With all light gone from the room, he immediately spotted a yellowish glow hovering in the far corner, but only for a moment. It vanished, leaving behind the faint emotional residue of fear and anger.
The possibilities were too varied for comfort in Welstiel's mind. It could have been anything from a spirit to an astral consciousness. But why? He closed his eyes and tried to feel for any kind of trail, any path in the residue of this unseen presence. The traces of fear and anger were gone. The presence had evaporated. He could follow nothing.
Welstiel frowned.
Chapter Twelve
Magiere crouched outside the huge shorefront warehouse, Leesil and Brenden beside her. The place appeared almost new, constructed of expensive, solid pine boards.
"Why not just burn it?" Leesil whispered.
"I already told you," Brenden answered. "Hundreds of townsfolk make their living from this place in one way or another."
"Yes, but if we kill the owner, won't that bring about a similar result?" Leesil shifted his weight to get a better hold on the squirming dog. "Chap, will you stop that?"
Conversing at all was difficult as Leesil was busy holding onto Chap's muzzle and his wildly struggling body.
"Maybe…" Brenden hesitated. "Maybe not. At least their livelihoods might stay intact for a while, if someone else can step in to keep the place running."
On their way through town, Chap had led them on a wandering course down alleys and side streets, searching the ground with his nose. At the crossing of two roads, he'd lurched back, sneezing as if he'd caught a whiff of something that agitated his senses. He broke into a half-trot, then a full run. All of them were forced to hurry after him, making themselves ridiculously conspicuous. Magiere had cursed herself for not tying a rope around his neck.
Chap ran straight for this warehouse, sniffing the outside floorboards and growling. Welstiel had said to use the dog.
If he was correct, then this indeed was the right place. Heavily armed, they now hid behind a stack of crates, deciding on their next course of action and trying to avoid being seen by dockworkers. The sun was low in the sky.
Magiere listened quietly, wishing Leesil and Brenden would stop arguing and let her think. The warehouse seemed a logical place to begin, especially since it matched Brenden's claim that its owner was the one who attacked her. Chap's reaction seemed to confirm their suspicions.
Part of her agreed with Leesil. They ought to just wait until closing time when the workers went home, then pour oil all over the base and set it on fire. Brenden's concern made sense as well. And what if the nobleman and the dirty urchin weren't even inside? What if Chap were only reacting to old or faint residue from either of them passing this way? She had no idea how the dog was able to track these creatures or what was the extent of his abilities.
Yes, finding their prey was the first obstacle to surpass, but once that was accomplished, she and her small group were prepared for fighting undeads, although none of them had used the word. Welstiel had mentioned Brenden's strength. She assumed he meant physical strength, but now she wasn't so sure. Her red-bearded companion crouched calmly, without fear, holding a crossbow in one hand and balancing himself on the packed ground with the other. He'd soaked all his quarrels in garlic water and tucked six roughly sharpened wooden stakes into his belt alongside dangling skins of water. One stake at the center of his back was longer, more like a half-length spear. She didn't know him at all, but was beginning to believe there was more to him than met the eye.
Leesil was now fairly weighted down by a bag tied to his back across his left shoulder. She'd watched him pack and repack it a few times. He had brought a crossbow, several garlic-soaked quarrels, and a long, wooden box. He also filled four small wine flasks with oil, tightly sealed their stoppers, and placed them in the bag, along with a flint. Then he had fashioned two short torches, which he tied to his back as well. She knew he typically carried various stilettos and other bladed weapons somewhere inside his clothes.
She, on the other hand, traveled light, carrying nothing besides her falchion. Her role in this macabre play was to fight Rashed, while the others dealt with the smaller creature called Ratboy, should both their targets be discovered together.
"How are we going to get in?" she asked finally, surveying the warehouse wall up and down. "We can't exactly walk in the front doors and ask the workers, 'By the way, where do your masters sleep? And I don't fancy trying to enter after dark."
"There's probably a hidden door in the back wall," Leesil answered.
She blinked. "How do you know?"
He hesitated. "Because I've seen this type of construction before. I'll know what to look for."
He'd broken into warehouses before? Magiere's curiosity was piqued, but this was not the time or place. "All right," she said. "Stay behind the crates."
Stacks of wooden crates surrounded this side of the building, which made it possible to move around to the back without being seen. All the workers were inside and few people wandered about on the pier. Once in position, Leesil passed Chap off to Magiere, who grabbed the dog by the scruff of his neck.
They watched as Leesil's hands moved lightly across the base of the warehouse. Brenden seemed confused and leaned forward.
"What are you looking for? There's no door here."
Leesil didn't answer and kept moving his fingers across the wood. Magiere began fidgeting after a while, making it harder to keep the dog from doing the same. Her eyes never left Leesil, though they narrowed suspiciously as she tried to figure out what her partner was doing. Finally, Leesil stopped and remained motionless with his hands firmly against one spot. Then his head tilted slightly to one side and his eyes half closed.
Magiere craned her neck, trying to see what Leesil had found. It was just a blank space of wall. Leesil pulled his hands away, but remained crouched as he reached into his sack and pulled out the long box, glancing up at her in concern.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
The frank question caught her off guard and she hesitated. "Of course," she answered.
Long, yellow-white hair fell forward across his face as he leaned down.
"Then don't ask me to explain anything about this."
When he opened the box, she regretted agreeing to his request.
A wire loop with small steel handles at each end and two stilettos with blades narrow as knitting needles were the first items she saw. The sight of the wire made her swallow hard. She'd never actually seen such a thing firsthand, but she had once witnessed a criminal executed by strangulation and could guess how the item was used.
The narrow stilettos were another matter. Too slim for any blade-to-blade fighting she could imagine, she couldn't be sure what they would be used for. But looking back to the wire again, she didn't particularly want to know. What she did want to know was how and why Leesil had come by them, and she didn't care for the guesses that flashed through her mind.
The metal of the wire and blades was too pale and bright for common steel. Some other metal had been used, and these were expensive items of a questionable nature no one would buy openly from some weaponsmith. There were only hints of blemishes on the polished blades. Though carefully tended at one time, they had not been taken out for a long while. As much as the items in her companion's possession made Magiere nervous and wary, and even angry, she felt an unexpected wave of anxious concern for Leesil. Pushed aside and hidden, these distasteful possessions had enough meaning for him that he'd kept them shut away for an unknown number of years.
Leesil hesitated, and Magiere saw his back rise and fall in a deep breath before his narrow fingers pressed some hidden spot on the box's inside. He then grabbed the base of the lid near the hinge, and an inner panel folded open to expose a compartment inside the lid itself. Therein, rucked in cloth straps, was an array of shaped wires, long, needle-small hooks, and other similar delicate items crooked, bent, and shaped like a set of tiny tools, the purpose for which she couldn't guess. And again the metal was of a polished silver hue too pale for steel.