"You said I was being followed," Felicia prompted Flagstaff, sidestepping any farther scrutiny into the matter of the Dimitharns. She swirled the teabag in her cup. "I presume you discovered that by following us?"

"I dithered at first over whether to continue with my planned visit or to continue investigating what had happened to the travelers. I presumed their safety from the continuance of the wagon tracks, but I wasn't absolutely certain. In the end, I wound up talking to myself. Flagstaff, I said, you're a fool. If there's mischief afoot, you need to know what it is. Besides, you know Felicia is already in its tailtracks!"

"Did you really say that to yourself?" the fox laughed, tickled by the image of the rabbit conversing with himself.

"Of course. And it seems that I was right, so I am glad that I listened to myself and took my advice. I followed the wagon's track for a half-day and discovered that it had stopped to pick up a passenger. I had no real idea who, other than that it was a female, but I don't need to be a Rakune to figure the odds of it having been you." Felicia smiled and half-bowed respectfully to the rabbit. Flagstaff reached into his pocket again and pulled out a large, teapot; steam whistled from its spout. "So now I was sure you were involved in some game or other, and I wondered how to proceed. Shall I refresh you?"

"Yes, please." Felicia held out her cup, and Flagstaff refilled it to the brim.

"You know I don't like to interfere with your projects..."

"Usually," Felicia reminded him.

"Usually," the rabbit agreed, searching his pockets until he found cookies and a pitcher of cream. "But I had a curious itch in my ears that I couldn't shake. A premonition of some danger that I couldn't quite define. Well, you know how it is in our profession: you simply can't ignore premonitions."

"No, you can't," Felicia agreed amiably.

"I knew the road you were taking, and knew that it would pass by this inn. Since the person driving the carriage was a Lep'kufft..."

"How did you know that?"

"By the size of his footprints back by the scene of the attack, of course." He raised one of his own large feet in way of demonstration.

"Of course. Please go on."

"Well, it seemed a good bet he might stop here. Even if he didn't, it was a good place to wait. On horseback, I was free to ride ahead and beat you here, taking a shortcut or two."

"But something intervened?"

"Yes." The rabbit sat forward, making himself comfortable in the chair again, and took another sip of his tea before continuing. "First I had to catch up before passing you. I found your campsite, but had missed you by an hour or less. I reasoned that this was good, since I could still bypass you and meet you here. But as I studied the ground for new information, it arrived."

"What was it?" The fox leaned forward.

"A shadow demon. Haven't narrowed down the nomenclature just yet, but it stank strongly of black magic. In appearance, it bore a resemblance to a cross between a gnasher and a grimpe; big, powerful, ugly and ferocious. And it was black, dark as a starless night."

Felicia frowned unhappily. Either animal was potentially dangerous in its own right; a gnasher was vaguely canine, with a sharp, pointed muzzle full of razor-sharp teeth, and ran on four legs, while the grimpe was a towering, rat-eared savage beast that terrified all but the grizzly folk of Bruinsland. A meld of the two bespoke primal viciousness, and its shadowy exterior meant the work of a black magician. The fur of her tail bristled.

Flagstaff saw the realization in the vixen's eyes and nodded. "A Black Magi," he agreed, divining her thoughts. "It's been a while since we saw any of their ilk prowling about. Who it was, I have no idea; they stayed hidden behind the scene. The creature, however, advanced, and sniffed the ground purposefully. It made horrible gurgling and snuffling sounds as it ran its nose deep into the leaves and grass, and it growled at the sun when it came out of the shadows of the trees. Plainly, it did not like coming out into the daylight, and, just as plainly, it was being forced to do so by its unseen master. So it was already in an ill disposition when it laid eyes on me." He paused and selected a cookie. "Hmm," he said critically as he turned the cookie over. "This was supposed to have been oatmeal."

"For Gur's sake, Flags," Felicia scolded him irritably. "Never mind the cookie! What happened?"