Sister of the Dead

Chapter 10

A t dawn, Magiere left Leesil sleeping in their upstairs room and walked into the main hall to be accosted by Elena.

"Our thanks aren't nearly enough. There is nothing we can do to repay you. " The girl grasped Magiere's hands, nearly hopping up and down.

Lord Stefan stood near the hearth. He wasn't so enthusiastic, but Magiere preferred his silence. She'd seen his current expression many times while on the game. Village elders begged for her help, but once she finished, they were far more eager for her departure. Stefan had the same look about him.

Magiere pulled her hand from Elena's grip in embarrassment but tried to be gracious as she asked about breakfast.

"I'll fetch some hot porridge and fresh bread," Elena said, and she scurried toward the corridor.

"Wait a little, Elena," Captain Geza said, and he stood up from his seat at the table, and turned to Magiere. "There is something I'd like to show you before breakfast. Will you follow me?"

Magiere preferred Geza amongst all who lived in this manor. She followed as he led her outside and across the manor grounds to the stable. In front of its wide doors stood a fine wagon. The long driver's seat was covered with padded leather, and two gray horses were tied nearby. A stable boy was brushing out their lush coats.

Geza gestured to the wagon. "Elena told me you returned the household money and the people's coin. I'm not noble but I'm far from destitute. Stefan is young and foolish, but my success depends on his, so at times I've supported him when I should not. This is my wagon, and I give it to you. Not as a gift but as proper payment, and you cannot refuse."

He stepped closer to the team of gray horses, one stocky and the other more slender and graceful.

"This is Port," Geza said, "because he is so portly. And this is Imp, because she reminds me of my grandmother's tales of fairy mounts. I trained them myself. They will serve you well."

Magiere stepped closer, and Port swung his massive head to look at her. His eyes were clear and calm. Imp reached out her head to chew on her partner's halter. She was beautiful, with a nose like gray velvet.

"These are dear to you," Magiere said to Geza. "I can't take them."

"I heard that your partner detests riding and is still ragged from last night. There are no barges due until the new moon. We owe you-I owe you. Elena is all I have, and I could not persuade her to leave and go back to Ke" onsk. If you had not come along…"

He sighed, and pulled a small folded parchment from his vestment.

'Take the wagon and team. You earned them. And there is something more I wish to show you now that we're away from the others. You are going on to Keonsk?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked, and when she frowned at his question, he rushed on. "I thought perhaps our fates had been connected. That is why I ask."

Magiere didn't see Geza as a man given to deceptions, but his comment was confusing nonetheless.

"I'm seeking information about my family, my father. That's all. There may be records in Keonsk."

"I see," he answered, disappointed, and held out the parchment to her. "Then you know nothing of this."

"I don't read well," Magiere said.

"It's from my brother in the southeast of the Antes province, this province. His lord's fief was taken by a brown-robed man he had never met. Not a noble but with a letter of authority from Baron Buscan. And he is not the only one. I've heard similar from other places within the Antes province, and in the east of Droevinka, as well."

"Buscan is sending out sorcerers?" Magiere asked. "Like Vordana?"

"I do not know what they are, and Vordana is the only one I've met. I only know what my brother has told me. There are men being sent out to unseat our nobles, one by one, and they have papers from the royal court."

"What does this have to do with me?" Magiere asked, not caring for the direction Geza was leading. She had little interest in the endless infighting of the noble houses.

"Would you look into this when you reach K6onsk? You and yours stopped Vordana here and might be able to take action others cannot. Just see if my brother is correct."

Magiere wasn't certain how to respond, but her Aunt Bieja lived too nearby for comfort and Magiere found Geza's suspicions unsettling.

"I doubt Buscan would give us an audience," she replied. "Or think us more than a nuisance, but if a chance arises…"

Geza inclined his head, satisfied, and he walked with her back to the manor for breakfast.

The morning passed swiftly. Wynn helped pack the wagon, and by late afternoon they were ready to leave. Leesil was silent for the day, and it was obvious to Magiere that his delusion of the night before still plagued him. For her own part, she couldn't rid herself of seeing Leesil offering himself up to her like a sacrifice. Talking would have to wait-but talk they would, for his sake.

