Magiere stood up as she realized what had set off the captain. Without his cloak and hood, Leesil's heritage was plain to see. This wasn't the first time he'd been mistaken for one of his mother's people.
She started to grab for Leesil, but stopped short, not wishing to aggravate him further. As she stepped in his way, she turned her own vicious attention on the captain. Wynn scrambled from hiding before Magiere could speak, struggling with the blanket to keep covered.
"Leesil is only half-elven," she said to the captain.
"A half-breed… with elven blood?" The captain frowned in disbelief, but his tense posture eased. "The very notion! As much cold spite as their kind shows us, I can't picture one intimate with a human."
Magiere heard Leesil shift behind her. She retreated into him, wrapping her arm back around to hold him in place. Before she could spit a retort at the captain, Wynn cut in once again.
"None of us chooses his heritage, Stasi." She cast Magiere a glance, but then dropped her gaze. "And none of us is to blame for it. Leesil's mother lived among humans. He knows nothing of her people."
"Fair enough," Stasi replied, and cleared his throat as he looked away. "I've certainly never heard of one throwing himself in harm's way for a human, let alone a pack of defenseless peasants."
"What do you know of elves?" Magiere demanded. The only one she'd encountered since leaving Muska had been sent to take Leesil's life.
"Not much to tell, so few are seen here," Stasi replied. "Though more have been noted in recent times than are remembered in my father's whole life. Ill fortune sprouts in their passing." He scrutinized Leesil and sighed. "But more refugees made the crossing this day than ever before. I have all of you to thank for that… as well as the chance to finally spill Warlander blood in payment."
Wynn's olive features twisted in a grimace at the captain's last words.
"And what was that about?" Magiere asked once again. "Why did those soldiers slaughter women and children but take the men captive?"
"Collecting conscripts to fill the ranks," answered Stasi. "They've no need for any but the men. It's been getting worse since autumn's end. Darmouth's province is directly across the border, so it's usually his men in pursuit as opposed to the other province rulers. Still, I don't know why he now builds up his forces in this desperate fashion."
"Not new conscripts," Leesil said. "Deserters."
His sudden comment startled Magiere. She pivoted, her shoulder brushing across his chest. Leesil took a hurried step back, turning away, and his white-blond hair hid his face.
"How do you know this?" she asked. It had been many years since Leesil fled his homeland.
"They want the men back," Leesil answered. "But there's a price for disobedience."
His quiet but sharp tone implied she was being dull-witted-and it hurt. Magiere had never heard him speak to her in quite this way. She was too stunned to lash back at him.
"It fits what we know of…" Stasi started; then his suspicion of Leesil returned. "You've been there-inside that warlord's province! That's where your mother… where an elf lived among humans?"
Magiere wanted the captain gone. Whatever fed Leesil's harsh words and tone, it had nothing to do with his mother. Or did it? Nein'a had been… was one of the Anmaglahk. She'd served Darmouth with her skills-and taught them to her son.
"Wynn, get us some fresh clothes," she said, still watching Leesil.
"In a moment," Wynn answered. "Leesil, what do you mean-"
"Now!" Magiere ordered, turning a meaningful glare toward the young sage.
Wynn met her gaze without moving. She turned slowly away at her leisure, heading down the center path.
"Stasi, I cannot go for our wagon dressed as I am," Wynn said. "Could you please help?"
Openly perplexed, the captain followed her, but not without a wary glance back over his shoulder. When Wynn and the captain slipped out the room's far archway, Magiere turned on Leesil.
"What is this?" she hissed at him. "What price for disobedience?"
Leesil looked at her, and strange emotions played across his face. First astonishment, as if her question were one more bit of foolishness. Then he half closed his eyes in frustration. The edge in his voice remained.
"Have you forgotten what I am… was?" he said. "And even so, do you think you know enough to understand any of this? Those two men tried to desert, and for that their own families were forfeit. That's the way of things beyond the border stream."
Magiere's confusion fed her anger. The answer was too simple and explained nothing she hadn't already guessed.
"Those riders with their ragged clothes and misfit armor… they're the same as those who fled? Conscripts? But they hunt down their own and slaughter them?"
"Yes," Leesil answered, so quietly that Magiere barely heard it. "And if they fail, their own kin pay the price."
"But they're the same," Magiere insisted. "And they're killing each other for it? And you… you slaughtered those soldiers at the trees."
"Yes."
Magiere's lips parted but not a word came out. He was right about one thing: She didn't understand, and he was unwilling to explain it.
Leesil sank down upon the stool. Elbows on knees, he leaned his head into his hands, exposing the long bruise down one forearm.
Magiere knelt down to take his wrist.
"My own blade," Leesil muttered. "Its wing hit my arm when the mace struck and didn't slide off. Something I hadn't thought of when I designed them."
"It's not bad," she said, though she wasn't certain. She grabbed the rag and wrung it out to stretch it along Leesil's arm as a compress. "It'll take a while to reach the mountains, and you're not leaving my side again. You try throwing yourself into anything, and I'll club you down before the second step!"
"We're not heading for the mountains," Leesil replied. "I'm going to Venjetz."
Magiere stiffened. "Darmouth's city… in the heart of his province?"
"They both had to flee when I came up missing long ago. Any clues to what happened to them will be in Venjetz."
"Both?" Magiere's confusion grew. "Them?"
"My parents." Leesil paused, and it seemed to take great effort tor him to continue. "If my mother survived to be captured by her people, then my father may have escaped as well. I have to start at the beginning. And that's in Venjetz."
Magiere bit down a shout of denial. She'd dragged him into Droevinka looking for her own past. What she'd found had cost them both, and something old and dark was looking for her. Leesil put aside guilt for his mother-and father-to stay with her every step. It was supposed to be her turn to watch over him.
But this was all insane, and fear drove her to selfishness. How could she keep him alive if he walked into the reach of a warlord who'd kill him whether his parents still lived or not?
"You swore more than once that you wouldn't die on me."
"I won't," he said tiredly. "I'm not that easy to kill."
"Liar!" Magiere's voice cracked. "You'll just get yourself killed. We go find your mother, and that is the surest way to learn what happened to Gavril."
"What if she doesn't know?" Leesil returned. "Do you really think her people would let a human go with her in the elven territory? What if he's still here, somewhere across the border stream? And even if he is dead, I have to know."
"What of the artifact that Welstiel seeks?" Magiere argued, trying any argument to turn him aside. "Once we find out what happened to your mother, we still need to look for whatever so concerns the sages."
"Welstiel can't get it without you," Leesil answered coldly. "And I agreed with your reasons for first going into Droevinka-before we came looking for my mother."
Guilt stifled Magiere long enough for Leesil to cut her off.
"We need to find out who we are," he went on. "Why the Fay chose to bring together a dhampir and a half-elven assassin. That artifact is safe until we're ready to go after it, and we won't be until we have all our own answers… or at least more than we have now. That leaves my father, and there is only one place to learn what happened to him."