But tonight, while Chane watched the nobleman sob in the alley, his mind finally conjured images to replace his missing memory…
Of Wynn weeping over his corpse.
Chap nearly burst with rage when the undead's presence vanished from his awareness. He could smell which way it had passed, and he ranged back and forth along the alley. The trail ended midway near the back of an inn, but it made no sense. If the creature were inside, he would feel it this close, like an aching wound in the Spirit of the world.
Frustration was one more annoyance of living in flesh, and he found it harder to face with each passing year. He snarled through bared teeth, trying to let it out, spitting it from between his teeth, but it would not pass from him as he turned in agitated circles.
Perhaps his kin, the Fay, were not wrong in their accusation. Taking on flesh had changed him.
"You lost it?" Leesil asked between pants.
He barked twice for "no," then three more, low and rumbling, for his uncertainty. He looked up to Magiere, wondering if she could still feel the undead's whereabouts. Frustration drained and tension grew in its place.
Her irises were pure black. Tear tracks stained her pale cheeks. Each breath she took hissed in and out through her teeth, and Chap clearly saw her elongated canines. She shuddered under her own strain to retain self-control.
Chap cautiously approached Magiere from an angle that would allow him to stop her if she suddenly turned on Leesil.
"Do you sense anything?" Leesil asked.
Chap looked briefly toward Leesil. But Leesil was not looking to him. The half-elf's face was clenched with concern, and he did not return
Chap's gaze. Chap looked quickly back to Magiere and couldn't stop the growl that escaped him.
She glared at Leesil, breath deep and sharp. This was not exhaustion but the heat of something else within her. Chap heard Leesil behind him take a step toward Magiere. Chap tensed on all fours, ready to take Magiere down.
"Magiere?" Leesil said softly. "Can you sense anything?"
A startling change washed over her features. Her black eyes focused on Leesil.
The wrinkle of her brow faded. Her breaths became even and smooth, though her teeth remained unchanged. It was like seeing a feral animal suddenly look with longing at what stood before it.
Magiere dropped her gaze, reflexively covering her mouth with the back of her free hand.
"No… nothing," she said, though the words came out like a loud whisper.
Leesil stepped around Chap, grasping Magiere's raised hand. He gently pulled it down.
"I've seen it before," he said. "You don't need to hide from me."
Magiere clutched Leesil's fingers, blinking slowly. She looked tired now, as if the fading of her dhampir nature fatigued her more than the chase.
"I sense nothing," she answered more clearly, and looked down to Chap. "Where was the last place you smelled it?"
Magiere's teeth appeared to have receded, though her eyes remained unchanged. Chap whined again, and shook himself.
He relied on scent in some ways when tracking, but with an undead it was more that he felt its presence. He trotted back to the alley's center behind the building where the scent had ended. One second he had a strong sense of the creature, and the next, it was gone.
Chap saw that Magiere was as frustrated as he, gripping her sword tightly. It was hard to get this close and not make the kill… and more innocents might die as a result. His kin called this the way of things. Chap had long had his doubts that one small life of any kind in this world should mean so little, even in the balance of eternity.
Leesil crouched next to him. "My fault. I should've hit him with an oil flask, but he pulled the quarrel out too fast."
Magiere tried to catch her breath. "How did you get ahead of us?"
"Shortcut. I grew up here, remember. Did you get a look at him?"
"No, but his clothes were stolen."
"How do you know?"
"Because they smelled of the living… urine and sweat."
Chap continued to growl and fret, barely listening to his companions. He had been on the undead's tail, but the battle had been stolen from him. He began to tremble.
"He's gone," Magiere said. "The amulet lost its glow, and neither Chap nor I can pick up anything. How is this possible?"
Chap snorted and pawed at the alley's dirt.
"Now what?" Leesil asked. "Try again tomorrow night?"
Magiere frowned. "I wanted that thing's head tonight, so I could take it back to the keep. Then maybe Darmouth might find me a more trustworthy servant."
Leesil's expression darkened. Magiere reached out to touch his shoulder.
"If we haven't found something in the next few days, we should leave," she said. "Head up into the mountains and find our way to the elves… and hope Sgaile wasn't lying."
Leesil dropped his head in silence.
Chap had pondered this option to the point of frustration.
When Leesil had fled Venjetz eight years ago, Chap's place had been at his side. That was part of his purpose. Chap had never questioned his kin in this.
Gavril and Nein'a had played no part in what would come, in stopping the return of the ancient one known by differing names to the different people of this world. Wynn and her sages called it "the night voice" from the decayed Sumanese scroll they had uncovered. Ubad, that abomination to life, had prayed to it by the name of il'Samar. Leesil's parents had been expendable in the plan of Chap's kin. Now, like Leesil, something pulled at Chap. Leaving this city with no answers…
It would feel as if he abandoned Nein'a and Gavril again.
He rumbled, then looked back at the two beings now in his charge grunting once for their attention. Leesil stood up beside Magiere, and they began to make their way back toward Byrd's inn.
Dark streets caused little trouble for any of them, each with sight gifted in differing ways. Chap's thoughts were occupied with what he had seen in Magiere's feral expression as she looked at Leesil. Deep within her dhampir self, she still recognized him. Perhaps his presence and their bond now provided the strength she needed for control. It was comforting but troubling nonetheless. Chap had never intended that she delve so deeply, so soon, into her darker half.
Twice he heard small paws on wood across the rooftops. Somewhere out of sight, another odorous feline headed for the inn, and he paid it little attention. As they approached the door to Byrd's, he heard it a third time.
Chap turned to sniff the air. His nose wrinkled at the scent. In the dark he saw a black cat sitting on a barrel outside a tavern down the way, watching him.
"How about some late-night sausages?" Magiere asked him. "After all that running, you must be hungry."
Chap forgot the cat, and his ears perked at Magiere's words.
Oh, sausages!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darmouth was lost in thought in the Hall of Traitors when Paris appeared in the far doorway and hesitated. Darmouth let him wait.
He disliked having his private thoughts interrupted. He'd been thinking of how best to approach Hedi.
He'd courted many women, but none like her. Polite and guarded and cold, she showed no interest in what he offered her. This was a far cry from the women of his early years, eager to please and beg favor. He could simply order the marriage to take place, and he expected it to go forward as planned during the winter feast, but he wanted more. He wanted the mother of his heirs to accept him by her own choice. He wanted the proper image of a royal family.
"What?" he finally barked at Faris.
The Mondyalitko quietly stepped in, passing between the stone coffins of Darmouth's father and grandfather. He stopped two paces away, and his attention shifted briefly to the back wall. Bare skulls leered within shadowy stone cubbies where the light of burning braziers around the room couldn't fully penetrate.