Thief of Lives

Chapter 8

Leesil wasn't easily impressed by grandeur, but as he stepped into the Rowanwood's wide entryway, he slowed his pace.

Large oil paintings hung on white walls, and all archways, windows, railings, and other fixtures were made of aged and polished wood suitable to the place's name. Carpets depicted patterns of ivy and forest scenes. Men and women in rich dress floated about. To the left was a dining chamber, and to his right was an elaborate gaming room, with tables for cards, dice, a fortune's wheel, and some oddity concerned with sliding marked tiles around a grid of squares. Ahead was a wide hallway of forest-green carpet that flowed up a staircase. Leesil imagined sumptuous rooms above that he could likely never afford.

Among the patrons were occasional servers and a few tall and solidly built men of moderate but clean dress. The latter moved about the room or stood near archways watching the rooms. They wore no uniforms and carried no visible weapons, but each was similarly dressed in white shirts and colored vestments of fine fabrics.

Leesil felt painfully underdressed and yet again out of place. Before the nearest guard turned around, he slipped into the gaming room.

A few patrons cast him curious or disapproving glances, but most were preoccupied with their pursuits. He counted seven at the faro table, and sounds of ecstasy and despair carried to his ears. Most of the players were middle-aged elites, and odds at faro favored the house too much for the few coins that he carried.

The scent of pipe smoke drifted to his nostrils, and he turned to see a game of Two Kings at a table near the short bar at the room's front. A handsome woman in her mid-forties caught his eye and smiled. He smiled back. There was no need to be impolite. Leesil approached the table, and her expression grew more welcoming.

Her auburn hair was piled up in elaborate coils, and she wore a rich, mute forest-green gown that made her appear part of the establishment's own decor. The dress was sashed about her torso with a long olive scarf. Something about the gown puzzled Leesil. It had a high collar, rather than the open-topped bodices most of the women wore.

"Are you searching for a game, sir?" she asked.

"If you have space at your table, it would be my honor," he answered.

The other players were mostly well-to-dos and old wealth. The dealer was an ashen-faced man wearing a badly fitted wig, who seemed appalled by the woman's suggestion.

"My dear madam," he sputtered.

Leesil knew he'd stepped too far across some social barrier and was about to be escorted briskly into the street. After Lanjov, the council, and the other nose-in-the-air nobles over the last few days, he'd had quite enough snobbery for one lifetime.

A younger gentleman to the woman's right appeared embarrassed by the dealer's manner. He reached out and pulled over an empty chair from another table. But there were scowls, and a couple of worried glances from other players as Leesil settled cautiously into the offered seat.

"I am Madame Lenska," the woman said. "My husband and I are in Bela on trade."

"What trade would that be?" Leesil asked.

Madame Lenska laughed, whispering in a conspirator's tone, "Snails."

The young gentleman to her side blinked in surprise. "Snails?"

"Yes," she went on. "It sounds appalling, but the demand for this delicacy is almost insatiable. We've been settling contracts with the better establishments." She leaned toward Leesil. "Personally, I can't stand the disgusting little things."

Leesil chatted politely while the cards were dealt. Two Kings was a relatively simple game. Though the odds favored the house, as always, the stakes tended to be low. Winning meant coming as close to twenty points as possible without going over, and anyone dealt two kings in the first round won automatically. With a queen of spades and nine of diamonds on the first pass, Leesil decided to stay the hand and bet everything in his pocket-which amounted to three copper pennies. He won, and the small pile of coins grew.

Several men looked at him in displeasure, but Madame Lenska laughed again.

"I've heard beginners are fortunate company, and I'm feeling generous toward the lucky. Would you like a goblet of wine? The burgundy from southern Droevinka is quite excellent."

Leesil's attention wavered. How long since he'd tasted it? He'd sworn to himself, never again, but the image of Magiere storming up the staircase rose in his mind. She thought him nothing more than a gambling drunk, and a "second-rate" one at that.

Well, why not have just one goblet? He could live up to her low expectations, and enjoy himself at that.

"Thank you," he replied. "You are most kind."

Madame Lenska snapped her fingers, murmured to a serving girl, and moments later, a large pewter goblet brimming with burgundy was placed beside Leesil.

