Vos and Denisius sat on either side of Carala. Vos and Carala were staring fixedly at Ammas and Barthim as they spoke together in hushed, rapid tones, while Denisius kept stealing glances at the princess. Even in the reddish torchlight of the Hethraeum armory she looked entirely too pale. At first he thought it must have been because of the impending moonrise that was still hours away, but when he saw the hurt, fretting expression with which she regarded Ammas, he began to wonder if some quarrel had sprung up between them. The cursewright had raised his hood when he entered the bounds of the Hethmar temple, and in its shadow his face was completely inscrutable.

Finally Barthim clapped him on the shoulder. Ammas slipped an arm around Casimir's shoulders and led the boy out of the armory without another word to the rest of them. Barthim turned to the curved bench where they sat around a crackling firepit.

"It is settled," he said, his face graver than usual. "Ammas and Cass will go off to this watchtower he is making ready for you, Lady Zinna. He is saying there are things to prepare, to make sure nothing untoward is happening during your nighttime adventures." He winked at her, and despite the cold pit of fear and anxiety in her belly Carala couldn't help smiling a little. "About two hours before nightfall, good Denisius, Vos Wisethrone, and I will be escorting you to this place. It is not being too far, but we must be cautious, if what Ammas told me about the things you found is true."

"It's true," she said quietly. They had the armory to themselves, but still she feared being overheard, and not without reason. "Does Ammas know why the Swiftfoot would kill each other?"

Barthim shook his head. "If he is knowing, he is not sharing it with me. But do not be worrying about what they are doing to each other. All the better for us if they rip each other to pieces before they are knowing we are here, yes?"

Vos snorted. "At least we can look forward to facing only the most skilled among them."

Barthim laughed delightedly. "And they can be saying the same of us, Vos the Puler! Already there are three wolf-killers among us. Give us time and we'll blood everyone here, even you, Carala. In fact if I am laying coin on it, I will say you will take a wolf head before our good Denisius does."

Denisius smiled thinly. Carala looked less amused. Here in the sane light of the Hethraeum, with the moons still below the horizon above them, it was easy enough to think she would literally fight tooth and nail against whatever creatures showed up to drag her off with them. But who knew what it would be like when she wore the wolf's shape again, with the white moon gleaming down on her? She looked away from Barthim's smiling face, but that did no good: she was now looking at the door through which Ammas and Casimir had disappeared. The memory of the cursewright towering over her and threatening to abandon her surfaced at once, twisting her stomach in knots.

Barthim seemed to recognize something was troubling her. Slowly he knelt before her, clasping her left hand in both of his. The Beast's hands were huge and rough and as gentle as the tattoos scribed on his body were fierce. "You must not be worrying, Carala. Ammas knows how dangerous things have become. He leaves us here to watch for you while he places his own head in the wolf's jaws. He has told me, if he is gone when we reach the watchtower, if -- gods forbid -- Cass is gone, we are to come back to the Hethraeum and keep you here until dawn."

"They'll let you do that?" Denisius sounded impressed.

Barthim nodded to him. "Oh yes, Lord Marhollow. I am never visiting this place before, but the warpriests have sent competitors to the Hethraeum in Munazyr. I am being champion two of the last three years, second standing that third year because I had been drinking too much the night before. They are respecting me here, and they are telling me I have the run of the armory for the night." His eyes turned back to Carala, a sadness in them now. "Carala, I am hating this, but I am not having Ammas's gifts. If he does not return, we will have to shackle you. I will be making it as painless as I can, and no one will hurt you, but -- "

"It is all right," Carala said softly, looking down. "I understand."

Barthim nodded. "And in the morning, when you are being yourself again, we will leave for Gallowsport as fast as we can. We find the monster who did this to you, and we bring his heart to Doyenne Sulivar."

Now Carala looked deeply skeptical, and she wasn't the only one. "Do you think she'll help any of us without Ammas or Casimir?"

Barthim smiled. "We have the great minstrel Vos Goldentongue with us. If none of the rest of us are winning her heart, I am sure he will, with a song and a dance, yes, good Vos?"

