"Brenden here has admitted that you and he and your partner burned down Miiska's finest warehouse," Ellinwood said, stabbing a thick finger in Leesil's direction. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Realization hit Leesil like a rock.
"Oh, the warehouse. Is that what this is about? You should be grateful. Your town is much safer now."
"Grateful?" a middle-aged man at the front of the crowd sputtered in disbelief. "Where will I work? How will I feed my children?"
Although he felt pity for these dockworkers, Leesil's ability to weather any strong emotion was completely spent. He had no wish to continue this pointless conversation.
"If the owner of the warehouse wishes to make a formal complaint, let him talk to the constable," he said. "I've got a sick dog to tend."
"You killed the owner!" Ellinwood shouted. "You and your partner are both under arrest. The blacksmith, too."
Brenden's crossed arms tightened, and Leesil wondered why Brenden hadn't been arrested already. Then he noticed the guards were hanging back, not even attempting to get close to Brenden, and Ellinwood's expression seemed close to hysteria.
Using clear, precise words, Brenden said loudly, "The owner was sleeping in a coffin, in the dirt of his homeland, so far beneath ground that we had to crawl down a tunnel to reach him."
Fear and discomfort silenced angry murmurs among the crowd. Brenden stepped forward, backing Ellinwood away.
"If anyone doubts that this town was plagued by the undead," Brenden called out, "he can go dig up my sister and see what was done to her. Thieves and murderers don't leave teeth marks. They don't drink blood."
By this point, he was standing among the crowd.
"This coward you call a constable has known of these creatures for years, and he's done nothing to protect you! The warehouse may be gone, but at least your children are safe. You should be thanking this man behind me. You should be thanking that woman." He pointed past the crowd.
When Leesil looked beyond the dockworkers, he saw Magiere standing alone in the street. He'd never seen her resemble a warrior so vividly. Tall and lithe in her leather armor, with her falchion hanging casually from her waist, she stared at the mass of people through haunted eyes.
Grime and smoke streaked her cheeks and hands. A thin red line stood out on her throat.
No one spoke. Then one of the guards, with a cold look on his face, stepped away from the crowd, walking toward her.
Leesil watched Magiere closely. There was no way he could get through the crowd to her in time if this guard tried to take out his anger on her, and she'd been through too much.
The young guard stepped up to her. Everyone in the street became silent, waiting to see what would happen. He just stood there quietly, looking her in the face.
"My brother disappeared two years ago," he said. "I'm not arresting anybody."
He said nothing more, but turned and walked away. The other two guards paused, and then followed him.
Ellinwood puffed three breaths, and Leesil knew the constable had lost his hold. If his guards refused to take action, he himself was useless. But why was Ellinwood so angry? He wasn't posturing here for the benefit of pretending to do his job. And the fleshy beast certainly did not care about any of Miiska's working-class families. So what caused this surge of venom over the lost warehouse?
Magiere moved straight through the crowd. Leesil quickly stepped aside to let her in. She didn't speak.
Brenden was still bristling at the constable. Leesil faced the dockworkers and shook his head.
"Go home, please. If you want ale or a game of cards, we open at dusk." He glanced at Ellinwood. "Cheer yourself. There's nothing for you to hide from now."
The first stab of real pleasure he'd experienced in days washed over him as half the crowd regarded their constable with open disgust. People began to break off and walk away. Ellinwood, however, wasn't finished.
"Amends will be made," he said, in the most serious voice Leesil had ever heard him use. "If I have to confiscate your bank notes and sell this tavern and the smithy to do it."
Brenden's fury increased, and Leesil feared his friend might attack the frustrated and equally enraged Ellinwood.
"Don't kill him," the half-elf said tiredly. "Or you really will be arrested, and I don't have a copper left to bail you out."
Dry humor was the only tool he had left, but it worked. Brenden held his ground, relaxing slightly.
"You do what you have to," Leesil told the constable. "But I somehow doubt the town council will allow you to sell anything that belongs to us over this."
Ellinwood looked shocked at these words, and Leesil decided the conversation was over. He reached out for Brenden's arm and pulled him into the tavern, leaving Ellinwood and the few remaining townsfolk out in the street. He then placed a wooden bar in the door's metal bracket.
"Let him knock if he wants to." But no sound came.
Inside, the common room was empty. Magiere must have gone upstairs. He and Brenden were alone.
"Someone needs to clean out those claw marks on your face," Brenden said matter-of-factly. "They're going to scar as it is."
Leesil sighed and ignored the comment. "How did that rabble get started?"
"I went to see the warehouse, to make sure it collapsed. When Ellinwood and his men showed up, the dockworkers started demanding action. I tried to be honest about what happened, about why you did what you did, but they just wanted someone to blame. He used you and Magiere as scapegoats, got everyone worked up. I couldn't stop them before they reached the tavern."
Leesil stoked the fire. Well, at least Brenden was still on their side. Considering how he'd reacted the night before, a change in his loyalties would not have surprised Leesil.
"Brenden, will you tend to Chap while I check on Magiere?"
His friend paused uncertainly. "What is she?"
"I don't know. I truly don't, and neither does she."
"She seems so much like a woman. I'd even thought about…" His words trailed off. "But now I just don't know what to think."
Leesil felt his body stiffen. What was Brenden saying? Had he considered courting Magiere? As if that were possible. As if Magiere would court anyone. Leesil suddenly felt an unfriendly urge to make Brenden leave. He calmed himself and realized how foolish he was being. Brenden was his friend, and he didn't have many of those.
Instead of its usual fiery red, the large man's beard was black-brown with dirt and dust, and Leesil knew how tired he must be. The half-elf didn't like leaving him to care for the dog, but Magiere was back and he had to see her.
"Will you see to Chap?" he asked again.
The blacksmith nodded. As Brenden began heating water, Leesil went up to Magiere's room, stood outside the still half-broken door, and knocked once.
"It's me. I'm coming in."
She sat on her bed in silence, head down, hair hanging forward. Not excited at the prospect of honest conversation, he remained standing in the doorway for the moment.
"What's done is done. Come to the kitchen with me. We've got to get started cleaning ourselves up and taking stock of each other's wounds. It's impossible to gauge injuries under all this dirt."
"I don't have any wounds," she answered quietly. "I only had one, and you healed it."
Exhausted or not, he wasn't getting out of this. "Magiere, they're dead. I burned that warehouse over their heads and it collapsed. Whatever happens to you only happens when you're fighting undeads, and they're gone now. It's over."
Her head lifted. "Your face. Look what they did to your face."
"Don't worry. I'll still be pretty."
She didn't smile. "You have to tell me what happened."