Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars V: Ascensum
(b)
Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR
The sun had not yet shown itself over the
mountain peaks to the east when Charlie emerged
from the Livery gate of the Dukes wing. In the
distance the hulking form of a giant was raking
out the loose boxes that housed those mounts
belonging to the Knights of the Red Stallion and
the Knights of the Holy Yew. The giants huge
rake cleaned each stall out in only a few passes
and was shoveled into a wagon with an equally large tool.
Milord? A deep though feminine voice came to
his ears before he had gone a half dozen strides
and he turned to find Maysin approaching from a
side gate from which she had emerged. Though she
may have set out from the Sutt garrison there was
no telling how far she had walked to emerge from
the Keep within moments of his own exit. When
Charlie turned she gave a single-handed sweep of
her rich blue dress with a look of whats with this getup curiosity.
Maysin, ah! Charlie beamed with a smile, You
look very nice. The solid blue was very striking
atop her black-and-white striped hide.
Yes, milord Charlie, but why such a formal
costume? She asked deferentially, her hooves
chuffing quietly on the neatly trimmed grass of the livery courtyard.
With a moue Charlies ears backed, briefly.
Because of my ahh behavior yesterday I am
not going to be on the list today, though my
sires use of magic disqualified him and I did
advance. So I will not need you as a mount
today. A shadow emerging from the same door
Myasin had made Charlies gaze shift briefly, but
only long enough to see Bryns regally garbed
form approaching with Argamonts taller frame
beside him, dressed with finery the equal of Maysins.
Ahh, Charlie! Bryn hailed with a wave,
increasing his pace for a few strides. Argamons
ears twitched forward and Charlie saw his gaze
sweep Maysin up and down for a moment, the tall
stallion servitor smiling admiringly. I see we
are of like mind. The young duke-in-waiting
taking Maysin in with a smile and short bow.
Indeed, Bryn. Charlie chuckled, Maysin, as I
will not be contesting on the List I will,
perforce, be attending my father and the Duke in
the royal box. I would have you attend me, please, if I may ask that of you.
Not Hogue? Maysin backed one ear timorously.
She had served Charlie many times in the company
of Metamors royals and was accepted by the
entirety of the family with pleasure.
I have released him for the day to attend the
festivities on his own whim. Charlie tipped his
head slightly and looked up at the monochromatic
striped mares concerned expression, And I would
do the same, if you desire to enjoy the day for yourself.
She shook her head slowly, No, I would be
honored to be of service. After a moment the
corners of her expressive equine lips twitched up
in a brief smile, And the food will be much
better than what most of the vendors have.
Charlie bobbed his head with a smile, True,
true! He agreed, then straightened his back and
squared his shoulders, turning to face her more
directly with a serious mien upon his muzzle.
But first I would do something, with Bryn and
Argamont to witness. Clearing his throat Charlie
slipped nimble fingers into the sleeve of his doublet. Maysin, I am sorry.
Her head titled and her eyes widened, as if
expecting his statement to be the opening line of
a dismissal or other unpleasant news. Sorry,
milord? She quavered, hands dropping to her side
in a pose of formal attentiveness.
Yes, Maysin, I am sorry. For my behavior
yesterday, in disrespecting and dishonoring you,
who have of your own will and desire have
comported yourself to be my steed. Charlie
carried on diligently. Bryns ears came up and he
shifted, quite subtly, to an aristocratic pose of
attention to an important moment. I acted in ill
grace toward my sire on the field of arms, and I
left you who leave yourself vulnerable and
exposed without garb in a manner many would find
ill suited to their pride and intelligence
standing tacked and barded in the summer sun as
any other might abandon a mere horse. With a
shake of his head Charlie stepped closer to her,
until they were barely a handspan apart and he
had to raise his head markedly to keep eye
contact. I am in your debt. I am always in your
debt, for the service you offered, and offer, to
myself and my House. Raising his hand, and
stretching the seams of his surcoat to their
limit, he reached up to lightly capture one of
her tall, striped ears. Delicately he removed one
of the decorative jeweled studs, which was mere
costume jewelry worth a few silvers but was still
fetching against her flesh and pelt. Palming it
he slipped a larger, heavier, and far more ornate
stud into the empty piercing before stepping
back. The stone was a deep green, oval cut
emerald enwrapped in a web of gold as fine as a
spiders web. Alone it cost more than her entire
wardrobe and a goodly portion of her wages. If,
at any time, for any reason you require aid of
me, day or night, in any way present that stone
to any of our House and I will come to your aid and service without question.
