"You know of that?"

"I keep my ear to the ground. How do you think I have fresh meat here? Did you think I was breeding livestock myself? There's a handful of boys, a few young ladies, from the lower class taverns in Vilais. They bring me supplies and news, in exchange for a few lessons on the stars. I suppose they would hang me if it ever came to light. Or burn me. But let them lay siege to Autumnsgrove again, and see how dearly they pay for it." Othma laughed mockingly. "The Princess's impending nuptials was all the gossip for a while; her disappearance even moreso. And just why the Emperor would offer such a lovely girl, or her sister, so much closer to the Throne, to a nothing like a Gallis, especially a third son, was a greatly debated topic."

Ammas said nothing. Understanding was beginning to dawn on his face, and a sort of horror. Or perhaps that was what Denisius felt on his own face, and he was imagining it in the cursewright's features. He felt he might vomit.

"Payment," said Othma Sulivar, a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice. "Long-promised payment, payment twenty years in the making, recompense for the betrayal of Briarcliff. That's what you've sworn yourself to, Ammas. A girl who is nothing more than a blood price and a boy too stupid to understand he's being rewarded for his father's cowardice."

Unable to bear anymore, Denisius stumbled to his feet, blundering back the way he came, back toward the trail of lamps that led to the cells. Casimir frowned after him, wishing he could say something to comfort him, but nothing came to his mind. It was too large a thing for him to grasp; the machinations of nobles and marriage promises, the slaughter of the Academies being above his head. Perhaps they were above Denisius's as well. Hugging his knees to his chest, the boy turned his attention back to his master.

Denisius's departure was quiet, but it raised enough of a commotion that Ammas frowned in that direction. "There are many strange noises in this empty place," Othma said serenely. A gentle smile was on her lips. "I'd not trouble yourself over it. Sometimes the airy spirits like to wander."

"I see," Ammas said, turning back to his old mentor, troubled. "There's more to him than that. There's more to her than that. They can't be blamed for what their fathers might have done."

"Your father would approve of such a sentiment. Would hers?"

Ammas frowned more deeply.

Othma sighed, her good eye fixed on Ammas. "Why do you do this, Ammas? Why do you swear yourself to this woman, whom you owe nothing but blood? If it was a ritual wolf that infected her, surely it was not alone?"

"No," Ammas said quietly. "There are more. Many more."

"Carala isn't the only one whose sickness I can smell. You've been meddling with the Ravens' Veil too much for your own good. It will kill you, Ammas. It will kill you or it will maze you into stepping through to a place where we will never see you again. And the world will be poorer for it."

"The situation was desperate. I'll not call on it again until I have to."

"And how long will that be? And even if you do that, how will you take on a cabal of wolves? You have two seasoned warriors with you, a stripling boy, an apprentice who worships you but who hasn't even come of age, and a she-wolf who might turn on you at a moment's notice. It's not enough. And for what? Your own pride?"

"Since when have I choked on pride? I took her on as a client. I didn't realize the nature of her affliction, and the cure almost killed her. I did only what I swore to do when I took on a cursewright's mantle." A touch of anger lit Ammas's words. "If it troubles you so much, why did you even allow us to come here? Why help us yourself, if all you want is revenge?"

"Because I love you, Ammas. I love you as I loved the children I lost. Do you not know that?"

Ammas said nothing, chagrined. After a moment the Doyenne chuckled softly.

"But there are other reasons. I will not lie to you. There are many kinds of revenge. Some are more useful than others. Would it satisfy me to see that girl bleeding out at the foot of Lady Terazla above us? It might. But it would be fleeting. How much more satisfying to return her to her father's throne, cured and whole, her life and honor utterly in the debt of a cursewright. My cursewright." An avaricious gleam shone in the Doyenne's eye.

Ammas shifted in his seat uncomfortably. To hear thoughts that had danced almost unacknowledged in his own mind now voiced by Othma Sulivar tightened his belly and drew a razor across his nerves. But her expression had changed, strange and crafty.

"That is, of course, if you wish to cure her at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Ammas, you have set yourself a dangerous journey, and you may never find what you need to cure her. So do what the ancient Cursewrights-Vigilant did. Bond her to you."

