Sister of the Dead

Chapter 15

M agiere was numb with cold as she stepped through the doorway behind Vordana. The dwelling made her skin crawl as if she were covered with insects.

An iron staff leaned against the wall by the door, its surface stained and etched with wear. Rough-cut tables and shelves were loaded with jars and other vessels of ceramic, glass, and metal. In the nearest glass container, Magiere saw cloudy liquid in which fleshy shapes floated. A severed joint of cartilage and bone pressed against the side. She wasn't certain what kind of being it came from, and she didn't want to know. The fire in the hearth burned brightly, but its heat made the place feel tight and stifling.

Vordana walked to the room's back and opened another door leading into a passage.

She followed a few paces back, for the smell of the undead sorcerer made her gag in the enclosed space. The passage was crudely chiseled granite rather than mortared stone. To her amazement, she stepped out its far end and into an enormous cavern.

Torches blazed upon poles stuck in the bare earth, but their light couldn't reach into the dark expanse above.

Magiere stood within a cave inside the granite knoll. The vast area reached back at least a hundred paces. Directly ahead, in the cavern's center, was a thick granite slab resting upon two shorter blocks of stone. Its surface was partially covered by a rumpled white satin cloth. Before it stood a cast-iron vat hanging from a towering tripod over a stack of firewood. Leesil stepped up beside her, looking about the cavern.

"Dhampir…" a hollow voice said. The word wafted through the space up into the darkness overhead. "I had begun to doubt the reports."

Magiere peered into the darkness but could see nothing.

Then, from beyond the torches a figure took form out of the shadows. Its hooded robe was dark gray. Torchlight across the fabric's folds revealed faint markings, symbols that shimmered in and out of sight. Across the upper half of his face was a mask of aged leather ending above a bony jaw.

Vordana bowed to the new arrival.

As the robed figure glided nearer, Magiere saw there were no eye slits in the mask. She wondered if this aged creature could see her, and she held out the tip of her falchion in warning.

"That's close enough."

He stopped beyond the blade's reach. His head swiveled about as if he listened for something. When Chap circled around Leesil's side, the dog was quiet, but his jowls pulled back in a silent snarl. At that instant, the masked face turned directly toward the dog.

Magiere's dhampir half rose enough that her senses expanded. She saw the masked man's chest rise and fall beneath the robe and felt his slight heat. He was alive and mortal for all she could tell.

"You are Ubad?" she asked.

"One of my names," he answered, ending in a slur than made his voice hiss.

"I have questions," Magiere said coldly. "I'm told you have answers."

"Yes. And I've longed to tell them to you for many years. " Ubad faced his visitors and raised a leather-colored hand to point at Magiere. "Perfect. Your hair, flesh, power. Day combined with night, the living and the dead."

"Get to your answers, old man," Leesil snapped. "I think you know the questions already."

A cluster of ghosts appeared instantly around them. The soldier with the stomach wound hovered near Leesil.

"You're here on the whim of this thing… this oppressor," Ubad said to Leesil, pointing to Chap. "I can do little about that, but you are nothing to me. Keep your tongue-or I'll keep it for you."

"Don't," Magiere whispered, and flattened her free hand against Leesil's chest. "It's all right."

She caught sight of Wynn hiding behind Leesil. The sage peered out with wide eyes, still holding her cold lamp, but she looked at Vordana rather than the masked old man. It troubled Magiere that Vordana, who showed all signs of succumbing to decay, had not been destroyed as Wynn had thought.

"How is he still standing?" Magiere asked of Ubad, nodding in the dead sorcerer's direction.

Ubad swept a hand toward the spirits surrounding Magiere and the others. "I conjure the dead into my service and have learned much in my life's work. Vordana is loyal… and useful. He called upon me for help, and I preserved him."

"And if I severed his head right now," Magiere asked, "would he still be useful?"

Vordana shifted, his robe rustling around him. He, at least, was unnerved by her suggestion or uncertain what the result would be. It was more difficult to gauge Ubad's reaction beneath the mask, but his wrinkled lips tightened.

"Did you come to discuss the welfare of my servants?" he asked, waiting briefly for an answer and continuing when none came. "How did you find me? Vordana only recently learned of your return to this land."

Magiere felt no obligation to answer any of Ubad's questions, but in this matter, she had sworn on Leesil's life. "Osceline sent us."

My apprentice? Vordana's voice filled Magiere's head. It appeared Osceline was as firmly connected to Vordana as to her Master Ubad.

"Unexpected," Ubad said, ignoring his servant's outburst. "But we have much to discuss, and I have much to show you."

"Who is my father?" she asked. "Is it Welstiel Massing?"

'Too fast, too far," Ubad answered with a shake of his head, and he turned to glide toward the stone slab in the cavern's center. His robe neither twisted nor rustled with his movement. "I'll show you, and afterward, you will thank me for dispelling this false front you wear. You have a far better purpose to fulfill."

"Answer me, and it had better ring true," Magiere said. "I've no interest or trust in your twisted tales of my past."

He stopped, his back still to her. "Would you trust your mother?"

Magiere's stomach lurched. "You can't fool me with some delusion. Your corpse servant already tried that."

"You misunderstand me," Ubad replied. "I am no trickster of sorcery. I work with the dead, who are the past… and sometimes the future. The past is what leads us into the future, and you might ask your little sage and dog about that. Come here, child. Here is your past."