Maysins hand went to her ear the moment he
turned loose of it. Thought she had only caught a
momentary glimpse of the stone she could feel its
weight in her ear and with the pads of her thick
fingers. Charlie, this is far too much! She
gasped in surprise. You did not wrong me, at all, yesterday! That is my serv-
Charlie held up a finger and lightly touched her
lips, Maysin, it is not the value of that token,
it is the token itself. It is the mark of a
promise made. He paused and smiled, then
chuckled softly, I could have offered as much
with a bit of copper or pin, and it would carry
the same value. That more suits you, I think.
I agree. Bryn coughed modestly to one side,
And, in so saying, House Hassan will know of
that token and bear its value accordingly,
Maysin. I bear witness to the promise made.
Stepping around the stunned zebra Bryn stood
beside Charlie to face her and rested a heavy
hand upon the young rats shoulder, And yes,
lass, this churl did you a disservice yesterday.
What you, Argamont, and every one of those who
have come into the services of our Houses in the
manner you do is beyond any service ever expected
of a houses servitors in history. Though we
dont say it often enough, you honor us with that
service. He nodded toward Argamont who had moved
forward to stand at Maysins side. Leaving you
caparisoned, for all intents and purposes naked,
upon the tourney field like a mere horse was poor observation of that honor.
Maysins ears backed and her muzzle dropped in
profound consternation, only to come back up
suddenly when Argamont slipped a strong arm
around her waist. She looked to Bryns sometime
steed and back to the two nobles and attempted a
smile. Thank you, milord. She managed to
whisper after a few moments, her ears still backed.
No, Maysin. Charlie shook his head and reached
out to chuck her lightly under the chin with a
curled finger. Thank you. I hardly say it often
enough. His gaze twitched slightly to one side,
And you, Argamont, though you are not in my service.
That is understood, your grace. Argamont
intoned with deep bow, his arm still around the
stunned zebras waist. By both of us, though she
is sorely shocked by your formal acceptance of a
debt. Most afford those who serve them no debts
of honor. You are a fine lord, and will be a fine Duke one day.
Not before me! Bryn cut the formality with a
laugh, clapping Charlies shoulder with a
thick-fingered hand. Now, lets quit gawping
here and get to my fathers box before the Dawn Wine is gone!
Charlie lifted his arm as high as it would go and
patted Bryn on the back. Save me some, Bryn; I
have one more errand to run ere I reach the High Box.
Maysin looked awkwardly at both Argamont, who did
not seem interested in letting go of her waist,
and Charlie, whose expensive gift weighed on her
mind more than her ear. Argamont acknowledged the
noble rat's announcement with a mere flick of his
ear, his eyes still on the zebra mare. Bryn
regarded his friend with raised ears and wide
eyes, Oh? Another soul to whom you must make amends?
He nodded with a sigh. Yes. My mother, the Baroness.
Oh ho! Bryn replied with a snort, crossing his
arms and favoring the rat with a haughty stare
down the length of his nose. And what have you
to say to your brother-in-arms whom you abandoned
to the matrimonial machinations of his own mother?
Argamont whinnied in amusement while Charlie
stared incredulous at the ducal heir. I fear I
do not understand your meaning. I cannot believe
that your family would have agreed to a betrothal
so soon, and certainly not the foreign king!
