#ammanas

Ammanas | Anthems from the Ancient Tales (2025)

"Tell Cotillion, I have done as he asked."

Shadowthrone made a whispering sound, like sighing, and one almost formless hand emerged from the folds of his ghostly cloak, gripping the silver head of a cane, that tapped once on the cobbles. "I watched, my dear. Your Shadow Dance. From the foot of Rampart Way and onward, I was witness."

She said nothing.

Shadowthrone resumed. "Not even Cotillion. Not even Cotillion."

Still, Apsalar did not speak.

The god suddenly giggled. "Too many bad judgements, the poor woman. As we feared." A pause, then another giggle. "Tonight, the Clawmaster, and three hundred and seven Claws – all by your hands, dear lass. I still… disbelieve. No matter. She's on her own, now. Too bad for her." The barely substantial hooded head cocked slightly. "Ah. Yes, Apsalar. We keep our promises. You are free. Go."

She held out the two long-knives, handles first.

A bow, and the god accepted Kalam Mekhar's weapons.

Then Apsalar moved past Shadowthrone, and walked on.

Logo of the Day

Almmanas

Princess' son Cornet arrives at Clan Lukra, to everyone's surprise.

TW: slavery

In his two-legged shift, Cornet fit easily in a satchel on the back of the dragon-form ridgeback courier. It wasn’t comfortable, but nothing in his life had ever been, so he didn’t really mind. Nor was it outside of his experience that he received nothing to eat or drink on the way, even when the courier stopped for her own refreshments -- she left him and his bag on her back, unopened. She hadn’t spoken to him once. He only knew they’d reached their destination when she swung the bag off her back, with no consideration for the dragon inside, and plopped it on the floor.

“Delivery here for Clan Lukra,” the courier said, her voice only slightly muffled by the leather around Cornet.

“What is it?” asked a tundra’s voice.

In answer, the courier lifted the flap, tilting the opening towards the voice: Cornet looked up to see the startled eyes of a tundra in a floppy hat.

“Uh, what?” the tundra said, as the ridgeback dropped the flap, returning Cornet to darkness. “I don’t, uh, why is he being delivered here?”

“You bought him, didn’t you?” The courier sounded a bit testy -- Cornet imagined that she did not want to be responsible for anything that went wrong with the handoff. He’d already been paid for, but she still had to collect half her fee from the recipients of her package.

“I … Not as far as I know.” The tundra sounded absolutely gobsmacked.