Part 4 of Dominion of the Hyacinth!
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May 4, 708 CR
Rickkter growled under his breath, a sort of
hissing snarl that sent flecks of spittle
hurtling across his long tongue, past his jowls
and short fangs, and onto the object of his
irritation. Before him was a rather plain wooden
chest with an ordinary key lock that he normally
kept in his bookshelf behind the heavy and
mind-numbingly verbose compendium of treaties on
developments in warfare over the last few
thousand years in the principalities of
Sonngefilde and Kitchlande. Its plain exterior
belied the intricate syzygy of enchantments that
kept industrious thieves from pilfering its contents.
At least when there were contents worth pilfering.
The raccoon mage stilled the growl in his voice
and slammed the chest shut. I guess it's time to make money again.
The chest wasn't completely empty, but the small
satchel of coins would, with the way he hated
frugality, especially during the warmer months,
be expended before the Summer arrived. After
waking in December to find his body completely
emaciated and his muscles nearly useless he'd
been left with no choice but to live off the
savings he'd amassed in the previous year. While
it had been almost two months now that he'd
regained his strength, he'd demurred from several
offers from both George and Misha in order to
hone his skills and resume his studies; and of
course there was Kayla whom he had spent a great deal more time with.
The other reason was that he had been watching
for some terrible threat and he hated to be away
from the Keep until he was sure that threat was
past. Marzac had already tried to claim his
beloved Kayla, and he had heard of what it had
done to both James and Lindsey. Vigilance was
necessary to ensure that it did not strike again.
But the almost empty chest left him little
choice; he was going to have to start accepting
the offers for mercenary work from George and
Misha more often if he hoped to enjoy his Summer
at Metamor; or worse, translation work for the
library. Marzac had stolen his last Summer away
and he would tear down heaven and earth if
something as banal as finances did the same for his next!
He had just enough time to shut the chest and
return it to its hiding place when he heard a
scratching at his door. Rickkter straightened,
stretched his back, and then walked to the door,
his claws clicking lightly against the stone. Who is it?
It's Weyden.
He could not recall the hawk soldier ever calling
on him before and so immediately tensed. Still,
Weyden was a good man and a steady soldier which
was enough for the raccoon to grant him respect. He opened the door.
Good afternoon, Rickkter said with a nod of his
head to the hawk. What may I do for you?'
Weyden leaned forward, his eyes intense. Did you destroy it?
Rickkter blinked and flicked his tail, brow furrowing. Did I destroy what?
Weyden sighed and lowered his beak. The hyacinth.
His heart thumped. Hyacinth? What do you know of any hyacinth?
Jessica planted one in Lake Barnhardt. I told
you about it two days ago. You were supposed to
go there and destroy it yesterday.
Rickkter shook his head and ground his molars. I
don't remember that at all. But if a hyacinth was
planted then I would forget things. Who planted it?
I just said... my wife, Jessica.
How do you know this?
Two days ago I stopped you and Kayla at the Deaf
Mule and I told you all of my suspicions about
Marzac corrupting my wife. She's doing very
strange things lately, and it scares me. I told
you especially about Kuna who I'm sure you've
already forgotten about again. Are we going to
have to go through this whole thing again?
I've never heard of anyone named Kuna.
I see the answer is yes. Weyden's wings and
tail slumped and he sighed. He was the
headmaster of the Mage's Guild until last month.
Jessica turned him into a child and nobody has
seen him since and nobody remembers him either! I
can wait two minutes and tell you about him again
to see if you've forgotten him again.
Rickkter shook his head back and forth and
gestured for the hawk to come inside. I need
something to write all of this down so I won't
forget. And it is better you tell me here where
there won't be any errant ears to listen in.
Weyden hopped into the room, his long talons
scratching at the stone as they tried to find
some purchase. He glanced around the room with a
quick sweep of his head, and then narrowed in
disappointment. I don't have a perch, Rickkter
admitted as he bent over his desk and tapped his
ink bottle to loosen the ink. I don't usually have avian guests.
I can manage. Most of the time I have to stand
without a perch. Weyden watched him for a moment
as he folded his red-banded wings behind his
back. Rickkter couldn't help but admire his
speckled feathers, sharp talons, hooked beak, and
fierce golden eyes. No matter how many times he
saw an avian Keeper he was always struck by their
otherness. It was a sensation that went beyond
anything he saw in any who had become mammals
like himself no matter how unusual, or even those
who had become reptilian like that insufferable
billiards champion Copernicus. The counter-curse
that was cast to ameliorate Nasoj's spell gave
the birds their human size back, as well as some
number of wings claws that could serve as hands,
but the posture of wings that granted them flight
kept them more like the animals they resembled
than the humans they were in spirit and at birth.
