It has been a week since I sent the last part of
this tale and for that I apologize. My wife and
I just put our house on the market and that has
made it very difficult to find the time to
write. Until I feel like I'm writing new
material at a comfortable pace again, I'm only
going to post portions on weekends.
That said, here's the next part! The first
section is taken straight from Raven's story "A Presence of Thieves"
Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias
Duke Thomas peered at the map of the Keep and its
surrounding fortifications that lay spread out on his desk.
Nicely done, Jack, he murmured, nodding
approvingly. Nicely done, indeed. From the looks
of this, Id say that Metamor has never been better protected.
No ones going to be repeating Nasojs Yule
surprise, at any rate, the castellan agreed.
With the extra ring of walls and the new
defences around Euper, any enemy that tries to
reach the Inner Keep will have a damn hard time
of it. Ill certainly sleep better at night now that this is finished.
It needs no better recommendation than that, my
friend, Thomas said, smiling. I
A knock sounded at the door.
Aye?
A nervous-looking page stuck his head into the
room. Doctor Coe to see you, milord.
The duke nodded. Very well. Send him in.
Coe must have heard his words, because he
practically forced his way past the page as soon
as Thomas had spoken. The physician nodded once
to Jack as he approached the desk, then turned to face the horse-king.
Milord, we have a very serious problem, Coe said.
Thomas motioned for him to continue.
A patient was brought to the sickbay this
morning from Euper. He has the plague.
Jack muttered a curse under his breath. Thomas
slowly sank into his chair. Plague? he repeated
softly, scarcely believing it. Are you sure?
Very. The symptoms were clear, milord.
The Flatlanders? Jack asked. His voice was thick with suspicion.
I dont believe theyve been here long enough to
have brought it, Coe said, shaking his head.
Plague generally takes a few days to incubate
before it becomes visible. Clearly some trader
brought it in with him, though. We havent had a
case of plague at Metamor in fifty years.
How great is the danger, doctor? Thomas asked.
Tis too soon to tell, milord. Bubonic plague,
which Feldon has, is not very contagious, though
it is still very deadly once you have caught it.
If that is all we face, our greatest concerns are
the fleas that carry the germ and the rats that
carry the fleas assuming that Lytherians
theory about the contagion is correct, of course.
Do you believe it is?
Fortunately, I have never before had the
opportunity to test it, Coe said dryly. But I
consider Lytherian a reliable source. Be warned,
though, milord: Some strains of plague are far
more contagious than the bubonic form. If an
airborne strain has reached us, the situation is far more dire.
Thomas snorted once. Bubonic plague is quite bad
enough, I think, he said sourly. What do you advise, doctor?
The clothes and linens of those who have
contracted the disease will have to be thoroughly
cleaned, somewhere far away from the city water
supply. Victims will have to be isolated in
sickbay, in case a more contagious strain is
present. Someone should conduct a survey of the
city to make sure that the rat population is
under control though it is probably best that
our cat-morphs refrain from hunting them for now,
to avoid picking up their fleas. Coes face
twisted into an unpleasant moue. And,
unfortunately, we are going to have to quarantine the city.
The duke leaned back in his chair and nodded
wearily. I was afraid of that, he said. Very
well. Make the necessary arrangements, doctor.
And notify the Lightbringers of the situation perhaps they can be of help.
Aye, milord.
The coonish doctor sketched a quick bow, then
turned and nearly ran out of the dukes office.
It never ends, does it, Jack? Thomas asked
rhetorically, gazing up at the ceiling.
Only in death, milord.
Despite himself, Thomas managed a wry smile at
that but only for a moment. Go on, Jack, he
said. Notify the guard of the quarantine and
prepare them to barricade the city gates. And
tell Steward Thalberg to raise the yellow flag.
Another thought struck him and the horse lord sat
up, alarm anew washing through his equine brow.
Jack... did... did my wife go out riding this morning?
