Sister of the Dead - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,98

her swollen tongue pressing out between paled lips and green eyes frozen wide and vacant. He felt cracked vertebrae under her skin and muscle.

Chane blinked again, and she lay dead on the floor at his feet. He stepped back, a mix of satisfaction and fury clouding his awareness.

He vaguely remembered rushing Osceline as she raised a hand toward him. He snatched her throat, bore her down, and crushed the life out of her. Yes, that was what had happened. She was dead, and he could leave. He returned to the passage doorway but stopped and looked back.

Osceline still lay near the locked side door, and Chane looked down at his own hands.

He remembered the feel of her neck breaking, but he had not bothered to taste her life as it vanished, and he couldn't understand why. Perhaps in his anger and panic to reach her before she could flash-blind him again, his instinct had taken more expedient action.

Not wishing to wander the castle in retreat, Chane backtracked to the wood-paneled room and down through the passages the old soldier had guided them along. As he emerged in the main hall to head for the front entrance, Welstiel stepped from a side corridor.

"Did you find the old guard?" Chane asked.

"Yes... and the woman?"

Chane remembered that he had clearly seen Osceline's body. "Dead... I snapped her neck... and left her below in the keep's prison. "

"Good. " Welstiel nodded approval. "We will take the horses and walk them back out. I have seen no other servants up and about. No one will find Buscan until midmorning, as it appears he stays up late into the nights. "

He reached out a hand to propel Chane toward the front entrance. Chane found this odd, as Welstiel rarely touched him.

"There is nothing more for us to do here, " Welstiel said. "We wait for the dhampir to arrive. When she finds no records and no one to help her further, she will have no choice but to turn back. "

A sudden connection occurred to Chane. Welstiel had come to hide records of his family, and Magiere searched for records of her own father.

"No records regarding the Massings, " Chane said. "And none regarding her... How did that the captain put it, 'her family'?"

He turned and found Welstiel returning his steady gaze.

"Do not forget your place, " Welstiel said in a voice stripped of all emotion. "You are here to serve the bargain we made, and that is all. "

Chane's discovery would have to be handled carefully or he risked giving Welstiel further cause for conflict. He nodded calmly.

"We deserve some comfort, " Welstiel said in a more sociable tone. "Let us find out if Keonsk boasts a decent inn. A bath and laundered clothing are in order, as well as comfortable beds for a change. "

Welstiel's quick shift to placation left Chane wary as he followed his companion out to the horses. Again he pictured Osceline's body by the locked door with the smooth flesh of her throat still intact.

His own change of habit disturbed him.

* * *

Chapter 12

T he wagon rolled up to the gates of Keonsk at midday. Leesil dug through his pack and pulled out an orange paisley scarf. He pulled his hair back behind his ears and tied the cloth around his head. It was so large that the ends hung down to his shoulders.

Magiere wrinkled her nose as if she'd bitten into a rancid pear. "Where did you get that?"

"I traded with one of the Mondyalitko for some apples. "

"You paid for that with our apples?" she asked. "Where's your gray scarf?"

"I lost it in the forest the night we fought Vordana. "

"The color doesn't work. "

"Of course it does. My shirt is brown. "

"You look like someone lit your head on fire. You'll stand out like a fever blister. Take it off, and find something else. "

"I don't have anything else. "

"I think it's rather striking, " Wynn put in.

"You would, " Magiere muttered.

Port and Imp pulled to a stop as a guard at the gate stepped out and held up his hand. His expression was serious. Nine others stood inside the entrance in varied armor and red surcoats.

"Your business?" the guard asked.

'To the market... for supplies, " Magiere said. "And one of our horses injured his leg. We need someone who knows horses to have a look at it. "

The guard lost some of his harsh manner. "The township of Nesmelorash is a half-day south. It would be