caste by teaching him and his father the anmaglahk's cold-blooded ways. The assassin changed his mind and let Leesil go. From this encounter, Leesil suspected his mother still lived, imprisoned all these years by her own people.

Now that he had hope, Magiere had to make him wait even longer.

"Before we seek your mother, if she still lives, " she said, "we need to go to my home village in Droevinka. "

She'd fled from there nine years ago at the age of sixteen, and the thought of returning made bile rise in her throat. Her discomfort vanished when Leesil's smile faded.

He rose up in the bed. "If she lives? What does that—?"

Magiere quickly covered his lips with her fingers as she sat up.

"I didn't mean it that way. I want to believe as much as you... but I had a mother, as well, and a past neither of us knows. I need answers, too. "

Twice they'd been manipulated into battles with the undead. The last time they fought, in the king's city of Bela, had left them both with more questions than answers. Magiere learned more of her nature—dhampir, hunter of the dead— in being coerced into ridding Bela of its undead predators. In the end, Welstiel Massing, whom she'd once thought an ally, revealed himself as a Noble Dead akin to the ones he'd pitted her against. He'd staged the encounters to train her for his own purpose in acquiring an unknown artifact supposedly guarded by ancient Noble Dead.

Welstiel had been less than forthcoming or even knowledgeable about her origin, but his actions stirred Magiere's desire to know.

Leesil's eyes betrayed a twinge of dismay as he looked at her. "No... no. " He shook his head. "It's been too many years—"

"Please, listen, " Magiere cut in. "This isn't just for me, but for both of us. There's so much we don't know about my past compared to yours. "

"And we'll get answers, " he said, "but the living come first. "

"I wasn't made by the living!" she snapped. "An undead used my mother to make me—to kill its own kind. I need to know why. "

Leesil fell silent. Guilt over lashing out at him made Magiere calm herself before continuing.

"Before we can head north through the Warlands and beyond to the elven territory, we must travel eastward and inland, around the Gulf of Belaski. That's halfway to Droevinka and my past, so close to my answers and less than a third the distance we will travel north. "

She put her hands upon Leesil's cheeks and leaned in close until her forehead touched his. When she lifted her head again, he stared downward, not looking at her. His expression softened as his hand slid down her cheek, her long neck, and across her breastbone, and finally gripped her hand.

"All right, it makes sense. If my mother is alive after all this time, likely she's in no danger. It makes no odds if we take a little longer to reach her. "

Magiere scooted forward and wrapped herself around him, flesh to flesh, and held him. He understood, but it made her feel no better for having forced it upon him.

"And I swear, " she whispered in his ear, "once we learn what we can for me, we'll hurry north for your mother. "

She pulled back enough to look into his sad but resolved eyes. Although she spoke calmly, the scope of their impending journey left her feeling small and lost. He was about to answer when the thud of a door and running feet echoed from somewhere out front in the inn, and footsteps grew louder.

"The innkeeper is up and about, " Magiere said, wanting to push away the outside world a bit longer.

Leesil shifted her out of his lap and reached for his breeches as he swung his legs over the bed's side.

"No, " he said. "It's probably—"

The little room's door burst open and slammed against the wall.

I"Magiere... Leesil! I'm coming with you!" Wynn cried out, and she twisted the latch and shoved the door open with both hands. "Domin Tilswith gave me leave!" The instant the door struck the wall, Wynn Hygeorht, apprentice for the Belaskian branch of the Guild of Sagecraft, stopped cold.

All her excitement drained away.

Leesil clutched a blanket as he grabbed for his breeches, his wiry torso dark gold in the candlelight. Startled, Magiere jerked the blanket back over her own specterlike body. The blanket snapped from Leesil's hand, and he lost his grip on the trousers,