The mule began to nod and then his eyes widened too. I will have somebody
He got no further than that as Thomas leaped from
his seat and ran from the room. The quartet of
guards standing wait outside collapsed over each
other in their confusion. Jack shouted after him,
the clatter of their hooves ringing in their ears.
Thomas did not care that he startled everyone in
his galloping passage. All he could see was his
Alberta laying in bed, sores festering in her
hide as she slipped in exquisite agony from this
life. He had to get to her himself, and no
courier could be trusted to be as motivated as
he. The horrifying thought that it may already be
too late only made him drive his hooves into the
carpeting and stone work of the castle all the more firmly.
The blistering cold that savaged him when he
barrelled through the exterior door leading to
the riding fields betwixt Keep and walls where
Alberta liked to relax in the saddle almost
slowed him, but that only to consider where he
set his hooves. The days were warming but many
stones were slick with ice. Behind him he heard
Jack shout a curse as one of his hooves struck a
slick patch. Thomas had no such trouble.
In the midst of the field filled with patches of
snow and the first blades of Spring grass rode
his grey-furred wife, mounted upon a mighty roan
destrier whose prancing struts were hammer blows
to crush skulls. Povunoth noticed him first, and
turned mid-stride, slowing to a stately trot.
Albertas long ears lifted and her muzzle broke
into a wide-lipped smile that faded into a moue
when she saw how fast her husband was running toward them.
She nudged Povunoth into a canter and after a few
seconds slowed them again when Thomas finally
reached them. Jack still chased after him,
swearing for him to get back inside. Alberta
glanced between her out of breath husband and the
castellan and asked, Why hath thou run so,
Thomas? What art Jack shouting oer?
Thomas gasped as Jack finally reached him and
nearly put a hand to his shoulder. He waved his
head and gestured back at the Keep. You... you
need to get back inside. Theres... plague!
Albertas eyes widened in alarm. Plague? In Metamor?
Thomas and Jack both nodded. You need to come
back inside where its safe. At least until we know how bad it is.
As do you, milord! Jack added in exasperation.
Ill tend to Povunoth. Just the both of you get
inside! Even as he spoke, Thomass guards came
out of the Keep, hurrying as quickly as they
could while being careful not to stab each other with their spears.
Alberta swung out of the saddle, patted her steed
on the cheek, and then let Thomas take her by the
arm and escort her back to the castle. Povunoth
reared once and then followed the mule to the
stables. Alberta trembled as the guards
surrounded them. Wilt Metamor survive? I hath
heard terrible... terrible tales of plague.
Thomas shook his head. I dont know. Were just
going to have to trust in Coe and pray. Ill work
with everyone here to try to beat it, but... first I need you safe, Alberta.
She rested her long head against his chest. I
shalt do whateer thee asks of me, my sweet
Thomas. Just thou shalt do as I ask too. I wilt
not having thee work thyself to twigs.
Thomas whickered softly. Do I not always obey you, my Alberta?
They held each other closely as they returned to the Keep.
----------
Misha liked having Charles's children here at the
Long House. They were exuberant, curious, eager
to learn and play, and above all, they brought
smiles to everyone who saw them. Kayla and
Rickkter had been by that morning to return some
things to Misha that he'd let them borrow while
the raccoon was recovering, and even the Kankoran
had chuckled while watching them play with the
bear Meredith. It hadn't been much but it was a start.
The only thing better would be if Charles were
here himself to stay. After hearing Kimberly's
complaint about Charles being assigned to a
patrol down south, he'd made sure George knew how
little he appreciated having his Longs assigned
duties without being consulted. The jackal had
not been impressed and growled about everyone
walking on eggshells around the rat ever since
he'd gotten back. He'd had a few weeks. It was
time he started earning his pay again.
As far as Misha was concerned, Charles had earned
an extra year's pay by journeying to Marzac and
experiencing horrors beyond anything Nasoj had
ever thrown at them. But some days George could
be just like the mercenary he once was, and this
was one of those occasions. Sometimes it was good
that he could be so hard; it gave him a
ruthlessness that Misha at his angriest couldn't
convey. But the rest of the time it made Misha
want to brain him with the flat of Whisper.
