Doyenne Sulivar actually looked chastened, and, for a scant moment, like a spiteful little girl caught baiting a harried pet. She did not look away from Ammas's furious glare, ignoring Barthim, who was very shaken indeed. When she spoke her tone was almost pleasant.

"Ammas is right. That is enough. Help him, Barthim of Siranesh, and perhaps you will gain some crumb of the honor you think you possess." Deeply she sighed, as if upbraiding Barthim the Beast had exhausted her. "But I am weary, and you have a long road if you are to make Gallowsport soon. You will not get there before another change takes you, your highness, and I cannot allow you to be here when it does. There are defenses I have set for myself that would kill a werewolf in her feral shape. Rest for the night, and tomorrow as well, if you like. Then go to Vilais and prepare for the road. You go with my blessing, whatever your family is. If Ammas has sworn himself to you, I will trust him."

Now she turned to Ammas, whose anger seemed to have faded, though hectic blotches of red lingered in his cheeks. "You remember this place well enough. I have prepared rooms for you all in the southern halls, where it is warmest. Show them there, then attend to me if you would. We have much to discuss."

Autumnsgrove was a labyrinth of subterranean halls and winding passages, but Ammas remembered it well enough to lead his companions from the Doyenne's library to the southern reaches of the academy. He led with his walking stick, the airy spirit caged at its crown flitting and pulsing its light happily. A series of intermittently illuminated lamps lit their way as well, casting an air that might have been cheerful at another time. They followed Ammas in subdued silence, each dwelling on far from pleasant thoughts.

Othma had reopened an entire dormitory for them, a cell for each of them and a common bathing room that stood at the end of the hall. As with Munazyr, ancient forgewrights had installed elaborate plumbing in Autumnsgrove, and even twenty years after the dissolution it still functioned. Barthim slumped into his room without a word and slammed the door behind him.

"He'll be fine," Ammas said to Casimir, who was looking worriedly at the thick seretto-wood door. "Let him sleep on it, and in the morning I'll see if I can't get Othma into a more reasonable frame of mind. And you," he turned to Carala. "How are you after the Doyenne's little torture session? I apologize on her behalf. I suspected she wouldn't exactly be kind."

"I would like to sleep on it myself," she answered, looking from Ammas to Barthim's closed door. "If nothing else she gave me a great deal to think about. And," her lips curled into a smile that was almost playful, "I suspect she'd not appreciate you apologizing for any of her actions, Ammas."

"On that, you're probably right," he sighed. His eyes swept over the four of them. "Thank you all for accompanying me here. I knew it would not be pleasant. But Othma is perhaps the greatest living cursewright left in the world, to say nothing of her skill as an astrologer."

"And fierce in her dotage," Vos muttered.

Ammas grinned. "Oh, don't let her hear you say that. She seems fond of you, gods know why, but that could change in a wink." He nodded toward the baths. "Those are supremely comforting, especially after the journey we've had. All of you get some rest. I want us to leave here before noon tomorrow. None of us should be eager to wear out the Doyenne's hospitality."

There was not an ounce of disagreement on this point. Once they had all settled into their rooms, Ammas turned and headed back toward the library, leaving the rest of them to discuss all that had happened that day. Casimir, Denisius, and Vos agreed that Carala should have first crack at the baths, and so she began rummaging through her things, selecting fresh clothes.

Denisius looked at her anxiously from her doorway. The cells were a little musty and scantily furnished, but the beds were clean and comfortable, and a single bright lamp illuminated each one. "Are you well, Cara?"

Forlornly she shook her head. "I have a lot to consider, Deni. Not just my illness. The things she said. Her grandson." Carala looked over her shoulder at Denisius, biting her lip. "How true do you think it is? I've heard things. From my brothers, my father -- "

Vos, who had been lingering nearby, cleared his throat. They both turned to look at him. "The people who lived through those days aren't often eager to discuss the things that happened. Those who are usually can't be trusted to give a fair accounting."

"So you think she was lying?" Carala hated the hopefulness she heard in her own voice.

"I would not say so," Vos said haltingly. "But the truth may be hard to see beneath her anger." Vos bowed and turned into his own room, giving his master and Carala some privacy.

Denisius took Carala's hand. "I think she overstepped her bounds, whatever cause she may have for her anger. It's not like you were responsible for anything that happened twenty years ago."

"Certainly she had no cruel words for you," Carala said archly.

"I'm not important enough for that."

"I won't hear that." Anger flashed in her eyes. "You have been wonderful, Deni. You could have died under Munazyr. I know how much you have risked for me. I think even Casimir is coming around to like you." For a moment she hesitated, speaking softly so Vos would not hear if he was eavesdropping. "Do you still want to come with us all the way to Gallowsport? I think it will be quite dangerous. Who knows what we'll face before we find this ritual wolf?"

"I didn't take Ammas's vows, but I have my own to keep." Lightly he raised Carala's hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her fingers. "I'm not leaving you until this is finished. After that -- well, your father did promise a wedding ceremony in the throne room."

Carala smiled sadly, wondering if she'd ever be in a mood to marry anyone, even if she was cleansed of the wolf. "The gods will decide. Make sure you rest tonight, Deni." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and made for the baths. Denisius watched after her until the plain white door clicked shut, and the sound of running water echoed down the hall.

Vos was seated on the edge of his bed, darning his stockings. Denisius frowned as he leaned against the door frame. "Sometimes I can't imagine how the Emperor destroyed the Academies. Not when they had people like Ammas and this Doyenne on their side."

"They were mostly scholars. Don't forget that. Cursewrights and astrologers -- they were the combat veterans, or at least the closest thing to such the Academies had, and so it's not surprising those are the ones who managed to survive all this time. The forgewrights too, I suppose, but they were never very great in number. Whatever else, the Emperor's soldiers numbered in the tens of thousands. And he had the faiths behind him. They never had the skill the Academies did, but there is no small number of sorcerers in their ranks. Enough, at least, to make conquering a place like Autumnsgrove or Witchlight Tower possible instead of a suicide run."

"Do you think what she said about her grandson is true?" Denisius asked hesitantly.

"I think that woman has seen horrors you could never imagine," Vos said acidly. "And I don't blame her a bit for looking askance at men who are doing so much to help the daughter of Somilius Deyn. I think without Ammas she'd have struck us all dead before we got within a mile of this place."

"Well, Casimir too. She certainly took to him." He looked around for the boy, and to his alarm saw he was neither in the hall nor in any of the prepared rooms. "Casimir?" No one answered. "Cass? Are you about?" Denisius frowned at Vos. "Where could he be? He was right here."

"Probably went to wait on Ammas. I'd let it be."

"No, I don't think it's safe for any of us to be here alone." Denisius peered into each of the prepared rooms, then tried the next few doors down the hall. All were locked.

"Have Barthim look for him."

Denisius eyed the Beast's closed door and weighed the dangers of testing the bouncer's mood just now. "Er, no, Vos, I'll go find him myself. You just keep an eye out for Carala. She's the last one who should be unguarded here." With that he turned toward the door through which Ammas had led them, hoping he could remember his way back to the library. If nothing else he could at least let Ammas know the boy had wandered off.