the aroma of dried herbs hanging beside pots and cookware. Beneath that, she could smell Leesil. He needed a bath, but then so did she, and his thick, musty scent wasn't unpleasant.

"And you'll be happy? Living in Miiska and running the tavern? That will be enough for you?"

Magiere felt the bone amulet bounce against her shirt. Leesil dropped cross-legged on the floor.

"Is that what you're worried about? That I'll get restless?"

"Among other things," she said carefully.

"Listen to me," he said with equal caution. "We're sitting in a strange kitchen in a sage's guild and sleeping in an old barracks. This is most likely going to be our life. We'll have quiet seasons, possibly years at the Sea Lion if we're lucky, but this won't be the last time we're called."

She wasn't certain of his meaning.

"I'm bound to you," he continued, "as you are to this path. If we try to deny or avoid it, it will catch us unaware. Why do you think I was in the woods all those mornings outside of Miiska? To stay sharp. Of course I want a life at the Sea Lion, but it's never going to be that simple."

She let his words sink in. He was right, though she wished it otherwise.

Whatever hope she had to live a quiet and secluded life had been taken away, bit by bit. If their exploits in Miiska caused their current call to service in Bela, how much more would she lose of the life she wanted once they were done here?

Magiere felt a small shame for part of her judgment of Leesil. He'd been willing to settle with her in the tavern but knew they couldn't. Not with the consequences of the path they now traveled. In Miiska, when she'd received the letter from Bela, she'd tried to hide from it, but he had not. He'd already known what was coming, and he was still here with her.

"The path I walk seems to narrow every day," she whispered, "and so little would matter if you weren't here to share it."

"It's the same for me," he said.

Magiere felt her mouth go dry. "But once we're in the hunt, I fear what could happen to you."

Because of me, and because of you, she thought.

At first he said nothing. Magiere felt an old, chill fear within the lingering salt memory of his blood in her mouth, his flesh in her teeth, his life seeping away into her.

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he said. "I'm not that easy to kill."

They sat in silence a long time by the fire. Chap licked the singed fur on his haunch.

"I think he's got a little more than scorched fur there," Leesil said.

The change of subject brought no relief. "Do we still have any of Tilswith's salve?"

Leesil climbed to his feet. "I should check on Vatz anyway. When I put him to bed, he was still hopping mad at you for ordering him to stay behind."

"Isn't his uncle worried about him?" Magiere asked. "Have you asked him anything about his family?"

"I don't think Milous cares where he is. I assumed his parents were dead or otherwise long gone. Vatz is strong. He can take care of himself."

Magiere wondered, if such were true, then why was Leesil tucking him in and checking on him?

"I'll be back," he said, and headed out the kitchen door.

Magiere had become fond of this odd tenderness in him, strange as it was when mixed with the cold-blooded nature of his past. She petted Chap's head and suddenly realized the dog was watching her intently, ears perked up.

He'd been listening to every word and yipped softly before butting his head against her side.

Leesil strolled back to their room trying to fathom what had—and had not—just happened. Magiere assumed he was unsatisfied with their life in Miiska. It was true he enjoyed being out and about, but mostly because he wouldn't let her face the future alone. Between the two of them, he better understood the consequences of their actions and the future that lay ahead. In this, at least, now she was perhaps more at ease, but there was more to her distance than the fear that he might want to leave. In fact, knowing he clearly wished to stay seemed to distress her as much as the alternative. The whole thing was worse than a hangover.

Down the hall came a glimmer of light from the open door of their room. He'd heated up the cold lamp's crystal before leaving Vatz