much harder than the last. She will not make the same mistakes twice, and neither will her companion. Do not try to repeat previous tactics, or you will pay for it."

With that, the man swept past Toret toward the front door.

"Wait," Toret nearly cried out, losing any control he might have gained over the exchange. "Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?"

The man stopped briefly.

"Prepare yourself," was the only answer Toret received as the stranger slipped through the front door and closed it behind him.

Toret rushed after him, flinging the door open and stepping out into the night. Standing upon the front steps, he peered up and down the street, his vision stretched to its full range once again until he could distinguish the varied shades of black in the thickest night shadows.

The street was empty.

Chapter 3

The sun rose on a crisp, clear morning as Magiere stood with Leesil and Chap on Miiska's docks preparing to board a schooner for departure. They'd waited several days to find a ship heading north that could carry them, and a handsome, two-masted vessel floated gracefully on the waves near the harbor's mouth. It was too large and deep-keeled to dock in Miiska's shallow waters, so a skiff would take them out to begin the voyage up the coast.

Magiere's hair was pulled back in a tail with a leather thong, and she wore black breeches and a russet shirt, along with thick leather boots. Her falchion was once again on her hip, and the two amulets hung in plain view. Her few extra clothes and a new pack, as well as hauberk, supplies, and Leesil's toolbox, were stored in the small chest from her bedroom, which now sat on the dock beside her.

Leesil, as always, gave little thought to his attire and wore an old pair of loose, faded breeches, soft boots worn thin, and an oversize banded-collar shirt that been hand-mended one too many times. He carried no visible weapons, but that was the deception he carefully maintained. Magiere knew there would be stilettos sheathed upon his forearms, and perhaps other small blades hidden in places from his bulky shirt to his boots. He was, however, wearing his green scarf about his head to hold back his hair and cover the tips of his ears. They'd passed through Bela a number of past times but had never seen any of his mother's people. Leesil preferred to mute his appearance and not draw too much attention.

"You don't need that yet," she said, gesturing to his scarf. "We haven't even boarded the ship."

"I'm practicing my disguise," he responded. "It gives me something to do."

At another time she would have smiled or scowled, or referred to his highly visible and oddly colored eyes, but his humor wasn't welcome this morning. They'd barely spoken since the night by the hearth. Now they were off to Bela, where she might become the dhampir once more. If she lost control again, and Leesil was close by…

Magiere shook off the thought. For once she wished he would be serious and say what he was truly thinking. He was almost as wryly playful as he'd been all those years in the backwoods of Stravina. Perhaps that was what gnawed at her the most. He looked forward to the journey, to an adventure—to anything besides life at the Sea Lion.

The long dock stretched back to the shore as they awaited a large square-bowed skiff coming toward them to collect passengers. All around them flat-bottomed barges and smaller ships were docked for cargo transfer.

"Hullo!" a voice called, and Magiere turned to see Karlin trotting toward them.

She was glad of it, although she'd never admit it under the circumstances. He was a symbol of what she held dear regarding life in Miiska. His generosity of spirit and calm ability to see an answer to any problem gave her faith in the world, in people.

At the sound of Karlin's voice, Chap dashed off to meet him. When the two of them jogged up together, Magiere noticed Chap fidgeting, nearly beside himself looking out at the approaching skiff.

"Not you too," she muttered at him.

Leesil blinked. "Too? What about him?"

Chap stopped and looked up at her, ears stiffly attentive.

"Nothing," Magiere answered.

"We came to see you off," Karlin puffed, out of breath.

His apron was covered in stains of melted butter and dusted with streaks of flour.

"We?" Magiere asked.

Down the dock behind the portly baker came Loni, walking toward them at a more sedate pace.