The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 24: Under the Gallows, Part 5

 Silenio had not marked Casimir at first, his focus wholly consumed by his sister and the appearance of Ammas Mourthia. When he did look at Casimir, he saw not a small half-Summervale youth but the pallid shape of Jan Mourthia, his throat slashed wide open and his chest sheeted with blood, his soft gray eyes, so like his father's and his cousin's, gazing on him in silent accusation. 

Whether that face had haunted his dreams for twenty years or rather he simply reacted to the shock of seeing the boy again was impossible to say. Either way, he dared not stay in this spectre's presence. He bolted toward the warehouse, his nerveless fingers dropping his sword, the jeweled blade ringing on the ground. Almost without thinking Carala scooped it up, reminded of how Silenio let her, Sarai, and Vetilius take turns playing squire when he was sparring in the Imperial training yards in Talinara.

"Quickly," Ammas said, drawing his dagger. "This mood of his won't last long. Hopefully he doesn't have a whole cohort backing him up."

Without waiting to see if the others would follow, he stormed toward the warehouse. In his eyes was a wild light that frightened Carala far more than her brother's unexpected appearance had done. She knew all too well what Ammas thought of Silenio, and she clutched his sword to her body as she followed. Both Denisius and Vos were at Ammas's sides, while behind her Barthim jogged along, Casimir at his heel.

Inside the warehouse they found not a cohort but a mere four soldiers seated at a long table and busy with a game of Whistling Jack, staring after their commander utterly bewildered as he pelted toward the shadowy reaches beyond large stacks of crates. Neither Vos or Denisius wasted their advantage: Vos had his blade at one soldier's throat before they even realized the warehouse had been invaded. Lord Marhollow launched himself at the other two, knocking them from their chairs and onto the hard planks of the warehouse floor, completely winded.

Barthim joined them almost casually, politely stating to the last soldier, "Please be handing me your weapons, or else I am thinking we shall be forced to break your arms." His smile was genial, his eyes warm and friendly, and the soldier swallowed once and turned over his sword without complaint. Barthim sent Casimir to a wagon full of dry goods stowed in a corner near the doors, where he could see several coils of rope. Within a few minutes the three of them had all four soldiers securely bound.

But Ammas had eyes only for Silenio Deyn. Through the crude corridors formed by pallets of cargo he followed the Prince, his eyes still alight with that near madness. Silenio had not sought to hide; all he wanted was to put as much room as possible between the ghost of Jan Mourthia and himself. Ammas found him bent over a low crate about the size and shape of a coffin, out of breath and slick with sweat. For a moment he looked far, far older than Ammas, even though he was in fact a few years younger. When he saw the cursewright and his sister side by side, the Prince began to sneer. As Ammas had suspected, the terror he had inflicted on Silenio had been powerful but short-lived. From a sheath on his thigh the Prince drew a curved dagger, bracing it against his arm.

Carala thrust herself between them, one hand upraised to each man, a desperate gleam in her eyes as she looked from one to the other. Ammas lowered his blade, but Silenio maintained his stance, glaring at Ammas, the flesh beneath his eyes dark and pouched. 

"Silenio, please," she said, her eyes fixed on her brother. "I swear to you, Ammas has done nothing but help me, he can cure me, he came here to cure me, just talk to him -- "

Silenio planted one hand on his sister's chest and shoved her to the ground, seizing his sword as she stumbled to her knees. "I don't want to hurt you, Cara," he growled as he advanced on Ammas with a blade in each hand. The cursewright drew back, his dagger raised defensively, cursing his own foolishness in pursuing Silenio while the others were busy. "But you're not yourself, not so long as this traitor scum has a hold on you. Be silent while I deal with him."