As they pulled the wagon around before the manor, Stefan stood in its doorway as Elena came out to see them off. If Wynn was right concerning what Vordana had done to Stefan, he would never again leave that house. Elena looked up at the dipping sun.

"You should really stay the night and set out tomorrow. You will not get far today."

Magiere glanced at Leesil sitting quietly beside her on the wagon bench. He was still lost in his thoughts.

"No, we need to move on," she answered Elena. "Geza says the roads between here and Keonsk are smooth and dry. We'll keep going into the early evening and gain some ground."

Chap nuzzled Shade once more and ran for the wagon, leaping into the back to settle beside Wynn. He laid his head in her lap.

Magiere offered polite farewells, snapped the reins, and Port and Imp pulled them down the inland road. When they reached Pudurlatsat and turned east along the main road, Magiere shifted the reins to one hand and grasped Leesil's closest hand with her other. He gripped her palm instantly.

She held on to him until dusk.

Chane awoke precisely at dusk and sat watching Welstiel slumber. He had done the same thing night after night. More recently, his companion had ceased mumbling and thrashing in his dormancy.

Welstiel had become no less an obstacle to Chane's freedom than Toret had been, expecting obedience, though he could not will it as Toret had. Chane had no money and no where else to go, until Welstiel delivered his promised payment and letters of introduction. With such, Chane could seek a new existence, perhaps journey to one of the main branches for the Guild of Sagecraft.

For all Chane's reluctance to be Welstiel's puppet, he had little choice but to obey-for now. And he became more and more curious about the artifact that Welstiel sought.

But behind all this lingered a downfallen moment in the dark smithy.

Wynn had turned him away.

Part of him was strangely full of sorrow, and he was not normally given to melancholy. Wynn followed her conscience, and her clear wish to protect him from Magiere hung constantly in Chane's thoughts. A naive notion, as he needed no protection, but still…

In that moment, the possibility of returning to Bela with Wynn had slipped out before he realized what he was saying. He should not have allowed himself such a fantasy nor pushed it upon her. She was a true intellect and understood that truths could never be forgotten-there was no way to change what was. Like trying to take back words that had already been spoken.

His father's cruelty had taught him to defend himself, to look out for himself above all others. Wynn was the only person besides his mother that he'd ever wished to protect more than himself. He'd failed his mother; he might yet save Wynn.

Welstiel stirred, and Chane cautiously tapped his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

"Yes. We should ready ourselves."

"Do you wish to pack, or are we returning here?"

"We leave directly from the manor. Pack everything."

When Welstiel began assisting with preparations, Chane was surprised. It was clear early in their acquaintance that Welstiel had been raised a noble, accustomed to having things done for him. He struck Chane as lacking in self-sufficiency; regardless of his own noble upbringing, Chane preferred to rely upon himself.

He saddled both horses and strapped the tent over the rump of his own mount. He handed Welstiel his cloak.

"You lead," he said. "I'm still uncertain why you want to question this captain."

"Information," Welstiel answered.

How enlightening, Chane thought, but kept silent on the matter. It was puzzling, too, when Welstiel led them around the town to the east end rather than inland to the manor.

"How will you find this captain?" Chane asked.

Welstiel sat watching the main road through town and occasionally the sparse forest around them. There was little activity past dusk. Then Chane heard a clattering bell off through the trees.

A skinny young boy with thick black hair and freckled skin, not quite in his teens, was herding a group of goats through. The sound came from a crude bell hanging on the collar of the one male in the herd. The boy must have taken his charges out too far, or perhaps they had wandered on their own, and he was returning late.

"Can you charm that boy into fetching his lord's captain?" Welstiel asked. "You seem to have a way with these peasants."

"I will try," Chane answered, ignoring the barb.

He didn't care for these commoners either, but Welstiel's distaste was more acute. Chane understood the crude minds of peasants and how to use them when necessary.

The boy swung a switch to drive his small herd on to the main road, and Chane urged his horse forward through the trees. He kept his distance so as not to startle his would-be messenger.

"Ho there," he called.