Only those rare few who had become insects or
some other oddity left him feeling as unsettled or more by their presence.
Rickkter set the ink bottle down on the desk and
feeling a trifle unnerved by his guest's intense
stare turned to him and asked, So what can I do for you, Weyden?
The hawk took a deep breath, swelling out his
chest and pushing his wings out a foot from his
back, and then exhaled with an almost hopeless
sigh. You forgot again. And then, in a voice
that rose from a guttural whisper to a piercing
screech, he continued, his beak widening with
each word. Rickkter, my wife is being corrupted
by Marzac and has planted a hyacinth at Lake
Barnhardt! Write it down before I have to tell you again!
He blinked in surprise, and then turned to his
desk to see the ink well, the parchment, and the
long peacock quill with scintillating patterns in
blue and green. A hyacinth? Damn! How many times
have you told me? He lifted the quill, dabbed it
in the ink, and wrote the name of that accursed
flower across the top of the parchment in large
letters. Beneath it he added 'Marzac' and 'Jessica' in slightly smaller script.
The hawk quieted, but the tension strained his
voice so taut and filled it with such malice that
it made him sound more aggressive than Misha when
his temper snapped. Twice so far today. I told
you two days ago and had to repeat myself several
times before you wrote it all down.
I wrote it down already? How did I forget?
Rickkter paused in his writing to let the ink dry.
I don't know. You were going to visit the rats
to charter a wagon to Lake Barnhardt when I left.
Something must have happened, Rickkter mused,
glancing at the words on the page. It was hard to
believe that Jessica could have been so corrupted
to have planted a hyacinth, or that the hyacinth
had already gained so much power that it could
erase itself from their minds in only a minute or
two. When Yonson had planted the first hyacinth
it had been in the ground for almost eight months
before it had been discovered. He hadn't had as
much trouble remembering that plant as he did the
current one. It felt like trying to grasp an eel
slick with slime with paws coated in thick oil.
This new hyacinth couldn't have been planted
until after Jessica returned from Marzac. I can
remember Yonson's hyacinth in great detail. It
shouldn't be able to make us forget anything from
before its planting. Rickkter brushed the end of
the quill over his nose making his whiskers
twitch this way and that. But how? And where did she plant it?
Lake Barnhardt. It is where I was stationed when
she returned from Marzac. She stayed with me
there and must have found the small box I kept
the hyacinth bulbs in. Yonson had me rescue what
I could of the hyacinth after you burned it.
There were two bulbs... I told you this before.
And I've forgotten. Tell me it all again and I
will write it down. I am sorry, but since you
seem to be immune for... some reason... this is a
position you're going to be stuck in until we can
get this situation resolved. Preferably the sooner the better.
Then may I suggest a few extra copies this time?
To ensure this won't happen again.
A good idea, yes. And when that's done we're
going to go visit somebody who can help us coordinate and who won't forget.
Why won't he forget? Everyone but me is
forgetting and I am taking a terrible risk in coming to you!
Because he won't know why he's doing it.
Rickkter dipped the quill into the ink and sat
down to ease his back. His striped tail flicked
from side to side and his left ear twitched with
nervous intensity. He hated Marzac. Now tell me
everything you know about this hyacinth and Jessica's corruption.
Weyden settled his wings and checked his anger as
he spoke. The raccoon war mage listened and copied every detail he could.
----------
Rickkter did not often have occasion to frequent
hallways in Metamor that ran near the apex of a
much larger arched hall. To his and Weyden's
right they could peer out over Duke Thomas's
throne room and audience chamber, while to their
left was hard, cold stone. Long tapestries were
secured to the railings and then to the ceiling
above them with sturdy ropes, casting them in a
strange gloom that cloaked both floor and ceiling
but left their chests and faces exposed to the light rising from below.
Even with the incongruity of where the strange
inconsistent architecture of the Keep brought
them to go from one place to another, it was not
enough to prevent his destination from washing
from his thoughts every dozen steps or so. With
Weyden who was curiously unaffected by the
forgetfulness of the hyacinth at his side he
did not need to fear being led astray. Still, the
bird had to nudge him with a gentle wing from
time to time to keep him from peering out over
the throne room to admire the view.
