The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 18: The Doyenne's Counsel, Part 9

 "You know of that?"

"I keep my ear to the ground. How do you think I have fresh meat here? Did you think I was breeding livestock myself? There's a handful of boys, a few young ladies, from the lower class taverns in Vilais. They bring me supplies and news, in exchange for a few lessons on the stars. I suppose they would hang me if it ever came to light. Or burn me. But let them lay siege to Autumnsgrove again, and see how dearly they pay for it." Othma laughed mockingly. "The Princess's impending nuptials was all the gossip for a while; her disappearance even moreso. And just why the Emperor would offer such a lovely girl, or her sister, so much closer to the Throne, to a nothing like a Gallis, especially a third son, was a greatly debated topic."

Ammas said nothing. Understanding was beginning to dawn on his face, and a sort of horror. Or perhaps that was what Denisius felt on his own face, and he was imagining it in the cursewright's features. He felt he might vomit.

"Payment," said Othma Sulivar, a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice. "Long-promised payment, payment twenty years in the making, recompense for the betrayal of Briarcliff. That's what you've sworn yourself to, Ammas. A girl who is nothing more than a blood price and a boy too stupid to understand he's being rewarded for his father's cowardice."

Unable to bear anymore, Denisius stumbled to his feet, blundering back the way he came, back toward the trail of lamps that led to the cells. Casimir frowned after him, wishing he could say something to comfort him, but nothing came to his mind. It was too large a thing for him to grasp; the machinations of nobles and marriage promises, the slaughter of the Academies being above his head. Perhaps they were above Denisius's as well. Hugging his knees to his chest, the boy turned his attention back to his master.

Denisius's departure was quiet, but it raised enough of a commotion that Ammas frowned in that direction. "There are many strange noises in this empty place," Othma said serenely. A gentle smile was on her lips. "I'd not trouble yourself over it. Sometimes the airy spirits like to wander."

"I see," Ammas said, turning back to his old mentor, troubled. "There's more to him than that. There's more to her than that. They can't be blamed for what their fathers might have done."

"Your father would approve of such a sentiment. Would hers?"

Ammas frowned more deeply.

Othma sighed, her good eye fixed on Ammas. "Why do you do this, Ammas? Why do you swear yourself to this woman, whom you owe nothing but blood? If it was a ritual wolf that infected her, surely it was not alone?"

"No," Ammas said quietly. "There are more. Many more."

"Carala isn't the only one whose sickness I can smell. You've been meddling with the Ravens' Veil too much for your own good. It will kill you, Ammas. It will kill you or it will maze you into stepping through to a place where we will never see you again. And the world will be poorer for it."

"The situation was desperate. I'll not call on it again until I have to."

"And how long will that be? And even if you do that, how will you take on a cabal of wolves? You have two seasoned warriors with you, a stripling boy, an apprentice who worships you but who hasn't even come of age, and a she-wolf who might turn on you at a moment's notice. It's not enough. And for what? Your own pride?"

"Since when have I choked on pride? I took her on as a client. I didn't realize the nature of her affliction, and the cure almost killed her. I did only what I swore to do when I took on a cursewright's mantle." A touch of anger lit Ammas's words. "If it troubles you so much, why did you even allow us to come here? Why help us yourself, if all you want is revenge?"