The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 14: Below Munazyr, Part 3

 They spread out, mostly sitting with their backs to the wall, unpacking some of the fresher meats and fruits Denisius and Vos had purchased on Butcherstreet. Ammas filled a battered traveling kettle and built a tiny fire, inspecting the charms on his hat as he waited for the seretto tea to boil then steep. Vos pulled from his boot a weathered pack of cards, which immediately drew both Barthim's and Casimir's interest. Soon all the men except Ammas were deep in a game of Whistling Jack.

"Can we deal you in?" Denisius asked with a smile.

"He is still owing me for our last game," Barthim replied, tipping Ammas a wink.

"You're just afraid you'd lose. It's not chess."

"Indeed, Ammas, which is why you merely might be losing gracefully instead of actually embarrassing yourself."

"I think I'll let you make the tea from now on."

Barthim laughed and turned back to the game. Ammas chuckled and sat by the lip of stone, minding the kettle and keeping an eye out for anyone who might wander along, though he really didn't expect anyone too threatening. Carala sat beside him, her gaze shifting from the kettle to the seemingly endless pool, from the carven sentinels along the walls to Ammas. "You could really smell him, then?" Ammas asked quietly.

"I could." Her voice was even softer. It occurred to Ammas that he could probably speak barely above a whisper and she would hear him. As if to confirm this, Carala said, "And his voice. Not the words, but he was speaking to someone we can't see."

"Yes, only the truly desperate would venture down here alone. I imagine their guild home is not connected to the cisterns, or else our friends across the way are operating in some part of the city where the wells are inaccessible. Adder's Hill, perhaps." He smiled at her reassuringly. "They no more want to be seen than we do. Barthim?" His voice rose a bit. "How many criminal guilds are there now?"

"Nine. No -- I am mistaken. Eight. Redfingers absorbed or killed the Serpent's Kiss last Yearsend. Give me three cards, Deni, you have dealt me a disgrace."

"Is that what that commotion up on Adder's Hill was about?"

"Oh yes, Ammas. Josah Redhand sliced off Tobar's eyelids and split his tongue so he is looking 'more like a snake,' is how he was putting it. After that most of the Serpent's Kiss joined the cause or fled across the Straits to the Wicked Cliffs. Great gods, Deni, this is actually worse."

"I shuffled it just as much as Vos does."

"No wonder he is always winning. We must get Ammas in on this."

"Whistle past the grave." Casimir was laughing.

"You see, Deni? Now I am losing to Ammas's apprentice. Humiliations unending."

Ammas and Carala caught each other's eye and had to look away, stifling laughter. Once the fit had passed, she regarded Ammas more seriously. "Is it really helpful? The -- senses I have?"

Ammas did not answer for a time, gazing into the fathomless black water. When steam rose from the kettle and the scent of seretto began to fill the air, he spoke, pouring himself a cup. "There have been times, places, when people suffering a blood sickness were regarded quite differently than today. The Sultan's shock troops are only one example. To the extinct tribes of the forest, it was considered a blessing of the woodland gods. And there are even stories of cursewrights and afflicted such as yourself working together."

Carala stared at him. When he offered tea, she nodded, accepting a cup and sipping it expressionessly. "Working together how?"

"They are only stories. I believe them to be myths."