He gripped the edge of the white satin cloth and jerked it away.

Lying upon the granite slab were carefully arranged bones, almost as white as the cloth on which they lay. The skull was set upon its jaw at the far right and appeared polished and cared for like a valued possession. The skeleton was human, the bones slender.

Magiere stopped breathing.

Chap lunged forward, snapping and growling. As he passed through the spirits directly in his path, he flinched away from the contact. He turned again toward Ubad as he circled to the cavern's right side.

"No… no," Wynn whispered.

Ubad gave Chap no notice, but Vordana focused upon the dog. Magiere heard a resonating chant fill her mind as the sorcerer fixed his gaze upon Chap. Before she could take a step, Chap backstepped twice, and his growl cut short. He shook himself sharply and leaped, landing a few paces from Vordana, and let out a vicious series of snapping barks.

Vordana didn't retreat, but Magiere saw him recoil, and his chanting ceased.

"No advantage of surprise this time," Leesil said. "It seems that won't work on him again."

Magiere stared at the bones upon the granite slab.

"It's not her," she said. "In my childhood, I visited the grave where my aunt buried her."

"Draw on your awareness," Ubad challenged. 'Touch the bones, and see for yourself."

"She didn't die here. It won't work that way, and I think you know mat," she rasped, anger feeding her frustration.

Ubad shook his head with a shallow sigh. "This is not the same. She is your relation, your blood… bones of your bones. Touch her and see."

Unable to look away, Magiere took a step forward. Leesil grabbed her arm. "It's a trick," he said. "And even if not, I told you in the graveyard. You don't want to see this. You don't want to see her die in your hands."

The air about Magiere whipped sharply, tossing her hair, and the soldier spirit lashed out at Leesil.

Its translucent fist struck his temple and passed through his skull. Leesil buckled, eyes rolling up as the frenzy grew around Magiere.

Spirits circled them, never touching her, but moving like wind-ripped trails of mist that dove at Leesil. Wynn backed toward the passage as she was struck, two blurred streaks in the air piercing through her chest. The sage crumpled to the cavern floor without even a whimper, and the cold lamp tumbled from her hands.

"Ubad…" Leesil groaned.

He clung to Magiere's arm but dropped his blades. Magiere spun about, putting herself between him and the withered old man. She pulled Leesil close with her free hand, trying to shield him with her own body. She heard Wynn cry out in pain. Leesil pulled a stiletto from his wrist sheath and held it by its blade between them, where no one else could see.

In her confusion, Magiere looked into his amber eyes, and he whispered to her. "Get to Ubad!"

Leesil shoved her back and raised the stiletto. When he threw the blade, Magiere understood.

She turned and charged, following the blade's path through the air.

The stiletto tumbled toward Ubad's mask, but the old man didn't move. Magiere saw Vordana in the side of her view as the sorcerer raised a hand in panic.

The stiletto froze in the air a hand's length from Ubad's face.

Magiere closed on him, falchion swinging out. Vordana rushed in from her side, the topaz amulet in his hand, and then he stumbled as growls filled the air.

Vordana fell back out of Magiere's sight, and the stiletto dropped with a muffled thud to the cavern's floor. Magiere heard Chap's snapping jaws and knew the undead sorcerer was well occupied. She stood perfectly still, the end curve of her sword slipped into Ubad's cowl and pressed against his throat.

"Call off your dead," she demanded. "Or you can join them even quicker."

Ubad neither gestured nor spoke.

Chap's snarls lessened, and the sound of Vordana thrashing upon the ground faded.

"Leesil?" she called out, keeping her eyes upon her prisoner, but no answer came. "Leesil!"

"I'm all right," he said from behind her, and she heard his ragged breath drawing close.

"And Wynn?"

A pause followed before he answered. "She's up again."

"Dead… alive," Ubad whispered, and his thin mouth pulled into a smile. "They are not as far apart as most think. Not for such as you and me. Do you still want your answers?"

He glided slowly back out her way, not even raising a hand to the shallow cut seeping blood on his throat. Magiere kept her eyes on him as she reached out to touch the skull upon the slab. Images flashed through her mind.

Blue fabric… a dress. The one Aunt Bieja had given her. And long, dark hair.

Magiere jerked her hand away.

"No," she whispered, and glanced toward Ubad, ready to run him through. "You had someone dig up my mother's grave?"

He waved one hand as if the question were irrelevant and then held it out toward Vordana.

The undead sorcerer got to his feet as Chap circled around behind him. Vordana moved cautiously as he pulled a pole torch from the ground and walked toward the cavern's center. Magiere backed away to keep him in sight, and Vordana shoved the torch head into the wood piled beneath the iron vat. Wild flames ignited.

"I can allow you to speak with her," Ubad suggested, "let her show you who you are."

Magiere's heart pounded. To speak with a mother she'd never known, to hear Magelia even for a moment was something she had never imagined possible. This gift came from the hands of a death-monger like Ubad. Still, she couldn't turn away.

"Only her and me?" she asked.

Ubad nodded. "She will be in you. She will show you anything you ask."

"Do it. Do what you have to."

"Magiere!" Leesil snapped. "No."

Torchlight flickered across Ubad's mask. Magiere wondered at the expression hidden beneath it. Her revulsion grew past hatred.