The boy stopped to look him over before answering. "Who are you?"

"Friends of the dhampir," Chane said, gesturing to Welstiel back in the trees. He spoke Droevinkan fairly well but with an accent. "Did you meet her?"

The boy shook his head but his face lit up.

"She's the one who saved us! They say she's white as ghost and can pull down a horse with her bare hands. You know her?"

Chane's eyebrows rose. How quickly truth became legend-and sometimes myth-among the masses. If only they knew who had truly "saved" them.

"Yes, and she sent us with an urgent message. It is of great importance but must be handled quietly, only given to your lord's captain."

"Captain Geza?" The boy nodded. "His Elena handles things at the common house for us."

"Can you fetch the captain but not let anyone else hear you? Tell him the dhampir sent us with urgent news, and he should meet us here, away from any ears. Can you do that?"

The boy looked at his flock.

"We'll keep an eye on your herd," Chane said with a compassionate smile. "This is important, my boy."

The boy straightened himself as though a great duty had been placed upon him in service to this legendary dhampir. He nodded once and was off.

Welstiel urged his horse forward beside Chane's. "At times, you astonish me."

Chane shrugged. "You handled the innkeeper in Bela well enough."

"Greed and ignorance require little more than a flash of coin. This is going to be a more… open interrogation. There can be no witnesses, you understand?"

Chane suppressed an indignant retort. "Of course."

They dismounted, leading the horses into the trees but remaining in sight of the main road. The goats wandered by the roadside, and evening rapidly turned to night as the world grew darker.

Chane wondered how this Geza would react to a boy's tale of strange men with a secret message from the dhampir. Had this happened in Chane's mortal life, he would have gathered a retinue of guards before setting foot outside. But Magiere appeared to inspire confidence, and he believed the captain would come alone. Soon a short man in a leather hauberk and gray-blue cape followed the boy up the road out of the town. Chane stepped out, raising a hand to hail them, with Welstiel close behind.

The captain's expression was apprehensive, but he approached with little hesitation and spoke in a lowered voice.

"Young Tenan here says you have a message from Magiere. Has something happened during the journey? She's been gone less than half a day."

Welstiel stepped around Chane. He grabbed the captain's throat before the man could blink. Geza gripped Welstiel's forearm with one hand, reaching for his sword with the other. Before an inch of steel slipped from the sheath, Welstiel snatched his wrist.

Tenan's eyes widened, and the boy turned to run. Chane grasped the back of his neck and pinned his small head against a tree.

"Cry out, and I'll crush your skull," he whispered.

The boy stopped struggling and peered sideways at Geza for help. The captain released Welstiel's arm and struck with his fist.

Welstiel's head barely turned under the blow. He tightened his grip on Geza's throat. As the captain's eyes half closed, Welstiel slapped the man's hand from his sword and pulled the blade himself. He flung Geza into the forest away from the road, and the captain tumbled to the ground, gasping for air.

"Now," Welstiel said, "we need to know where the dhampir has gone and, if she told you, why."

Chane watched the captain lying on the ground, trying to catch his breath in astonishment at being so quickly undone.

"You're after the dhampir?" Geza said between gasps. "She saved this town, and I'll give you nothing to cause her harm."

"Harm?" Welstiel said, and looked to Chane. "Would you please show the good captain what we are capable of?"

Chane snarled. Without hesitation, he lifted the boy from the ground by his neck, so that they both faced Geza. The boy had no time to scream as Chane's teeth wrapped around the slender neck, halfway to the boy's throat. He bit down.

Tenan's legs kicked in the air a few times and fell still.

Chane seldom fed on children. As sweet as their blood could be, they were incapable of putting up a fight. When finished, he tossed the fragile body before Geza, who stared at him in horror.

Welstiel crouched before the captain. "If you think that undead sorcerer was a plague, imagine my companion loose among your people for one night. Or should we start at the manor?"

Geza drew a breath but did not speak. Chane stepped close behind Welstiel, watching the captain with mild interest. The outcome of this conversation was obvious, and all that remained was to see how long it took to play out.

