These sour thoughts distracted him so much that he walked completely past his tallhouse. Turning back, he glimpsed a hooded figure gazing at him from the corner of his house. A woman's face framed in auburn hair, bright eyes-maybe blue or green-that was all he saw before she slipped into the dark alley.
She'd been watching for him. He was sure of it.
Tal ran to where she'd been. In the dark alley, only the glittering rails of shallow balconies and stairwells shone in the streetlight. Tal wished the moon had risen to shine straight down into the darkness. The woman could be hiding almost anywhere in that gloom.
Opening his eyes wide against the darkness, Tal stepped carefully forward. He debated whether to call out to the woman. But what would he say?
Before he found any trace of his mystery woman, a light appeared from the tallhouse beside his. A big-bellied woman stood on the second-floor balcony holding a lamp. She wore a gaudy, embroidered robe over her nightgown.
"Precious?" she called. "Is that you?"
"It's me, Mistress Dunnett," said Tal. He stepped out of the shadows and into the dim circle of her lamplight.
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "It's good to see you've come back home, Master Talbot. Have you seen my precious Pumpkin?"
"I'm afraid not." Briefly, Tal wondered whether his mystery woman had done away with the cat, but he couldn't think of a reason why she would. After the scratch the little bastard had given him yesterday, Tal found himself unmoved by the thought of Pumpkin's untimely demise.
Tal said goodnight to Mistress Dunnett and went inside to bed.
In his dreams, Tal relived the terror of the Arch Wood, only this time the beast had him cornered. It harried him time after time, tormenting him yet withholding the killing stroke.
Gray light filtered through the draperies of Tal's bedroom window, but it was the noise that had awakened him from the vexing nightmares. This time, Tal awoke clearheaded enough to realize that someone was banging on the door to his bedroom. In fact, someone else was banging on his closet door-from the inside.
"Master Talbot!" called Eckart from the hallway.
"Help me!" cried an unfamiliar voice from the closet. "They're still out there!"
Tal began to rise but paused, sensing something strange about the room. The curtains flapped at the open window, raising goose bumps on his naked flesh. That was odd, for he wasn't one to sleep in the nude.
Tal threw his feet over the side of the bed. Standing, he slid in some nasty slickness on the floor, crashing down beside it.
His head hit the floor beside the torn and bloody face of Alale Soargyl. Tal had slipped in the man's scattered guts.
Tal screamed, the voice from the closet screamed, and Eckart screamed from the hallway. Tal was the first to stop, scrambling through the horrid mess toward the hallway door. He found the portal blocked by a heavy chest pulled from the foot of Tal's bed. Crammed into the corner behind it was another dead body, or most of one, its remaining features unrecognizable.
Tal screamed again. So did the man in the closet. Eckart had never stopped.
Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Tal shoved the chest away from the door to let Eckart in. His manservant took one look at Tal and began to scream again, but Tal quickly clamped a big hand over his mouth. His arms were bathed in blood, and he felt the stickiness all over his naked body. It was on his legs, his chest, his arms, even his face.
"Let me think," said Tal, but a horrible realization had already taken shape in his mind. At last he knew the nature of his mysterious attacker back in the Arch wood. He understood now why he had been followed to the city.
"Fetch Chaney," said Tal, taking his hand from Eckart's mouth. "No one else, and I mean it. You don't want to be the one to describe this to my father, do you?"
Eckart demonstrated a certain amount of iron as he calmed himself. He plucked a handkerchief from his vest and dabbed hastily at the bloody handprint over his mouth. "No, sir," he said emphatically. "I should not desire that."
"I know some men from the Stag who'll take care of the bodies for a few coins," offered Chaney.
"Yes," said Tal, "but how much for their silence? And for how long?"
"True," agreed Chaney. "Once they realized who you were, there'd be no satisfying them."
"Cale would know what to do."
"What Cale knows, your father knows."
"Sometimes I'm not so sure of that," said Tal. "But eventually my father must know. I can't afford a cure with my own money. Even if I could, there isn't a priest in Selgaunt who wouldn't tell father later."
"I thought a cure worked only before you actually… you know. Changed."
"That I don't know," sighed Tal. "I don't know anything about being a werewolf." He'd washed himself soon after Eckart had left to find Chaney, but he still felt unclean. "Maybe I should just turn myself in."
"Don't be a fool!" said Chaney. "If nothing else, think of the harm it would cause your family."
"I've just killed two men!" countered Tal. "The third one's still locked in my closet. How much more harm can I cause?"
The lone survivor of the night's massacre had been eager to tell his story, though it was hard to make out the details through his terrified babbling. He was a lockpick who prided himself on working for only the wealthiest employers.
Alale Soargyl offered him and his hulking companion two hundred fivestars each to beat Tal into submission, then hold him as Alale threw a few punches of his own.
They'd broken into the tallhouse and found their way to Tal's bedroom, where they had planned to lie in wait. Instead, they'd found a monster.
"What if it's not your fault?"
"How can that be?"
"What if someone did this to you on purpose?" said Chaney.
Tal considered that suggestion. "That's too fantastic," he said at last. "Even if the attack on our party was planned, how could they know who would survive?"
"Maybe they didn't care which of us it was," suggested Chaney. "Or maybe we were all supposed to die."
"The old woman knew I'd been attacked by a werewolf," said Tal. "But was she part of the plot? Or was she just trying to help?"
"She had to be in on it," said Chaney. "It's too big a coincidence that she'd find you out there in the woods."
Tal nodded. It was all too convenient.
"The important thing is that we put you someplace safe tonight. Too bad the closet's already occupied."
"That wouldn't be enough, anyway," said Tal. "I need a strong cell. And in case I get out…"
"It takes an enchanted sword to slay a werewolf," said Chaney. "You'd be safe as long as you didn't run into a wizard or someone with a magical weapon."
"There's that big, solid cage at the theater," said Tal.
"And you can trust Quickly to keep things quiet." Chaney was brightening, even if Tal was full of despair.
"There's the sword, in case I get out."
"You won't get out," said Chaney. "I mean, it won't get out. You said yourself you don't remember anything from last night. That proves it's not you. It's… you know. The thing. The wolf. It."
"But if it does get out," said Tal, "I need someone I can trust to take care of it. I need you there with the sword."
"Listen," said Chaney, "Eckart and I can take care of things here. You go talk to Quickly."
"I'm serious, Chaney. I need you there tonight, and I need your promise that you'll kill it if it gets out of the cage."
Chaney sighed. "I'll be there."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"You're a what?"
"A were-"
"No, no, I heard you the first time," said Quickly. She bit the tip of her thumb and turned away to pace beside the big steel cage. "Do you suppose we could work it into a play? Of course, we'd be limited to a few shows each month, and-"