"Quiet, Leesil," she said. "I'll know if it's a trick, if it isn't her."

Ubad drew a narrow dagger from inside his robe and picked up one of the loose bones on the slab. The sight of this creature touching her mother's remains made Magiere tense against the urge to cut him down. The dark liquid in the large vat was boiling, and it began dribbling over the side to hiss in the raging flames.

Ubad held the bone over the vat and scraped it with the dagger's edge. White flecks fell from the blade into the roiling liquid. He set the bone on the floor and reached out his hand to Magiere.

"You share blood and bone. Give me your hand."

Magiere kept her falchion up and held out her other hand. He sliced her smallest finger and squeezed it, until a drop of her blood followed the bone shavings into the vat.

Ubad began to chant.

The ghosts in the cavern vanished, and Vordana stepped back.

Magiere had one moment to see Leesil's concerned face and Wynn's frightened eyes as the sage crept forward.

The liquid in vat rose, spilling freely over the sides until its sizzle in the flames sent up a cloud of vapor mat nearly blotted out the tripod. An image formed in the mist.

She was young and lovely and could easily have passed as Magiere's sister. Her skin wasn't as pale as Magiere's, and her black hair showed no glints of bloodred, but the resemblance was clear: a high, smooth forehead over thin arched eyebrows and a long, straight nose. She was tall and slender, wearing a blue dress that Magiere herself had worn on several occasions. Her brown eyes filled with confusion-and then her gaze fell upon Magiere.

Ubad's chant grew louder.

The young woman dropped lightly from the air to the granite floor. Her eyes locked with Magiere's, and she held out a hand. Magiere hesitated a moment, then took it. She felt no pain as the darkness of the cavern vanished.

She stood upon a grassy hill in a forest, and through the trees she saw the low huts of Chemestuk. It was early fall, and in the nearby fields cut out of the forest were villagers at harvest, clearing weeds or pulling fat pumpkins and squashes from their vines. One woman caught Magiere's attention. At first she thought it might be the same one she'd seen in the cavern, but this one was shorter and stout of frame, dressed in purple. She stood from her labors and wiped perspiration from her face.

It was Aunt Bieja, but younger, without the years weighing upon her.

Magiere heard the cloth rustle in the low breeze and turned to find the woman in her blue dress standing beside her.

"Mother?" she asked. "Magelia?"

The woman settled a hand upon Magiere's cheek. "Daughter. I know you."

"Magiere," she said back. "I'm Magiere. Aunt Bieja named me for you."

Tears slid down Magelia's face. "You grew up with Bieja? You have been happy?"

Magiere didn't know how to respond. She wanted to touch her mother's tears, to comfort her, but she couldn't seem to move.

"He took you that night," Magelia whispered. "The night you were born, but he promised to protect you. I remember your soft hair. You were born with a head full of black hair, and those dark eyes, not blue like most babies."

"Mother." The word was difficult to even say. "I must know what happened. How… I happened."

"Is that why you call me now?" Magelia's face darkened before Magiere, and it was like looking at her own angered reflection in a mirror. "You want to know your father?"

"I need to know."

Magelia's expression softened again. "I don't care, as long as I can see you, touch you. " Magelia's fingers dropped from Magiere's cheek to grip her hand. "Come with me, back to the keep."

The grassy hill faded along with the autumn sky.

Magelia had been moved to an upper-floor room of the keep, one without windows. She examined the door from top to bottom, but the lock was solid. The door would not even budge when pulled, and likely was barred on the outside.

She was alone.

For all her fear, she couldn't stop thinking of Bieja, how frightened she'd been the night of the abduction and how worried her sister must be. Wild thoughts of bribing servants to deliver messages ran through Magelia's mind, but she saw no one except the guards delivering her meals. Two always came. One remained in the passage while the other set her bowl upon the floor inside the door. She'd given up trying to goad or question them, as neither spoke a word to her.

The only other person she'd seen was Welstiel, the noble with white patches at his temples, coldly polite. He had been the one to move her to this room.

The room was chill and bare, with a thin mattress on the floor and a washbasin beside it. There was no other furniture.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of the door's bar drawing back. The door opened, and Lord Massing stepped in, the one called Bryen.

He was tall and used his imposing stature to cow those around him. Looking at his dark hair and pale skin, she thought he might be handsome were it not for the blankness of his expression. The only quality she ever saw flicker upon his face was arrogance.

Magelia hated the sight of him.

Tonight, he was beautifully dressed in black breeches, a tan shirt, and a chocolate brown tunic, with his hair carefully combed back. Behind him stood a young serving girl, clearly terrified of her lord. Magelia didn't recognize the girl, so she hadn't come from Chemestiik. The girl carried a silk gown, a hairbrush, and pins. The gown's color was somewhere between ivory and pale pink.

'Take off that rag you're wearing," Lord Massing ordered. "This girl will dress you properly."

"Not until you get out," Magelia replied. She would not show him any fear.

"You will not speak alone to anyone," he said. 'Take off that dress, or I will do it for you."

It was not a threat. She could see that he was simply informing her of the consequences and waited for her to decide which indignity she chose. Magelia began unlacing her blue dress, and the girl hurried to assist her.

Magelia turned away from Lord Massing to stand in nothing but her shift while the serving girl helped her into the silk gown and laced it tightly. The girl then brushed out her hair and pinned part of it atop her head, leaving enough free to curl down her shoulders and the back of her neck.

