had frozen in place as well. She and Domin Tilswith began speaking rapidly again in their own tongue, agitated and perhaps arguing. Finally Tilswith ended with a shake of his head, and Wynn turned slowly to Magiere.

"He told you an object of great power was guarded by ancient undeads, and he has been preparing you to assist him in attaining this?"

"What is this about?" Leesil asked.

Tilswith shrugged. "Not certain. But if he undead, can hide self from hound, and seek object, you must find first. This thing not be in his hand."

For a moment, his words, like part of an overheard conversation, didn't fully settle upon Magiere as having anything to do with her.

Leesil sighed deeply. "Oh, spiteful deities."

"Are you suggesting Leesil and I go after him?" Magiere asked. "We wouldn't even know where to look. Chap can't even track him."

Tilswith pondered this for a moment with an appraisal of Chap. All eyes in the room followed his gaze.

Chap glanced about at all of them and began to fidget, slowly sliding his butt backward across the floor, not able to meet anyone's gaze. The old sage grunted.

"Track… no," Tilswith said. "But Welstiel first to know majay-hi, yes? And elf hunt Leesil stop because hound here. Chap has part in all."

At his mention, Chap lowered his head.

"He your guide," Tilswith added, bright green eyes warm as he delivered a disapproving frown to Chap. "From his mistake to Wynn, you three meant to be. Dhampir, majay-hi, and one half-elf in all land? Now find why-and what-to Welstiel."

The room was silent for a moment. Wynn took up where her domin left off.

"Some of our guild see a time of convergence approaching, though we do not all agree on what it means or what it will be… or even if it will be. We have seen strange occurrences over the decades but without a clear connection."

She hesitated.

"From what little you have told us," she said, "both you and Leesil hide pasts filled with regrets. It is the time to choose your own path and stop letting others choose it for you. Centuries ago, the fabled war cost the world so much in the Forgotten. Knowledge, great works, even civilization faded so utterly that we know little of what happened before, during, or following that conflict. If this Welstiel discovered a power of that time, he will continue to seek it-with or without you. Find it before he does. If he murdered Chesna just to bring you here, think what he would do to get it and to use it."

Everything the sages said made sense, but it was too much to ask. Magiere simply wanted to go home. Each time she stepped outside the life she wanted, unwillingly doing whatever was asked, some far greater burden fell upon her.

"We didn't even finish our task here," she said, and took a deep breath that was hard to let out. "Not only did we chase the wrong undead, but we let Welstiel escape and Chane as well."

Tilswith blinked in surprise, and Leesil threw up his arms in disgust, then winced at the pain such action sent through his wounds.

"Take money for Miiska," Tilswith insisted. "No other could take Noble Dead. You make city safe. You refuse Welstiel so he not stay here-find other way to that he seek."

Leesil clearly agreed. "That pack of stuffed pheasants on the council used what happened in our town to drag you into this. I've got two heads in a satchel, and there's a third in that house we can add to it."

She let his words sink in but wondered if they were motivated by guilt over burning down the warehouse to save her life.

"What about Chane?" she asked.

Wynn averted her eyes at the name.

"Chane is scholar," Tilswith answered, "but we know he is too Noble Dead. Small chance he come to us and small chance we help him. He not stay in Bela, not take risk." He held up his hands with a shrug, as if the answer were obvious. "So task done. All Noble Dead gone."

"I will take the bankdraft to Miiska for you," Wynn added, "and seek out the baker you mentioned named Karlin."

The sages truly believed the situation was resolved, but this was all happening too fast for Magiere. Now they expected her and Leesil and Chap to somehow stop Welstiel from finding whatever he sought, though no one knew what or where this thing was. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the last moments of Chesna and Au'shiyn, and how their killer felt nothing-no pity, no regret, not even satisfaction.

Welstiel hadn't even fed on them. He'd murdered them as bait to draw her in. For a moment, Magiere felt anger's heat return. As much as Welstiel knew of her nature, how much did he know of the means by which she was brought into this world? Dhampir, the child of a vampire with hidden knowledge and a mortal mother Magiere had known only from a wooden marker in a village graveyard.

And how far back in her life did Welstiel's meddling reach? There were possibilities in that she did not want to think upon.

Leesil leaned close to her. "There's actually something more I haven't told you."

Magiere's dampened anger flared at the thought that he'd once more left something until after the fact.

"Back on the ship that brought us here," he continued, "I spoke with the thug locked in the cargo hold. Master Poyesk hired those men to stop you from returning with the bankdraft. Karlin has to be warned how far Poyesk will go to prevent the new warehouse from being built."

Magiere's wounds started to ache as if the numbing salve had worn off, and the pain merely added to her ire.

"Damn you, Leesil."

"You had too much to deal with already," he snapped back at her. "And some of it you wouldn't even face."

He dropped his eyes, head down, and Magiere's anger waned. He looked tired and sad. There was more to his reaction than the tangle of deceptions they'd unraveled since leaving Miiska. Part of his exasperation had more to do with her.

"Not to worry," Wynn said matter-of-factly. "You can tell me exactly what to say or you can write a letter. I promise that Karlin will be made aware of all."