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face was unlined and adorned by a straight, slightly large nose. His hair was
steel gray, short, and neatly combed.
"Your council invite us here," Domin Tilswith said, "start new branch our
guild, serve city, kingdom, people. First on your continent, but you not& " He
paused and, once again, Wynn leaned to whisper in his ear. "Value?" he said
aloud with puzzlement, and Wynn nodded. "You notvalue us."
Lanjov placed his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers, and rested his chin
on them.
"Domin," Lanjov said in audible frustration. "Tilswith you know we do value
your presence here. I understand the barracks are inadequate, but there is
simply no place to move the guild at this time. The city is growing at an
unfathomable rate, and there is no building or grounds currently not in use
that is large enough for what you plan. We must wait until suitable open
ground is allocated to build an entirely new structure."
Wynn had to translate parts of the councilman's response, but when she had
finished, Tilswith's green eyes glittered. Wynn almost smiled in relief,
hoping this would be enough for her superior. Perhaps Lanjov truly would
assist them.
"Yes, yes," Tilswith said, "best solution!When?"
Lanjov sighed. "I will see that the council takes the opportunity to address
your concerns. But at the moment there are simply no funds available for a
project of this size."
Wynn glanced about the office, as did Tilswith, and she couldn't help a
suspicious frown. Lanjov shifted uncomfortably.
Deep blue tapestries trimmed in soft cream covered the walls. On one wall
hung a portrait of Chesna, his daughter, and on the opposite a portrait of the
king. The imported Suman rug was thick enough to sleep on, and a porcelain tea
service, with matching pitcher and washbasin, rested on a cherrywood stand by
the chamber's side door. Lanjov's inkwell and the tip of his crystal-handled
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quill were crafted in matching silver.
"Yes," Tilswith said. "We see problem& with money."
Wynn felt her previous hope fade as Lanjov's expression turned from polite
frustration to one of dismissal.
"I respect your presence here, and am personally glad of it," he said
seriously, "but truly, Tilswith, we have more pressing matters. No don't look
at me as if I'm deaf. There are other matters& criminal matters which require
the council's attention."
These words the dominunderstood, and he paused in silence.
"I sorry your daughter," Tilswith said."She kind girl& in& innocent."
Wynn, too, felt sympathy. Lanjov was a private man, and the recent murder of
his daughter on the front porch of their home, no less weighed heavily upon
him. She had heard little in detail, but the brief descriptions of the body
were more than she cared to know.
"I help if can," Tilswith added.
Lanjov nodded stiffly. "Yes, I know you would. We are doing what we can to
find her killer. The council has sent to Miiska for a dhampir." He then
paused. "Do you know of such?"
Both sages stared at him for a moment. Tilswith frowned in confusion and then
leaned closer to Wynn, seeking an explanation.
Wynn looked back to Lanjov. "What is a dhampir?"
"A hunter of the dead or the undead," he answered. "Yes, yes, I know it's
distasteful and superstitious-sounding, but& " He stopped, clear discomfort
rising in his eyes. "An unnatural creature murdered my daughter. I have no
doubt of this, and the city needs an equally unusual agent to hunt it down."
"But what is a dhampir?" Wynn repeated.
Lanjov sighed again. "From what I've been told, legend has it that such a
person is the offspring of a vampire and a mortal and, by nature, capable of
exterminating these creatures."
Wynn paused, uncertain of what she heard, and then translated. Domin Tilswith
scoffed.
"Child tales," he said. "We have like in stories callar-dadesbarn ."
"You would say dead's child,'" Wynn explained, "though it is the offspring
of a revenant, not your vampires. How much did you pay this& dhampir?"
"Tales of this person drifted along the coast," Lanjov said, ignoring the
issue of payment. "It seems those stories are true to a point, as much as any
rumor holds some grain of truth. She and her companion hunted down at least
three undeads in Miiska. That she has killed at least three is verified by
Miiska's town council." Lanjov shook his head slowly. "Undeads& the mere
thought that such things are more than peasant superstitions& "
Tilswith shook his head sympathetically and scoffed again, but Wynn was
curiously intrigued.A half-undead?
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Domin Tilswith appeared on the verge of returning to the issue of new guild
quarters, when a knock sounded at the side door.
"Come in," Lanjov called out, sounding rather eager.
Crias Doviak, council secretary, put his head around the door.
"She's arrived, sir," Doviak said. "The council is gathering in the main
chamber now."
Lanjov quickly rose. "Thank you. I will be in directly."
Doviak nodded respectfully and left.
"I apologize," Lanjov said to Tilswith, stepping briskly around the desk.
"Duty calls me away."
Tilswith sputtered, but Lanjov nearly lifted him out of the chair while
shaking his hand in farewell. He placed a hand on Wynn's shoulder as well,
propelling them toward the main chamber door.
"We will continue addressing your concerns as soon as possible."
Surprised by this sudden rush out of Lanjov's office, Wynn instinctively
tried to plant her heels in the floor, but the councilman's large hand slipped
down the center of her back with a quick shove. Before she could offer a
polite good-bye, the door closed in their faces.
"H'neaw hornunznu!"Tilswith spit back at the closed door.
Wynn was relieved she did not have to translate such an utterance.
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