"Sir?" the girl asked when she had finished.

Bryen nodded. "Yes, much better."

Before Magelia turned around, he grasped her forearm. She didn't bother to fight, as it would do no good. He pulled her from the room and down the passage to another chamber.

Through its open door she saw a large four-poster bed. Upon a small table, a globe rested in an iron pedestal. Lights flickered within its frosted glass. As she stepped inside, a movement caught her attention. Magelia saw herself in a long mirror on the wall by the table.

She looked like a lady, one who might accompany her lord in the keep.

The room appeared clean but had the thin stench of a spilled chamber pot overlaid with a lingering sweet odor she couldn't name. There were two others present as Lord Massing stepped in behind her. She saw their reflections in the mirror with her own and turned about.

Standing near the bed was the masked and robed eyesore called Ubad. He wore a smile on his thin lips and tucked his hands into the opposing sleeves of his charcoal robe. On the far side of the bed stood Welstiel.

She'd heard him refer to Lord Massing as Father, but Welstiel looked to be the elder of the two. Fine lines surrounded his cold eyes, and his dark hair was white at the temples. Her opinion of him was only slightly better than that of the other two. He was quiet and removed, and he seemed to disapprove of both her presence and captivity.

On a narrow stand beside Ubad was a strange vessel, not unlike a vase that she'd once seen used for cut flowers. Metallic and yellow red, perhaps made of brass, it was covered in etched symbols. A dark liquid filled it nearly to the top, though its color was unclear in the room's low light. It made her anxious when she realized that the thick, sweet scent in the room came from whatever the vessel held. She tried to back away. Lord Massing's hand flattened against her back. Magelia stepped farther into the room, away from his touch.

Welstiel looked her over, and she saw that his face looked different from before. His dark eyes were flat and emotionless like Lord Bryen's. His skin was pale.

"Is she not improved, my son?" Lord Bryen said. "I had the gown purchased in Stravina and sent all the way from its capital, Vudran, just for this night. I've seen you admire women in this color and style."

Fear began to grow in Magelia.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

All three men ignored her.

"I have no interest in anything you ask, Father. " Welstiel said. "You might as well take her back to her room. Or better yet, release her from this lunacy."

Bryen shoved Magelia toward Welstiel. She caught herself on the nearest post of the bed. A heavy curved sword leaned by the headboard behind Welstiel, and she froze.

"You will do as I say!" Bryen ordered, and a semblance of anger surfaced in his voice. "The careful and costly steps of Master Ubad cannot be wasted. It has taken him a lifetime of preparation for this night."

His voice lowered and softened, but Magelia kept her eyes on Welstiel's face, occasionally glancing to the sword.

"You play a role far greater than you know, my son," Bryen continued. "You will sire our patron's treasured one. A Noble Dead cannot lead its own kind in what is to come, nor can a mere mortal. Something of both is needed. You will hold the esteemed position of father to a being this world has never seen, even in its forgotten days. A herald of what is to come when our patron wakes again."

Magelia's stomach twisted. She didn't understand all she heard, but one thing was clear.

"Do as Master Ubad instructs," Bryen said to his son. "Drink the collected life of the five that has been prepared for you. Then take this girl and make a child of day and night before which all the world will fall. I know this woman appears to be only a peasant, but she is from old blood, very old, and a singular vessel for this creation."

Welstiel's dull eyes widened.

"You want me to drink more blood… and make a child with… with that?" He gestured to Magelia. "No! Even when I would have done anything to please you, I wouldn't have done this. I will not touch blood again or touch this woman."

"Young lord, you do not understand-," Ubad began gently.

"Quiet!" Welstiel shouted. "You are the cause of all this, and I am sick of your poisoned tongue."

He pushed past his father, and to Magelia's surprise, he broke easily away from Bryen's grip on his shoulder.

Welstiel paused when he reached the door. "If you wish to serve that masked abomination," he spat back at Bryen. "You will have to accomplish it without me."

He slapped the door open with one hand and slammed it shut behind him.

Bryen circled around the bed to the door but stopped short, staring at it. Magelia began inching nearer to the sword.

Lord Massing and Master Ubad stood still.

"Can I take his place?" Bryen suddenly asked. "Will it still work?"

Ubad's mask made it difficult to read his reaction, but Magelia knew he was startled. His mouth dropped open briefly, as if Bryen's suggestion horrified him.

Magelia reached the far post of the bed's foot and was about to step toward the sword.

Ubad finally answered in an anxious voice. "There must be a way you can command him. He is your son."

Bryen looked at Magelia, and she froze where she stood. "Desire cannot be commanded," he said. "And we cannot fail now that we've come so far."

Ubad bowed his head until Magelia no longer saw his mask, but there was something akin to sorrow or regret in his voice.

"No, we cannot fail," he whispered. "I have heard our patron, stood before him within his dream. I spent my life at his bidding in this task… Prepare yourself."

Lord Bryen let his tunic slide off to the floor, and he removed his shirt. His chest and arms were tightly muscled but pale and hairless. There was no sign of a wound or scar where Magelia had stabbed him with the knife in her cottage. Ubad lifted the brass vase, and handed it to Bryen.

Magelia tried to make herself small and invisible. She kept one eye on Bryen and inched along the bed's far side.

