Denisius Gallis was far from the most prominent noble in the Anointed Realms, but he had experienced face-to-face encounters with some of that empire's most powerful figures. In none of them, not even the Emperor himself, had he felt this sense of iron command which now emanated from Ammas Mourthia as he made clear his will regarding his client. Lord Marhollow wanted to look to Vos for advice, but he was intensely aware of how weak that would seem to everyone here, even the boy, and especially to Carala. "I agree to your terms," he said slowly. Ammas nodded, his look becoming a touch friendlier. "But if I find you to be less than your reputation makes you out to be . . . forgive me, Ammas, but I must be free to exercise my own judgment in that case."

To his surprise, Ammas smiled. "I don't believe we'll have an issue there, Lord Marhollow. Believe me when I say her safety is paramount to me, whatever her name."

The cursewright and the youngest Lord Marhollow shook hands, Ammas even going so far as to offer a bow. "So this is your city. How should we go about booking passage?"

"There's a harbormaster's office in both Brightmoon Bay and Fathoms Gate. I would go for Fathoms Gate. It's a little more isolated and is the port usually used by travelers instead of merchant mariners. Go now. If the harbormaster is in a good mood, he may be able to put you in touch with an agent before business hours." Ammas began pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. He was already exhausted, and the day wasn't even fairly begun.

"I have a letter from the Throne directing people to assist me, if I request it." Vos sighed, but Denisius was determined, perhaps to prove the writ wasn't less valuable than the vellum on which it was inked. "Might that help with the harbormaster?"

"You're not in the Throne's domain, milord," Vos said quietly.

"Vos is quite right, Denisius." Ammas took a sip of tea, offering a cup to Carala, who accepted this time, though she pulled a face as she sipped. "Moreover, you're in a city that delights in not bowing to the Malachite Throne. Unless your goal is to get that letter torn in two and possibly used to wipe a harbormaster's ass, I'd leave it in your coat."

Denisius blushed but nodded, tucking the letter out of sight. Lightly he took Carala's hands in his. "I'll be back soon, Carala. And tonight we head for Vilais."

"I'd hoped I might honeymoon there," she replied, flushing a little.

Ammas pointedly sipped his tea. Behind them, Barthim stifled a belch, none too successfully.

Carala and Denisius stepped apart, both beet-red. Casimir rolled his eyes and headed toward the catacomb, perhaps to confirm he wasn't quite strong enough to bring up a cask. "I don't believe we'll be gone too many hours," Denisius said to Ammas now. "Is there anything else we should do in the city?"

"Just get us passage out of here." Ammas was desperately attempting not to meet Barthim's eye. If he did, he feared collapsing into laughter. "Try to book no later than twilight. Captain Thalia gave us until midnight, but I'd like to be on our way long before then." Denisius nodded, and with one last awkward smile at Carala, he and Vos departed the temple.

"Come, Carala," Barthim grinned, waving her over to the nave. "You need clothes for your journey. I am not taking you to any of the shops or boutiques near Clocktower Street, though. The girls at the Lioness, they have many clothes more modest than what they gave you last night. Yula and Rashmi are about your size, I am very sure we can find you something nice to wear on the ship."

"Keep her safe, Barthim," Ammas murmured.

"I am only going next door, Ammas. She is the werewolf, after all."

Carala turned scarlet. "And you break werewolves' necks."

"Ah! But he was not royal, your highness. I would be most fearful of shedding a true queenly lady's blood." Barthim bowed deeply, as Carala merely stared at the bouncer, baffled into silence. Ammas shook his head. That was a feeling he knew well.

When they had gone, Casimir reappeared from the catacomb, carrying a brick of suet. He wanted to try one of Barthim's pudding recipes for lunch. "Well, lad?" Ammas asked his apprentice amiably, watching the doors. "What do you think? Do you trust the Marhollow boy and his servant?"

Casimir frowned at his master. "I don't know, Ammas." He chewed his lower lip. "Is it wrong I think I trust Lord Marhollow because he doesn't trust you?"

Ammas shook his head. "No, Casimir. That makes you wise. And it makes Denisius something more than the fool he thinks he is. We'll see if there's steel in him. There may be more than he thinks -- a good bit more. I just hope it'll serve Carala well."

Casimir was still frowning. "Vos is scared of you."

"I thought so as well. It surprises me. He's worked with cursewrights before, he said."

"Maybe he's lying."

"No, I doubt that. You would understand if you had lived before our kind were outlawed." Ammas laughed and tipped the boy a wink. "Maybe he's just frightened of the Mourthias."

Casimir didn't laugh. "Maybe he is."

Ammas had to think that one over for a while.

"Ammas?"

"Yes, lad?"

"Will you go with me to the Temple of the Graces when . . . when Lena is there?"

"We won't be here when they say the rites over her, Casimir."