"Without your assistance," Welstiel went on, "we have nowhere else to go. Do you have a son here? A daughter? A wife? I'm sure someone at the manor would cooperate in answering our questions."

Geza's brow furrowed as he rubbed his throat. Chane could tell the man was not accustomed to being helpless.

"What do you want?" the captain whispered.

"I told you," Welstiel responded. "We need to know where the dhampir is going and why."

"And if I tell you, then you and this murdering carrion will go on your way and leave my people be?"

"You have my word," Welstiel said.

"Keonsk," Geza sighed, dropping his gaze. "She heads to the capital."

'To pass through or to stay?"

"It is her destination, to the best of my knowledge."

"Why?"

"Fief records concerning her family. She's looking for information about her father, and that is all I know. Now leave us in peace!"

Chane was surprised how quickly the captain supplied the answers. Even stranger was his sense that the man spoke the truth straight out, and that his ignorance was sincere. But instead of being satisfied, Welstiel gripped the man by the throat again.

"Records of her father?"

Unable to breathe, the captain nodded his confirmation.

Welstiel slammed the palm of his free hand into the side of the captain's jaw. The man's head jerked sideways with an audible snap, and his body went limp. Welstiel stood up as Geza flopped to the ground, eyes open and head tilted at an unnatural angle.

"What is it?" Chane asked, almost alarmed.

Welstiel had never before lost all his composure like this. He stood shifting his weight back and forth.

"Come," he finally said. "Gather the bodies and get the horses."

Chane did as instructed and rode after Welstiel down the road for a half a league. When Welstiel turned aside into the trees and dismounted, Chane followed. The copse Welstiel had entered was so dark that even Chane had trouble seeing clearly. Welstiel stood deep in thought.

"What now?" Chane asked.

"We need to slow Magiere down. You and I must reach Keonsk first."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Chane had never seen Welstiel so unsettled. "And what do you suggest?"

His companion paused and pointed to the urn hanging around Chane's neck.

"You are skilled with animal spirits, yes? Send something to stop her without causing her injury. The captain said she had been gone less than half a day, so she is not far ahead."

Chane shook his head. "What you ask is a complex process, and at present, the only familiar I have is a rat. I doubt that will suit your purpose."

"Magiere is my only interest," Welstiel returned. "Anyone with her is no concern of mine. Slow her down or I will have to do it myself. And my methods are not as… precisely controlled as yours."

Chane blinked. Welstiel knew enough of his private interests to use Wynn against him. A flash of anger and resentment brought harsh words to his lips, but he fought them back.

"Do you have wolf speech?" he asked.

"Do I have what?" Welstiel returned.

"It is what I call it," he explained. "My maker, Toret, told me that each of our kind develops different abilities. Toret lived for many years with another Noble Dead who possessed the power to call upon wolves. Do you?"

"Yes, I can do this," Welstiel answered, and he glowered in distaste. "But it is neither speech nor a kinship with wolves. You can abandon such superstitious nonsense. It is an expression of hungering instinct, cast out to catch the attention of any predator within reach. A base and crude ability which most of our kind develop over time."

Chane pondered this for a moment. In his short time as a Noble Dead, he had not manifested abilities beyond what any undead would have-speed, strength, suppression of pain and physical duress, amongst others. It was curious that one such as Welstiel, so repulsed by anything uncultured and raw, would have developed such an ability.

"Setting wolves upon them," Welstiel said, "is not the precise approach I expected from you."

"I only need one," Chane replied. "And it will be more focused than you imply."

He knelt down and pulled a brass urn, a candle, a silver dagger, and a bottle of olive green liquid from his pack.

"We'll clear a space where I can carve my symbols in the earth for the ritual."

Welstiel became immediately agreeable, and this raked Chane more than the man's previous manner. Welstiel was exactly like Toret in some respects. Polite, so long as Chane did as he was told. They picked a clear space in the copse, and Chane prepared for the ritual as Welstiel cleared the forest mulch with his boot.

"Now, call a wolf," Chane ordered.

Magiere sat with Leesil upon the wagon's seat and drove Port and Imp down the road through the night. It took little attention, as the horses were surefooted and never veered from the road.

