Man I've gotten bad about posting this. My apologies!
Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias
Sir Saulius awoke that morning with many things
troubling him. There was little he could do about
the subtle machinations the ram knight had
seemingly suggested to them. He felt as if the
ram were sounding them out to determine if he
could have them as allies against enemies even
here at Metamor and it made him very nervous.
Yet, at the same time, he also wondered if that
might not just be a paranoid suspicion brought on
by the rumors and cautions he had heard about
this man. Still, one thing the ram knight had
said lingered in his mind even after all else had
been dismissed. The notion was both appealing and
frightening. It carried with it uncertainty and
love in measures he could not discern. But at the
very least it was something worth pondering and
far more appealing than any questions he had about the ram's loyalties.
Even though the sun had not risen yet and the
morning was illuminated only by the many torches
and lanterns scattered around the Glen, the rat
knight did not find his squire in his home or in
the stables. Both Armivest and Malicon were
freshly groomed and saddled, so Charles had done
his duties, but the rat was nowhere to be found.
Sir Saulius sighed heavily as he left the ponies
and started across to the northern side of the
Glen commons. He knew where his squire and friend must be.
He found the rat crouched over Ladero's grave
with eyes shut tight, and his paws blending into
the cross-shaped tombstone. Saulius was careful
not to step on his squire's tail that stretched
out behind him across the cleared ground as he
crouched down at his side. He put one paw on
Charles's shoulder and drew it back quickly when
the flesh and tunic turned into stone beneath his fingers.
Please, Charles said in a voice that sounded
like boulders rubbing against one another. He's
the only family I have here. Leave me with him for now.
We hath duties, Saulius reminded him gently.
More and more of the rat's countenance took on
the chiseled gray of granite. The marker has
kept watch over my son's flesh. Leave me with the
marker for a few minutes more and then I will finish readying our ponies.
Saulius shook his head as he stood. Thou canst
not stay amongst the dead. A few minutes, aye,
but no more. His squire's tail was stone now too
as he stepped over it on his way back to the stables.
----------
To James's irritation he'd been assigned to scout
with the exact same Glenners. While neither Anson
the arctic fox nor Ralph the vole were truly
bothersome they were companionable enough in
their own way, although they did keep far too
close an eye on him it was their scout leader
Berchem who dug into his hide like a burr. He
couldn't quite say what about the skunk bothered
him certainly not the scent since he'd long
grown accustomed to Kayla's fragrance but he
longed for the end of the day when he could be rid of the man.
They continued their survey of the lands south of
the Glen, this time walking along the lake only
partially covered by ice now, before following
the river through the narrow valleys that few
into the hills and eventually to the Metamor
River. James brought his ice axe this time and
hung it from his belt loop where the bell had
been the day before. The bell was buried in the
bottom of his pack; he'd thought to leave it
behind after seeing what it had done to the hare,
but for some reason he couldn't completely part
himself from it and so it sat in the bottom of
his pack where it would be safe and present.
The terrain was a little more forgiving that day,
though many of the rocks were slick with ice from
the river and the early snow melt. James placed
his hooves very carefully with each step; he
would not give either Berchem or Lord Avery an
excuse to take him off the mission. Charles had
assured him that one more mistake could cost him
his place. The donkey would not provide it.
Nor did he. The day wore on with a faint warmth
permeating the air. The needles on the larch and
spruce surrounding them glistened with icy drops.
Birds sang above them and on every side. The
ice-choked stream babbled as it wound its way
through tumbled granite and quartz; already the
banks were rising. Yet, despite the dangers, he
kept his footing and after a few hours both Anson
and Ralph gave him no more attention than they did each other.
Berchem continued to check on him, but James did
his best to pretend that he didn't see the skunk watching him.
They reached a small outcropping of granite
overlooking a flume through which the river
quickly descended. The trees dispersed allowing
them a narrow view of the land south of the Glen.
They could almost see the towers of Lake
Barnhardt in the distance, but the intervening
hills blocked the city from view. Berchem stopped
and stretched, his long tail lowering nearly to the stone beneath his paws.
Where to from here? James asked in a quiet
voice as he stared at a stand of birch trees
rising up at the bottom of the flume.