He forgot to watch the dealer while taking a long, slow sip, and the wine slipped dry and sweet down his throat. He made small bets, lost two hands and won four, and realized his goblet was empty. Studying his amassed coins, he saw there was enough to purchase one refill and still continue playing. He signaled to the serving girl.

The wine was strong and made him light-headed, but he wasn't drunk. He knew well enough when "drunk" was approaching, and it was a long way off. He made a larger bet on a new hand.

As he absently stacked his coins, one toppled and rolled off to the floor, and he leaned down to retrieve it. Under the table, Madame Lenska's legs were crossed, exposing a bare ankle and a touch of calf, and he froze. Her boots were weatherworn, and a king of diamonds peeked from the top of one.

Leesil sat up slowly, fingering his cards with a sidelong glance at the woman.

Madame Lenska's gown was very traditional. Too much so, now that he thought about it, worn only by women from old houses he remembered from his days in the Warlands in service to Lord Dartmouth. The dress was in a fine state but unlikely to be worn by a lady out for a little leisure. He suddenly realized why she'd been so inviting to him.

If the players and dealer were watching an underdressed lowborn, no one would pay attention to her as she slipped in a card or two. She'd even bought him a drink to keep him at the table.

At the draw of the cards, the dealer exceeded twenty, and Leesil won again.

The house should win Two Kings at least two thirds of the time. If someone became suspicious, who would they point to first-an old-world lady or a half-blood outside his place?

Leesil stood and gathered his coins. "Well, I'm off to sup-per."

Several gentlemen looked openly relieved, and the one who'd offered him a chair gave a polite nod of farewell. Madame Lenska frowned.

"So soon? But you've only just started. Let me buy you another goblet."

The server walked over with the wine he'd ordered, and he quickly paid for it himself.

"You're most kind," he said for the second time. "But I've won a few coins and need to refresh before continuing."

With a slight bow, Leesil left the room carrying his goblet.

An entryway guard gave him an appraising look but no more. Entering the dining chamber, Leesil watched lavish trays of seafood and roasted birds sweep by in the servers' hands, and he realized even his winnings might not cover the price of a meal. Several polished stools by the room's bar were empty, so he perched to watch the people as he sipped his wine.

Then she walked in.

Leesil was certainly light-headed now, but his vision was still clear, and the flash of lavender silk burst through the archway without warning. He spared little attention for rich, useless women, and only Magiere filled his heart, but he couldn't help staring.

The low-cut neckline exposed mounds of creamy, pale bosom pushing up from a tight bodice. Ringlets of perfectly curled hair hung across her shoulders and back, and her neck and fingers shimmered in jewels. Like the game room, she was an infectious sight. With eagerness in her eyes, she looked about. Then she noticed his attention and smiled.

Leesil grew mildly uncomfortable. He returned a polite smile and spun around to face the bar. As light steps approached from behind, she floated up beside him.

"Have we met before, sir?" she said. Her gazed moved almost hungrily over his face. "You look very familiar to me."

He raised one eyebrow. "I don't think so. I believe I would remember you, miss."

"Was that a compliment?" She tilted her head slightly. "May I join you? I'm without an escort at the moment and would be so much more at ease in good company."

His guarded surprise increased but so did his reluctance. He didn't wish to encourage her. Neither did he wish to be rude and attract further attention.

"Please," he said finally, and gestured to the stool on his far side.

"Wouldn't this be more splendid?" She raised one hand toward an empty table nearby with a coy drop of her lashes.

As Leesil stood up, he noticed her eyes resting on his half-open shirt, across his collarbone and chest. Again, he wondered how to politely escape the situation as they settled at the table.

"I'm Sapphire," she said, with a touch of fingertips to her throat.

"Leesil," he replied.

"Are you just visiting Bela?" she asked.

"Yes, on business," he answered shortly. After a moment's silence, he cleared his throat. "And you?"

"Oh, no. I have a lovely three-story home in the city. For anyone interested in real society, I think Bela is the only place to live."

He nodded politely.

"Your eyes-so unusual," she said. "Where are you from?"

"I don't know." He hesitated, then added, "My mother was elven."

"An elf?" she replied with interest. "Ah, but I think your father was human, yes? You're half-elven?"

"Yes," he answered flatly. "I'm a half-blood."

"Oh, I didn't mean that. It's just… I've heard elves live a very long time. That their life force is much stronger than humans. Is that true?"

For the first time, he smiled. "Where'd you hear such a thing?"

