Denisius frowned down at his timepiece, which indicated it had just turned three. With a sigh he sat beside Ammas on the crate from which the cursewright was keeping an eye on the bound soldiers. Periodically, Denisius along with either Carala or Casimir would escort one of the soldiers to the privy off the warehouse boss's office, or bring to them skins of water and an occasional bite of food. They seemed bemused to be waited on by an Imperial Princess in this way, and frankly shocked that Ammas was more interested in burying himself in the Swiftfoot ledgers than in carving them up for some depraved cursewright blood ritual. Now that he had finally turned his attention to them, their nervousness at his presence increased precipitously.
"He is not going to hurt you," Carala said to them with a smile. "He is sworn to me."
"Begging your pardon, y'highness, but his father was sworn, too," the most senior of the soldiers replied, glancing anxiously at Ammas. "Didn't stop him from plotting to kill your father."
"If I were planning to kill you, I wouldn't waste any of our provisions on your foolish mouth," remarked Ammas with a scowl. "When your prince returns, we'll see about unbinding you."
The soldiers, who had not been encouraged by seeing Prince Silenio depart the warehouse in the company of the Siraneshi giant who had nearly beaten him to death and the apparently traitorous Lord Marhollow's manservant, did not seem much enthused by this promise. Denisius had to hold back a laugh at the soldier's expression. But his tone was serious when he spoke to Ammas. "What do you think, Ammas? Is Varallo Thray involved with this?"
"In some way, I suppose he is." Ammas toyed with the brass key, his fingers tracing its engraving. The key was an old one, and the emblem had nearly been worn away. "I doubt we'll ever know exactly how, though."
"Does he know about Swiftfoot, do you think?"
"Oh, I'm sure he does. I'm sure he knows the identity of every assassin the Emperor has used since he was appointed Grand Chancellor. Whether the Emperor is aware of how much Varallo knows, I have no idea. I suspect he isn't. Silenio mentioned Varallo didn't question the Swiftfoot they had in custody for very long. My guess would be that wasn't his decision. I think it likely his Majesty doesn't wish to place all his secrets in one man's care." Ammas smiled humorlessly. "Varallo, no doubt, has other ideas."
Denisius nodded slowly. He hadn't much experience with Varallo Thray, but he'd had enough to understand how cagey the man was. "What about the wolf's blood? Did he know about that?"
Ammas frowned. "It's hard to say. If he did, then I would have thought he'd advise Silenio to bring more men to Gallowsport." He shook his head with a snort. "Not that Silenio is a man to take advice from anyone. And it may well be he wanted Silenio to come here with too few men. Or the Emperor did."
Denisius looked at Ammas, astonished. "Why in the world would the Emperor want that? Thray, well, I suppose I could understand, if these wolves are some plot of his -- "
"I don't think it's that simple. If it were he never would have helped you in finding Carala. Her infection, at least, is something I'm sure Varallo didn't want, whatever he might know."
"But why would the Emperor want his son in such danger?"
Ammas didn't answer immediately, watching Carala as she and Casimir built a fire in a stove braced against the warehouse's far wall. He imagined in the bitter cold of Gallowsport winters it kept the place tolerably warm. When he spoke his voice was nearly a whisper, too low even for Carala to hear. "They talk in Munazyr as much as they do in your own lands that Carala is his favorite. Silenio is not. And I think you know what can happen to the Emperor's less favored children."
Denisius considered this, reflecting that Erstan might not be such a terrible man after all, at least compared to his sovereign. "Well -- er -- if that's the case, he overestimated these Swiftfoot wolves. We've seen nothing of them. They seem content to let us be."
"I hope you're right," Ammas said softly. "But wolves are excellent stalkers, Lord Marhollow, and werewolves even more so. You should bear that in mind." Denisius nodded, a little abashed. They both sat there in not uncomfortable silence, watching as Casimir rummaged through Barthim's pack to procure some seretto leaves. "He almost killed me, you know," Ammas said.
"The Emperor?"
"Thray."
Surprise lit Denisius's features. "When was this?"
"During the dissolution. Or right at the end of it. Some of the smaller Academies had yet to fall but there was little doubt they soon would. He found where I'd been hiding, out in Cobblestown with a few others from my fellowship. Told me there was a chance to -- " Ammas looked down at his hands, where the brass key continued its little dance across his fingers. Denisius had noted the key a while ago. Ammas seemed obsessed with it.
