The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 5: The Gift of the White Moon, Part 3

Varallo Thray, unruffled by the waves of embarrassment radiating from the Prince Silenio and the smug satisfaction drifting from the Emperor, pressed on, as though he had not just deliberately needled Silenio enough to bait his father into his beloved pastime of belittling anyone in his presence and his children most of all. "But the Mourthias were not quite extinguished, were they, your Majesty?"

The Emperor frowned at Varallo Thray and Silenio presently abandoned his own simmering pool of shame. Bringing up arcane alumni who had escaped the purge was usually a surefire way to provoke Somilius Deyn's blackest ire. But in this Varallo was often permitted leeway, perhaps because, if the rumors were true, he was a survivor of the purge himself, or perhaps simply because no one else was so adept at reminding the Emperor that the matter needed to be discussed from time to time. "What do you mean, Varallo?"

"Senrich had a son. One who followed him into his trade, if I recall?"

"Oh, Ammas? He was no seer-magistrate. He went into the cursewrights. They never had the power of the seer-magistrates. You know that."

"But they were much more colorful. More . . . vivid in the public imagination. Ammas was."

The Emperor waved a fat hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, the Lady Terazla and her haunted eyes, so romantic, so absurd. Ammas never reached those heights."

"But he made his name in Munazyr. Helped deal with the Yellow Death."

"He was a boy then, gods help us. What is the point of this, Varallo?"

"Oh, I suppose I have no point, your Majesty, forgive my rambling. Finding a book by his father simply put me in mind of the cursewrights who might still be out there."

Silenio took the opportunity to return to the conversation. "I still can't believe no one's collected the bounty on him. His father was right in the heart of the conspiracy to take the Throne."

"Now Prince Silenio, surely you of all men don't believe a son ought to be held responsible for his father's misdeeds?"

The entire table fell silent, and for a few moments Carala forgot Tacen and everything she had done with him. Every eye was fixed either on Varallo Thray and his thin smile or on the Emperor, who was staring at his Grand Chancellor positively wide-eyed. Every member of the Imperial family was thinking the same thing: none of them had ever expected to see the end of Varallo Thray, yet he had apparently just signed his own death warrant.

Then the Emperor burst into loud, cheerful peals of delighted laughter, his bloated face reddening with mirth, laughing so hard and so long that tears began trickling from the corners of his beady hazel eyes. The entire table breathed again, except for Varallo Thray, who had never stopped. "You see, Silenio, you see?" The Emperor continued to chortle, wiping his tears away with his thick fingers. "Ah, gods, Varallo, I should have appointed you his tutor. There, my dear son, there, that is what I have been trying to press into your thick skull since you were a boy: words can cut deeper than any blade. I despair of you ever learning it, alas, not at your advanced age. Perhaps Perseun has learned it in the Sultan's court."

"I should be most honored to serve as Prince Silenio's tutor, your Majesty. It would be a comfort in my own advanced age."

"My dear Varallo, do not err too far on the side of cheek."

"Of course not, your Majesty." Varallo sipped his wine as the Emperor's laughter continued to bubble up from time to time, Silenio staring daggers at the Chancellor as he cut his meat. The women at the other end of the table were far more relaxed, though. No one had a gift for tickling the Emperor's humor as the Grand Chancellor did, and they all knew that, barring some dire news, Somilius's mood might remain relatively pleasant for days. "I do wonder about Ammas, though. If he still lives, if he returned to Munazyr or if he found his way to Losris Nadak."