Nay, they have not agreed to a betrothal, but
without your companionship to accompany me, I had
no choice but to remain in company with my family
and with the foreigners. Bryn's dark ears
lowered and he exuded an air of affected offense
and shame. I had no choice but to spend time with her!
He even danced with her, Argamont put in with a
delighted snort. Maysin frowned at him and
finally managed to slip herself out from the
stallion's grasp. The strawberry roan favored the
zebra with a brief glance of genuine affection,
before the ribald glint returned to his dark
eyes. Quite a lovely couple our young lord and lady made.
Charlie blinked and held back the laugh he felt.
You danced with the princess?
Bryn nodded, his affected air of offended dignity
comical in its exuberance. We entertained our
guests privately after last night's festivities.
Music was playing and all of us were told to
dance. My mother ensured that the princess and I
would be paired together as often as possible.
His whiskers twitched with mischief. Did you
trod one of your hooves on delicate royal toes?
Do not be foolish! His ears lifted for a moment
as if only now considering the tactic for the
first time. Mother would skewer me!
Charlie finally laughed and shook his head. Do
not fear this princess, Bryn. She's just as
nervous about you as you are of her.
Probably more nervous about how much a horse our
young lord is! Argamont offered with a nickering
laugh. Maysin jabbed him in the side, a
disapproving scowl stretching her supple lips.
Bryn's ears backed in genuine embarrassment and
his eyes narrowed toward the man who served as
his mount. Charlie caught the glance and waved
his hands in the air as high as he could reach
and laughed one more time. Enough! Enough! I
offer you, Thomas Bryn Hassan, my humblest
apologies for abandoning you to your mother's
matrimonial mischief. I promise you that I shall
keep you company to ameliorate any such attempts
at amorous arrangements by your as... assertive mother.
Bryn flicked up his long ears and then flipped
them back down. Well! Good! He snorted and then
held back his own laugh no more. A hearty bray
interjected his mirth and he gripped Charlie by
the shoulder and gave him a brief shake. Now
let's go. It's a long walk and the roads are
going to be filled before the hour is out.
Charlie felt a measure of relief and warmth in
his heart. He had shamed himself on the tourney
field and yet his friends still stood with him.
Together the four of them made their way from the
Keep, through the gates, and through Keeptowne
shadowed by the quartet of Watch members. Though
it was still early in the morning, it was
festival time and so the streets were thrumming
with vendors from all over the valley and Keepers
eager for the final day. Like Charlie, Bryn had
eaten already and so they did not linger at any
of the vendors though they did glance at many,
inspiring hope in the heart of many at the sight
of their wealth only to be disappointed when they
continued on their way without reaching for their money pouches.
When they reached the festival grounds the
relaxed mood Charlie felt in the company of his
friends evaporated. The easy laughter he shared
with Bryn was replaced by a sullen reserve. He
fidgeted as they walked toward the pavilions and
the High Box, hesitating to break away. Bryn, as
always, noted his discomfiture and finally, after
they had walked the long way around the Sutt
pavilion, grabbed him on the shoulder and
gestured with his other arm at another pavilion
flying a pinion bearing a rat. You have something to do, don't you, Charlie?
He took a deep breath, his whiskers and tail
drooping. Yes, I do. Thank you, Bryn. I will join you when I can.
Bryn smiled and offered him a chuckle. Take what
time you need. I doubt even my mother can get me married before midday.
Maysin followed him as he made his way through
the pavilions towards the heraldry of his birth
family. The Sutt and Hassan pavilions stood near
the rear of the High Box and were the largest by
far, but the Matthias pavilion, set off in a ring
of pavilions for minor nobility, was nearly their
equal. It's size was not a reflection of their
prominence but only their fecundity. Even their
youngest children were now old enough to come to
Metamor for the festival, and so with over twenty
Matthias of varying ages in attendance along with
nearly as many servants and guards there to
protect the children they needed a large space in which to congregate.