She laughed, but it was forced, as if she were embarrassed by her own bluntness. "If all half-elves look like you, I should be glad to meet more of them."

The second those words left her mouth, Leesil tensed in his chair.

"Well, thank you," he said. "But if you're a wealthy man's daughter or wife looking for a unique diversion, I don't think I'm your man."

He stood up, took his goblet, walked toward the game room, and didn't bother looking back to see her expression.

The game room was hectic, but it didn't take long to find a seat at an empty table. He settled to sip his wine and watch the faro game.

Another flash of lavender caught his eye. Sapphire had followed him.

He began to stand, but she stopped him with a delicate hand on his shoulder. Before he could blink, she pressed him back into his chair and settled sleekly into his lap.

"I just wanted to know you better." Sapphire said Looking down at him, she made a show of stretching her torso upright as she brushed her hair back.

Now it was his turn to stare at her-or whatever ample features hung right before his eyes.

Magiere sat on the bed's edge, ignoring the bowl of mutton stew on the bedside table. Chap shoved his nose into her hand, and she petted his head a few times, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Was I too hard on him?" she said.

Chap sat down with a low whine, eyes intent.

"Just when I think he's improving, he gets drunk and loses our money, and then he's too cowardly to admit it." Throwing up her hands in disgust, she looked at Chap, wishing he could speak. "You make more sense than he does."

Chap trotted to the door, scratched at it, and looked back at her.

"You have to go out… now?"

He woofed once, tail swishing.

"Fine," she muttered. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

Taking Chap out to do his after-meal business was now Magiere's high point for the day. It wasn't enough that they'd gotten nowhere with their search. Now Leesil was playing some idiotic gallant, offering up his… blood… as if she'd ever again let that happen. What was the fool thinking? Out of habit more than need, she snatched up her falchion, preparing to strap it on as she opened the door. Before she could finish, Chap bolted out and down the stairs.

"Chap, stop," she shouted, rushing after the hound, but he quickly left her behind.

Loud exclamations came from below in the common room, followed by a raucous clatter and a string of curses in a high-pitched voice.

When Magiere descended, she looked about for the dog. The common room was empty, except for one old man still smoking by the front door, who now stared wide-eyed toward the bar. She followed the gaze, noticed the curtained doorway behind the bar that most likely led to the kitchen, and her eyes narrowed.

"Chap, you glutton!"

She headed for the kitchen, intending to chase the hound down, but then slid to a stop.

Sticking out along the floor from the bar's end was a small booted foot with an overturned tankard stuck on the toe. Magiere peeked around the corner.

There sat-or rather sprawled-young Vatz, an overturned bowl in his lap and a pile of scraps, garbage, and leavings all over him and the floor. He looked up at Magiere with an egg-boiling heat in his little face.

"Oh, Vatz… no," she said. "I'll get him out of the kitchen. And I promise, when I'm done with that mongrel, this will never happen again."

She was about to step over him when he growled, "No!"

Vatz looked down at the mess of himself and back up to Magiere. Mouth open, he heaved a couple of exasperated gasps in place of whatever words he couldn't get out, and then stabbed a finger toward the inn's front door.

Magiere frowned and then cringed. Vatz must have been on his way out with the garbage when Chap had bolted through.

"I see," she said, reaching down to help the boy up. "He… he must have really needed out."

Vatz swatted her hands aside, letting out an incomprehensible series of grunts and exclamations, and then violently waved her off toward the door.

"Yes, well, again, I'm sorry about this," Magiere stammered, and twisted about, muttering under her breath, "Chap, you're going to be pig's slop when I'm done with you."

Strapping on her falchion, Magiere opened the door and stepped outside.

There sat Chap in the middle of the street, staring at her, wide-eyed and ears perked.

"You!" Magiere snapped, lunging at the hound to snatch him by the scruff.

Chap darted away up the street, turned about, and sat down to look at her again. Magiere glared at him, dumbfounded.

"The alley-that way!" She pointed around the side of the inn. "Now get. And you'd better hope I don't leave you out all night."

Chap's tail slowly swept the cobblestones. He barked twice at her, wheeled about for two more hops up the street, and sat to stare at her again.

"What is wrong with you?" It took Magiere a puzzled moment to realize what the hound was up to. "No! No Leesil. Now get."

She pointed toward the alley again. Chap was immediately up on all fours, barking continuously, hopping about and turning circles.

