The upstairs bedrooms were larger. Before the fire, he and Magiere each had their own room, but Caleb and his five-year-old granddaughter, Rose, had shared one. Now Rose possessed a bedroom to herself, and Leesil had whitewashed the interior for her. Every child should grow up with a place that was all his or her own.

Leesil took in the room with its new wood walls and secondhand tables and chairs donated, bought, or scavenged from around town. It struck Leesil as bizarre that, had Rashed not burned down the original Sea Lion, their establishment wouldn't have become what it was now. His gaze swung back to the warrior undead's sword above the hearth.

"Perhaps we should thank you," he muttered, but there was more sarcasm than irony in his voice. He turned again to watch Magiere.

The long battle with Rashed and his "family" had altered her. Before, she'd started to become more open to him. Close comradeship seeded the possibility of more, but in the past month, that warmer Magiere seemed to fade. She smiled occasionally, treated him well as partner and favored companion, and yet drifted back out of reach. Once in while during the evening, he caught her standing quietly behind the bar, watching him intently with her dark brown eyes. He was careful not to let her notice his awareness and thereby scare her away even more. There seemed no clue as to how to close this new distance between them, let alone fathom its cause.

Tonight, in celebration of the grand reopening, Magiere's long hair was loose from its braid and hung in gentle waves across the shoulders of her blue dress, bodice laced in tightly but not uncomfortably. It was only the third time Leesil had ever seen in her anything but breeches and boots, and either a shirt and vest or her leather hauberk. To his knowledge, she owned only the one dress. Seeing her in it was painfully pleasant. He was careful not to stare, or, out of irritation and spite, she might store it away, never to be seen again. Usually she was the warrior, falchion at her hip and black hair bound with a leather thong, and that look as well had its appeal. He'd become fond of both her aspects, wanted them both, but seldom had the opportunity to see her as she was tonight.

No patrons were interested in a game, so Leesil stacked up the cards and worked his way through the crowded room to the bar, smiling innocently at Magiere. She was hesitant and then smiled back.

"Like old times?" she asked.

"Not too old," he answered. "We didn't have the place long before someone turned it into a pile of charcoal."

Her answering scowl made him smile again, honestly this time. An irritated Magiere, at least for a moment, was the true Magiere, who always had at least one thing in every day to smolder about.

"I know," she said, pouring an ale and setting it on a tray for Caleb to serve. "But we're finally home again."

Melancholy struck Leesil. If only the world could stop, and, like some mage who'd ferreted out the secrets to cage eternity in the wink of an eye, he could keep her in this one night forever. Oblivious to his wistfulness, Magiere knitted her brows.

"We need to talk… later. We have to raise quick money… more than I'd thought, and I'm not sure how."

Leesil was immediately on edge. It wouldn't be the first time she'd kept something to herself until she had no choice but to spit it out. The last time, she'd confessed to hoarding away money when he wasn't paying attention, just to buy this tavern.

"It's for the back taxes," she added.

"Back what?" Leesil raised one eyebrow.

"I've been a dolt on the business end of things," Magiere said. "Karlin came looking for me today, and you haven't… there hasn't been time to talk to you about it." She folded her arms and took a long, slow breath. "We've back taxes to pay. I don't suppose you have any coin hidden away?"

He blinked, about to laugh, and then realized she wasn't joking. With a grunt, he gave her his wide-eyed look of sincere naivete.

"Are you actually aware of who you're talking to? Me?"

Her jaw tightened as she glared at him. An angry Magiere was sometimes even more real than a smoldering Magiere. The tavern's front door swung open and a handful of sailors entered.

"That's my call," Leesil said. "They'll start gambling soon. Pour me some tea?"

D'areeling red wine had been his preferred evening drink but not in the last two months. He needed to be sharp and clearheaded every moment if he were to be truly useful to Magiere. She took a teapot from under the bar, where it rested in an iron basin filled with hot coals from the hearth, and poured spiced tea into a chipped pottery mug.

"We're not done talking," she insisted, and handed over his tea. "This is serious, and we have to deal with it, or all of this"-she swiped a hand through the air, indicating their new home-"could end up lost."

"Duty calls," Leesil replied. He took the mug from her and headed back across the room before she could say anything more.

Early patrons were usually townsfolk coming for fish chowder, ale, and a bit of company. The later crowd consisted more of sailors and off-duty guards looking to drink and gamble. At the moment, they were between the two crowds, and the place felt a bit full. Young Geoffry, Karlin's son, had volunteered to serve tonight, since they expected an unusually large crowd, and Magiere had employed a girl named Aria on a permanent basis. With old Caleb serving as well, Magiere pouring drinks, and Leesil running the games, they were well staffed in a room that was well stuffed. Everyone enjoyed the new surroundings as if trying on a set of clothes fresh from the tailor.

Everyone except Chap.

The silver-blue hound circled the hearth for the hundredth time, wolfish ears pricked in agitation. Sitting near the old Sea Lion's fireplace, he easily surveyed the whole room, from hearth to bar, front door to kitchen doorway. But the new enlarged common room changed all of that. Now, to check on any unusual ruckus or raised voice, he was obliged to plod around and around the fireplace all night, unable to take in the whole room at once.

With the noise in the room, Leesil wasn't certain, but he imagined a never-quite-ending low rumble issuing from the hound. He steered a wider course toward his faro table rather than pass too close to Chap at the moment.

The tavern door opened again, and Leesil saw Karlin enter-a welcome sight, as Leesil had wondered why the portly baker hadn't been at the door the moment they'd opened. Karlin was a true friend, and his money was no good in the Sea Lion. When someone else entered behind the baker, Leesil's attention fixed on the new arrival.

Karlin's companion was slender and tall, with a gliding step that immediately reminded Leesil of his mother even before he took full notice of the man's features. Silky, wheat-brown hair was pulled back behind his pointed ears. Large, almond-shaped eyes of amber were sharply slanted in a narrow and long triangular face. The man's skin was a darker tan than Leesil's, but with a perfect complexion akin to his mother's. Standing with Karlin was a full-blooded elf.

Magiere had mentioned Loni, so Leesil knew one of his mother's people lived in Miiska, but he'd never felt the need to seek out this person. His own mother never saw fit to teach him anything of her people, even their language. The elves were reclusive, not generally mixing with the other races, which itself made Leesil's own heritage an oddity.

Since Loni ran the Velvet Rose, Miiska's most expensive inn, he had little call to visit a common folk's tavern like the Sea Lion. So why was he here, and with Karlin of all people? Leesil held his place, halfway to his faro table, where sailors nearby eyed the cards. He watched Karlin lean over the bar's end to catch Magiere's attention.

Magiere hurried down the bar's backside with a slight smile. The baker spoke briefly, perhaps discussing the tedious tax issue, and Leesil felt suddenly annoyed. Why did so many people dwell on such things? It would be handled soon enough.