Two soldiers in the green livery of the Matthias
clan stood outside the pavilion and nodded to
Charlie and Maysin as they approached. The same
rat-head crest that he had viciously assaulted on
his sire's shield adorned their chest. He
recognized both the dog and the human from his
visits to the Narrows, but their names were a
mystery to him. Charlie nodded to them and folded
his hands at his waist. Is the Baroness here? I
would like to pay her an audience.
The dog nodded again. Milady is here and expecting you, Milord.
Charlie twitched his whiskers, remembering what
his mother had said over breakfast. Thank you.
He turned to Maysin and offered the zebra a
smile. I think I should see her myself.
Maysin nodded and gave him a confidant mile. I
will wait here for you, Charlie.
Charlie stepped inside and was surprised by how
quiet and empty it was. Tables were arranged in
the center of the tent holding fresh basins of
water for washing muddy paws and covered platters
of fresh fruit, breads, and cheese to sate hungry
bellies. A few servants milled about preparing
for the day, but he saw no rats. There were a few
private inner rooms, and out of one of them a
familiar opossum emerged. Lord Charlie? Your mother is waiting inside.
Charlie took a deep breath and turned toward the
opossum who stepped out between the folds of the
inner chamber to let him through. Thank you,
Baerle, he said with an inclined snout as he
stepped past. The warm radiance of a witchlight
glowed within. He put one hand on the soft linen
doorway and slipped through. The cloth trailed
down his tail as he blinked in the light.
The inner chamber was arranged as a small sitting
room with a single mirror to help the lady of the
house properly correct her adornments after
enjoying then hustle and bustle of the festival.
There were two cushioned chairs and a small trunk
tucked beneath the mirror and table against which
rested a fresh willow branch all lit by a trio of
witchlights circling above. Sitting in the chair
farthest from the entrance was his mother,
Baroness Kimberly Matthias. She bore an azure
gown with frills along her arms and neck. The
amethyst lined stone rested against her bodice.
Her dark eyes fixed on him and her voice, soft
and controlled, met him, Come in and sit down, Charlie, my son.
He opened his muzzle to speak but could not move
his tongue. Dumbly, he sat down, long tail
sliding into hole in the back and pooling on the
cloth covered ground beneath them. His hands
gripped his knees and he did he best to keep his
claws from digging into the luxurious fabric. I... I'm sorry, mother.
His mother's eyes were so intent, her snout still
though not quite able to hide a faint tremble,
that Charlie lowered his until he stared into her
lap. Her hands were wrapped tightly about one
another so that her knuckles were white. Those
hands had tended and cared for him when he'd been
weakest and more innocent. He felt shame anew for
turning their gentleness to wrath.
I am sorry. I shamed myself and I shamed my sire.
Father.
Her voice was so clipped it made him blink open his eyes. What?
The Baroness narrowed hers. He is your father
and you will call him so. Do not use whatever
term you've devised to hide that behind your
adoption by Archduke Sutt. Not to your own mother.
He tensed, feeling as sharply upbraided by the
reprimand as if he'd been struck on the backside
by the willow branch at her side. I am sorry I
shamed my father. I am sorry... I am sorry I hurt
him and you and all our family.
Charlie could see the tourney field in his mind,
kicked up with dust and smelling of the sweat of
hundreds of Keepers who'd been there and bled
before him. Before him cowered his father, hiding
behind a battered shield, his voice filled with
uncertainty, fear, and worry; not worry for his
own life, but for Charlie himself. He had prided
himself on recognizing mood from only the timbre
of a speaker's voice and yet he had failed to hear it when it mattered most.
The Matthias clan his family had been
watching from opposite the High Box. What must
they have felt that in that moment? His younger
brother and sisters, all of whom looked up to
him, were either confused or filled with shock at
how violently he had struck at their father.
Erick, his litter-mate who was dear to him in a
way he could never express, must have stumbled in
denial, unwilling to admit that his brother would
do so contemptuous a thing. And his mother
Baroness Kimberly Matthias, must truly have been
livid, struck to the heart as deeply as the band struck the Baron in the chest.
I'm so sorry... Charlie trembled and bent
forward, his snout falling into upturned hands.
