The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 13: Leaving Munazyr, Part 2

 Perhaps twenty minutes later, all of them around the fire (now in chairs or stools Ammas had provided), a silence fell. Carala looked shocked; Vos as troubled as Denisius had ever seen him. Casimir hugged his knees to his chest and lingered as close to Ammas as he could.

"An entire caravan company of werewolves," Barthim mused, his voice unusually subdued. "The Hethmar shine his merciful blade." The bouncer made a reverent gesture at the tattoo on his chest.

"I don't know that it's the entire company," Ammas said. Irritably he scrubbed the back of one hand across his cheeks. He was in need of a shave. "It may be this token has some significance for them, spiritual or otherwise. It may be one must earn the infection, which they likely see as a gift."

Carala scoffed angrily. Denisius gave her a wan smile. Lord Marhollow no longer looked as if he were about to keel over into sleep, but his face was exceptionally worried.

Ammas continued. "If that's true, it may be to the good. They may be circumspect in whom they choose to bite or -- or otherwise infect." Guiltily he exchanged a glance with Carala, who blushed and looked down, though Ammas thought he read a hint of a rueful smile on her lips. "Although I must tell you, when I was attacked, I was also invited to join this pack." Ammas gestured toward Carala, who was no longer smiling. "You were to be the price. That is the only goal of these creatures I know for certain. They want Carala."

"I will break a thousand wolfish necks before I allow such a thing," Barthim growled.

"I'll be right beside you, Barthim." Denisius had his sword out and was whetting it awkwardly. Ammas couldn't help noticing that the tip trembled visibly, as though Lord Marhollow's hands were shaking. At least his voice seemed steady enough. "But Ammas, you were attacked? Were you bitten?"

"I was," Ammas replied curtly. The topic held no interest for him, and there were far more pressing matters to discuss.

Denisius, however, seemed to find this issue quite important. Before he got very far, Vos broke in. "Cursewrights can't be infected with the wolf's blood sickness, milord, nor any other blood sickness. Most curses don't affect them at all, in fact."

"Someone does remember," Ammas remarked.

Vos smiled thinly. "I am old enough to have served with members of your fellowship, Ammas. Not often, but I remember the tales." He seemed about to offer something else, but desisted, tugging a new cigar from his tunic and lighting it. Barthim coughed and waved a hand before his nose ostentatiously, glowering at Vos, who pointedly ignored him.

"You will not have to break any necks, Barthim." Carala's voice was low, even, and utterly furious. "I want nothing to do with these creatures. I was tricked by one, and that is enough for me. I will die before I allow another to make me . . . his pack-mate, or whatever he calls it."

Ammas studied Carala, his expression unreadable. As fierce as she sounded -- and as fierce as Ammas was coming to suspect she was -- he knew from long experience that the wolf's nature was seductive, and sooner or later it would seek out others like it, given its choice. Even if the wolf's desire was to kill those like it, the rise of its savage nature would be almost irresistible.

Barthim, however, was delighted, and Denisius looked rather pleased himself. "Ammas," said the latter, "how common is something like this? I wasn't even sure werewolves still existed. There hasn't been a sighting of one in Marhollow since before I was born."

"They still exist, but only at the remote edges of the Realms. In the Sultan's lands they -- and more varied victims of blood sicknesses -- are sometimes employed as shock troops, but such creatures are strictly under the control of his janissaries. Before the breaking of the academies, the Vigilants of my order had hunted them almost to nothing, while the Adjutants and fellowship of healers had treated those who wished to be cured." Ammas gnawed on a scrap of bacon, staring into the flames. "Maybe it was inevitable they would return sooner or later, with the colleges destroyed."