The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 9: The Cursewright's Vow, Part 1

 Carala lay in a deep and restful sleep on Ammas's narrow bed. Her sleep had been fitful for a time, interrupted by broken waves of weeping or thick slurred words. When such things happened, Ammas would slip off his stool and kneel at the bedside, pressing the stilling charm against the princess's throat and whispering those soft, eerie words. But she had been quiescent for over an hour now, breathing deeply and smoothly, and at last Ammas rose from his chair, grimacing as he cracked his back.

"I think she's through the worst of it," he murmured to the faces arrayed at the back of his bedroom chapel, tucking the charm into his belt. Barthim had joined Lena and Casimir not long after nightfall, and the look on the bouncer's face was almost grim. As the sun was setting he had arrived for work, only for a furious Madame Laurette to insist he go over to Ammas's temple and drag Lena back by the hair if necessary. Barthim, who had barely less contempt for Laurette than he did her customers, had wandered over in his usual genial way to ask Ammas if everything was all right. Instantly he recognized a crisis, and he returned to Laurette to inform her that not only would Lena be staying with Ammas for the time being, so would he.

"And if this is not to your liking, Laurette, then you are welcome to be tearing up Lena's contract and to be firing me." Barthim had smiled, the lamp in Laurette's office gleaming off his bald head and flickering at the anger in his usually warm eyes. "But if Barthim the Beast walks away, so do all his men. And you will have to rely on the city guard. I am hoping you understand my position." Laurette had been supremely displeased, but had not made any further issue of it. Barthim handed Drusis, his stand-in for the day, an extra bag of coppers on his way out for the overtime he would be owed. Drusis, at least, was happy, even if no one else involved was.

Casimir stepped forward to take Ammas's place at Carala's bedside, but his master placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You need sleep, lad. Go on up. We won't know if anything else needs to be done for her until she wakes."

"I'm not sleepy," Casimir protested, and he did seem thoroughly awake despite a certain glassiness in his eyes. Barthim grinned.

"All right," Ammas said, though he was troubled. How much of this the boy should see he truly didn't know. "But I don't need you at her bedside just now. Go down to the catacomb and find me a fresh set of robes. Maybe some of the thicker ones; it feels like a chilly night."

Casimir nodded and took off for the chancel only at a slightly slower run than he had sprinted  to fetch the grave-leeches. Ammas murmured to Lena to sit with the girl, and headed for the chancel himself, groaning and flexing his arms and legs as he went. He had been in that chair for hours now, and his joints were aching and his muscles stiff. The temple was ominously dark, as he had directed Casimir to light only the largest brazier, the one between the main body of the temple and the chancel. His shingle wasn't hung out, but he didn't want to give any impression he was open for business.

The autumn air did have a bit of a sting to it, and Ammas shivered as he passed the brazier's warmth, his eyes roaming over the mosaic floor in front of the altar where he had spent a solid half hour on his hands and knees scrubbing up the various leavings from Carala's illness. Casimir and Lena both had offered to do it, and while such a thing should have been part of Casimir's duties an apprentice, Ammas had strictly forbade either of them to come near the tainted area. Until he was sure of the exact nature of Carala's blood sickness, he would take no risks. Never had Ammas heard that the wolf's blood sickness could be transmitted through anything other than a bite, sexual congress, or a blood ritual, but he had already made a grave error today and refused to take any more chances, at least not until Carala was awake.

The garden was a vague pool of shadows, and Ammas took the time to ignite the lantern he kept out here for nighttime visits. Some of his herbs were best gathered in the dark, and quite apart from that it served nicely as a place for quiet reflection and peace, which he could certainly use at the moment. If, perhaps, it was a bit warmer. Right now the garden was cool enough that he shivered in his thin white shirt and plain breeches, toes curling against the bottoms of his simple shoes. His usual attire he had stripped off to scrub the floor, giving it to Casimir to launder. He supposed he must look far more ordinary than he usually did, and wondered what the princess would make of it.