Vos shook his head. "I suppose I'll do what I can."

"But this is getting much too ahead of things, Carala. I am not thinking anything will happen to Ammas he cannot handle. This is only being the worst case, and I am only trying to be sure you are part of our plans if such a thing comes to pass."

"I am surprised Ammas still cares about my well being," Carala muttered.

Barthim stood up, frowning at her, his arms crossed on his chest. "Why? Ammas is most committed to you, I am thinking."

"I -- no, Barthim, it is not worth getting into."

Barthim scowled. "No, this is no good, Carala. If Ammas has turned tail, I -- "

"He did not. We had -- words." She looked at Denisius unhappily. "We heard a rumor from the Madrenite Abbess that my sister Sarai has disappeared."

"Gods have mercy," Denisius murmured. Barthim closed his eyes.

"I -- overstepped my bounds, demanded he help her as he is helping me -- "

"I am sure Ammas will be helping her if he can."

Carala shook her head. "I do not know. Perhaps. As you said, it is getting ahead of ourselves, when he doesn't even know if he will be able to cure me. But I -- I upset him. I said something about his father. I was upset myself, or else I'd not have said anything like that."

"Ah," said Barthim, stepping away and crouching by the firepit, warming his backside. A pained look was on his face. "Yes, Carala, this was unwise. I am learning long ago it is not good to bring up Ammas's father to him, not even in jest."

"It was twenty years ago," Denisius said sharply. Though he might have abandoned any notion of marrying Carala, he still found himself exasperated with Ammas, who he felt ought to have been a little more understanding of the princess's mood, given all the circumstances. "Surely he's had time to come to terms with it since then."

Vos snorted. "Could you?"

Denisius shrugged. "I don't know, Vos. I think we both know my father's never going to be beheaded for treason. But I'd like to think if something happens to him I'd eventually be able to hear his name without bursting into tears."

"He did not burst into tears," Carala said with a touch of asperity, her eyes narrowing. Denisius blushed a little. "And he said that his father was not beheaded. He was very clear on that."

"Well, no," Vos said. After a moment he realized all three of them were staring at him. His mouth fell open. "Do none of you know what happened to Senrich and Renelle Mourthia?"

Carala shook her head. "My father forbids it being discussed in front of his daughters."

"And we don't sit around Coldspring Hall talking about what happened to the conspirators who tried to assassinate the Emperor."

Vos looked at Barthim, nonplussed. Barthim shrugged. "I am never asking him. I made a joke about his father one Yearsend Eve and he got up and left the Four Winds without saying a word. I was thinking he would never speak to me again, but he seemed himself the next day. After that, I am making no more jokes and asking no questions. A man does not pour salt into his friend's wounds."

Seeing their curious expressions, Vos now appeared distinctly uneasy. "If Ammas wants to keep this secret, then I don't think it's my place to say."

"I would like to know the man who seeks to cure me, Vos."

"You know him almost as well as anyone here, I think. Even Barthim doesn't know -- "

"It does not mean I am not being curious, Vos the Tongueless."

Vos shook his head. "It's not something I'd care to discuss."

Denisius looked at him with a puzzled smile. "Why do you care? Just let us know so we don't upset him again."

"Just don't mention his father, milord, and I think you'll be fine."

"Vos," Carala said softly. The Nythelian warrior looked up, clearly distressed. "You were surprised Ammas would swear himself to me."

"I was."

"Because of what happened to his parents?"

"Because of what happened to his fellowship, milady."

Carala's eyes narrowed again. "Is that really all?"

"Are you ordering me to tell you what happened?"

Carala shook her head. "I would not do that, Vos. But I would like to know why I should see past Senrich's plot to murder my father, if he cannot see past my father responding as any sovereign would."

"Is that what you think happened?" The look in Vos's eyes chilled her. Often he had seemed skeptical or even frightened of the wolf that lurked inside her, but now his face showed something like contempt.

"It is what I was told happened," she replied slowly. "If it is a lie, I would know that, too."