"Quiet. Stop that." She took two steps toward him, but Chap again spun farther up the road. "I'm not going after your sot of a master. Now quiet." With that she threw up her hands in disgust and turned to go back inside. "You can stay out here the rest of the night."

When she reached for the door's latch, her fingertips barely touched it as a strange tingle ran up her spine.

Leesil? She held an image of him in mind, seated at his faro table, watching her behind the Sea Lion's bar as if she weren't aware of him.

Magiere looked back over her shoulder, as if expecting to see him. There was no one there but Chap.

Had she been too hard on Leesil? He was an irresponsible dolt, and had no idea what he was really saying this evening. But was it asking too much to let him have his way just a little? It hadn't been that long since they'd left the game, and, in his own way, he was doing his best-wasn't he? It hadn't been his idea to quit and settle, and she certainly hadn't given him much choice.

Magiere's hand hung near the door latch. She looked back at Chap waiting in the street.

"Stay," she said, and pushed the door open.

Inside, Milous was helping Vatz clean up. He gave her a disgusted glower.

"Did my partner tell you where he was going?" Magiere asked.

"He wanted someplace special," the stout innkeeper answered. "So I told him to go to the Rowanwood. Any coachman in the city can take you there."

Magiere sighed. Leave it to Leesil to choose someplace they couldn't afford.

"Thank you," she said, and stepped back out.

Chap now sat so close behind it startled Magiere.

"I told you to stay." She stepped into the street with the hound pacing beside her. "You get more like your master every day. I'd better find him, before he cheats his way into a cell at Chetnik's barracks."

She walked up the street until spotting a passing coach. Hailing it, she gave the coachman her destination while Chap climbed in and stretched across one of the seats. The ride wasn't long, and soon the coach came to a halt as the driver called out "The Rowanwood!" Magiere paid him and looked up with mounting apprehension at the elegant inn.

Richly dressed patrons walked in and out, and here she stood in breeches, high boots, and a leather vest. She decided to just go in, pull Leesil out-and, maybe, see if he wanted go someplace a little more suitable.

"Come on," she said to Chap. "But I don't think they'll want a dog in this place."

A woman in a cream lace gown looked at them in shock as they walked through the front doors. A few other heads turned as well. Magiere began doubting her decision and wondered if she shouldn't quickly leave. A tall man approached her, wide shoulders filling up his white shirt and embroidered vestment.

"May I help you?"

"I'm searching for a friend," she explained. "Soon as I find him, we'll be on our way."

The guard nodded politely. "You'll need to leave your sword with me. Food is served in the chamber to the left. Gaming is on the right. Rooms are also available, and you can ask any of the staff to assist you."

Magiere felt her stomach turn hollow.

"You have a gaming room?"

"Yes, miss," the house guard replied. "Your sword?"

A faro table was one thing, but a whole room of chance? The thought of Leesil in there was too much for her. She unstrapped her blade and handed it to the guard, and suddenly Chap growled.

"We try to be accommodating," the guard added sternly. "But you will keep your animal under control or leave immediately."

Chap inched toward the archway to the game room. A low rumble began in his throat and slowly grew to an eerie high-pitched whine. Several nearby patrons stepped away in alarm. It was a familiar sound, and Magiere's attention fixed on the archway.

She looked down to her chest. The topaz amulet glowed brightly.

"You've got bigger problems than the dog," she said, and turned to Chap. "Go!"

Chap lunged into the archway as Magiere followed. She scanned the room for Leesil but couldn't find him, and a bright spot of color grabbed her eye-the back of a shapely woman in a lavender silk gown sitting in a man's lap. Dark-blond ringlets fell down past her shoulders.

Chap let out a series of savage, snapping barks that startled even Magiere.

And the room burst into turmoil.

The nearest patrons rushed, lunged, stumbled, and fell over one another and their chairs while trying to get away from the animal. A dice table overturned. Two men in vestments rushed forward to help patrons, all the while keeping their attention on Magiere and Chap. At the commotion, the blond-haired woman looked back, shifting in the man's lap and exposing him to view.

Leesil? Magiere mouthed, but no sound came out.

He sat alone, except for the woman he held, with a stack of coins on the table next to a large pewter goblet.

Chap's attention was fixed directly on Leesil's companion.