"When the spirits fade, you must drink immediately," Ubad told Lord Bryen.

He began chanting in a low voice that slowly grew louder. Magelia felt a breeze pass through the room, though there was no open door or window. The bedclothes whipped up from around the mattress, and she shrank away.

Two softly glowing shapes materialized near Ubad. They grew sharper and clearer as his chanting increased. They were transparent, but Magelia saw the color of their hair and clothing. One was a lovely middle-aged woman with light brown hair. She wore a tan wool dress and crown of leaves on her head. The other was a savage-looking woman with matted black hair. She wore black armor like large reptilian scales, and when she opened her mouth to hiss at Ubad, Magelia saw elongated fangs.

Reason told her these were but ghosts, spirits of women already dead, but they looked furious and disoriented. When Ubad's chant grew to a shout, they began to scream.

Their shapes wavered, and suddenly they meshed into each other and vanished.

Ubad's chant hammered in Magelia's ears as Bryen lifted the brass vase and gulped the liquid inside. Some spilled out the corners of his mouth and ran in deep red trails down his neck to his chest.

Bryen's pallor darkened until his skin looked healthy. He drank until he seemed able to take no more, and then he dropped the vase upon the stone floor with a clang. He wavered, clenching his mouth closed as if the draft threatened to rise back up his throat.

Ubad's chant ended, and he slumped into the wall with exhaustion. "Now," he managed to say.

Bryen circled around the bed.

Magelia rushed to grasp the sword. The sheath slid away as she spun around, swinging the blade with both hands.

Bryen's glazed eyes were fixed hungrily upon her. The sword's curved tip nicked his right shoulder and dragged across his chest.

He cried out in pain and shock. Magelia stumbled under the weapon's weight, her swing pulling her toward the wall. As she tried to bring the blade up again, he stepped inside her reach and backhanded her across the face.

Magelia's vision flashed white and then black, and she felt herself falling. Something scraped along her fingers as the sword was jerked from her hand. Her returning vision jumped again as her head struck the mattress. She felt Bryen on top her, pulling apart the silk dress. His skin felt different from when he'd dragged her by the wrist from her own room. It was now warm, nearly hot. Blood from his chest wound smeared across her exposed torso.

She struggled but couldn't move under his weight, and he did not waste time in pinning her arms. When he pushed himself into her, the pain was explosive.

Magelia remembered nothing more until a numbing cold called her back from unconsciousness. Bryen stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her with an expression she had never expected.

Fear. His features wrinkled in pain as the icy cold in the room deepened around Magelia.

Bryen's features turned blank with shock as he whispered, "No."

His face grew lined, and the color in his skin faded.

Through the burning pain between Magelia's legs and the chill all over her skin, she watched Bryen begin to age.

"Ubad!" he cried out, his voice cracking like an old man. "Why did you not tell me the price?"

"Because you would not sacrifice your son," came the hollow answer as Ubad looked away.

"And you would sacrifice me?" Bryen asked, his voice now just a rasping whisper.

"We cannot fail," Ubad answered.

Bryen grew withered beyond old age, his hair falling from his head. His skin dried and shrank upon his bones, and then split like old bleached parchment.

Magelia closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more.

She did not know how much time had passed when she stirred again into consciousness. It was dark, the room lit only by a strange globe of flittering lights. Welstiel stood over her at the side of the four-poster bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She sucked in one shuddering breath by way of an answer. She would not let these things holding her captive see her cry. Every part of her body felt bruised, and she could not sit up.

"Help her," Welstiel said, looking across the room.

Magelia rolled her head with great effort. One of her bedroom guards stood at the other side of the bed. He reached down to lift her.

"Carefully," Welstiel added.

Magelia was limp with pain and exhaustion as she was carried to another room with a large bed and a painted white wardrobe. The serving girl who'd dressed her earlier was hurrying about, filling basins of water and bringing towels. Magelia was laid on the bed, and Welstiel stood nearby looking quietly distressed, but he did not touch her.

"My father is gone, and I am lord here," he said. "You carry his child, and no one will hurt you. This girl is here to care for you, to help you. If you need anything, she will bring it."

In the days and nights that followed, she was not allowed to leave the keep. But she herself had changed. She could not explain the open sorrow mixed with gratitude she felt for Welstiel's belated concern. Her dependence upon Welstiel grew more pronounced until she almost feared the very shadows of her room outside of his presence. She slept during the day, so that she could spend her waking hours in his company rather than alone.

At times he required privacy, but for the most part, Magelia found he didn't mind her presence, so long as she never touched him or spoke too often when he was occupied. As her body began to swell with child, he took greater efforts for her comfort, even ordering cotton dresses with loose bodices, so the child would not be constricted.

Welstiel moved himself to another room and ordered the furnishings of his old one to be taken out and burned, including the four-poster bed. He kept the globe of flittering lights but never returned to that room again. Master Ubad was allowed to remain as long as he kept out of Welstiel's way.

"Why don't you get rid of that abomination?" she asked Welstiel one night.

They sat in his new room as she embroidered a blanket for the child. Welstiel spent many hours there making strange objects, etching symbols in them as he whispered in a soft voice she could never quite understand.

"Because you might need him when the child comes," he replied.