Once they turned away from the upper arch down a
corridor that ended in a single wooden door the
issue of his memory became moot. There was
nowhere else to go. The door was moderately
proportioned with only a small brass plate
affixed to the center identifying the occupant's
name and his position within Metamor's court.
Rickkter glanced at Weyden who kept a satchel
over his shoulder; the satchel contained
something important but by this time the raccoon
had completely forgotten what it was. The hawk
only nodded his head. This must be where they had intended to go.
Rickkter hated asking this man for a favor, but
he must have decided to come here because he
could help them. He rapped the door with his knuckles and sighed.
Come in; the door is unlocked.
Rickkter lifted the latch and pushed the door in.
The single room beyond was rather small, almost a
storage closet in size, with shelves stacked with
ledgers and organized parchments, decanters of
liquid of every color imaginable, stoppered
ceramic jars, and even a small pillow stuffed
with thin metal pins. A single latched window was
set against the ceiling and out of reach at the
other end of the room beneath of which was a
spotless brass platter whose purpose Rickkter did
not wish to speculate on. The ceiling was not
fashioned from stone but was a trellis of iron
rafters of various sizes. Hanging from these was
Andwyn the bat and an elaborate crossbow system
with multiple bolts pointing at their heads.
Oh, it's you, Andwyn said as he reached over
and pulled a small lever with his wing; the
crossbow lifted back into the trellis where it
was hidden from casual inspection. I'm sorry
about that, but I wasn't warned of your coming.
I had heard you were paranoid, Rickkter noted
as he stepped cautiously into the cramped room. But threatening guests?
I spent six years living as a bat in Nasoj's
castle. One does not treat guests well there.
He snorted and nodded. In sooth. Do you have
some time? I am apparently here to ask you a favor.
Andwyn shifted about, his feet carrying him from
one iron hook to the next, backing toward the
window to give the two of them room to enter. A
favor? Apparently? Do you know why you're here?
No, but Weyden does. Close the door.
Weyden nudged the door shut with his wing and
then presented the satchel to the raccoon. The
letter you wrote to remind you what you want to know is on top.
Thank you. Rickkter flipped open the satchel,
shielding it with his body so Andwyn wouldn't
see, and then pulled out a folded letter he'd
scrawled the words 'Read me' on the front top of.
He opened the letter and scanned the words. His
claws dug at the edge of the parchment in fury as he remembered.
He licked his jowls and then lifted his eyes once
more to the bat. Aye, a favor. And you cannot
know the reasons for what I am about to ask you.
Do not even ask why. The less you know of the
why, the better chance we will be successful.
The bat folded his wings over his chest and
widened his small eyes. You wish me to do
something for you but not to know why. Such
favors cannot come freely. And if I learn they
have been in any way disloyal to the Duke, and I
will learn you can be assured of that, the cost may be more than you can pay.
It is not disloyal I assure you, Rickkter
replied. His few exposures to the chief spymaster
for Metamor had convinced him that he was a man
who would die by his own hand rather than betray
his liege, and woe to any one who dared try.
Andwyn did not make threats. He only stated the
terms of the arrangement as they had to be in his
mind. He had no time for anything else. Misha and
his friends might not understand that, seeing in
the bat's words threats and condescension which
were never intended as such, but Rickkter did.
Then what is the favor you seek?
You have a system of couriers that you use to
deliver information around and into and out of
the Valley, Rickkter said with a flick of his
tail and a lowering of his ears. He wondered if
the bat would deny it or become angry at his
secrets being exposed but the bat remained still
with attentive ears. I want to use those
couriers to pass along messages to select
individuals tonight. Doubly-sealed messages; the
couriers should not know to whom the messages are
meant until they arrive. Can you do this?
Andwyn plucked his snout with the end of one
wing. If the individuals to whom they are sent
are living near a courier post then aye it can be
done. I will need to know where the messages are to be sent.
Fair enough. Also, the messages must seem to be
from Duke Thomas. Andwyn pulled his wings even
tighter about his chest. No one is to know the
reason why they are receiving their orders until
they are assembled where I want them to be assembled.
The cost for this favor is rising.
I know, Rickkter replied with a hiss. And if
there were any other way I would not have come. But can this be done?
You say I cannot know the reason why. But I must
know; how long will this venture of yours take?
It should be over tomorrow. One way or another.
Then in two day's time I expect you to return
here and report on the success of your venture,
its reasons, and its consequences. After which
time, we will discuss ways in which you can return the favor to Metamor.
