Thief of Lives Read online

  Peddlers actually worked the dockside, and farmers tried to engage merchants and traders directly with wagons full of bundles and bales.

  Magiere watched men and a few women haul and stack crates and barrels and bundles. They seemed shabby, thin, and more tired than she'd seen before, or perhaps she'd just never paid attention until today. For some reason she couldn't pin down, she felt responsible.

  Before she'd come to Miiska, her life consisted of cheating peasants out of anything valuable they possessed and then moving on. She and Leesil had earned their living by traveling from village to village in the inlands of the northeastern country of Stravina—or anyplace where peasants died of illness or other unexplained cause. She convinced the inhabitants that they were plagued by an undead and that she, the hunter, the dhampir, could save them for a price. At night, Leesil would masquerade as a ghost-white monster, "the vampire," appearing in the village pathway to dart in and out of the darkness between their homes. In a violent battle, Magiere would "stake" him, and the village was saved.

  But constant travel and uncertainty became too much. She'd secretly saved enough profit to purchase a tavern sight unseen in this little coastal town. She wanted peace and quiet and to spend the rest of her days simply running a tavern with Leesil. How ironic that turned out to be. A fake and cheat, playing hunter of the dead, she'd bought a tavern in likely the only town in Belaski with a trio of undeads nestled in its midst.

  And worse, her rumored reputation followed her to spread slowly through Miiska. Everyone expected her to have the skill and knowledge to fight such creatures, and the vampires themselves believed she'd come to hunt them. Unable to avoid this conflict, she destroyed two of the undeads, including their leader, Rashed.

  Now, Magiere looked back down the waterfront. She'd actually walked right past the charred earth today and not even noticed the vacancy. Leesil had burned Miiska's largest warehouse, covering their retreat from the undeads' hiding place in order to save her life. But Leesil's action had other consequences.

  Rashed may have been a monster masquerading among the townsfolk, but it seemed he'd also had a head for business. His warehouse had employed many dockworkers as well as being the mainstay of export for the local area.

  Magiere finally recognized the source of her seemingly pointless guilt.

  "Move it, you lazy grunts!" shouted a foreman in a sleeveless shirt. "There are plenty around to take your place if you can't keep up."

  She and Leesil had saved the town from its undead plague, but without Rashed's establishment for competition, the two other smaller warehouse owners could now pay workers substandard wages for longer hours, as well as choke off the prices for abundant goods with less opportunity for storage and export. Anyone who protested was dismissed. There were simply more workers than jobs, and worse, more business than these small warehouses could handle. People watched their livelihood go to waste or be bought out for low return.

  Magiere tried to take no further notice. She had a business of her own to manage. She grabbed a ragged worker by the shirtsleeve.

  "Where's Master Poyesk?"

  The man stared at her in exhaustion, and his eyes narrowed slightly as his back straightened. She realized that he recognized her and met his gaze without flinching. A long moment passed, until the silence was too much.

  He pointed toward the warehouse's doors. "Inside."

  Magiere nodded, and Chap followed as she entered the dimly lit building. She choked on the dust while her eyes adjusted to the decreased light. Crates of wool, casks of ale, and other packaged goods lined the walls. She spotted a short, weasel-faced man writing on a torn bit of parchment.

  "Master Poyesk!" Magiere called out with an edge of anger.

  Poyesk turned, slightly surprised by her presence. "Mistress Magiere," he said in an oily tone. "I was expecting your partner."

  Although he was dressed like a merchant in a burgundy velvet tunic, Poyesk's teeth were yellowed, his hair greasy, and his nose pockmarked. Magiere was too irritated to be revolted.

  "If you're expecting my partner, then you know why I'm here," she stated. "My tavern opens tonight, but my stocks haven't been delivered. I paid in advance, so what is the delay?"

  He set the parchment on a nearby crate and rubbed his hands together, smiling apologetically.

  "Yes, but as you see, business has been slow in Miiska of late. Fewer ships come to trade and there are so many workers to employ. My overhead is climbing by the day."