His answer was so unexpected that she faltered. The old Magelia would have threatened to run him through with a sword if he allowed Ubad anywhere near her baby. But she feared he might leave if she were disagreeable, and then she would be alone in this place.

"Why would you think this?" she asked. "There is a good midwife in the village."

Most recently, Welstiel had been working on a thin brass ring. It required a great deal of his time. One evening, it took almost the whole night for him to carve one tiny symbol with his steel stylus in the string of marks running along the inside surface of the metal. The only other object of his that she found curious was a glowing topaz resting near his leather-bound books.

Welstiel looked up from his ring in mild annoyance. "The child you carry is not natural. Therefore its birth cannot be expected to be natural. We may yet have need of Master Ubad's knowledge."

Magelia nodded and went back to her embroidery. She would find a way to keep Ubad from this child.

Welstiel slipped the ring on his finger. The glow of the topaz upon the desk suddenly went out, and Welstiel nodded in satisfaction

"Perfect," he said to himself. Magelia didn't ask why this pleased him.

As she grew heavier with child, he became concerned that she needed exercise and fresh air. He walked with her about the courtyard in the early evenings. Sometimes he brought the globe so that he could sit and read while she continued her walk, but she did not mind this as long as he stayed within sight. She was never certain if his concern was for her or the child she carried.

One night as they walked, he was more preoccupied than usual.

"Is something wrong?" she asked tentatively, as he did not like his private thoughts invaded.

"No." He seemed to speak to himself more than to her. "In my sleep today, I had a dream. I didn't know that I could, as I have had none since… since shortly after I came here."

"A nightmare?" she asked with concern.

Welstiel looked at her. He shook his head with a frown, as if embarrassed to be discussing a personal issue. He made a passing remark about repairs to the courtyard wall and then paused to lift one hand to the white patch at his temple.

"What is it?" she asked. "Are you ill?"

He didn't answer and stood mere whispering to no one. He came back to himself and escorted her inside.

After that night, Welstiel changed in small ways.

He was never unkind, but their limited conversations became almost nonexistent. When he did speak, it was only to ask about her health and the baby. Some nights he appeared more rested, but often he would come down in the evenings looking exhausted, as if he hadn't slept at all. On those nights, he would whisper to himself and rub his temples as if a persistent ache troubled him.

For two more moons, Magelia's stomach swelled, and the baby kicked inside her. She found the sensation pleasant and spoke to the child, as there was no one else left for her. She didn't care who its father had been. This child was hers, and hers alone.

Welstiel mixed elixirs and drank them and spent more time chanting in the nights. His state of mind improved. He seemed to gain control over whatever plagued him, but his interest in the child increased.

One night as he worked in his room, she entered without knocking to find him sitting at his desk with a bloody bandage wrapped around his left little finger. He dropped something into a bowl on the desk, and the liquid inside hissed and bubbled. She came up behind him, and he was so intent that he didn't notice her. Next to the bowl were the beginnings of a pendant with a tin backing and a stout bloodied kitchen knife.

She looked down and gasped. The object hissing in the bowl was the top of his little finger. Acid began eating away the flesh.

He was startled by her touch on his shoulder, and he whipped around. "Get out," he ordered. "I am working."

Magelia fled to her room, holding her stomach. The old Magelia, the fierce Magelia, began to whisper inside her that she might need to protect this child from more than Ubad.

The night her pains began, Welstiel behaved like the politely concerned man she had known in the early to mid-months of her pregnancy, before his dreams. He had the man-at-arms, whose name she never learned, help her into bed, and he called the serving girl to assist her.

"I will bring the midwife," he said.

"Her name is Betina," Magiere told him. "She brought me into the world."

Even through her labor pains, she could not help smiling at him. He was going for the midwife himself instead of sending one of the guards. The pains grew closer together, but she did not cry out. Sometime after he left, she rolled on her side and looked to the doorway.

Master Ubad stood there, as if watching her through his eyeless mask.

"Stay away from us," she said.

He glided slowly down the hall beyond the door's frame and out of sight.

Welstiel seemed to be gone too long, but this was Magelia's first child, and the labor took time. She felt the child coming and needed to push. The shock of pain when she tried to do so made the room dim, and she screamed.

The serving girl ran to her side. "What is it, miss?"

Before Magelia could answer, the child inside pushed downward on its own accord, and she screamed again.

Welstiel hurried into the room, and the midwife, Betina, followed close behind him. He was carrying a small bundle in a bloody, tattered blanket.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"Get out!" he ordered the serving girl.

The young woman rushed from the room, and Magelia was alone with Betina and Welstiel.

The child pushed again, and the pain was so sharp, she couldn't speak or breathe. Tiny knives seemed to cut her from inside, like the child was clawing its way out. Betina was standing over her, and the woman's face was white, as if she had been through an ordeal or was ill.

"Magelia," she said. "Hold on, my girl. Let me see what is wrong."

Welstiel set his bundle down and crouched beside Magelia near the bed's head. She felt a rush of wet warmth between her legs and thought perhaps her water had finally broken.

Betina gasped, and Magelia knew she was wrong.

"Am I going to die?" she whispered to Welstiel.

"Yes."

"Did you know?"

"I suspected."

"You must protect the baby," she begged. "Keep it from Ubad."

He looked into her eyes and then reached out to grasp her hand. It was the first and only time he had ever touched her.