Magiere snatched the edge of a table in her way and jerked it over and aside. Leesil looked at the woman atop him with a strangely baffled and annoyed expression, and then he caught sight of Magiere.

He took a deep breath, amber eyes widening, and his tan complexion appeared to pale.

As Sapphire nestled onto his lap, Leesil had no idea how to respond. The rustling silk and the plump mounds of her breasts filling his view put him at a momentary loss. Blinking, he looked up at her with what he hoped was adequate annoyance. He grabbed her upper arms and was about to hoist her off when he noticed her eyes. He hadn't looked at them closely before.

They were bright blue, her pale face framed by long curls of dark-blond hair. There was something familiar about her, as if he'd seen her once before. Then came a strange, unnatural howl more familiar than the woman's face, and people began shouting.

Patrons clamored and shoved their way toward the room's back. Tables, chairs, and bodies toppled one over the other. Two house guards waded in, trying to disentangle bodies from furniture. But everyone's attention was fixed toward the bestial sounds coming from the archway. His uninvited companion turned in his lap as well, opening his view.

There stood an enraged Chap.

And Magiere.

He was in a gaming room. He was drinking. He had a silk-clad blond in his lap with her chest in his face. Magiere's infuriated expression sent a numbing chill through Leesil that sank through to the seat of his breeches.

There wasn't anything that could save him from Magiere long enough to explain all of this.

Chap snarled, inching into the room, and Leesil tensed in alarm. The reasons for Magiere's ire were plain enough, but what had gotten into Chap?

Magiere looked at Sapphire, and Leesil had a moment's concern over what Magiere might do to the woman. Grabbing a table in her way, Magiere slung it aside, and Leesil winced, trying to figure out how to get both himself and Sapphire out of harm's way until Magiere calmed down. Then he saw the topaz amulet in the room's softer lamplight.

It glowed. His eyes rolled up to Sapphire once again.

Dark-blond ringlets. Bright blue eyes-like gemstones. Pretty and eager. With smooth, pallid skin. Like Magiere's.

Leesil stiffened, a coin's toss between mortified and horrified, and choked back a curse before it could escape. The slim chance of explaining anything to Magiere faded. He'd be lucky if she ever spoke to him again, if he lived through this.

His right hand dropped slowly to his side, and he flicked the sheath strap to slip a stiletto into his hand.

Sapphire's hand clamped around his throat, nails biting into his skin.

"Try that and you're dead," she hissed without looking at him. Her attention was on Magiere, confusion in her voice as she spoke. "Hold that dog off, or this one dies!"

Magiere stopped. "Let him go, or you won't reach the door."

The two guards in the room stood still and uncertain. Leesil spotted a third poised in the entryway behind Magiere, eyes shifting, as if wondering whom to deal with first. Such a disturbance was probably rare in a place like the Rowanwood, and they clearly had no wish for a patron to be killed inside the establishment. But they also appeared more anxious over Chap than the sight of Sapphire's fingers on his throat.

In one movement, Sapphire slipped out of his lap and spun around, pulling Leesil to his feet with his back toward Magiere and Chap. She retreated toward a side exit used by the staff.

Leesil still believed he could remove her fingers with little damage to himself, but there were too many people inside the game room. She might simply grab someone else. He decided to let her to pull him outside.

Chap raged somewhere behind him, and he wondered what Magiere might do next.

Sapphire pulled him through the side door into a narrow, plain passage and kicked the door shut behind them. Her fingers tightened as she backed hastily toward the hallway's end and another door.

"Now, I'll never be able to come here. And this is my favorite place," she hissed, pulling him along. "You might have mentioned you were married, but your kind rarely does on an evening out. Maybe she won't even care if I rip you apart."

Leesil couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not only was she completely vapid if she thought Magiere was some enraged wife, but her main concern was that she'd not be able to patronize the Rowanwood again. When Magiere caught up to them, this idiot corpse had a few surprises coming. How had such a creature survived on her own?

He still gripped the hilt of a stiletto in his right hand, the blade up his sleeve. Sapphire had been so preoccupied she hadn't told him to drop it. The blade wouldn't kill her, but perhaps he could get free at the right moment.

A young house guard stepped from a side door down the passage, blocking Sapphire's way. He looked uncomfortable, as if he should be asking Leesil to release the woman and not the other way around.

"Miss, please, we can't have this sort of thing here. Let the man go."

