Dhampir - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,110

again made their home comfortable and beautiful. And now it was gone.

He was lying on the deck of an abandoned ship without even a blanket to cover her.

"You'll never be able to rest if you don't stop thinking," she whispered through the fading darkness.

"All our money was in the warehouse," he answered. "I don't know how bad the damage is yet, but we may be coinless."

"That doesn't matter. You always find a way to fix everything. Now rest."

She reached out and placed her small hand on his chest.

He closed his eyes and allowed her hand to remain.

Chapter Fifteen

When dawn broke, Leesil picked up Chap and carried him home. Although the dog was half awake by then, he seemed so sick and weak that Leesil wanted to get him to his favorite spot by The Sea Lion's huge hearth. Brenden's house felt cold and unfamiliar.

He saw almost no one on the short walk home and wondered briefly where most of the shopkeepers were. The answer came when he saw the smoke still rising into the air over the town from down near the docks. Much of the town must have been up half the night controlling the fire. He purposely took a route through town that would pass nowhere near the ruined warehouse.

Entering the tavern's common room, Leesil almost sighed in relief when he saw it was empty. He couldn't face dealing with Caleb or Rose at present and fervently hoped they would both sleep the morning away. The fire was low but smoldering, and everything about the dimly lit room filled Leesil with a certainty that this world still made sense—from the oak bar to the faded chairs to his faro table.

Feeling exhausted from having carried Chap halfway across town, Leesil now trembled under the hound's weight. The half-elf knew he lacked strength due to blood loss and the previous night's events. Even the food Brenden had brought him didn't seem to bring much of his strength back. The blacksmith had left again shortly afterward.

Nearly panting from exertion, he stumbled over and laid Chap on a small rug near the fire. Most of the dog's wounds were messy but superficial.

He stroked his dog's velvet ears. "I'm going to heat some water, and I'll be right back."

Chap just whined and tried to lick his hand.

Then the commotion started.

At first, he only heard a dull roar coming from outside. He started for the window to look out, and the strange resonance suddenly turned into the sound of shouting voices very near the tavern. He changed directions and went to open the door. Several images hit him at once.

Brenden's broad, leather-clad back was within arm's reach. The blacksmith was holding off a large crowd led by Constable Ellinwood. The constable's round face was pink tinged with rage.

"How dare you interfere with my duties!" he roared.

"You haven't done your duty in years," Brenden spit back.

"What is going on?" Leesil asked in amazement.

Brenden glanced back at him. "I'm sorry. I couldn't keep them away." He crossed his arms and turned back to the constable. "But I'll keep them out."

The blacksmith looked haggard and worn, still filthy from crawling through the warehouse tunnels. Among the crowd of about twenty people, Leesil spotted three city guards. What fresh horror was this? Some perverse god seemed to think he needed yet another trial.

"Brenden here has admitted that you and he and your partner burned down Miiska's finest warehouse," Ellinwood said, stabbing a thick finger in Leesil's direction. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Realization hit Leesil like a rock.

"Oh, the warehouse. Is that what this is about? You should be grateful. Your town is much safer now."

"Grateful?" a middle-aged man at the front of the crowd sputtered in disbelief. "Where will I work? How will I feed my children?"

Although he felt pity for these dockworkers, Leesil's ability to weather any strong emotion was completely spent. He had no wish to continue this pointless conversation.

"If the owner of the warehouse wishes to make a formal complaint, let him talk to the constable," he said. "I've got a sick dog to tend."

"You killed the owner!" Ellinwood shouted. "You and your partner are both under arrest. The blacksmith, too."

Brenden's crossed arms tightened, and Leesil wondered why Brenden hadn't been arrested already. Then he noticed the guards were hanging back, not even attempting to get close to Brenden, and Ellinwood's expression seemed close to hysteria.

Using clear, precise words, Brenden said loudly, "The owner was sleeping in a coffin, in the dirt