The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 13: Leaving Munazyr, Part 3

 Denisius Gallis was far from the most prominent noble in the Anointed Realms, but he had experienced face-to-face encounters with some of that empire's most powerful figures. In none of them, not even the Emperor himself, had he felt this sense of iron command which now emanated from Ammas Mourthia as he made clear his will regarding his client. Lord Marhollow wanted to look to Vos for advice, but he was intensely aware of how weak that would seem to everyone here, even the boy, and especially to Carala. "I agree to your terms," he said slowly. Ammas nodded, his look becoming a touch friendlier. "But if I find you to be less than your reputation makes you out to be . . . forgive me, Ammas, but I must be free to exercise my own judgment in that case."

To his surprise, Ammas smiled. "I don't believe we'll have an issue there, Lord Marhollow. Believe me when I say her safety is paramount to me, whatever her name."

The cursewright and the youngest Lord Marhollow shook hands, Ammas even going so far as to offer a bow. "So this is your city. How should we go about booking passage?"

"There's a harbormaster's office in both Brightmoon Bay and Fathoms Gate. I would go for Fathoms Gate. It's a little more isolated and is the port usually used by travelers instead of merchant mariners. Go now. If the harbormaster is in a good mood, he may be able to put you in touch with an agent before business hours." Ammas began pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. He was already exhausted, and the day wasn't even fairly begun.

"I have a letter from the Throne directing people to assist me, if I request it." Vos sighed, but Denisius was determined, perhaps to prove the writ wasn't less valuable than the vellum on which it was inked. "Might that help with the harbormaster?"

"You're not in the Throne's domain, milord," Vos said quietly.

"Vos is quite right, Denisius." Ammas took a sip of tea, offering a cup to Carala, who accepted this time, though she pulled a face as she sipped. "Moreover, you're in a city that delights in not bowing to the Malachite Throne. Unless your goal is to get that letter torn in two and possibly used to wipe a harbormaster's ass, I'd leave it in your coat."

Denisius blushed but nodded, tucking the letter out of sight. Lightly he took Carala's hands in his. "I'll be back soon, Carala. And tonight we head for Vilais."

"I'd hoped I might honeymoon there," she replied, flushing a little.

Ammas pointedly sipped his tea. Behind them, Barthim stifled a belch, none too successfully.

Carala and Denisius stepped apart, both beet-red. Casimir rolled his eyes and headed toward the catacomb, perhaps to confirm he wasn't quite strong enough to bring up a cask. "I don't believe we'll be gone too many hours," Denisius said to Ammas now. "Is there anything else we should do in the city?"

"Just get us passage out of here." Ammas was desperately attempting not to meet Barthim's eye. If he did, he feared collapsing into laughter. "Try to book no later than twilight. Captain Thalia gave us until midnight, but I'd like to be on our way long before then." Denisius nodded, and with one last awkward smile at Carala, he and Vos departed the temple.

"Come, Carala," Barthim grinned, waving her over to the nave. "You need clothes for your journey. I am not taking you to any of the shops or boutiques near Clocktower Street, though. The girls at the Lioness, they have many clothes more modest than what they gave you last night. Yula and Rashmi are about your size, I am very sure we can find you something nice to wear on the ship."

"Keep her safe, Barthim," Ammas murmured.

"I am only going next door, Ammas. She is the werewolf, after all."

Carala turned scarlet. "And you break werewolves' necks."

"Ah! But he was not royal, your highness. I would be most fearful of shedding a true queenly lady's blood." Barthim bowed deeply, as Carala merely stared at the bouncer, baffled into silence. Ammas shook his head. That was a feeling he knew well.