Wynn and Chap were still awake in the wagon's back, and the sage had unpacked two cold lamps at dusk. Leesil lashed these to either side of the wagon's front footboard. He leaned back and took an apple slice from Wynn.

"So, you destroyed that creature by melting its urn? Clever."

Wynn didn't respond and continued cutting fruit to hand out.

Chap sat before her with his front legs set wide to balance against the wagon's rock. When Magiere glanced back, the dog licked his muzzle with ears straight up, his full attention on the next apple Wynn peeled.

Magiere hadn't forgotten what Chap had done in the forest for Wynn, though how was still a mystery even after Wynn's tale. What the sage had described was far more astonishing than the simple swipe of tongue that Magiere had witnessed. Chap became a larger puzzle each time they learned more of him-most often with no help from the dog himself.

Wynn looked tired and weak, and Magiere wondered how much of this was her ordeal with Vordana, her mantic mishap, or their stay in the village under the sorcerer's draining presence. Leesil had shaken off his fatigue, and this gave Magiere another reason for pause. Vordana had tried to strip his life away, yet he was less worse for wear man the sage.

Then there was Wynn's description of what she'd seen of each of them in her altered sight. Magiere had shared this with Leesil. However, there were more pressing concerns to discuss for what lay ahead.

"Geza showed me a letter from his brother," she began.

"Antes fiefs are being taken from their nobles by men sent out by Lord Buscan."

"Vordana was not an isolated incident?" Wynn asked, her voice rising. "There are more like him?"

Magiere shook her head.

"I don't know. The replacements carry letters of authority from Keonsk, but I can't imagine many sorcerers still about in this time-or any time I've heard of. Geza's brother thinks this is happening in eastern Droevinka, as well, and Geza asked us to look into it, though I've no idea how."

Chap lunged forward, threw his front legs over the bench's back, and growled at her. The sound startled Port and Imp, and they pulled up, dancing sideways.

"Stop that!" Leesil ordered, shoving the dog back.

"You know he does not want us on this journey," Wynn said. "Or anywhere in Droevinka, it seems. I suppose he does not want us involved in the captain's suspicions either."

It sounded to Magiere like Wynn had become as weary of Chap's behavior as Leesil or herself.

"All right," Leesil said. "Stop the wagon."

Magiere pulled in the reins, bringing Port and Imp to a halt. "What's wrong?"

"We're not moving another league. " He hopped down, circled around the wagon's back, and climbed in to crouch before Chap. "Not until we get some answers from you!"

Chap shifted nervously on all fours, but there was little room left for him to move in the wagon's back.

"Wynn saw you in her mantic sight," Leesil said to the dog. "And she saw them… the Fay."

Chap rumbled and glanced at Magiere. She frowned at him.

"He was trying to help Wynn," Magiere said.

"Maybe that's all," Leesil replied. "Or maybe he's in a hurry to get us away from any more information we might stumble upon. Like the fit he threw about the keep near your village. Think about it. Calling his… others, kin, whatever. So much power just to banish a simple magic gone awry? Like using a sword when a knife would do."

Even Wynn now stared warily at Chap.

"A very urgent choice, I'd say," Leesil added. "Perhaps to preserve one more new piece in the scheme he's been working all these years."

Chap growled and barked twice for no.

Magiere saw Leesil stiffen, and his gaze grew distant. His eyes drooped and filled with sadness. He shuddered and blinked.

"Don't do that again!" he snapped at the dog.

Chap dropped his head, breaking eye contact.

Wynn glanced between the two of them. "What? What happened?"

"Chap's playing his memory game again," Magiere said. "Leesil?"

She watched him drop to sit in the wagon's bed. "My mother gave him to me."

Magiere's stomach turned. This journey-her journey- kept Leesil from searching for a mother who, unlike her own, might still live. Guilt wasn't something Magiere let plague her in the past, but from that night she'd convinced Leesil to head to Droevinka first, she'd had enough for a lifetime. And it felt well deserved in this moment.