  Confused, Magiere wondered where this was leading.

  "I paid the delivery fee as well," she added.

  He paused as if weighing his words, and tapped one finger lightly against his lips.

  "Of course, but there are other considerations. With so few handling all of Miiska's trade these days, I have to consider who to serve first based on which customers are most… profitable." He shrugged, as if there were nothing he could do. "Otherwise, I won't have the coin to pay workers to serve the next customer."

  Poyesk's meaning settled upon Magiere.

  Leesil would handle this differently, but he wasn't here. She reached to her hip for the falchion's hilt, but that wasn't here either. She'd stopped wearing it around town in broad daylight.

  "Are you asking for a bribe?" she said. "You want a bribe to deliver goods I've already purchased… with a delivery fee paid in advance?"

  She heard Chap growl softly at Poyesk, the low sound rolling up his throat to vibrate through half-exposed teeth. Master Poyesk didn't react, picking up his parchment again to return to business as usual.

  "Setting your dog on me won't get you your ale."

  Magiere was about to explain what she could do with a bailing hook and his various body cavities, when a familiar voice called out from behind her.

  "Ah, there you are, Magiere. Caleb said you'd come down here."

  Magiere turned to see two familiar men entering the warehouse, Karlin Boigiesque, the town's baker, and Darien Tomik, constable and head of the guard.

  Karlin's presence usually put her at ease. Portly, smooth headed, and always smelling of clove-spiced soap, he was more than just a baker. He now served on the town council and had been her main advocate in getting the town to rebuild her tavern. He was a good man to the core and her friend. She didn't have many friends.

  Darien, on the other hand, she didn't know well. He struck her as competent and quiet, though he hadn't held his position long. Tall to the point of being lanky, he stood almost a head above Karlin and gazed seriously at her. She realized her face must be flushed with anger.

  "This little weasel just asked me for a bribe to deliver an order I've already paid for," she snapped.

  Darien looked at Poyesk and asked softly, "Is this true?"

  "Uh, no… I think Mistress Magiere misunderstood." Poyesk became slightly nervous. "I was explaining that her delivery had to be moved into the afternoon schedule. We're running behind today."

  "Behind… something, certainly," Magiere snapped, her hand still on her hip.

  Karlin settled one thick palm on Magiere's shoulder in a friendly manner. Darien stepped in on her other side. The quiet, dour constable was appropriately outfitted in leather hauberk, sheathed short sword, and a small cudgel tucked in his belt.

  "But all is well now?" Karlin asked, polite and jovial. "You'll send her order this afternoon?"

  Poyesk smiled with yellowed teeth and backed farther away. "Yes, of course. She'll have everything well before dusk."

  Magiere realized Darien's presence made Master Poyesk extremely nervous, more so than seemed appropriate for one attempt at gouging a customer. Darien's attitude stepped beyond mere disapproval from a town constable. She wondered who else Poyesk was attempting to extort and felt less inclined to let the situation drop so easily. Karlin, however, gave a slight tug on her shoulder, and began rushing her toward the doors. Darien hesitated before following. Magiere glanced back at Poyesk.

  "I hope there won't be any further misunderstanding
s to straighten out. And you'd better hope my partner, Leesil, doesn't come in my place."

  Master Poyesk only smiled again.

  Magiere shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight as they emerged from the warehouse.

  "It's fortunate you two happened along," she said, blinking as she lowered her hand.

  Karlin didn't answer and walked slowly down the waterfront. She and Darien fell into step beside the baker.

  "All right, you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked.

  Darien remained silent, and Karlin rolled his shoulders as if shifting an irritating shirt seam to a more comfortable position.

  "We went to speak with you at the Sea Lion," Karlin began slowly. "When Caleb said you'd gone to the docks, we thought we'd take a walk and see if we could find you."

  "And you did," Magiere added. "Is anything wrong?"

  "Yes and no," he answered. "You must be aware that things have changed in Miiska of late. When you and Leesil… when Rashed's warehouse was burned, the town's economy was altered."

