The Cursewright's Vow

Chapter 11: Blood on the Old Godsway, Part 1

Laurette's mouth worked silently, her eyes darting to the other girls gathered on the porch and finding absolutely no allies there. Ammas was privately delighted, but still anxious: the hoofbeats were only getting closer, and he doubted they had more than a couple of minutes before the guard arrived. At last the Madame nodded, slumping against the wall as Selene released her.

With a bright smile and sad eyes Selene raised a hand to the two small figures huddled together on the temple portico. "Come on over here, pretty. We'll make you look a proper Lioness girl. And Cass, there's fresh fruit and cakes if you're hungry."

The two of them scurried by, neither of them entirely pleased with the arrangement but at least recognizing its necessity. "Why are they arresting you?" Carala hissed as they paused by Ammas. Casimir looked up him despairingly.

"Because they're going to think I'm responsible for this. It's not the first time. Once I talk to the Captain-Commander it'll be done with. I'll be back here by morning. Just keep your head down over there. Don't give them a reason to take you into custody." His eyes fixed evenly on hers. "Imprisonment would have severe consequences for your condition. Severe."

Carala swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to think how the wolf inside her would respond to being caged. She turned and mounted the steps, Selene draping an arm around her shoulders and hustling her inside. Casimir, however, was not so accommodating.

"I don't want to go back there," he whispered, his eyes imploring Ammas. Casimir's eyes were wide and almost unblinking with shock, and kept flitting from Ammas to the sight of Lena in the street. There were no tears, not yet. He simply hadn't processed it. Maybe he even expected Lena would be all right, once Ammas had treated her. The thought nearly unmanned Ammas entirely.

Steeling himself, Ammas knelt down, hands gripping his apprentice's shoulders. "You're not going back there. You're just hiding there. I'll be back by lunch time at the latest. You don't work for Madame Laurette and you never will again. But I need you to stay there, Casimir, until I know it's safe."

Casmir nodded and turned, stepping into the brothel far more reluctantly than Carala had, throwing Ammas one uneasy glance over his shoulder before he did. Ammas's heart went out to the boy, but he had little time left for niceties. Hurriedly he went back to Barthim's side, glad to see the bouncer was getting back to his feet without assistance. "All right, Ammas. Where are you needing me? At the Lioness?"

"They'll never believe it. I'm treating you. You haven't been bitten. I may have to do a more extensive test to prove it to them -- "

"You are getting my pants off after all then." Barthim's smile was weak and quavery, and did not last long.

"If I have to. Go sit at my table. Look more hurt than you are."

Barthim nodded and swayed toward the temple, staring at the ground as resolutely as if he were daubed with spirit salve himself. Ammas swore again. Likely the guard would have something to say about the black smears on his face, but he wasn't going to risk washing it off until he knew he wouldn't need it again. Even now he could hear the whispers, and while the doors were closed more firmly than they had been a little while ago, it wouldn't take much for him to throw them wide once more.

At last he turned to Lena.

She looked smaller somehow; diminished. Her fine blonde hair was splashed with crimson and her blue eyes stared up blindly at the stars, a look of shock stamped on her features. The injuries to her throat and, he realized now, her belly he could not bear to look at longer than the seconds it took to confirm she could not have survived them. With a trembling hand he slipped his hat from his head. With his other he closed her eyes, gently. Unaware he was about to do it, he bent down to her, cradling her head in his hand, pressing his cheek to hers. She was still warm, and he could almost trick himself into believing that she heard, here or somewhere on the far side of the Veil of Ravens, what he said to her now.

"I would have said yes, Lena," he whispered. Tears stung his eyes, more from the realization than from the words themselves. "I would have said yes and I would have found a way -- a way to -- "

The words would no longer come, caught in the ache of his throat. Slowly he got to his feet, donning his hat with a precision that was almost military. The guard was almost here, and he couldn't be found kneeling at this girl's side. Although he had to turn his back on her for now, he never forgot the encounter between them in that sad and ruined garden, or the words he found himself murmuring to her in this dusty street. Nor did he think he would ever speak of them to another soul, no more than he spoke of his parents. 

With as much speed as he could muster -- which wasn't much -- he returned to the temple portico, leaning over Barthim to examine his wounds.