"Perhaps he wants to find her, as well," she said quietly, watching Leesil withdraw into his own thoughts. "We'll go north as soon as we finish in Keonsk, and I-"

"What?" Leesil looked up in confusion. "No, I didn't mean that to sound… We'll search Keonsk, tear the place apart if we have to. " His attention turned back upon Chap. "But this deceitful four-footer is going to answer some questions."

Leesil reached into Wynn's pack and pulled out the talking hide. He slapped it down on the wagon's bed before Chap.

"Why do you want us out of here so badly?" he demanded.

Chap fidgeted again. Wynn reached out to the dog, cupping his muzzle in her palm to look him in the eyes.

"I know you helped me because you care for me," she said to him, "but if there is more, then it is time to tell us. Would the mantic sight have faded on its own soon enough?"

Chap gazed intently back at Wynn and yipped once for yes.

"Then why call the Fay?" Magiere asked. "Why the urgency? Why do you want us away from here?"

Magiere had another unsettling moment when Chap looked up at her and began pawing at the hide.

"Navaj… enemy?" Wynn translated. "Bith feith leiras… in wait?… no… is waiting, watching. Trialhi amve aicheva tu… leave before it finds you."

Magiere's eyes lit up.

"In Stefan's tale of Vordana's first visit," she said, "the sorcerer said something about being able to 'watch' no matter what Stefan did. I think Vordana tried to drain life from me during the fight and couldn't. He looked surprised, and I heard him in my thoughts. I was what he'd been waiting, watching for."

"Another clan of undead on our trail," Leesil muttered. "Wondrous! More Noble Dead worked up by peasant tales of the dhampir come to-"

Chap pawed the hide again, stopping often to look over its symbols as if trying to find something specific.

"Spiorcolh aonach… one spirit crime," Wynn said. "No, um, the first spiritual… spiritual crime… sin? The first sin-bith feith leiras-is waiting and watching. Am-na iosai

c 'tu. Not time… too soon… to know for you? Too soon… for you-for us-to know."

Wynn sat back with a deep sigh of frustration.

"Perhaps our search leads to something he thinks we are not ready to know, and that knowing would place us in danger… Or the search would reveal us to this enemy?"

'Too late for that," Magiere said. "Considering what we faced in the last village."

Wynn rubbed her brow as if it ached. Chap whined, sniffing at the hide and tilting his snout at her. He hung his head, shifting from paw to paw as his gaze wandered over the hide.

"Don't you start that again," Leesil said. "Wynn, make him tell us-"

"Enough, Leesil!" Wynn snapped, her sharp tone startling even Magiere. "He is an eternal spirit with no use for spoken words-using an animal's mind to handle a written language… and in a dialect I do not speak well myself. There is something he cannot find the words for."

The wagon lurched suddenly backward, and both Port and Imp screamed out.

Magiere grabbed the bench to keep from being spilled forward onto the wagon's hitch. Port snorted and reared. He thrashed out with his forehooves, and both horses whinnied again in panic.

A large wolf circled into view on the road and rushed in at Port. The wagon lurched again, rolling backward as the horses retreated.

"Wynn… Leesil!" Magiere shouted as she righted herself. "Someone get my sword!"

Chap lunged forward, front paws on the wagon's bench. He snarled, and his ear flattened at the sight of the wolf.

"Brake!" Leesil shouted. "Pull the brake!"

Magiere saw the wolf harry the horses as she blindly reached back with her hand. The falchion's hilt smacked against her palm, and she closed her fingers around it, not knowing who'd retrieved it. She grabbed for the brake with her free hand.

The wagon lurched to a halt with the sound of splintering wood. Magiere pulled the brake too late. Her grip on lever kept her from falling backward, but that was all, for they'd already hit something.

"Chap, go!" Magiere shouted.

The dog scrambled over the bench as she dropped off the wagons' side, running to get in between the horses and the wolf. It was snarling and snapping at their hooves.

"Get back!" she yelled, trying to attract the wolf's attention.

Chap rushed around her and charged. The wolf turned on the dog, and the two became a mass of growls and teeth. Magiere couldn't strike without risking injury to Chap.