"I have planned for this," he said. "Ubad will never have this child… if he is convinced it is dead. If you love your child, you will help me."

She didn't understand what he meant, and her mind went white with pain as the knives began cutting again. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the child slide from inside her into Betina's hands.

"Is it all right?" she asked, growing weaker.

"A girl," Betina answered. "A healthy girl with your black hair."

She wiped off the newborn, wrapped it in a soft cotton cloth, and laid it beside Magelia. Though still blood-smeared, the child was beautiful.

Welstiel stepped around beside Betina, who looked down upon mother and child with a forced smile.

He reached out and snapped her neck with his hands.

Magelia thought she had slipped into a nightmare as Betina's body dropped from his hands to crumple on the floor. Welstiel retrieved the bundle he had entered with and opened it. Inside was a dead baby girl with dark hair. Its throat had been cut.

"What have you done?" she whispered.

He pulled the brass ring from his pocket and slipped it onto his finger. "Ubad will come soon. When he does, tell him that I did this. Tell him I murdered the child to avenge my father, and then I fled. He will come after me, but he will not find me."

She glanced at the ring, which had made the topaz's light wink out when he'd first put it on in his room months ago. Magelia didn't understand what it meant, but Welstiel was certain of his ways for dealing with the sightless old mage.

"I have things to collect for the child," he said, "and then I promise to take her out of here. If Ubad believes the child is dead, he will not return."

He picked up her baby, and Magelia reached out. Welstiel paused long enough for her to touch her daughter, and then he turned away to wrap the child in a clean blanket. He placed the murdered infant at the foot of the bed.

'Tell Ubad, Magelia, and your daughter will be safe."

"My blue dress," she whispered. "Save it for her."

He nodded, and that was all. When he stepped to the door, he looked both ways before slipping out.

Lingering moments passed, and Magelia fought to keep her eyes open, to hold out until her enemy showed his face.

A blurred figure of dark robe appeared beside her bed. His cowl drooped down as he looked at Betina's body and then the dead child upon the foot of the bed.

"Welstiel," she whispered, "to avenge his father. You will never have my daughter."

Ubad became nothing more than a dark shape in the dimming room, but his rolling moan of anguish brought her relief. "Where is he?" the mage shouted.

"Away," she whispered. "Away from here."

Magelia's eyes closed, their lids too heavy to keep open.

Magiere felt her knees strike the cavern floor. Above the cauldron, Magelia's face materialized with a sad smile, and then the apparition was gone.

"You murderer," Magiere whispered at Ubad.

She lunged to her feet, swinging the falchion at him. Suddenly, he was gone. When she heard his voice behind her, she whirled to face him.

"You feel for her, and you should," he said. "But think, dhampir. You were born from life and death, day and night. Think of the preparation necessary, all the sacrifices made for you to rise up in this world. You are years behind where you should be in your power and awareness, but you have come back to me of your own choice. This was not mere chance."

"You did that to her, and then you just let her die."

The dim torchlight in the cavern brightened, and she knew her irises had gone black. Canines elongated in her mouth, and she felt her nails harden as if they rooted themselves in the bones of her fingers.

"You want to see how far my power has grown?"

Vordana stepped in behind Ubad, a wary expression on his sunken face. Magiere could hear Leesil nearby, behind her, and Chap circled out to her right.

"Listen!" Ubad commanded. "You are as you are, and nothing can change this, so embrace truth. Our patron will place you above all others, and all you must do is accept who you are… rather than this deluded guise you cling to. Take your place beside him."

Magiere felt her control returning. She understood nothing of his words, and she cared little at all for whatever patron, deity or otherwise, this creature thought she belonged to. She held her form, not allowing her dhampir aspects to fade.

Ubad no longer appeared shadowy and intimidating. Magiere saw but another petty, self-serving conniver-like Welstiel-who had also helped to kill her mother. On impulse, she turned to glance at Leesil.

He watched her, punching blades gripped in both hands. Long white-blond hair tucked behind his oblong ears, his slanted eyes were wide with suspicion at the sight of her. Then his features softened as he saw she had not lost herself to savagery this time.

"You are Magiere," he said, voice firm. "Nothing can change that. And I know you. You belong with me-not them, not… whatever they serve."

He glanced toward Ubad, lifting his blades ever so slightly, poised between advancing and holding his ground.

Magiere sense his fear just below his anger, as if his own emotions flooded her. Something in Ubad's words ate at him, something more than the old man's deluded fanaticism and hunger for power. Magiere took one step back from the necromancer and his dead servant.

'Time to leave!" Leesil snapped.

He whirled forward, swinging his blade at Vordana's throat. The sorcerer dodged back as he'd done in their battle in the town street. Leesil followed with a full spin of his body, and his left blade cut through Vordana's shoulder.

"Chap!" Leesil yelled.

Vordana stumbled, clutching his shoulder, and Chap launched himself into the sorcerer. Wynn had closed in, unslinging her crossbow to load it. Magiere turned on Ubad, striking for his throat with her falchion.

Again, he was suddenly beyond her reach.

Magiere slashed once more, and this time saw shimmers swirl in the air around Ubad. His form grew hazy and transparent, and then he stood back a step's distance from her. The air around him settled, but not before Magiere saw the streams of white vanish, like the spirits who had assaulted Leesil and Wynn.

Ubad was using the spirits to escape her, and somehow they carried him wherever he wished without a word.