  She took a slow breath. Again, everything came back to Rashed's warehouse.

  "Where we once had a surplus of money," Darien cut in, his voice even but hard, "is now a nearly empty purse. The small warehouses like Poyesk's are claiming they earn no profit, and months ago, town funds were drained in helping those who lost livelihoods after the fire. We have almost no community surplus left from taxes."

  Magiere kept stride, but she was uncertain why they wanted to chat with her about problems with the town's treasury.

  "What is it you think I can do about this?" she asked.

  "Pay your back taxes," Karlin said plainly.

  Magiere came to a sudden stop, looking in confusion between the corpulent baker and the lanky town constable. "Back taxes?"

  "There's a tax for trade and business, which in turn is split between community funds and what's owed to the kingdom. Fortunately, we're a free township and don't pay a percentage to a local fief. Of course, you would know that. It's just that you've been so helpful to Miiska that the council never thought it right to insist. But we're in a crisis, and everyone must do their share. Now that you're reopening, we can expect a payment from the Sea Lion as well."

  Among all the reasons Karlin would need to speak with her, this was the last thing Magiere expected. Why had no one ever mentioned this before?

  For ridding Miiska of undeads, she and Leesil had been gifted some payment, but nearly all of that had gone into rebuilding the Sea Lion. She'd used up the remainder restocking to open for business. She couldn't tell this to Karlin and Darien, though.

  "Leesil handles our account sheets," she lied, clearing her throat. "I'll need to speak with him."

  "Of course." Karlin nodded. "We know you're just reopening and things might be a bit scattered. I must be off now, at any rate. A town council meeting was called this afternoon over a letter from Bela. Apparently, the news it contains warrants an immediate discussion, but I'll stop by the tavern tonight."

  Darien gave a nod of acknowledgment and farewell and headed into town. Karlin patted her on the shoulder before following him.

  Magiere watched her own feet step along the waterfront planks. Where was Leesil, indeed, now that she needed him?

  She passed beyond the commotion of the docks and turned inward to the closest street paralleling the shore. Shops around her grew dense and more closely connected, side streets occasionally reaching inward to the heart of town. Her stomach was in knots. She had until evening to come up with taxes on the Sea Lion. Miiska was in trouble, and she and Leesil were partially responsible. The least they could do was pay their fair share. But how?

  She passed the stable down the road from the tavern and saw Lila, the cobbler's wife, walking toward her. A large woman with a mass of burnished auburn hair, she carried a basket of bread loaves and fruit. It was a cheerful sight, as if some part of the world were calm enough to simply worry about pies and apple butter. Lila smiled when she spotted Magiere. Not everyone blamed her and Leesil for Miiska's troubles.

  As Lila passed an open alleyway, two teenage boys burst out, as if they'd been lying in wait for a passerby. For a heartbeat Magiere froze in disbelief.

  The first swung his fist and caught Lila across the jaw. She dropped instantly in a heap on the dry, dusty street. The second grabbed the basket and turned to flee. All the day's frustrations found welcome release in Magiere's anger.

  "Chap, get him!" she shouted as she took off after the first boy.

  He was fast but didn't notice Magiere until too late. She snatched him by the shirt collar, spun him around, and flung him up against the cobbler shop's wall.

  The boy turned as if ready to fight, but he looked terrified, breath coming in ragged gasps and eyes wild with panic. His collarbone poked sharply out of a ripped shirt. His raised fists were bony at the ends of thin arms. At most, he was fifteen years old.

  Magiere's anger drained instantly, and she heard Lila calling out her name.

  Hesitant to take her eyes off the first boy, Magiere glanced quickly toward the stout woman, who was pulling at Chap.

  "Magiere, help me. Call him off," Lila shouted.

  Magiere stepped back, watching the first boy until she was at a safe distance. She had little choice but to let her quarry go and run back to Lila.