Berchem lowered his arms and gestured at the
makeshift bridge of stone beneath which the water
dropped. Beyond the spruce clustered to the edge
of the stone outcropping, roots digging into what
soil they could find. We break for a short meal,
then we cross the river and return back the other
way. Anson, Ralph, check around for anything
unusual. James will prepare something for us while I keep watch here.
While the fox and vole disappeared into the woods
on either side of the granite vantage, James
lowered his pack to the ground and pulled out
some of the foodstuffs they'd brought. Wrapped in
some parchment was a bundle of cheese, hard
bread, and some sausage. This he set aside and
pulled out a small waterskin. His breath caught
in his chest when he saw the bell glinting in the
sunlight at the bottom of his pack. The donkey's
lips trembled, stretching forward as if hooks
were pulling them toward the bell, before he was
able to look away and set his pack aside.
Berchem rested against the edge of the
outcropping, bow in hand as he scanned the birch
trees at the bottom of the flume. His tail lay
back across his legs, the striped tip flitting
from side to side. James glanced at the skunk
once and then turned to the food. He cut several
slices of cheese from the wedge before doing the
same for the sausage. He then wrapped all of it
back in the parchment until the others returned.
He glanced at the trees behind them, noting their
heavy boughs and wide branches and sighed, ears
waggling behind his head. I wonder if Baerle and the others are out there.
Berchem snorted behind him. Tree scouts don't come this far.
But could she see us out here?
The skunk rolled onto his side and slipped back
below the lip of the rock outcropping. No, she
couldn't. What are you worried about her for anyway?
Oh, James felt a sudden chagrin overtake him.
He hadn't even realized he'd been talking out
loud. He glanced down into his hands and spread
his hoof-tipped fingers a little. Oh, just, hoping that she's okay.
Berchem studied him for a moment before rolling
his eyes. Forget about her, James. She's not
worth it. He crawled back up to the drop-off and
continued watching the birch. Now keep your eyes
and ears open. Let's hope there's nothing out there except our friends.
James was too stunned to move. What had the skunk
just said about Baerle? That she was not worth
it? James felt his heart burn within him and his
one hand wrapped about his sword hilt. Was there
anything she wasn't worth. He shifted about on
the granite block, tensing his hooves beneath
him. He could feel the bell thrumming in his bag
nearby. His eyes locked on the skunk's back.
Berchem concentrated on the woods before him;
there was nothing to keep James from acting.
The donkey stood, gingerly drawing his sword, so
softly and so gently that it did not even rasp as
it left the sheath. His nostrils flared and his
tail flicked from side to side, while powerful
muscles coated in gray hide rippled beneath his
tunic, breeches, and cloak. The sword felt
comfortable in his grip, yet it felt wrong as
well. He took a careful step forward, hoof
finding good purchase against the granite.
A crackle in the brush to his left made James
spin and lower his blade. Anson the white-furred
fox emerged from behind one of the Spruce with
his ears lowered and a wriggle in his black nose.
Looks clear to the east. And is that Jurmas's
fresh sausage I smell? His tail wagged as he looked at James.
Oh... uh... aye, it is. He sheathed his sword
and lowered his ears, couching back over his
pack. It's ready. Just... we're just waiting for Ralph.
He cast a quick glance back at the skunk, but
Berchem was still propped against the
outcropping. James chided himself on his
foolishness. What good would his sword have done
him anyhow? He could feel the throbbing, the very
tolling of his bell deep within his pack. His
lips quivered and his heart beat faster. There
were much better ways to learn what the skunk meant by his foul imprecations.
Tolling.
He smiled and curled his right hand, imagining
the haft of the bell rubbing against his palm.
Tolling.
There's cheese and bread to go with it, James
said as he lifted the paper wrapped food. Would you like some too, Berchem?
The skunk waved one arm at him. When Ralph's here.
James nodded and handed some of the cheese and
sausage to the fox. He took a bit of bread for
himself and rolled the morsel around on his
tongue and between his flat teeth. He swallowed
and added, I have it for you, Berchem, whenever you're ready.
Tolling.
His ears twitched and he fondly patted the bottom of his pack with one hand.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4e8e50a288395839567377!
_______________________________________________
MKGuild mailing list
[email protected]
http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild
