Barb Hendee - Thief of Lives

A figure of medium height stepped into the far reach of the torchlight, wearing a black cloak over dark clothes that obscured him from view. With black-gloved hands, he pulled his cowl back, and even in the low torchlight, Magiere caught the streaks of white at his temples. Her leg gave again, and she leaned on Wynn.

"Welstiel?"

"Not quite what I expected," he said, ignoring her puzzlement as he glanced down the side tunnel Chane had taken. "But your skills are increasing. And I suppose this was still a worthwhile lesson. Never depend on anyone beside yourself, except perhaps for the half-blood or the majay-hi ."

His voice. It was strangely familiar, urgently so, aside from when she'd last seen him in Miiska.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Again he ignored her and looked at Wynn. "Leave."

Magiere felt Wynn's grip around her waist tighten. Weistiel lifted one black-gloved hand to point down the side tunnel.

His earlier words came back to Magiere- a moment, if you please.

She shoved Wynn in the direction Welstiel pointed and stumbled over to snatch the loaded crossbow, cradling it across her sword arm.

"Run now," Magiere ordered. "Find Leesil."

Wynn looked between Magiere and Welstiel in confused panic, then turned and slogged away into the tunnel.

Magiere leveled the crossbow directly at Welstiel.

Leesil watched in frustration and rage as Ratboy vanished.

Chap trotted down the slope to him, pushing his nose through the iron bars. At least he was all right. As much as Leesil should thank the elf for this, he was too angry.

"Open the damn gate!" he shouted.

The elf gazed at him from the top of the passage and turned aside out of view. Leesil heard rattling gears and chains, and the gate slowly lifted. When it was but halfway up, he ducked under and hurried up the walkway, picking up his torch along the way and gripping it along with the blade in his left hand. Chap followed close behind him.

The chamber was a large half circle, its flat side holding the archway entrance. Along this same wall, to either side, were narrow passageways. Ratboy had likely fled down the one to the left, and Leesil saw the elf standing on the right side, cranking a metal wheel. The man flipped a lever, locking the mechanism used to open the gate.

The walls reached up to four times the height of a man. High in the curved wall, a wide chute spilled a steady but light fall of water to the chamber floor. The smell of brine thickened here, and Leesil guessed this place was beneath the salt mill, where excess seawater was pumped in to flush the sewers.

"We're going after him," he said to the elf. "Are you coming?"

Chap began softly growling at the mouth of the left passageway, and the elf watched him with a puzzled expression that made Leesil briefly follow his gaze.

"You are alike," the elf said. "You care for only one thing-to kill the dead. Why?"

Leesil had no time for this. Ratboy was escaping yet again.

"Because they prey upon the living," he answered quickly. "No one else will… can hunt them, so we do."

"Humans," Sgaile said, as if spitting out something foul to the taste. "They feed on humans, are spawned from them. That creature serves his purpose in thinning the blight upon this world. These humans have even failed to remember their own folly that brought the world to the edge of death in their long-forgotten past."

"Then why didn't you kill me, a half-human?" Leesil asked in spite. "Why did you come after me at all?"

"An error of judgment was made-we do not kill our own," the elf said with difficulty, though his study of Chap made Leesil believe there was more to it.

"Slaughter, you mean," Leesil retorted. "That's what you do, just like these monsters." And he pointed down the passage Ratboy had taken.

"Is this why you abandoned your parents-to hunt the humans' dead?"

Leesil tensed. What did this elf know of his past?

"I left because my life was a horror, and I could no longer do as Darmouth forced me. I know they both were executed because of me."

"I care not what happened to your human sire," elf replied. "But Cuirin'nSn'a is a traitor to her people and their future. She will never again teach another our ways. And it matters little if you choose to waste yourself in such meaningless pursuit."

Chap snarled and lunged at the elf, and the man backed away two steps. But Leesil was only barely aware of this. For a moment he couldn't breathe.

Father had called mother Nein'a, and that was close to the name the elf had spoken.

Chap lunged again with a snap of teeth, backing the elf against the wall. The anmaglahk looked at Leesil as if he were something unpleasant that couldn't be discarded.

"I came to you for one reason," he said with reluctance, not letting Chap slip from his field of view. "To tell you that you must never step in our way, or our shared blood will not save you from the fate of a traitor."

Leesil waved Chap back, and the hound retreated several steps. The elf moved away from the wall, sidestepping toward the sloped passage.

"What is your name?" Leesil asked.

"Sgailsheilleache a Oshagairea gan'Coilehkrotall," he replied, as if challenging Leesil to even try to repeat it. "Sgaile, if that is easier for you to speak, though it gains you nothing. I am not known to anyone you will ever meet."

He stepped partway down the slant before looking back.

"You were my task, but you are no threat to us. You are anmaglahk , but not yet a traitor. Go your way and do not interfere with ours."

Sgaile turned and disappeared into the sewers.

Chap's growl pulled Leesil's awareness back. The hound stood at the narrow passage down which Ratboy had fled. Leesil was about to follow but stopped and faced down the slope.

Sgaile's words rushed together in his mind and spread an anguish that nearly made him cry out. He ran down the slope, footfalls splashing in the open tunnel, but the elf was gone.

We do not kill our own… She will never again teach another our ways.

If the elves wouldn't kill their own but still punished a traitor…

Where was this Cuirin'nen'a-what had truly happened to his mother?

Toret ran, arms swinging wildly, barely clutching his short sword.

Elves-cursed elves everywhere.

He turned with the flow of water, heading toward the bay.

The quarrel wound in his head still seared, and the elf's wire had cut deeply into his throat. His damaged eye was not fully healed, and he needed to feed.

All of his lessons with Chane seemed useless. Master of his own family and house, he'd wanted to take Rashed's place. Such a role begged for skill at arms. But even with superior strength and speed, he couldn't match in two moons what took a swordsman years of practice. What a fool he'd been.

Chane, on the other hand, could fend for himself, yet the coward had left him with the dhampir and the half-blood. Toret simply wanted to find Sapphire and leave this place behind.

He ran hard. Sapphire must have escaped into the city near the bay, but he still couldn't sense her presence no matter where he turned. What if she'd managed somehow to find her way completely out of the city? That would explain his lack of connection.

Ahead, the tunnel roof curved downward, creating the illusion of meeting with the sewer floor. As he approached, he noted the passage dipped steeply downward. Water at his feet rushed faster. When he crested the slope, he looked toward the tunnel's end and saw the opening to the bay.

An iron gate was closed over the exit. He heard voices-many voices.

Toret crept a little farther along the tunnel wall and crouched to listen. City guards stood outside the sealed spillway to the bay. By voices, he counted at least seven or more men. Toret crept back up the slope to the level tunnel and began backtracking.