  Chap snarled and barked at the other thief pinned against a pile of empty crates blocking an alley. Magiere saw that the dog wasn't trying to harm the boy but merely make enough of a show that the young thief would cower down and be still. Lila, on the other hand, didn't know Chap well enough to understand what was happening.

  "Call him off," Lila repeated. "They're just hungry boys."

  "Chap, that's enough," Magiere said. "Leave him be."

  The dog snarled once more and pulled back next to Magiere. The boy whimpered softly, rolled to his feet, and started running.

  "Wait, take this," Lila called out. She held out a loaf of bread from the fallen basket.

  The boy never looked back and disappeared down a side street.

  Magiere stared at Lila's swollen jaw. It would be black and purple tomorrow. "You're trying to feed the thief who attacked you?"

  Lila's expression grew sad, so sad that Magiere fell silent.

  "They're just children, and they're hungry," Lila said softly. "There's not even enough work for their parents, if they have any, so how can they feed themselves?"

  Magiere had no response. The knot in her stomach tightened as she escorted Lila safely home. Turning away, she headed back toward the south end of town, Chap beside her.

  The Sea Lion was nestled at the base of a small, forested peninsula forming the southern side of the bay. Stout and cleanly cut plank walls, freshly whitewashed shutters, and an ornate sign depicting a sea lion riding an ocean wave greeted her as she stood outside her reborn establishment. The front door was shaped from solid oak this time, with iron bars and locks that Leesil had requested. Enough fair-grade glass panes had been found for the upper-floor windows, and shutters were in place on the ground floor. The whole of the place was at least half again as long as its previous incarnation and shone like a new copper coin in the sunlight. Even in hard times, people spent what little they could afford for the comfort of ale in good company by a warm hearth. The Sea Lion fairly burst with promise of laughter and profit. But at the moment, Magiere did not feel like laughing.

  Chap scurried to the front door and sat waiting, but Magiere held back.

  Somewhere inside, old Caleb, the caretaker they'd inherited, was likely putting things in order. Little Rose, his granddaughter, would be playing in her new bedroom, probably waiting for Chap, her favorite "pull-toy."

  This day already weighed too heavily upon Magiere. She could imagine the activity that would grow through the afternoon, until the place opened for business.

  The last time she'd taken on the role of bartender, both Miiska's desperate townsfolk and the vampires they feared had found her too easily. The me
mory, as well as the revelations about herself that had emerged, still haunted her. In facing the truth behind her life of deception and lies, Magiere had also faced more of herself than she'd ever wanted to know. In the presence of vampires, rage and strength filled her until she began to change, manifesting attributes only vampires themselves possessed… canines elongating to fangs amid sharpening teeth… healing herself by drinking mortal blood. It terrified her, even though it became necessary both to her own survival and to protect Leesil. And they had grown closer during the crisis.

  Magiere felt suddenly cold and exposed.

  In the aftermath, Leesil was so badly injured that all she could do was care for him until he could walk again. During that time, they didn't speak much of their experience together, because she decided it was best to put it all behind them.

  He began slipping away by himself each morning. Perhaps that was best. Her cool manner was obviously troubling him, but his life had been endangered because of his connection to her, and a certain distance was for his own good. A lonely thought, but true.

  Magiere looked southward across the coastal road out of town and up to the forested hills that lay inland. Leesil was late.

  "Advance," Chane instructed, trying not to yawn from tedium, "and again. No, master, keep your blade level and then settle your weight back. Do not lean into your front leg." He lazily parried but did not take advantage of the blatant opening his opponent had left again—and again.

  Toret, his pupil in swordplay and his master in all else, halted in frustration.

  "My sword is straight!" he snapped. His voice echoed off the walls of the enlarged cellar cleared for their use in training and other clandestine pursuits. "Why do you keep repeating that?"

  Their three-story stone house resided in the upper-class quarters of Bela, the kingdom capital of Belaski and its major port of call. Acceptable and perhaps extravagant by middle-class standards, it was not what Chane had been used to in life. The city's population was so diverse almost anyone could fit in. However, since he'd risen from death, Chane felt nothing but out of place in his master's company.