Port and Imp tried to back away, and the wagon's rigging creaked under their struggles. Magiere glanced back to see wagon's corner grind against a tree trunk. Wynn clung to the wagon's side, reaching for a grip on the bench, and Leesil was nowhere in sight. Magiere grabbed for the horses' harness. The wagon twisted sideways and dropped as the outer rear wheel fell free from its axle.

A loud yelp carried above the horses' frantic snorts. Magiere saw the wolf break away and Chap roll to his feet, prepared to charge again. She released the horses and swung her blade, aiming for the beast's throat. It dodged, but her blade tip clipped its left shoulder.

The wolf yelped, and then dashed off into the trees. Chap scrambled after it.

"No!" Magiere shouted. "Let it go."

Chap circled around her, panting, his eyes on the forest where the wolf had fled.

Magiere turned back to the wagon. There was still no sign of Leesil, but Wynn lay in the road amongst half their belongings, toppled out the wagon's back end. The rear right wheel lay flat on the road.

"Wynn?" Magiere called. "Are you all right?"

The sage sat up, her short robe's cowl flopped over her face. She pushed it back and looked about as if lost.

"Yes… yes, I am fine," she said.

"Where's Leesil?" Magiere asked.

Wynn peered about again, climbing to her feet, and Chap ran around the wagon's back.

"Valhachkasej'a!" came Leesil's irate voice from the forest. "I'm in the damn bushes!"

He rose into view from behind the tree their wagon had struck, with dirt on his face and clothes. Stray leaves stuck out in his white hair. He walked stiff-legged as he stepped out onto the road, and held his right buttock as he scowled at Magiere.

"Did you ever manage to set the brake?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Magiere glared at him, though she was relieved that he was all right. "That wolf must have been starving to attack a wagon."

"Am I ever…" Wynn said, head shaking in disbelief, "ever going to have one safe night around the three of you?"

Magiere had no answer.

Chap sat down next to the sage and licked her hand, but Wynn pulled it away. She looked at the wheel lying on the ground. Leesil squatted down and poked at the axle's end. Magiere was about to ask if they could fix it, but Leesil was already shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, this makes perfect sense," Wynn continued. "Who else would become stranded in the wilderness by one famished wolf?"

Bitterness was unusual enough coming from Wynn, but the words hung upon Magiere as she looked toward the woods where the wolf had vanished. There was nothing else to be done, and she began unharnessing Port and Imp.

"Oh, I am sorry," Wynn said. "It is a bit too much to face right now."

"I could use your help," Magiere replied.

Wynn came forward to inspect Port's right front leg. It was bleeding.

"Only the skin," she said. "Proper tending and rest, and he will recover quickly."

"We're here for the night anyway," Leesil said, glaring at the wheel and axle.

He collected their belongings off the road and began setting camp as Wynn dug through her things to find salve and a bandage for Port's leg. Magiere stroked the animal's long forehead, but her gaze was still on the forest.

Chane knelt upon the ground, seeing through the wolf's eyes as he directed its assault upon the horses. He had made the wolf his own familiar and felt what it felt while merged with its awareness. When the dhampir's blade bit the wolf's shoulder, Chane recoiled in pain and severed his bond with the animal.

But he had seen the wagon smash against the tree.

Through his own eyes, he saw Welstiel standing a short distance off, holding his cloak closed about himself, watching Chane with tight lips and eyes narrowed with impatience.

"It's done. " Chane panted. "One horse is injured, and the wagon has lost a wheel. No one was hurt, and they are stranded."

Welstiel nodded. "Well done. Can you ride?"

"The wolf is bleeding."

"Will that affect you?"

Chane still felt the pain from the dhampir's blade, but it was fading. He did not answer and crawled to his feet to repack his components and mount his horse. Welstiel followed his actions.

"Go," Chane said, exhausted and angry.

He did not want his efforts wasted and, once they passed the dhampir in the night, Welstiel would no longer have a need to take matters into his own hands. Wynn would be safe-for now.

"How far ahead are they?" Welstiel asked.

"Perhaps a few leagues or more. I'll warn you when we get close, and we can move off the road through the forest. If we press through the night, we will be long ahead of mem by dawn."

Welstiel kicked his horse forward. Chane gripped his reins with one hand and his saddle with the other and followed.