The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 25: The Grand Curia, Part 2

 "Yes, I suppose I understand that," Carala said resignedly. "But trust him or not, you spared him. You didn't have to. I know that. And I -- " Quickly she looked away, hesitant to say what she really felt when Denisius and Casimir were so close, not to mention these soldiers whom she did not know at all. With a wan smile she looked back at Ammas. "I am grateful for it." That sounded impossibly weak in her ears. "More than you know," she added, which did not sound much better.

But Ammas seemed to understand. A rueful smile was on his lips and briefly he brushed his fingers along the back of her hand. "Let's hope he is too, your highness." His voice fell to a soft register, something only her wolfish ears might catch. "If Barthim is right, maybe he can atone for certain things. Helping me cure you would go a long way toward it."

Carala smiled softly. Across the warehouse Denisius and Casimir were busy at Whistling Jack, Vos's tattered old deck whispering against the table. The bound soldiers watched with even more puzzlement, if that were possible, perhaps amazed by the sight of a small boy with a skymetal dagger belted to his hip. "I wish -- Ammas, sometimes I wish we had met under different circumstances."

That was such a vast understatement of what Ammas felt himself that he had nothing to say, and was grateful to see the warehouse doors creak open, Silenio stepping in (still looking decidedly worse for the wear), followed by Vos and Barthim. They came to Ammas in a cluster, Denisius and Casimir rising up to join them.

"The good prince is not finding his men, I am afraid." Barthim's voice was grave, his eyes deeply troubled.

Ammas looked at Silenio, not without sympathy. Whatever his other failings the prince was not known to mistreat the soldiers under his command. Over the years Ammas had heard rumors rather different from the cowardice Silenio had displayed at Losris Nadak, and he wondered now if he had found some measure of honor in military life since then. "I am sorry, your highness. I thought only to affright them. If they've been taken by the Swiftfoot wolves, such was not my intent."

Silenio scowled. "Just another thing to make them pay for when I find them."

Ammas raised an eyebrow. "When we find them."

"I'll partner with you only until my sister is well again. That's the only value your life has to me. Don't mistake it for friendship, Mourthia." Silenio's words were a trifle more comprehensible than they had been that morning, but they retained a slurring quality Ammas thought likely to remain for some time. Already his face was beginning to turn a gruesome range of colors as his bruises set, one side of his jaw visibly larger than the other. One of his eyes glared disdainfully at Ammas; the other was not much more than a puffy slit.

Ammas stood up with a crooked smile. "That is not a mistake I will make anytime soon, trust me." He looked at Vos. "Did you note any Swiftfoot? Anyone watching you?"

Vos shook his head. "This whole city is watching us, Ammas, although they put on a good show of ignoring us. His highness is a fat purse waiting to be plucked. I imagine they took Barthim and me for kidnappers."

"Vos Princestealer," Barthim chuckled. Vos sighed.

Ammas shook his head. "The Swiftfoot didn't, if they saw you. They'll be wary, probably furious. They know you both for wolf-killers. All of us, now, even Carala."

"Carala?" Silenio said, astounded. "What is this?"

"It has been a hard journey, Silenio," she replied quietly. "Before you threaten Ammas again, you should remember he is the reason I've survived it."

Silenio Deyn was wholly unaccustomed to being rebuked by his youngest sibling, and so he received this with bemused silence. 

Casimir broke it. "I haven't killed any wolves, Ammas."