"Now to rest," Gleann said. "Thank you for a most pleasant chat."
The outer doorway's curtain rumpled and its hem dragged across Chap's back as he stalked in. Grass seed and strands stuck out in his fur, and his paws were filthy. He glanced about, movements sharp and manic in a way that magnified Magiere's own nagging nervous energy. And still she didn't know why she felt this way.
"Look at yourself!" Wynn said, and wrinkled her small nose at the dog. "What have you been doing? You will not crawl onto my bed in such a state."
Chap's eyes cleared as he fixed upon her. He barked twice for "no" and, startled by his own voice, whined and repeated himself more softly. He circled around to curl up beside the bundled weapons and the chest. Magiere wondered what he'd been up to.
Gleann showed them to the adjacent room of floor mats. As he said good night, Leanalham nodded to them, but her eyes were on Leesil. She turned quickly away and hurried up the stairs.
As Leesil pulled the room's curtain closed, Magiere saw Sgaile sit down against the wall near the front door. Leesil remained poised, as if about to leave the sleeping quarters. Magiere sighed, understanding.
"The chest is safe," she said.
Wynn sat on one of the three beds. "Sgaile would not let anyone touch them, I think."
Leesil let go of the curtain and settled on the bed nearest the doorway. Magiere knelt on the one in the center.
The soft mattress smelled of wild grass, and the pillow's strange fabric felt like silk. She dreaded the rest of the night, fearful that sleep wouldn't find her or that worse might come if it did. Her only relief was in being away from so many strange faces, though Leanalham surfaced in her thoughts.
"How does she bear it?" Magiere said. "Living among people who will always see her as different?"
Wynn, halfway into her bed, pulled up a blanket."Who… oh, Leanalham? Perhaps…" She shook her head sadly and lay down. "I do not know. But her name means 'Child of Misfortune'."
Magiere's ire rose, smothering her edgy state. She had her own meaning for such a label. Magelia, her mother, had been forced to give birth, and had died shortly after. What could be more unfortunate than that in bearing children?
And though Leanalham had her grandfather and, oddly enough, Sgaile, the girl was branded with a name that marked her for life. Like Leesil's own mother, how much cruelty could these people heap upon their children?
Magiere lay beneath her blanket a long while. She heard Wynn's breathingslow and deepen. She watched Leesil until certain he'd drifted into fitful sleep, then closed her own eyes, trying to rest. The night became endless under the persistent quiver in her body.
She found herself standing in the dark amid the forest; then she saw a shadow shift among the trees, coming closer.
It stepped so softly that footfalls came and went beneath the rustle of branches and underbrush in the light breeze. When she looked about, she saw no other dark shapes that had shadowed her through the night so many times before.
Magiere heard and felt something skitter across her foot.
Leaning against her boot was a freshly fallen oak leaf, still green and satin. She stooped and reached for it. At the touch of her finger, a brown spot appeared on it.
The dry color spread through the leaf's veins as its tissue faded and dried until fully wilted. Decay set in.
She jerked her hand away, rising up. The leaf rotted, then crumbled and came apart. Its fragments scattered across the ground in the night breeze.
A deeply shadowed figure stood quiet and still in the dark between two oaks. Something glinted in its hand… a stiletto. Even at night her eyes picked up a sheen brighter than silver. The glimmer of elven eyes showed within the figure's raised cowl.
Magiere reached for her falchion, gripping the hilt without taking her eyes off the anmaglahk, but she hesitated. Was it an anmaglahk? His forearm was bare-except for a wrist sheath. At his shoulder, she saw the hint of leather… of a hauberk?
She froze before the silent figure facing her in the dark. Rings of metal were bound in a weave of leather straps on the hauberk's front.
"Leesil?" Magiere whispered.
The figure didn't answer. Only the blade's tip tilted slowly up at her.
She pulled the falchion, backing away. "Leesil!"
Magiere half-awoke from the dream and thrashed the blanket aside. She scrambled across the pillow and backed against the small room's wall, looking about in terror. Her dhampir nature rose and widened her senses.
Leesil shifted in his slumber, rolling over with a mumble. Wynn didn't stir.
Magiere felt the rough bark through the elven felt jerkin she wore. Its touch made her back muscles spasm. Her shudders settled inward and grew to a hum in her flesh.
She fell forward onto hands and knees, and then collapsed in a heap when her shaking arms wouldn't hold. She curled in a ball upon her bed. The tremors slowly subsided. She wanted to reach for Leesil, to wake him.
But it had only been a dream… one more nightmare that plagued her sleep since they'd come into this forest. And for all she'd endured, Leesil's burden seemed far greater here.
Magiere turned about to put her head upon the pillow. Try though she might, she couldn't rest quietly, nor think clearly. Her muscles would not unclench.
Leesil roused slowly the next morning from a restless sleep filled with unwanted dreams-of his mother, and of a young Anmaglahk's split throat, the man's blood soaking into his breeches. When he stepped out into the main room, Magiere was already up.
She sat on the moss next to the chest, with Chap sprawled out beside her as she stared blankly at nothing. A clay cup of steaming tea sat next to her, but it looked untouched. Their cloak-bundled weapons were gone.
Leesil looked about and found the bundle stacked by the outer doorway with the rest of their gear. There was also an extra pack of dark canvas he didn't recognize.
He should have known Magiere would hardly be sitting quietly if her falchion were missing. Before he was ready to deal with the day, their hosts were up and about, taking away any private chance to learn what troubled Magiere.
Leanalham descended the stairs without a sound. She saw him, and this time smiled slightly before slipping out the front doorway. Sgaile crouched to tuck something in the new pack. Gleann came down and followed his grandniece outside, but the two quickly returned as Wynn came out rubbing her face with a yawn.
Leanalham and Gleann each returned with a wooden platter of food. Sgaile took some as they passed and returned to fussing with the gear. Leesil didn't like him digging about in their stuff.
Gleann unrolled a felt rug upon the moss, and breakfast was served: wheat biscuits with nuts, more bisselberries, smoked fish, and a thickened hot porridge smelling of cinnamon.
While Leesil satisfiedhimself on the latter, Magiere sat quietly beside him and touched none of the food. He nudged her several times, but she shook her head. She didn't even react when Chap snuck in and snatched a whole fillet of smoked fish before anyone could stop him. Wynn scolded the dog, brushing off dried mud he'd left on the felt spread. She loaded a plate to set behind herself, just for him.
As everyone finished, Magiere stood. Sgaile looked her up and down. Whether he studied her or the new clothes she wore, Leesil didn't care for it.
"Your own clothes are clean," Sgaile said, "and packed. It would be best for all of you to wear what you have on for the journey."
What was he up to?
"Where's my armor?" Magiere asked sharply. "If you think I'm walking about without protection, waiting for another of yours to jump us… think again."
Sgaile held up his hands with a frustrated sigh.
"Your protection is my concern," he said. "From afar at least, your present attire will draw less attention."