Chapter Nineteen
Wearing black breeches, a white shirt, and a snug-fitting leather vest that Loni had provided, Magiere found movement easier without her heavy skirt. When he offered, she'd allowed him to call the housemaid to comb out her hair and bind it back with a leather thong into a long tail. She found this was actually more comfortable than a braid.
His offer did not seem familiar but rather a contribution to what he either knew or suspected she was doing for his town-the act of an ally rather than a friend. After dressing, she started to tuck her amulets inside the shirt and then stopped, leaving them to dangle loosely in plain view. Perhaps the topaz stone could help warn her.
Just past sundown, Magiere walked home through the streets of Miiska. Her armor waited at The Sea Lion, but other than this, she felt ready for whatever lay ahead.
Someday, she would turn to dealing with what lay behind her in the past she'd ignored for so long.
Stands of garlic hung in every window she passed. How many times had she walked through a village decorated with garlic bulbs, some still with leaves and flowers attached?
Was she seeking redemption or forgiveness? And from whom? Why had Leesil's suggestion of flight never occurred to her?
The street was barren and abandoned. In the years of travel with Leesil, the village paths and town streets had always been empty before they "performed." Those with no intention of fighting, believing openly in the threat, now hid inside their homes. She couldn't blame them. When she reached The Sea Lion, she went around back and approached the kitchen door. It was ajar, and a bizarre sight greeted her.
Brenden's cleanly dressed body lay stretched out on the table. He was clad in a green tunic, dark breeches, and polished boots. The tunic's collar covered his throat. Near the end of the table, Leesil sat on a stool, soaking quarrels in a large bucket of brown water. He moved slowly, as if each small effort hurt him. The bandages around his ribcage hung loose.
"You should be in bed," she said from the doorway.
He managed a smile. "You'll get no argument from me, but we've got a long night ahead."
She came in to stand by the table, looking down at Brenden's closed eyes.
"It's like he's asleep," she said, "as though he'd been peeling potatoes for a party and stretched out to nod off on the table."
She had no time to properly mourn Brenden, but his pale skin and endless slumber did not allow neglect.
"I know," Leesil answered. "It was a macabre sight. There were near a dozen people in here all working with me. I kept trying to ignore him as he lay there, but then I had to send the townsfolk to their places, and for quite a while, it's just been me and him. I actually talked to him, chastising him for sleeping on the job. Sounds crazy, yes?"
Magiere touched Brenden's stiff shoulder. "No, it doesn't. I never thanked him for carrying me out of those tunnels."
"He didn't expect thanks-not from us."
All the pots and pans were scattered about, some full of garlic water, some empty.
She sighed. "I have to get my armor. Are we ready?"
"Yes, I think so. Oh, there was a hidden cellar beneath the floor of the stable just up the road from us. I've had Rose and the other children moved there… as many of the youngest that could fit."
"Good, where are you going to be?"
"With Karlin and our so-called 'archers. They'll need direction when the fighting starts."
Magiere blinked. "Leesil, you can barely walk."
"I'll be all right. Caleb made me chew some foul-smelling bark that deadens pain. Tasted even worse than it smelled. I only need to make it through the next few hours."
Every instinct told her that she should track him and knock him out cold from behind. She could hide him below the stable with Rose. But he was right. The others would need direction and someone with clear wits to hold them together. Half of them would probably run at the first sight of Rashed.
Leesil was so calm, and he'd put up with so much.
"Be careful," she said simply.
"You, too."
When Rashed woke, his senses told him sunset had long passed. The hull floor felt hard. He turned over and pushed himself up. He was alone.
"Teesha?" He scrambled to his feet, instantly awake. 'Teesha?" he called louder.
Crawling through the trapdoor to the boat's deck, he cast out with his thoughts for any trace of her presence. He'd never been able to sense another of his own kind, except his brother, Parko, but he tried it just the same. Only the background tingle of forest life answered him.
Caution abandoned, Rashed dropped to the shore, calling aloud and not caring who heard him. "Teesha!"
"She's gone," a hollow voice whispered.
The tragic visage of Edwan materialized beside him. Although Rashed could not help feeling some pity for the ghost, he disliked having to speak with Teesha's dead husband. Worry now overrode such personal distaste.
"Where?" he asked.
"Into town, to defend you." Edwan sneered in open hatred, the twist of his mouth awkward looking on his tilted head.
A jolt ran through Rashed. At first, he did not recognize the sensation, smothered in astonishment as it was. Then it cleared, and he could feel the fear.
"Why didn't you stop her?" he demanded.
"Me? Stop her?" Edwan's transparent features were vacant, not from lack of feeling, but from anger and hate turned bitterly cold. "She listens to no one but you, cares for no one but you. Did you see her shed sorrow over Ratboy's departure?"
Rashed bit back a retort, suddenly pitying Edwan. He regretted Corische's act of executing a helpless bartender, but such sentiments were trivial-a mere shadow compared to Teesha's safety.
"Where has she gone?" he asked with as much calm as he could feign.
For the first time in Rashed's memory, Edwan's manner altered to one of obvious desperation. His long yellow hair seemed to float on an invisible wind, and his voice pleaded.
"Listen to me. That hunter is not mortal. Do you understand? She is half Noble Dead-half of your kind." He faltered. "Teesha cares nothing for revenge. Find her and leave this place, please. I have never asked you for anything and never expected anything. I ask this of you now."
Rashed crossed his arms in frustration.
"Edwan," he tried to sound patient, "I can not. If I leave that hunter alive, we will never be safe."
"I think… I was wrong about the hunter's intentions!" the ghost cried. "She was counseled by the stranger living in the cellar of The Velvet Rose. And now you and she are caught up in playing some tit-for-tat game of revenge.
Someone else has been urging her on and, in turn, you keep coming back to her. You are each blindly convinced the other is an enemy seeking a battle. Can you not see that? Find Teesha and take her away. No one will follow."
Rashed strapped on his long sword, picked up an unlit torch he'd prepared the night before, and then waved one hand in dismissal. "Go. You are no help to me."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the ghost's form began slowly spinning around, its image warping in the air with frustration. At first, Rashed thought the spirit was trying to do something, use some new ability never before displayed. The whirl of mist continued, and it became clear to Rashed that the ghost was merely entangled in its own rage and helplessness.
"You are a fool!" Edwan cried.
Rashed left him there and ran into the woods, leaving the boat and all his tools behind. Dark trees around him pulsed with life, and near the edge of the forest, he stopped and closed his eyes, seeking outward. Although Teesha's mental abilities were more defined than his, he possessed a few strong talents that he'd rarely used. His own thoughts were now stained with the sensations of a hunt-urgency, the smell of a prey's trail tainted with fear, the rush of hunger as the chase closed, and all the other things that called to a predator.