But for now at least, with his paperwork well in
hand, Misha could enjoy a few moments to watch
the Matthias children. Meredith, who had three
children, was entertaining them by pretending to
be a monster. Despite how much bigger he was,
none of the little rats were afraid of the big
bad bear. They had been given little practice
swords, wooden sticks that vaguely resembled
swords, but they were more likely to begin
chewing on the ends than trying to stab the bear.
They preferred to jump on him and hold on as he
turned and twisted around; and if he moved too
fast, they tended to bite. From the look in
Meredith's eyes, Misha could tell that it stung!
Heart full of simple joy, he pondered if there
might be such delights in his and Caroline's future.
He did not have time to ponder long as that
jackal pushed through the doors to Long House
with the fiercest scowl on his jowls that the fox
had ever seen. George's eyes were dark and his
faintly graying muzzle quivered as if it were
worrying a particularly troublesome bone. His
tail was stiff and jutting out from his back like
a rudder. He turned toward Misha and actually ran
to his side where he grabbed his arm and shoved
his snout into the fox's one good ear. Your office now!
Misha almost tripped over his paws as he and the
jackal rushed into his office. George shut the
door firmly behind him and started swearing.
Misha, feeling a trifle angry, straightened out
his jerkin and crossed his arms. Are you going
to tell me what this is about or are you going to
show off what you learned in your mercenary days?
Misha, shut up for a moment. I just learned this
from Copernicus, and he leaned it from Jack. We've got plague in Metamor.
His anger froze into fear. Plague?
That's right. Coe confirmed it this morning. I'm
not sure how many victims there are yet, but we
cannot be too careful. Copernicus and Jack are
already mobilizing the Watch and what soldiers
are stationed here at Metamor. They're going to
be closing the city. Euper too. Nobody gets in or
out. Birds and dragons too. George shook his
head and swore again. This is going to get very ugly.
Misha lowered his snout and then began to nod.
Did they say what the standing orders were for anyone trying to leave?
The jackal snorted and shook his head. They
didn't have to. Anyone trying to leave has to be
killed before they can escape.
Misha didn't like it, his heart rebelled against
it with every fiber of his being, but he knew it
to be true. Aye, I'll mobilize the Longs. We
can't keep the Long House isolated, but I'm sure
going to try for all the families. Another
horrible thought struck him like a hammer. Oh
Eli! Have you heard if Charles is inside the city walls yet?
George shrugged. I haven't heard anything. But
if he isn't, he isn't getting in. His eyes
hardened and fixed on Misha with the searing
intensity of a forge. You know that.
He had to take a deep breath, wondering how he
could tell either Kimberly or Charles that they
could not see each other for who knew how long.
If ever. If this truly was a plague, there was no
telling how many of them would survive. And Caroline; what if she succumbed?
I'll never be able to convince Charles. You know how stubborn he is.
George shook his head. You better. Or I won't
hesitate in putting an arrow in him. If he's
outside the walls, then we need him to stay out there.
And then, quite possibly the most vile thought
entered into his mind. The fox felt more
physically ill about this than anything else, but
he knew it was the best thing he could do. He
shuddered and wrapped his paws around himself and
whispered a prayer for forgiveness. I know who
can convince the rat to stay away from Metamor.
Pass the word to the rest of the Longs. I must take care of this by myself.
George nodded and stepped out of his way. Misha
walked back to the main hall, stomach clenched
tight, and turned toward where a mother watched
her children. She turned at his approach and the
inchoate smile faded into a troubled moue. Is
something wrong, Misha? Kimberly asked as she rose from where she reclined.
The fox swallowed heavily, paws rubbing one over
another in nervous anxiety. His tongue felt thick
like molasses. Kimberly, I... I... I have to ask
something... very, very difficult of you. Please forgive me.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4e73dad2252951226415657!
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