Magiere continued, trying hard to remember more details of her assailant. His expressions and manner of superiority, the way he moved, the way he spoke. Slowly, the constable appeared less bored. His complexion shifted and began turning paler, until his flesh had a sickly white cast to it. Brenden, however, added more wrinkles to his brow, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to focus Magiere's description in his mind and recognition was beginning to settle upon him.
Leesil began to see that Magiere, as well, had caught the fact that Ellinwood had lost his disinterest. And now he looked openly nervous. Magiere grew more intent, turning to questions instead of answers.
"How many men in this town can that describe?" she asked. "I don't know why that didn't occur to me until now. You must know everyone here, yes? This one was dressed too well for a common ruffian looking for some quick coins in his pocket."
"He owns Miiska's largest warehouse," Brenden answered softly. "I don't know his name, but I've seen-"
"Quiet!" Ellinwood shouted at the blacksmith in a voice that squeaked with strain, surprising them all. "Keep your foolish conclusions to yourself. There are hundreds of tall, dark-haired men in this town and new ones come in port every day."
"Hundreds?" Leesil asked, mockingly.
Ellinwood ignored the goad, focusing on Brenden.
"I'll not accuse a respected businessman just to please you!"
"You're a coward," Brenden said, more in resignation than anger. "I can't believe what a coward you are."
"Quiet, both of you!" Magiere snapped, looking more like the caustic tiger Leesil remembered as she stepped between the constable and the blacksmith. Ellinwood backed away, scowling, trying to maintain an air of righteous indignation, but Magiere didn't even notice.
"I'm not reporting this because I expect or desire any help," she said to him. "I'm only behaving like a law-abiding citizen. If you want no part of this, you're free to go back to your guardhouse or breakfast or whatever else you do with your mornings." She turned to Brenden. "And no one asked for your counsel, blacksmith."
Ellinwood made no move to continue his investigation, neither inspecting the room nor making any pretense to go survey the body or the second level of the inn. Leesil began to think it was likely that the constable didn't need to do any of those things. The repulsive man probably knew much more than anyone else in this room. Beating the truth out of him was somewhat tempting, but would only add to their troubles. At least for now.
The constable puffed his cheeks out, attempting to gain control of the situation.
"I'll have my men do a sweep of the town, looking for anyone matching the descriptions you've provided. You'll be informed if anything is discovered."
"Yes, you do that," Magiere said in dismissal.
After the constable left, the three remaining occupants in the room stood looking at each other.
"I seriously doubt we'll hear anything," Leesil said. "Or at least we won't be the first."
Brenden merely grunted in agreement.
Several tables lay in broken heaps around them, and Leesil remembered they would have to replace Magiere's bedroom door and window. For the time being, he would settle her in his own room, and then bed down himself on the bar or by the fireplace.
"It's not over. We have to hunt them down ourselves," Brenden said to Magiere. "You know that, don't you?"
Oh, by everything holy, was he mad? Annoyance, possibly more than annoyance, hit Leesil for the first time.
"Just leave that alone!" Leesil half shouted before controlling himself. "She's had enough already for one day."
"I know," Magiere answered in a whisper, ignoring Leesil's outburst. "I know."
Ratboy believed that vampires fell dormant during the day, like inverted plants or flowers. Of course, he kept this opinion to himself, and would never relate such a fanciful thought in front of Rashed or Teesha.
As the sun rose, he always collapsed into dreamless sleep. But not today. Today.
How long since he'd even considered a term with the word "day" in it? He could not remember. Lying in his coffin, in the dirt of his homeland, deep in the tunnels under the warehouse, he could not sleep. His body still burned from the garlic water, even though Teesha had fed him, and his spirit burned from Rashed's harsh words.
Would that arrogant sand-spawn ever take responsibility for his own mistakes? Ratboy doubted it. Every action, every decision Rashed made was motivated by his consuming love for Teesha. And what was so comical-so tragic-was that he'd never be able to acknowledge the force that drove him. He played the father and the protector. But he'd never admit anything so pathetic as love, even to himself. Especially to himself.
Not even for Parko.
In the darkness of his coffin, Ratboy allowed his mind to drift back to their journey from Corische's keep. Due to Rashed's foresight, the trip was not uncomfortable. Rashed packed a large wagon with their coffins, stacked two on two, each carefully covered by a canvas tarp. He also broke into Corische's private quarters and took plenty of money. Ratboy never asked how much, but that was part of Ratboy's past and current dilemma. He always left the details, the planning and the worrying to Rashed. He constantly walked a fine line between hating Rashed and depending on him.
One night on the open road, low growls reached their ears as the wagon approached an overgrown bend in the road. A moment later three half-starved wolves dashed out of the trees and attacked their horses.
Two more wolves leaped up from behind into the wagon, and Parko kicked one away on instinct. More shapes poured out of the forest, and Ratboy realized just how outnumbered they were. He wasn't exactly afraid of wolves, but famine could make these beasts formidable, and their numbers were growing before his eyes.
The horses screamed. He kicked the other wolf out of the wagon and looked around for a weapon. Then the attack stopped.
Teesha was holding the horses' reins, fighting to keep them from running. Rashed was standing in the driver's seat with his eyes closed. He appeared to be whispering, but as close as he was, Ratboy could not hear a sound coming from his lips.
Snarls faded, and the wolves pulled back. A few of them even whined.
One by one they slunk away into the trees.
"What did you do?" Ratboy asked.
Rashed shrugged it off. "One of my abilities. I don't use it often."
"You can control the minds of wolves?"
"And sand cats and other predators."
Ratboy could not control the minds of animal predators. He knew that all Noble Dead developed slightly different powers and abilities, but why did Rashed seem to have all the useful ones? It bothered him to depend so much on Rashed, yet he was forced to trust their leader, who always knew exactly what to do.
The crux of this dichotomy had occurred on the road nearly halfway to Miiska.
Before their undead existence began, Parko and Rashed were the closest of brothers. Ratboy learned this through snippets of memories that Rashed occasionally expressed. Parko had been a gentle creature, who needed the protection of his older brother. And again, although Rashed did not seem to recognize his own drives, Ratboy understood that the need to protect was built into Rashed's nature. However, once their lives as Noble Dead began, Parko was a completely different person, savage and often incoherent. He became more and more difficult to control.
Once they left Gдestev Keep, Rashed's thin hold on Parko's behavior grew even weaker. Their leader planned each night's travel carefully and often consulted several maps he carried. Usually they arrived well before sunrise at a town or village with an inn. Rashed would pay well for cellar rooms if they were available, and since he knew they could never unload the coffins without drawing attention, he simply had his little "family" all keep pouches of dirt with their belongings. Each of them would sleep with these pouches next to their bodies until nightfall, when their travels resumed. Rashed always told a similar story to the innkeepers about how they had traveled all night and needed quiet rest. Teesha would appear to be dainty and exhausted, and Parko and Ratboy played the servants. Although he would never admit it, Ratboy found safety in Rashed's planning and the way he handled both mortals and the mortal world so easily.