Barb Hendee - Dhampir

The full weight and length of the tale was more than Leesil could manage. It overwhelmed him. Standing became even more of an effort.

"Such a long story," he whispered. "Too long for tonight."

She turned away from him. She appeared weak and pale, but otherwise all right. Slowly, she climbed off the bed, but did not approach him. How much did she remember of his feeding her? He wanted her to remember all of it.

She began pacing. Glancing at his wrist again, her expression turned to… embarrassment. Is that what she felt?

"I can't… I can't be here," she said. "If you are all right… and Chap?"

He felt too empty to argue. "I'll take care of him."

No coaxing was needed. Magiere picked her falchion off the floor where Brenden had dropped it, but she neither touched nor took any of the other weapons or supplies lying about. Her long legs strode for the door, and she fled Brenden's home as a prisoner flees a cage.

Leesil managed to walk over and retrieve the jar of salve. He knelt beside his dog, applying thick ointment to Chap's wounds. But Chap continued to sleep deeply.

For the first time in years, Leesil felt alone.

Some months ago, while walking through the forest, Rashed had come across a small ship run aground in a narrow inlet. Brush and trees now covered part of the outer hull, and he found no sign that anyone had been inside the ship for years.

"We should be safe here," he said.

He went through the motions of settling Teesha and Ratboy inside, and then went back out to check for any places where a patch of daylight might shine through and burn them when the sun rose. These actions were his duty, his role in their family. But visions of fire and tunnels collapsing filled him with silent rage. There wasn't even a blanket for Teesha to rest on. The thought troubled him. He should have a blanket for her.

All of her scrolls and books and dresses and embroidery were gone. He knew she'd never complain. She'd never say a word, but he felt almost overwhelmed by a sense of loss.

"Come and lie down," she said from the hatch doorway.

"I told you to stay inside," he answered, but he quickly went to the hatch and followed her down below deck.

Ratboy was already asleep on the floor. There were no bunks. Teesha lay down in the ship's wooden belly as well and reached out her hand toward Rashed, inviting him to join her. He stretched out beside her, but did not touch her. He rarely touched her unless it was necessary. It wasn't that he considered her too precious or too fragile. But even in life, he believed a warrior should not practice affection. It seemed like a weakness. As if once that floodgate opened, it would be impossible to stop, and then he would lose all strength. He needed his strength.

He didn't mind when she touched him though. Not at all.

Chocolate brown curls fell across her tiny face as she rolled onto her back.

"Sleep," he said.

Her rose candles were gone, too.

Rashed's mind moved back to the first time she saw Miiska and the delight on her face. They had been traveling for weeks on end, searching for someplace she might call home. He never told her how difficult their journey was for him. Guilt over Corische's death haunted him. Guilt over his abandonment of Parko haunted him. He hated being out in the open so much, always moving down strange roads. But he also remembered what Teesha had done to the keep, what a comfortable and beautiful place she had created from an empty stone dwelling. He wanted that again. She reminded him of life, of being part of the living.

Perhaps he was caught between two worlds, but so was she, and on some level, so was Ratboy, or the young urchin would have followed Parko.

Once they reached the coast, he thought the journey would soon be over, but none of the towns they passed through felt right to her. They were either too big or too small or too loud or too strange compared to what she had known in her life. When they reached Miiska one night, she climbed out of the wagon and ran down the shore a little way, then back to him, and smiled.

"This is the place," she said. "This is our home."

Relief filled him, and the next night, he began to work. Money was no issue. Corische's wealth was in the wagon. Building Teesha a home, creating a place in the world for his small family eased the guilt. He convinced himself that he had done the right thing, was doing the right thing. He laid down laws and expected Ratboy to follow his orders. Here, the keep lord and his rule of the land did not protect them.

They had no legal protection beyond that of ordinary citizens, and if they wanted to remain in this home, secrecy was essential.

"No bodies," he stated flatly.

For the most part, Ratboy obeyed, but like Parko, he too felt the pull of the Feral Path, and there had been mistakes. Rather than drive Ratboy out, Rashed simply made a deal-an expensive deal-with the town constable. Distasteful but necessary.

Teesha had once again made their home comfortable and beautiful. And now it was gone.

He was lying on the deck of an abandoned ship without even a blanket to cover her.

"You'll never be able to rest if you don't stop thinking," she whispered through the fading darkness.

"All our money was in the warehouse," he answered. "I don't know how bad the damage is yet, but we may be coinless."

"That doesn't matter. You always find a way to fix everything. Now rest."

She reached out and placed her small hand on his chest.

He closed his eyes and allowed her hand to remain.

When dawn broke, Leesil picked up Chap and carried him home. Although the dog was half awake by then, he seemed so sick and weak that Leesil wanted to get him to his favorite spot by The Sea Lion's huge hearth. Brenden's house felt cold and unfamiliar.

He saw almost no one on the short walk home and wondered briefly where most of the shopkeepers were. The answer came when he saw the smoke still rising into the air over the town from down near the docks. Much of the town must have been up half the night controlling the fire. He purposely took a route through town that would pass nowhere near the ruined warehouse.

Entering the tavern's common room, Leesil almost sighed in relief when he saw it was empty. He couldn't face dealing with Caleb or Rose at present and fervently hoped they would both sleep the morning away. The fire was low but smoldering, and everything about the dimly lit room filled Leesil with a certainty that this world still made sense-from the oak bar to the faded chairs to his faro table.

Feeling exhausted from having carried Chap halfway across town, Leesil now trembled under the hound's weight. The half-elf knew he lacked strength due to blood loss and the previous night's events. Even the food Brenden had brought him didn't seem to bring much of his strength back. The blacksmith had left again shortly afterward.

Nearly panting from exertion, he stumbled over and laid Chap on a small rug near the fire. Most of the dog's wounds were messy but superficial.

He stroked his dog's velvet ears. "I'm going to heat some water, and I'll be right back."

Chap just whined and tried to lick his hand.

Then the commotion started.

At first, he only heard a dull roar coming from outside. He started for the window to look out, and the strange resonance suddenly turned into the sound of shouting voices very near the tavern. He changed directions and went to open the door. Several images hit him at once.

Brenden's broad, leather-clad back was within arm's reach. The blacksmith was holding off a large crowd led by Constable Ellinwood. The constable's round face was pink tinged with rage.

"How dare you interfere with my duties!" he roared.

"You haven't done your duty in years," Brenden spit back.