"Ras…?" he managed to say.
He tried to sit up, but the soft muscles of his massive body would not cooperate. Without his hat, his brown hair was visible, sticking to his skull in lank, unwashed strings.
"Yes, I'm here," Rashed said quietly. "You are not dreaming. I need money."
Gaining more control over his body, Ellinwood now sat straight.
"You came here for money? How did you escape the warehouse? That hunter's partner burned it to the ground."
"We lost everything," Rashed said, ignoring his question. "I need to take Teesha away from here. I believe you can spare a bit of wealth, considering what we have been paying you."
He could almost see the thoughts in Ellinwood's mind passing across the man's swollen face. Anxiety was followed by alarm, and then by cunning, and finally, the constable smiled.
"You don't think I would keep any of my silver here?" His gaze shifted unconsciously to the top of the wardrobe and then quickly back to Rashed. "Some light-fingered maid might steal it."
Rashed did not have time for games, and disgust for this greedy man was turning to hatred. He changed tactics and focused psychically.
"You are in danger," he said. "I've come to take you to safety. Gather your money. Gather what you need and follow me."
Ellinwood's already weak mind, further dulled with opiate and whiskey, was easy to overcome. He suddenly believed himself to be in danger from an outside source and that Rashed was his protector.
"Yes, yes," he said, fumbling in panic to get to his feet. "I won't be long."
"We'll go to the docks," Rashed said. "You will be safe there."
"Safe," Ellinwood repeated.
He hurried to the wardrobe, unlocked the top drawer, and pulled out several heavy pouches that jingled in his hands.
"Give me the coins for safekeeping," Rashed said. "I will guard them for you."
The constable handed him the pouches. Rashed tied them to his belt and pulled the cloak around himself again.
They walked down the stairs together, and this time, Rashed simply hid beneath his hood as they passed Loni. The constable lived there. No one would question him leaving with a companion. The two of them traveled quickly through the quiet town to the shore, and Rashed moved out to stand on the wooden planks at the end of a dock.
"Here," he said. "You will be safe here."
Ellinwood joined him. His weight caused the boards to creak.
"Safe," he said again, smiling.
Rashed could not believe how easy the man's mind was to control. It took little effort at all, and controlling the perceptions of another while feeding suggested thoughts was normally a great effort for him. He reached out with both hands and grasped Ellinwood's fleshy face. Then he jerked hard to the left, snapping the constable's neck. His victim felt no pain, but was simply rendered lifeless.
Rather than attempting to hold the heavy body up, he allowed it to fall backward off the long dock. No one would hear it hit the water. It might wash out to sea, and it might wash up on the shore. If someone discovered it, they would see red-pouched eyes and later find the yellow powder in his room. Either way, by the time he was found, Rashed planned to be long gone.
The thought of Teesha alone at the boat made him anxious, and he left the docks quickly, fingering the pouches on his belt, not giving Ellinwood's place of death a backward glance.
Chapter Eighteen
Magiere knelt upon the floor and bandaged Leesil's ribs las best she could, while the half-elf sat numbly on the side of his bed. According to Caleb, Miiska had possessed a competent healer until the previous winter. The healer's wife suffered from a breathing illness, and he'd taken her south to a drier climate. Caleb said the few others in town who claimed to be healers were probably less skilled than Magiere herself at dealing with cracked bones, and the last knowledgeable herbalist was Brenden's mother, who died years ago.
Although alarmed that Leesil was injured again so soon, Magiere felt a guilty sense of purpose for the task of tending him. It gave her an activity to focus on. Leesil had not spoken a word since hearing of Brenden's death and stared at the wall of his bedroom while she used torn sheets to wrap his broken ribs. His jaw was now several shades of purple and yellow. Some of Welstiel's salve remained, and she carefully applied it to his face.
Chap paced about the room. Twice, he came over and shoved his wet nose into Leesil's dangling hand, who did not respond.
"You'll heal," Magiere said finally.
"Will I?" he answered.
"Yes, you will."
He was quiet for a while and then drew air in through his mouth, wincing slightly.
"I thought they were gone, Magiere. I swear to all the gods that I thought them dead."
"I know. We all did. It isn't your fault."
Magiere remembered how in the beginning she'd been desperate to avoid becoming embroiled in all of this. How foolish. There was no way to avoid it. There never had been. And now these undead creatures would not rest until she and any near her were dead and buried in a local graveyard.
"I won't pretend to understand how you feel, but the worst is yet to come," she said, and her voice failed her for a moment. "I need you. Are you up to making a defense plan with me?"
He blinked in sadness. "I honestly don't know."
She got up from the floor and sat beside him on the bed.
This was a pleasant room. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, not straw, and everything smelled of Leesil, a mix of earth and spices. There was also a slight musty smell, and she knew his bedding had not been aired since Beth-rae's death. A small table and one chair were in the corner, but with the exception of a fat, white candle, the table was bare. For the most part, his room was neat and spare. Although he had the ability to go through money at an amazing rate, material objects held little interest for him.
Magiere still wore her blue dress, but the skirt was now torn and muddied. The faded cotton shirt she'd pulled off him and dropped on the floor was stained and torn beyond repair.
"We're going through a lot of clothes," she said, more to break the silence than for any other reason.
Leesil did not respond for a long while, then finally looked at her.
"I know." He nodded. "I was thinking about that earlier tonight… seems like a long time ago. Everything was different."
"The three of us aren't enough to deal with this," she urged, now that she had his attention again. "We need help from the townsfolk, as much as we can get. I don't know how to manipulate people, and you do." She paused and added in apology, "I mean that as a compliment."
He didn't even pretend to bristle or take offense. His lack of reaction was beginning to gnaw at her insides. How much spirit did he have left?
"What do you want me to do?" he asked. Magiere took a deep breath, slowly and quietly, trying not to let him see her own unease.
"Get some rest first," she answered, standing up. "I'll call for a town meeting downstairs later in the day. When it's time, I'll come for you. I need you to convince these people that we need their help. I have to face Rashed myself, but we need to lay a trap and that is going to take numbers. Once we get these creatures in the open, inside of town, they can't be allowed to get out again. Does that make sense?"
"Yes." He nodded again, and she put her hand carefully against his back and helped him lie down.
Magiere pushed white-blond hair back out of his eyes and noted again how the long scratches on his face didn't really mar his narrow features. Before their arrival in Miiska, she'd never realized just how much she liked his face. "What are you going to do now?" he asked. She attempted a half-smile. "I'm going to make you some soup, and hopefully not poison you in the process."