Several people flinched or gasped slightly at the use of the word "vampires" out loud. One of them was Thomas, the candle maker. Magiere pointed at him.
"That reaction is part of your problem," she said. "You all know what's been going on or you wouldn't be here. But no one is willing to even openly talk about it, much less take matters into his own hands."
"Mistress Magiere," Karlin stammered. "Perhaps this isn't the best way to-"
"Yes, it is," she cut him off. "Why did you all try to pay me? Because you know exactly what's going on. Many of the bodies you've found were buried pale and bloodless. Some of you even carried Brenden's body here today. And you saw his throat." She glanced at Leesil and back to Karlin. "These killers are not natural, and cannot be destroyed by natural means, but Leesil and I can't do this alone."
Thomas was staring at her. "What exactly do you propose?"
She motioned to Leesil. "Let him explain." As he took in the hopeful, yet doubtful expressions on the faces of Miiska's shopkeepers, fishermen, and dockworkers, Leesil realized he'd have to make them trust him first. He'd have to do anything, say anything to win their confidence. Humor had served him best in this regard. He smiled weakly for effect.
"I know I'm not as pretty as usual," he said wryly. "But I've fought the same undead four times now and neither of us seems able to win."
His jovial manner caused some people to relax visibly.
"None of you know Magiere or me very well," he went on, "but I do want you to know I've been trained in both defensive and offensive battle strategy. I was once a personal counselor to a warlord in the east, near my homeland."
If he'd told them exactly who the warlord was, the mere mention of Darmouth's name would have won them over. But he couldn't risk becoming a legend or having word of his location reach the wrong ears. And in turn, have that someone reveal exactly who and what he had actually been in that life.
"Magiere and I now believe all three undeads escaped the fire," he said. "We saw the female, called Teesha, and the one who resembles a street urchin, called Ratboy, last night. The warehouse owner, who some of you know, is their leader, and we should act on the belief that he wasn't destroyed."
"Are you saying you want us to fight these creatures?" asked a dockworker he didn't know.
"Not exactly. Magiere and Chap will do most of the fighting. What I want you to do is establish a perimeter around the tavern. The vampires seem determined to kill the three of us, so we're going to be the bait to lure them in. If enough of you can shoot crossbow quarrels soaked in garlic, it might wear them down, or at least prevent them from escaping. We're going to lay a trap." He paused, and then added reluctantly, "And we may have to burn a few buildings down."
This comment brought murmurs and outright curses of disbelief from a number of those present. Leesil's voice gained strength.
"What good will those buildings be if the people of Miiska keep vanishing? You want safety? You want this problem solved? If that is your desire, then you must not only defend yourselves, you must help us carry out an attack that will finish this once and for all. I have a plan, but it's useless until I know there are enough people here with the courage to help me carry it out. I need to know first if you'll help yourselves."
He couldn't imagine what Magiere was thinking, as he was hardly playing the role of her drunken partner these days and now sounded more like some world-weary military commander.
"I'll help," Karlin said instantly.
"Me too," said Geoffry.
But the rest of the crowd spoke in low voices to each other or just muttered in discomfort. Whatever their expectations for this meeting, being asked to battle vampires wasn't on the list.
Leesil did not expect to win them easily, and he was about to speak again when the door to the common room burst open. The man who stumbled through it looked vaguely familiar, and then Leesil realized it was one of the guards who'd arrested Brenden that very first night the blacksmith came to the tavern to question Ellinwood. In fact, it was the guard who had tied Brenden's hands behind his back. He was panting hysterically, and his eyes were wild.
"Darien, what's wrong?" a young fisherwife asked, jumping to her feet and running to him.
"Korina's dead," he breathed. "I stood watch all night at the guard house. When I got home, I found her outside our window… Her throat's torn open."
He stopped talking and began to sob without sound.
"Who's Korina?" Leesil asked, even though the question hardly mattered.
"His wife," Karlin said flatly. "They'd only been married since winter."
Gripping the table before him, Leesil somehow managed to stand.
"These creatures are growing bolder. Magiere and I can't do this alone."
Several dockworkers crowded in around Karlin. Not pleased but resigned, one of them said, "Tell us what to do."
Sometime before sunset, Magiere stood in the street outside of The Velvet Rose, hesitant to go inside. She would rather have fought Rashed ten times than ask Welstiel for help again, but too many people depended on her now.
The lovely brocade curtains and white shutters seemed a travesty now. This pretty facade seemed to reinforce the notion that Miiska was safe and no unnatural beasts dug tunnels beneath it or fed on its people at night.
No one who lived here would think of helping her destroy vampires, much less admit the truth… except for Welstiel. But how much help was he? She'd grown tired of his cryptic advice by their second meeting. She needed specific information regarding the weaknesses of her enemies. Perhaps she never expected Leesil to win help from the common folk of Miiska. Though not exactly eloquent, his words were powerful and direct and convincing. He'd almost made her believe that part about him serving a warlord.
"Well, he's done it now," she said aloud to herself.
Back at The Sea Lion, he was overseeing preparations for an attack. Such work was his domain, although she had no idea how he managed to stay on his feet. Her task was more personal, more private. She required more information about herself and about finding an effective method to destroy Rashed.
In addition, she needed more help than a few untrained shopkeepers and laborers could offer, and sitting at a desk just inside the door of The Velvet Rose was someone she'd like on her side.
Loni, the handsome elven proprietor, raised his head as she entered and stunned her with an expression of relief.
"Magiere," he said instantly as if she were an acquaintance. "Master Welstiel is expecting you. Please come this way."
She stopped. "He's expecting me?"
"Yes, yes, he's asked about your arrival several times," he answered in near annoyance, as if any delay was too much. "Please follow me."
When he stood up, she noticed he was about the same height and build as her. He wore a plain, but well-made, white cotton shirt and a thick pair of black breeches. He seemed most eager to assist her and bring her down to Welstiel. Since he was being so obliging, a thought occurred.
"Loni, may I borrow some clothes?" she asked tiredly. "If you wish, I'll pay for them."
There was no time for a tailor, and she couldn't fight Rashed in this dress. Expecting Loni to give her a befuddled stare, she silently thanked him as he merely glanced up and down at her tattered clothing in comprehension.
"Of course," he said. "I'll have them ready before you leave."
He knew what was happening, she thought. Or at least he knew something critical was happening, and that his honored guest was waiting to see Magiere, the legendary hunter of the dead. Her falchion was hanging on her hip, and he did not ask her to remove it.
Loni led the way through The Velvet Rose's opulent main room, past the paintings and blooming flowers, and down the stairs to Welstiel's room.