The ghosts reappeared.

Their forms and shapes blurred as they rose in a flurry about the cavern. The air grew colder by the moment. The young woman with the rope-burned throat flew through Wynn. The sage cried out and dropped the crossbow.

"Stop it!" Magiere shouted.

Two white blurs dived down at her, and she tried to twist out of their way. One struck her shoulder, and the other flew through her stomach as she tensed.

Magiere felt nothing.

There was no pain or chill agony as she'd expected. They had no effect on her.

The girl with the dark curls and torn throat materialized out of the air, and then blurred again as she flew through Chap. He didn't yelp but rolled off Vordana and backed up in confusion.

A soft smacking sound echoed from the back of cavern beyond the altar, accompanied by heavy, plodding footfalls. Two figures emerged from the shadows, and Magiere recoiled at the sight of them.

Dressed like mariners armed with curved swords, their skin was tinged gray and green. One was missing an ear.

Most of their hair had fallen out, leaving bald patches of decaying flesh. Their faces were devoid of thought or emotion as their mouths opened and closed sharply. No sound came from their throats. Their brackish lips smacked together, over and over. Wynn scrambled across the cavern floor, holding her chest as she retreated from them toward Leesil.

Vordana rose to his feet, disoriented, and clutched at his shoulder wound. He turned toward Leesil, who ducked away from another stream of white mist in the air. Magiere knew he couldn't evade these spirit creatures for long, and Wynn was clearly at a loss. This conflict was nothing like what they'd faced before. None of Leesil's skills or Wynn's knowledge would save either of them.

Magiere grew frightened as she feinted toward Ubad with her blade point. She had to do something. She would not let Leesil or Wynn die in this cave. When she saw the air shimmer around Ubad again, she lunged forward with her free hand, and it passed through the place where he'd just stood.

Her hand appeared to slide through him one instant, and as she blinked, he was one step farther away. She didn't stop, and her hand closed about his throat. Pivoting around him to face the others, she put her sword arm around his narrow chest with the falchion at his throat.

"Call them off!" she ordered. "All of them, or I'll slit your throat."

The ghosts stopped, as did the decaying mariners. Vordana turned toward her.

He was watchful and still. The wound Leesil had inflicted seemed to affect his focus more than Magiere expected, but his words sounded in her head.

Harm him, dhampir, and you'll regret it in ways you can't imagine.

"Leesil… Wynn," she called. "Both of you, run! The ghosts can't hurt me, and neither can Vordana."

Leesil turned on one foot to face her in disbelief. "No. You're the one they want."

"Get Wynn out of here!" she shouted. "These spirits can kill her and you, but not me and not Chap. Get to the wagon, and we'll meet you there."

With her eyes, she willed him, begged him to listen. Even once Vordana regained his focus, he couldn't drain her or Chap as he could Leesil or Wynn. In this fight, her partner could not help her. He would only be an added worry-but he could save Wynn, and thereby give her and Chap space to fight.

Chap barked once loudly as if to yell, "Yes!" and he snarled again at Vordana.

Leesil glanced at the dog and then back to Magiere. He seemed to understand. With an anguished expression, he backed away and grabbed Wynn by the arm as she gathered up her crossbow. He dragged her along, running between the two rotting seamen and through the passage to the cottage.

Chap circled around Vordana. The sorcerer tilted his head from side to side, trying to watch the dog and yet keep Magiere in his sight.

Magiere saw only one way to escape this standoff. She hoped Chap could pull Vordana down before he tried to worm his way into her mind again.

She pulled hard to slash the falchion across Ubad's throat.

As her arm tensed, his bony hand snatched her wrist, and a swirl of white enveloped them both.

The spirits didn't come for her. They threaded themselves through Ubad's robe, not surfacing again. She saw one meld into his exposed forearm, and his grip tightened on her wrist until she couldn't move it at all.

Ubad's other hand flew outward, and a cloud of white powder showered in an arc from his fingers toward the cauldron.

A flash of light exploded throughout the cavern. It faded to black as Magiere's arms were thrown aside, and she lost hold of the old mage. Magiere toppled back, falling to her haunches upon the cavern floor.

She blinked twice as she got up, swinging the sword before her. Her sight cleared, and she saw Chap pacing the cavern in a panicked rush, sniffing the ground and peering into the shadows beyond the torchlight.

Ubad, Vordana, the ghosts, and the corpses with their sabers had all vanished.

Chap ran for the passage, turned, and barked. Magiere stopped long enough to kick over Wynn's lamp, grab the crystal, and shove it in her pocket. Then she followed as the dog dived into the dark passage out.

She ran through the small house, past the jars of floating body parts, and reached the front door. The iron staff that had rested beside it was gone. When she stepped outside, Chap traversed the open ground, scenting the earth for a trail. There was no one else in sight.

Shapes glimmered among the trees, and Magiere saw ghosts disperse into the forest in all directions.

Chap began barking wildly. He ran a short distance to the tree line and turned around to look at her. Magiere went after him, and Chap cut into the forest, slowing only to let her keep up.

A dim phosphorescent shape stepped from behind a tree into the dog's path. Chap skidded to a stop with a low rumble growing until it made his whole body quiver.

The ghost of a small girl stood before Magiere, and her lips parted.

"Follow me."

The words were spoken in Ubad's hollow voice.