The cursewright looked back up, drawing a deep breath. "He told me there was a chance to save my mother, and possibly my father as well. Oh, he would have to be imprisoned, even exiled, but the Emperor was willing to listen to reason. So Varallo Thray told me. I should have known better, but I'd heard no news of them in months, and I was desperate, and -- looking back -- I was very young. So I came to Gallowsport, to my home, where Thray collected me to escort me to Talinara. The man wasn't even in disguise. The onetime senior clerk to the Overseer who had plotted to remove the Emperor, and somehow he'd already secured his own safety." An ugly scowl twisted Ammas's mouth. "Another lie, of course. He brought me to the Silverlamp Theatre, headed off to speak with the Emperor. Before he ever came back -- "
Ammas turned away, unwilling to speak of what he had seen. Denisius didn't prompt him, and was not even sure why Ammas was telling him this. Perhaps dealing with Silenio had put him in mind of those sad events. Denisius glanced up and saw Carala was watching them closely, a frown on her lips. Wolfish ears, Denisius remembered. She had heard every word, her expression growing ever more somber as Casimir went about brewing the tea.
Ammas cleared his throat and looked up, still toying with the key as he spoke. "Well. What happened at that theatre happened. If I had been of a mind to pay attention to anything but -- but what I saw, I'd have been expecting to be arrested at any moment. But no one ever came for me, no one recognized me. Eventually I realized I needed to flee. Into Talinara's sewers first, then out of the city a few days later. And that, Lord Marhollow, was the last time I ever saw Varallo Thray, and the last time I ever hope to see him." The smile he gave Denisius was thin and sickly. "I put no plot beyond him. So yes. We cannot rule out that he is responsible for what these Swiftfoot assassins have become."
Denisius pondered this until he felt his head might split. Erstan Gallis was loyal to the Emperor, and perfectly compliant to the wishes of Varallo Thray, but he was not a player in the games of the Imperial Court, and so Denisius had little notion how he might navigate them himself. "But why not tell us, if he knew? Was he trying to get us killed as well? Why bring me to the Maathinhold that night? What does he want?"
"Lord Marhollow," Ammas said kindly, "if I knew that, I don't think I'd be in this city or anywhere near Carala."
"And yet here you are."
"And yet here I am."
Ammas and the younger man smiled at each other, then began to laugh. Terrible guilt continued to ripple through Ammas's belly, but in the end he realized Barthim was right: whatever there was between him and Carala was doomed to be a short-lived thing, and once she was beyond his care then whether or not she married Denisius was out of his control. When he realized Carala herself had approached them, a bemused smile on her face, he only began to laugh harder.
"I should love to know what is so amusing, Master Cursewright."
"I don't know," Ammas said, and the fact that this was completely accurate only made him collapse into even more insensible laughter. "Perhaps I am as mad as you think," he said at last, wiping a tear away from one eye.
"It would not surprise me," Carala replied drily. "Deni, may I speak with Ammas alone?"
"Of course," Denisius smiled. "I think I'll see if I can lose at cards to Cass again."
They watched Lord Marhollow saunter across the warehouse, Carala seating herself at Ammas's side. "How badly were you hurt?"
Ammas frowned down at his belly. His shirt was tied only loosely and the shallow cut Silenio had left on him was easily visible. "Not badly. It itches. Back at the house I have some unguent I need to put on it. But it could have been much worse."
Carala, who was all too familiar with her brother's exploits, only nodded. "I know this is hard for you, Ammas, trusting him -- "
"I don't trust him," Ammas said flatly. "If I trusted him I would have let him go into the city alone."
Not long after Ammas had confronted Silenio with the truth of Swiftfoot Carting's purpose, the prince had asked (insisted, really) that he be permitted to go into Gallowsport and find the men who had fled in the face of Ammas's magic. Ammas had consented so long as he went with Barthim and Vos watching him, and without his sword. They had been gone well over an hour. Ammas suspected those soldiers would never be found.
When the trio returned, he would inform that there would be no venturing into Gallowsport alone for the remainder of their stay here, and if possible they should not split up at all. He tried not to feel guilty. Sure as he was that the Swiftfoot wolves had fallen on those men, he hadn't wanted them dead unless there were no other choice.