The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 14: Below Munazyr, Part 5

 Now they were toward the end of their second rest, Ammas and Vos deep into a game of Whistling Jack, neither making much headway. Ahead of them the passage continued past a vast wall of blank stone, its ceiling so low that Vos, Ammas, and Barthim would have to crouch for any sort of comfort. To their left stood a monumental series of stacked arches, a sunken aqueduct dating from the time of the Sultan's first conquest. It reached up at least fifteen stories before it met the rocky ceiling. 

Vos didn't like looking at it. Beyond those dozens of arches lay nothing but an empty blackness, and it was too easy to imagine those apertures opening onto unspeakable, ghastly vistas; or to imagine the things which might be staring at them from the darkness. Ammas, who was used to seeing far more awful doorways, was not especially disturbed by them. 

They were camped closer to this structure than they were to the opposite wall, a rough-hewn piece of construction pierced by a tall iron gate. The handles of the gate were bound with a rotting length of rope, an old Munazyri token dangling from it. Across the rusted metal was painted a rude skull, its eyesockets daubed with yellow.

Some minutes before this gate came into view, Carala wrapped a slender hand around Ammas's forearm and hissed softly up to him: "I smell it. The sulfur scent. What is it, Ammas?"

"It should be faint to you. I myself can smell nothing. It's not something to worry about, not yet." When they passed in sight of the gate, Ammas called them to a halt. "That is the symbol the Argent Council placed on areas that are tainted by the presence of the Yellow Death. The rope is a seal. Not a magical one, but a notice from the Council that it is dangerous to proceed beyond that portal. As long as we stay on this side of it, we should be safe."

Ammas knew both marks well, for he had placed many of them as a boy. There had been some apprehension about camping in sight of such a thing, but Vos had suggested that he would rather bunk down with a danger like that visible than have it lurking behind them. Ammas, who knew that the most dangerous things down here were the things that couldn't be seen, agreed wholeheartedly.

"Whistle past the grave," Vos murmured. Ammas scowled and threw his cards down, tossing what few coppers he had won back into the pot.

"This is much less diverting without wine."

"And without the whores prancing by, no doubt."

"I never saw them much unless I had reason to go inside. I saw a good deal more of Barthim."

Vos chuckled. "Not exactly diverting, then, I should think."

Ammas glanced fondly at the sleeping Barthim, whose snores threatened to rattle the aqueduct above them to rubble. "The man has his good points. Besides, I never indulged."

"I don't blame you. If I lived next to a brothel, I'd find a different one to patronize too."

"A good policy." Ammas didn't offer that he never indulged at any brothel. "Vos, I hope you understand you have nothing to fear from me as long as I am allowed to pursue Carala's treatment."

Vos stared at his cards, frowning. An unlit cigar jutted from the corner of his mouth. "I know that, Ammas."

"You have worked with cursewrights before, though. I assure you that I haven't gone mad in the last twenty years -- well, perhaps I have, but not so as to be dangerous."

Vos smiled thinly. "I know that too."

"Then what has you so nervous? I know it's not just the wolves."

Vos said nothing for several minutes, taking up Ammas's discards and shuffling the deck. "I don't know if it's something I want to speak of just yet. Not until I know you better, I think. And certainly not while we're down here in this pit."