The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 19: The City of Music, Part 5

 Carala stared at Denisius, faintly shocked. For an instant she considered saying something rather cutting in response, something about protecting his virtue, but she saw a strange fierce gleam in his eye and held her tongue. His mood had been peculiar and standoffish all day, and she had no idea why. "Still," she said finally, "rake or not, he was a wonderful artist. I wonder what would have possessed him to end his own life?"

"Artists are being a troubled lot," Barthim said sagely as he shoved open the door to their suite. Three rooms stood off a central hearth, with a semi-public bath nestled between this suite and the one across the hall. The Beast set down his baggage with a satisfied groan. "Perhaps you two will be paying tribute to him at the Temple of the Graces? I am seeing the Hethraeum, maybe I will toss a dagger in his honor. I am remembering a time he came to Munazyr a few years ago, the talk of the Four Winds! But you are a better harper, Lady Zinna."

Carala flushed with pleasure at that, but was too tired to argue it. "What do you think, Deni? Come with me to the Isle of Tair, we'll say a farewell to him."

"You go," Denisius said shortly. "I think I'll visit the Hethraeum with Barthim."

Carala blinked. Denisius seemed uninterested in conversation, retiring to his room almost at once. Vos followed with an apologetic shrug. "What in the world is the matter with him?" she asked no one in particular.

Ammas, who was growing more and more suspicious that Othma had held some private counsel with Lord Marhollow regarding his marriage prospects, said nothing. "Come on, Casimir. It's long past your bedtime and mine. Don't fret, Carala. I'll come with you to the Temple of the Graces if no one else will." He was only barely cognizant of Hedrathua Macil's works and reputation -- he'd rather lost his taste for theatre in the last twenty years -- but the Vilais Temple of the Graces and the Isle of Tair were well worth a visit. And he had certain things he wished to discuss with Carala in private before the moon shone its brightness down on her once more. With a nod and a troubled frown she slipped into her room, looking over her shoulder at Denisius's closed door.

Casimir and he were bunked in with Barthim, or else Ammas might have pressed the boy on what had provoked his own peculiar mood. Sleep claimed them all before long, though, and before he knew it Ammas found himself blinking in a ray of morning sunlight. The chant of Sorrows was louder now with a fuller chorus providing it. Barthim had already left, presumably to partake of the breakfast Ammas could already smell cooking downstairs. Casimir lay sprawled asleep in his bed. 

Deliberately making as much noise as possible, Ammas rummaged through his things until he had managed to procure his lunar manifest. He was still poring over it when Casimir stretched with a yawn and planted his bare feet on the floor. "Make sure you wash up before breakfast, lad," Ammas murmured. "Two days in a row with access to a good bath is a luxury when you're traveling."

Casimir nodded and began to pad out of the room without a word to his master. Ammas called him back, his brows knitted.

"I'll want you to go with Barthim and Denisius today. I need to speak with Carala alone." Ammas's tone was friendly enough, but he noted a suspicious cast to Casimir's expression.

"Why?"

Ammas's eyebrows rose. Casimir questioning any of his directives was unprecedented. "Because her condition requires certain conversations I am sure she wouldn't want anyone else hearing. Come here a moment." Casimir edged closer to Ammas and the writing desk tucked under the window with his usual agreeableness. Ammas traced a finger along the paths of the moons. "Saya will be at its brightest tonight. Carala will become the wolf, and I have to make sure she doesn't hurt herself or anyone else. It's not something she'll want to discuss in front of anyone here, even you."