Rickkter ground his teeth together but forced himself to nod. Agreed.
Good. Now, you need official instructions
directing how many people where? The bat plucked
a small fruit from the shelf-top and began to
chew its ripe sinews. Juice dribbled down his snout.
Six letters. Three should go to Glen Avery, one
to Tarrelton, and two more here in Metamor Keep.
It would be best if they all arrived early in the
morning. Can you manage that?
Six copies of a simple order? Of course. To
where will I be sending them? I assume you want
them to refrain from discussing anything with anyone?'
Instruct them so, not that I think it will work
with everyone. He was fairly confidant that
Charles and James would talk with each other on
their way down from the Glen, but the rest would
keep their tongues behind their teeth.
It will only take me a few minutes to pen such a
letter. But where am I sending them?
Rickkter glanced at the sheet in his paws. He
could feel Weyden stirring behind him. The hawk
was nervous and anxious to return to his duties.
Have everyone report to the gates of Lake
Barnhardt and to wait there for further
instructions. No one is to enter the city until
instructions have been given. Use a secret
word... he turned to the hawk and cocked him an inquisitive glance.
Beehive, Weyden blurted and then shrugged his wings.
Beehive it is, Rickkter said with a nod. It was
as good as anything else. And with no connection
to what was written on his paper, they were not likely to forget it.
Andwyn gestured to one of the shelves on the
other side of the room. You will find fresh
parchment there between the blue and green books.
Mark the names of the individuals you wish to
send to Lake Barnhardt. Once each letter has been
written you may seal them with the wax there.
Rickkter found the parchment just as the bat said
he would. The small desk the bat kept was as tall
as his shoulders but he found ample quills and
ink. He quickly scribbled the names on each and
then blew across the ink until it was dry. Once
all six were complete he turned them over so the
names would not be visible, stepped back by the
door, and patted the hawk on the shoulder. Weyden
sighed through his beak and dug his talons into
the stone floor, scratching it and his talons.
Andwyn's feet carried him across the trellis over
to the desk where he proceeded to unfold his
wings and grasp the quill with his wing claws.
More nimble than Rickkter would have expected, he
had to admire the bat at work. His penmanship was
crisp and clear and within only a few minutes he
had constructed six identical letters conveying
exactly what Rickkter had requested. Rickkter
took and folded each in turn as the bat finished
with them, using wax and a signet ring sitting on
the bat's desk to leave the impression of the
Hassan horsehead heraldry upon them.
Now, Andwyn said, pointing with one wing toward
a second bookshelf. You will find larger sheets
of parchment there on the second shelf from the
top. You can fold the letters within and seal
them a second time. Do not mark them, but simply
tell me where each will go and I will see to it that they arrive tonight.
Rickkter found the much larger sheets of
parchment as the bat described. He placed the
three letters for Glen Avery in the center of the
first sheet and folded it around them before
sealing it shut with the wax. He did the same for
the letter to Tarrelton, and the two for Metamor
Keep. It was strange to send an order from Duke
Thomas to himself, but that was the only way he
knew he could guarantee that he would arrive. He
had to give himself a reason the hyacinth wouldn't make him forget.
He could only hope it worked.
The bat took each of the doubly-sealed letters
and nibbled on the edge before dropping them on
the shelf next to his half-eaten fruit. Is there
anything else I can do for you?
Rickkter turned and gave Weyden a querying look.
The hawk shook his head. Nay, Rickkter replied
with a relieved sigh. That is all.
Good. Andwyn's jaws turned downward in an
upside-down smile. It was unsettling even to the
raccoon. And a word of warning; you will find my
quarters quite different in two days.
Of course. Rickkter bobbed his head. In two days then.
Rickkter and Weyden happily closed the bat's door
behind them as they left. They walked in silence
for a minute, the paper still clutched tightly in
the raccoon's paws. His eyes strayed from the
script to the railing overlooking the Duke's
throne room only to be drawn back after a few
seconds. You should get back to your patrol now, Weyden.
I know. Here's your satchel. Weyden slipped the
bag from over his wing and offered it. Rickkter
took the strap in one paw and hefted it over his
shoulders. He was grateful he hadn't had to offer
the bat any of the various interesting trinkets
or written promises he'd brought. It did make him
wonder how much the bat suspected.
Do you think it will work? Weyden asked.
I don't know, Rickkter growled under his
breath. He glanced at the sheet of paper and
growled even more as he recalled exactly why he
had come to see the bat. But it better.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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