"Bond her? I don't understand -- "

"Leave her as the wolf she is. As the killer she will become. But let her be a killer on a leash. Your leash. You're already halfway there, I think. I see the way she looks at you when her promised husband's eye is elsewhere. And the way you look at her when you think no one sees."

A hot flush crept up Ammas's neck. "That sort of thing is behind me."

"I think not," Othma said archly. "You're not so decrepit as I am. Anything else you feel is only a lie you tell yourself for reasons I don't know."

Ammas said nothing. Of all the things he might wish to discuss with Othma, this was not among them, not by a long stretch. The Doyenne continued to speak, her voice soft and rasped with rieldo smoke and utterly compelling.

"If you can't cure her, the only treatment is death. But our codes and oaths are smashed under her father's heel, so why not return to a treatment of old? Why kill her when you could tame her? If it would pierce that filthy murderer's heart to see his daughter in the debt of our kind, just imagine what it would do to him to see her devoted to one of us."

For a long while Ammas was silent. At last he said, so softly Casimir almost didn't hear it, "How might it be done?"

"As you are now. With tenderness. With care. With love, I dare say, if you can muster up such a feeling for a child of the Emperor. And this must be first in your mind, Ammas. If you do such a thing out of spite or hatred, the wolf inside her will sense it sooner or later, and it will try to kill you for the betrayal, unless you have totally broken its spirit -- and what good would she be then? The seer-magistrates might have believed such bonds to be slavery, but a cruel man could not do it for long. A hateful man, a hateful woman would eventually die in their own wolf's jaws."

"I don't recall you ever advocating for such a thing." Ammas tried to sound needling, but even in his own ears his voice was far too shaky.

"I didn't, and I don't now. But justice must come to the House of Deyn sooner or later. This would be fitting justice. For the House of Gallis, as well. Because if you do this, if you seek to tame the wolf, you will have to kill that boy."

Ammas made a disgusted noise. The strength had returned to his voice. "Absolutely not. What is this madness? I thought you spoke of justice!"

"Justice for the Gallises would see the destruction of their entire house and Coldspring Hall razed to the ground. The life of one stripling boy who will never hold his father's power is a bargain." Ammas seemed unmoved, staring at Othma with a revulsion he had never felt for her before. But even through his revulsion part of him admitted she was not entirely off the mark. "And besides, it's not just gentleness that will win her wolf's heart. It will need to see savagery, and strength, and know there is no competition for her affections."

"I won't do it," Ammas said, sounding almost as angry as he had when she had mentioned his father. "Don't bring it up again."

"I'm sure my Nelahn and your father would admire your compassion, were they alive to see it."

Ammas was silent. Othma regarded him with something like pity. At last she sighed and rose wearily to her feet.

"Rest yourself, Ammas. And consider leaving off this foolishness in Gallowsport. With a tame wolf at your side, what could stand against you?" The Doyenne squeezed his hand and shuffled off toward her own chambers. Before she departed she looked behind her one last time. "If you will not dispose of the Gallis boy, at least send him away. I fear he would not approve of what you might need to do to win a she-wolf's heart."

Ammas stared at the floor, scowling. In his chest his heart pounded, and his brain seemed to float on a pool of uncertainty.

"I will leave off the matter for now. But there is something else."

"All right." He looked up at the Doyenne. Her face was unreadable.

"You hold to all the vows you took. Will you hold to the one that tells you to obey a Doyenne's command?"

"Not if it's about -- about the Gallises, or -- "

She laughed bitterly. "You know I could not give a command to you on such a matter."

"I will listen."

"Listen and obey?"

Again Ammas was silent.

"If you go to Gallowsport, look not only for the ritual wolf you would slay. Find the person who stole our lore. Find the person who did this perverted thing. And whoever it is, be they a servant of the Emperor or even a cursewright themselves, bring them to justice. Slay them. Show Somilius Deyn that we will still mete out justice on our own when we must."

Slowly, Ammas nodded. He drew his skymetal blade and held its point to his heart, rising from his seat. "This I will do, Doyenne Sulivar. I will bring your justice, and our fellowship's justice, to whomever I must."

"Good. I can ask no more than that."

With that she left Ammas alone in his circle of lamplight. After the cursewright sat down again, Casimir watched him for what felt like hours, but he never moved. At last, fearing he would fall asleep himself and be discovered, the boy made his way back to his cell, his head swimming, Othma's instructions to his master echoing in his head like a funeral drum.