Another pair of hands caught his shoulders, these
tender and firm. He blinked and look up in time
to see his mother wrap her arms about his
shoulder sand pull him tight to her chest. Tears
dripped down her cheeks as she rumpled her dress
and his own with her embrace. Tentatively,
Charlie slipped his arms around her back and held
close. His reserve lasted only seconds before his
grip pulled taut and he shuddered, feeling very
much a child again needing the comfort of his mother.
Despite being a head taller than his mother, it
was her chin that rested between his ears, and
her whiskers that brushed across their tender
pink flesh. He could smell not only the bath
salts she scrubbed her fur with the previous day
but the remnant of the coffee she had drunk that
morning to help rouse herself as early as the
Sutt household. Between them the strong and
familiar scent of rats filled his nostrils, not
just his mother's unique texture, but that of his
many brothers and sisters, but especially the
brittle coolness of his father's musk a blend
that always carried a touch of stone amongst the fur.
Charlie made no move to let go, even when the
stone medallion about her neck dug into his chin.
He had never had anything but love in his heart
for his mother and he would not change that now.
Against her chest he murmured, I love you, mother. I'm sorry.
I love you too, Charlie, she replied as her
arms squeezed him tight one more time before
letting go. She shifted back into her seat. He
twitched his now freed whiskers back into place
and sat up a bit. He smiled at the corners of his
snout at those words. With firmer voice she
continued, We all love you, Charlie. Your
brothers and sisters adore you! I love you with
all my heart; not a day goes by that I do not
think of you and wish you were at my side. And
your father loves you; he may not say it, but I
know he too thinks of you always.
He took a long deep breath, fighting to regain
his reserve lest he become as emotional as a
woman. I know. I know it and I'm sorry I
forgot. Charlie closed his eyes and found
waiting for him the vision from his sire's
dreams. He ground his molars together and by
instinct reached for his chewstick. But he
stilled the motion and forced his eyes open once
more. But I saw things, mother, I saw things
that made me question that love. Father has...
been trying to explain them to me.
Is that why he came to our chambers so late?
Aye. I fear I kept him up telling me the story e'en to the midnight hour.
A brief snort almost seemed to brighten her demeanor. How like him.
Curious, he narrowed his eyes. He said nothing to you?
No. He tossed and turned in his sleep and did
not finally find rest until shortly before I
rose. Our servants are rousing him now so he can
put in a good appearance and quiet the rumors. I
expect you to greet him where you both can be seen.
As does my... he stumbled and then continued, my mother. And father.
Charlie, Kimberly said, stretching out one hand
to grasp his own. Your father did not need to
tell me anything for me to know in my heart what
hurts you so. I may not have raised you, but you
are still flesh of my flesh, you are still my son.
He nodded and sighed. I hurt because I'm not a
Matthias. And there's more to it than just the powers I share...
She tightened her grip on his hand. He is telling you about Marzac isn't he?
His whiskers flicked upward with his eyes. He's told you the tale?
Her snout tightened and she shook her head. Her
voice was hushed, and her free hand lifted to her
chest to rest upon the purple stone resting
there. No. Not his part. But I know it haunts
him more than anything else. He has never truly
slept well since those days. Most nights he
manages well enough but there are others.... Do
not tell him I told you this, but I have seen him
whimper in his sleep like a common dog.
Charlie felt shame fill him again. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know.
Very few do, Charlie. And what he is telling you
now he has spoken to few if any before. I have never heard all of it.
But you knew, he said with a sigh. You knew something was wrong.
She nodded and patted his hand, offering him a
faint smile. I did. I could not put it into
words but I knew. But it took another to make me see it for what it was.
His eyes narrowed, curiosity blossoming anew in
his heart. Another? Who? What happened?
Her smile did not waver, but there was a timorous
note to her voice. I am not the storyteller your
father is, but I'll tell you what happened. It
was only a few days after your father returned
from Lake Barnhardt to help Jessica...
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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