"I know. I mean after."

Ammas turned to Casimir and crouched down in front of him. "Of course I will. Whenever you want." He held out his arms to the boy. Casimir went to him willingly, weeping softly against the cursewright's robes until the storm passed.

When it had (Ammas deliberately left the boy alone to put together the ingredients he needed for Barthim's mutton pudding), the cursewright stepped out onto the temple portico. The day looked to be a hazy one, warm for autumn. A handful of guards roamed the Old Godsway in vague but discernible patrol patterns, and two of them were visible at the roof-line of the hollowed out countinghouse across the street. As he had on so many days before, Ammas wandered over to the Lioness porch. There was no red lantern today, and Barthim was busily inspecting his claw marks, which looked to be healing nicely.

"These had best not be marring my inkwork, Ammas. I paid good coin for it."

"Not some other kind of payment, Barthim?"

"Eh, he was a stinking drunk from Lao-Xian. This is not my type."

"I had no idea you had a type."

"Tits, nice hair, nice eyes. A good laugh most of all. I am not being demanding."

"Where's the princess?"

"Ah! Very nice hair, very nice eyes, I am being too polite to discuss anything else of hers. She is inside, going through Rashmi's wardrobe. Laurette is dead to the world, sleeping with an empty bottle of peach brandy."

"Barthim, I need a favor."

"You have only to ask, my good friend."

"I find myself in need of muscle."

"If you want that, Ammas, there are other brothels you may go to."

"I don't mean that. The Marhollow lad and his man insist on coming with me. I already have enough to deal with watching out for Casimir and Carala. I'm sure Carala wouldn't be a burden, but -- "

"But she is a princess who has never left her father's palace and is a fresh-turned werewolf in the bargain. This is the issue?"

Ammas nodded crisply, smiling a little.

"And these men, you are not being sure of their intentions."

"They come from the Throne, Barthim. From the Emperor. Denisius could be a patsy and Vos an assassin. Surely it's occurred to you how odd it is Carala was promised to him."

"Love is blind, Ammas. And has no sense of smell, at times."

"It isn't about love. We'll have to discuss arranged marriages and noble houses sometime."

"Save it for Casimir on some night the boy cannot fall asleep."

"I might do that. I have no right to ask this of you. But would you accompany us?"

Barthim stared at Ammas thoughtfully. "Accompany you? To Vilais?"

"And beyond, if it's necessary."

Barthim continued to stare. After awhile, Ammas began to feel uncomfortable, and believed he had gone too far.

"I'm sorry, Barthim, I knew I -- "

"Ammas. No." Barthim drew a deep breath. "I have been wanting to ask if I may come with you. I have failed the Hethmar. I have failed these girls. I have failed Lena. Never should I have let her walk alone last night. You saw what I can do to one of these monsters, and I was not there to offer her my strength."

"Barthim, you had no way of knowing -- "

"This is not true. Where there is one wolf, there may be others, even if the one is but a cub. My only concern in leaving is who will be watching the Lioness when I am gone? Drusis is my best man, and he was not standing up to a guardsman the way he should. It is not his fault, but I worry about leaving these girls in his and the others' care."

"Barthim, you don't have to come. There's nothing to . . . to atone for -- "

"There is everything to atone for!" the Beast said roughly, showing Ammas a rare flash of anger. "You are not to be telling me my duties or my sins, Ammas. You know many things, but this is not one of them."

"But you saved Casimir," Ammas replied softly.

"Did I? Were I not there, would he have gone upstairs to show me his chess set?"

"I don't know. No one could know a thing like that."

"Cass did not need me. He had you. I saw what you did to that beast, gods know how. I am knowing for the last five years one would be a fool to cross you, and now I am seeing why. Cass did not need me, and you did not need me."

"If you had any idea how badly you're overestimating my abilities -- "

"Tell me, then, because you command forces I have never seen."

"Forget that. This isn't something I'll discuss with you, not now. We could argue until the Dread Titans return. Casimir thinks you saved him, and so do I, and so let's leave it at that."

Barthim looked chagrined for once. "All right, Ammas. I will leave it at that." He paused, inspecting the marks on his left arm. "You are wishing I come with you?"

"Very much so."

"Perhaps Drusis will be up to the task. If I am telling him it is all right to punch a guardsman if the right officers are paid, who the right officers are -- "

"I think Captain Thalia is aware of the problem."

"Yes. Now that is being my type of woman, Ammas." Barthim smiled fondly, staring off into the distance. "You think she will know enough not to send that bucket of shit Cayle here again?"

"Cayle will be lucky to see anything but dead beggars from now until the end of the year."

Barthim the Beast laughed, clapped his hands together, and bowed to Ammas. "Then I must go to Clocktower Street when Carala is done. It seems I have a journey to pack for myself."