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she was attracted to him, though her intellectual nature blinded her awareness
of this. She was a little sparrow of a scholar, and he would never play with
her.
"Good evening, Wynn," he said politely.
For some reason, she appeared mildly agitated and not particularly glad to
see him.
"Oh, Chane& did we plan to meet this evening?"
He crossed the room and pulled up a vacant stool to sit by her. "No, but I
need information and thought to stop by. I hope that is all right?"
She nodded absently, preoccupied, and began scooping up parchments into neat
stacks. "Yes, you are always welcome. There is simply a great deal happening
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right now."
"What is this?" Chane asked, glancing down at the chalked symbols on the
floor and indicating the general disarray of the room.
"Assisting some friends," she replied, and sat back on her stool. "I am glad
to see you, but I am a bit scattered at the moment. A change might clear my
mind."
Wynn rubbed her eyelids; clearly she had been at her task too long without
pause. Chane felt momentarily reluctant to burden her further. Mortals on the
whole meant nothing to him, but Wynn was unique.
She reached out with small and perfect hands to straighten up the table.
"Tell me what you are seeking."
"First, can you translate anElvish word for me?"
"I can try. What is it?"
"Anmaglâhk,"he answered. "Something I read recently, but I have no idea what
it means."
Wynn's brows knitted. "I do not think it is a realElvish word, Chane. Where
did you see it?"
"In a history text on this continent's elves," he lied.
She appeared thoughtful for a moment. "My best guess& would be thief of
lives.' That is the closest I can surmise."
"Thief of lives?" he repeated. "That sounds like a killer or an assassin."
"Perhaps," she replied with a frown, likely finding his interpretation
unpleasant. "But the elves do not use assassins, so the word must have been
used in reference to other races." She offered him a tired smile. "Now, what
did you really come to research?"
"As long as you promise not to laugh at me," he chided.
"Why would I ever laugh at you?" She blinked, not quite catching his humor.
"I want to know about a legend called the dhampir,' rumored to be the
offspring of a vampire and a mortal.A mere superstition, but curious."
Wynn did not laugh. In fact, she stared at his hands and hair and, for a
moment, Chane thought he saw fear pass across her pretty features.
"Where did you hear that word?" she asked.
Her reaction confused Chane enough that his senses began to open. Carefully
casual, he spread his hands, palm up, in a carefree gesture.
"A passing fancy," he said. "I think it was in a tavern, a rumor I
overheard."
She nodded, outwardly calm, but he heard the quickened beat of her heart and
the slight tremble of her breath. Was she afraid& of him?
"Domin Tilswith is the expert on lore. If you will wait here, I will find
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him."
As she stood up, Chane felt an urge to prevent her from leaving, to find out
what had suddenly frightened her. Such an action would certainly frighten her
further and, strangely, that bothered him.
With a quick bow and a shaky smile, Wynn left the room.
Something was amiss. Then Chane heard the sound of quick footsteps coming
toward him from the far end of the barracks. Instinct took hold, and he bolted
from the study toward the front door.
Magiere paced the short path between the bunks in their barracks room and the
open hallway. Every time she reentered the room, she saw Chap perched next to
the table, his expression somehow sad.
She understood little of what Wynn had explained throughout the afternoon and
evening, as the young sage worked to speak with the dog in their halting
manner. The study's floor was now covered in chalk marks.
Faywere as old as the world itself, so legends said, and for the most part
they were considered to be myth and superstition. Varied religions had their
stories of how life began, but older still were the tales of the world's
making.
Earth, water, air, fire, and spirit.
Mountain, wave, wind, flame, and tree.
Solid, liquid, gas, energy, and essence.
Perhaps divine by some faiths' standards, these elemental intelligences had
been the Fay, whose mingling brought the world into existence.
The sages believed humans were the oldest race, and the mingling of the first
humans with these Fay, when the world was young, gave birth to new beings. In
turn, these beings mingled among themselves and from them, down through the
ages, descended the new races. The Elvish word for these Fay-derived races
wasUirishg which meant either "Fay-blooded" or "Children of the Fay."
Amongst the trees and forests were the elves. The people of earth and
mountain were the dwarves, though Magiere had never seen nor heard of any in
this land. The Fay-descended races of wind, wave, and flame were not known to
Wynn.
In the far-forgotten past behind all of themwere the Fay, the elemental
beings.
Magiere looked up at Leesil lying in the top bunk. One arm thrown over his
face, he ignored both her and the hound.
"Wynn told you," she said. "He doesn't control us. It's more a touch of
thoughts, an urge built upon a memory nothing more. That we weren't aware of
what was happening" she glanced at Chap "is why we never ignored or dismissed
it."
"And how many times have we been unaware?" Leesil asked. "How many turns in
our lives were made because he wormed into our thoughts?"
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Chap barked twice.
"Quiet!" Leesil snapped. His arm dropped, and he rolled his head enough to
look at Magiere.
"I don't know," she finally answered.
"And what else is he concealing?" he asked in a snide tone. "Why are we so
privileged to have his company?"
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