fresh bread. A few barrels of Droevinkan ale just arrived yesterday. It's the best."

"You are my hero," Leesil replied with a weak smile. "Stew and bread all around. Any spiced tea?"

"I'll see. And for you, mistress, the same?"

"Yes, spiced tea," Magiere answered tiredly.

"I'll bring it directly," Milous assured, and glanced down at Chap lying exhausted on the floor. "Hmmm, when you say ‘all'…"

"Just find a large bowl and pour some in for him," Leesil answered. "A bowl of water as well."

The stocky innkeeper sighed, shaking his head, and went off to fetch their meal.

A small hearth lit the room with a soft glow. The place was comfortable and clean, but like the innkeeper's face, merely pleasant and not truly noteworthy. There were only two other patrons. Old men sat near the front door, smoking their clay pipes as they talked in low voices, while young Vatz brought them tin tankards on an old wooden tray.

Leesil found himself thinking of their double-sided stone fireplace set in the center of the Sea Lion's common room. He thought of his faro table, and Chap circling the hearth with sharp eyes, and Magiere in her leather vest—or perhaps her blue dress—behind the long polished bar.

"This place doesn't compare, does it?" Magiere said.

Leesil looked up to find her watching him intently. Apparently he'd slipped up, his thoughts obvious to read on his face.

"No, I suppose nothing would," he answered. "Who'd ever think I'd be homesick?"

There was long moment's silence before she replied.

"Home remains a long way off, if today is any measure. We should ask Chetnik to call for us when another attack is reported. If we can get Chap there quickly, he might pick up a trail."

Leesil frowned. Chetnik was the last person he wanted involved.

"You mean another attack is reported, and there are two undeads out there, by our best guess. Lanjov's grief and arrogance are eating up his patience, so if it's about getting paid, we need to find the nobleman from your vision first, and quickly. We've no clues, and what little we've found points to this roaming female."

"So what do you propose?"

"I don't know." Leesil shook his head. "But I've been thinking about the fight eventually to come and preparations to make. Also, we're on our own. No townsfolk to organize, so we can't particularly lay a trap and draw them in. That means hunting them down while remaining undetected."

"We already know this," she argued. "What about your little excursion to a weaponsmith?"

"It's more than just the hunt," Leesil answered, shaking his head. "And you'll see—I hope soon—what's coming from the smithy."

Magiere appeared about to press with more questions, but Leesil continued before she could get in a word.

"We have to get to these creatures while they're unaware and off guard. If they're working together, we need to take them separately. I want the advantage, and I want them outnumbered. That means quick changes in tactics and proper supplies."

Magiere stared at him silently from across the small table. The hearth's light painted her white skin with amber, and set off crimson glimmers in her black hair. In the moment's distraction, Leesil didn't quite catch the suspicion growing in her eyes. Her face, drawn and fatigued, was still beautiful.

"Just like your old times, yes?" she said, but with no warmth in her voice.

Leesil stiffened. "What?"

"You've done this before."

Leesil assumed she was jesting with him. "We both have done this—"

"No," she cut him off.

He was completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I never realized how cunning—even sly—you were until Miiska," she began. "You've always been nimble, and I've seen you take down someone twice your size. But there's more to it, isn't there? Maybe something to do with all those mornings you disappeared into the woods."

Leesil's nerves hummed with tension. Now wasn't the time to explain things she wouldn't want to know.

"And lately, you've been…" She stopped, and he saw determination settle on her face. "Leesil, were you just a thief before we met?"

She'd never asked him this, never even come close to it. The crux of their life on the road had been to leave the past well enough alone. There was only the day at present and perhaps the day ahead, and nothing else had mattered.

"I was someone else living another life. Someone you wouldn't want to know," he said finally. "Now I'm someone who needs to find a good crossbow."

Magiere slumped on her stool.

"All right. We'll try to pick one up tomorrow." She gazed vacantly toward the fire. "We