Though the men were too well trained to ask immediate questions, he was grateful for Michael’s help gathering them—some from sleep and some from patrol. As unobtrusively as they could, they came together in the same green mossy clearing he and Grace had used earlier. Only Hans was missing from their number. Their stores being low, he had gone off with Mace, Christian’s father’s man, to hunt wild goats. Christian wished none of his rotte were absent, but he could not magically bring Hans here. True to his expectations, Michael was the most skeptical of his listeners. Then again, as Christian’s closest friend, perhaps he simply was the most comfortable airing his doubts. Now that Christian had laid out the worst of it, Michael raked both hands through his golden hair, pushing forward from the tree on which his weight had been braced. “You want us to believe a ghost told you Mistress Wei is—what was the word—a vampire?” “Mistress Wei told me herself. Grace merely confirmed it.”
