that he could feel its warmth on his back, Magiere's eyelids quivered and opened.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she answered hesitantly, then added, "My jaw hurts."
"I'm not surprised," he said. Then he remembered she hadn't been hit in the jaw but on the side of her face.
Before he could ask another question, he felt her body tense. She blinked wide as she stared up at him, apparently now realizing she lay in his lap.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Good question," he said, raising his eyebrows. "I like that question. I might even ask it myself."
Magiere rolled to sit up as quickly as she could without leaning on him for support, but her scowling eyes stayed fixed upon Leesil.
"You dropped in a heap last night and started shaking," he explained. "I didn't want you to get chilled in the night from exhaustion."
"I'm not exhausted," she muttered angrily, then climbed to her feet.
Her hand went instantly to the side of her face, and she wavered slightly where she stood. Leesil retrieved his wineskin and, taking a tin cup from his pack, he filled it with red wine.
"This is all we have for the pain. Drink it. All of it."
Magiere seldom drank anything besides water or spiced tea. She grabbed the cup too roughly and slopped part of it on to the ground. She sipped it, winced, and then rubbed at her jaw. Leesil watched suspiciously.
"Do you want to tell me what happened last night?" he asked.
She shook her head. "What is there to tell?"
Leesil crossed his arms. "Well, let's see now. We were attacked without reason. I shot him, and he pulled the quarrel out as if it were a splinter. Then he acted like Chap's bite was a mortal wound. Not to mention he seemed surprised that your sword could actually hurt him. And then you…" He paused only a moment, waiting for a response, but none came. "Let's see… loss of the power of speech, kicking a man into the air and onto his back almost faster than I could see… not to mention your drooling maniacal expression. What exactly do you think—"
"I don't know!" she shouted at him.
Magiere dropped to the ground next to the cart and leaned back against its wheel. Her head drooped until Leesil could no longer see her eyes. She let out a deep, angry sigh. Then a second sigh, weak and heavy.
In the years he'd known her, many words occurred to him that would have adequately described Magiere—strong, resourceful, heartless, manipulative, careful—but never lost or vulnerable.
"I don't know what happened," she said, almost too quietly for him to hear. "If I tell you something crazy, Leesil, you mustn't laugh."
"I wait in suspense," he said, not understanding why he suddenly felt angry instead of more sympathetic. He was worried about her, but still angry. Perhaps it was the long, edgy night of sitting with no answers.
"I think we've been on the game too long." She lifted her head, but did not look at him. "What's real and what's false are becoming blurred in my head. I don't want to fight anymore… or at all or… I don't know. All of this can stop if we just make a peaceful life. We'll run an honest business, keep to ourselves, and this will all go away."
"That's it?" Leesil's frustration was quickly fueling his anger.
"That's all I know." She finally looked at him, then away, shaking her head. "I don't know what else it could be."
That was no answer, just another evasion. She'd told him nothing. Or had she? Leesil's past had erased all desire to protect anyone besides himself. He wasn't certain now if he felt protective or simply puzzled. He only knew that Magiere's demeanor was at least changing back into the cold and moderately pleasant countenance he'd come to know and depend on. Perhaps it was just the years of living in lies and playing games that had finally caught up with her. That would have to be relief enough for now. But there would be more questions when another opportunity arose.
"All right," he said, throwing up his arms and letting them drop. "If you've no secrets to tell, we'll mark this one as another mad thief on the road. By midday, we'll be in Miiska."
"Yes." She half smiled. "Good enough for a new life."
"I'll make the tea," he grumbled, kneeling down to collect and fan the last embers of the fire. He looked at her and nodded. "A new life."
* * *
At the