Sapphire's head twisted so sharply toward the guard that Leesil was unprepared.

Her free hand shot out.

Nails split the man's throat as her fingers drove deep into his neck and then jerked out again. Dark red liquid coated Sapphire's fingers and ran down the back of her hand. The guard crumpled, choking on blood overflowing his gasping mouth.

Leesil punched upward with his right hand, slashing the stiletto's blade against the underside of Sapphire's wrist. He grabbed her outstretched forearm and spun to his left, twisting her arm.

She lost her grip on his throat and screeched in surprise. As she jerked herself free of him, Leesil slashed downward across the top of her wrist. They stumbled apart, Leesil clutching only a severed sleeve cuff where he'd tried to take her entire hand.

Chap and Magiere burst through the door behind them. Fright replaced the fury on Sapphire's face. Clutching her slashed wrist with her bloodied hand, she fled down the passage toward the end door. Chap shot past and out the door as well. Leesil started after them.

"No!" Magiere yelled. "Let me."

He ignored her and shoved the piece of fabric inside his shirt, bolting after Sapphire.

Magiere's anger increased when Leesil ignored her order. She didn't even have her falchion, and all he carried were his stilettos. Fury fed her speed as she ran after him. She felt her eyeteeth elongate as the night around her brightened in her sight. The topaz amulet's light actually felt warm on her chest. Beneath rage, she remained focused-almost aware, almost controlled.

Leesil gained distance ahead of her, and she heard a crack and a snarling yelp echo down the alleyway. Chap must have reached the undead harlot first.

Magiere forced herself to run faster, anxious to reach the dog, and her body obeyed. Leesil reached a corner in the alley and was about to round it, when he suddenly threw himself to the ground in a roll, head over heels.

From around the corner, a wood timber struck down and smashed into the empty space he'd just occupied. Leesil's roll continued toward the far alley wall. Magiere reached the corner, and the timber rose again. She snatched the protruding end.

Holding the other end was the woman who'd been sitting in Leesil's lap. With a screech of frustration, she jerked the timber, but Magiere held on. Surprise and fear registered in the creature's bright blue eyes.

Leesil came off the far wall, body whirling across the alley floor. Scarf fallen away, his hair was a wild cloud moving across the ground. His right foot hooked the undead's ankle, and his body twisted over with both hands slapping hard against the alley floor. His left leg shot up.

The kick struck the woman's breastbone and ground its way up into her face. Magiere blinked as she felt the wood jerk harder in her hands. The undead arched backward, falling. Magiere toppled forward and threw her weight behind the timber.

The timber's splintered end struck the woman's sternum. A muffled snap of bone sounded from inside her chest as ribs gave way and a dark stain raced through her silk bodice around the wood. She screamed louder than Chap's hunting wail.

The sound pierced Magiere until she felt it inside her head. Heat and hunger answered it to rise up her throat. She shoved hard, and the timber drove through. When it struck the cobblestones beneath the undead, wood splintered in Magiere's grip.

The creature sprawled limp and silent on the alley floor.

Magiere dropped to her knees on top of the corpse, panting and regaining self-control. It came quickly this time, the ache washing from her jaw. She didn't have to slide fingers into her mouth to be certain.

Leesil rolled to his feet and ran to where Chap lay against the alley wall. Magiere got up to follow him. He had a lot to answer for, and there would be no more evasions.

Leesil gingerly touched Chap's legs and head.

"Anything broken?" Magiere panted.

"I don't think so, but he's still dazed. She must have hit him hard."

Chap groaned-and then growled. Magiere took a deep breath of relief.

This was what they did-always. They would speak of matters at hand and push aside all else. She was sick of it.

"Are you sober?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes, I…" He looked at her, amber eyes so sad that he seemed on the verge of pouring out words, but he simply looked away and said, "I am."

Anger drained from Magiere. What good would lecturing him do? What good had it ever done? Leesil lived in the moment and did whatever he wanted at the time, never realizing what his own lack of awareness could cost him.

Chap lifted his head with a rumble still in his throat. Magiere stroked him once and then rocked back on her heels.

"I doubt anyone can dismiss this," she said wryly. "We have proof enough even for the council."

They both turned toward the corpse. Leesil got quickly to his feet again.

"What…?"

Magiere stood as well, panic taking hold as she looked both ways down the alley.

The body was gone.