Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars V: Ascensum
(e)
Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR - Morning
I'm sorry to interrupt, Baerle said, sticking
her narrow snout in through the heavy, cloth
door, but there is a gryphon here with a message for milord Charlie.
Charlie smiled despite himself. That would be
Kurgael. News of the chief messenger of the Sutt
family always made him feel young. Though his
mother had turned to face Baerle, his eyes noted
the grimace touching her features at the
interruption and so he forced the grin from his
snout and lowered his whiskers. I suspect I am being summoned.
Kimberly nodded and stood, hands clasped at her
waist and long tail trailing across the back of
her chair. If so, you should go, my son. There
is not much more to tell of that night; at least
not from what I saw. I spent the rest of the
night praying. Somehow word reached James and
Baerle who came to my aid and sat with Murikeer
and I. And then... She gasped and shook her
head, relief and pain touching her cheeks and
jowls. And I will tell you the rest on the
morrow if you wish. We will not be returning to
the Narrows until the second day so there is time
enough to ask any other questions you have.
And, Charlie mused to himself, time to spend with
his siblings and heal any wounds inflicted on
their hearts as well as his own. A smile came to
him at the thought of showing Erick, Bernadette,
and his sister Baerle around Metamor as they
often had shown him around the Narrows. And if I
do I shall ask. And if not I shall come see you all anyway.
Kimberly smiled, lifting her whiskers as well as
her jowls. She reached out a hand to grasp him on
the shoulder. He stepped toward her and wrapped
his arms around her back, resting his chin on her
shoulder in a gentle yet firm embrace. I love
you, my son. You are almost fully grown. For your
family's sake, both Sutt and Matthias, and for
your own, your honor, your reputation, and your
soul, do no ever again act the child you did
yesterday. Though her voice held steel that
pierced him anew the warmth of her love tempered the thrust.
I... he caught the apology, uttered so many
times already, before it left his throat. I
will. You have my word, mother. He gripped her
firmly once more and then stepped away, turning
toward the doorway where Baerle's gray-pointed
snout had appeared a moment before. He paused
with one foot through the portal to turn his head
back to Baroness Kimberly. I love you too, mother.
She waved him off with one last smile, her other
hand clasping the amethyst medallion at her
breast. A profound look of exhaustion pinched her
eyes and sagged her cheeks. Charlie stepped back
into the main part of the pavilion and then out
into the day. The sun had just crested the
mountains and everything was bath in long shadows
and brilliant colors. Charlie narrowed his eyes
and shielded them with one arm as he looked about.
Maysin remained where he had left her, her long
equine face turning to him with a hopeful warmth.
Reclining on his haunches next to her was the
four-footed gryphon Kurgael. His father's chief
messenger cocked his head to one side, cracking
his beak in a familiar way. Good morning, Lord
Charlie. Your father and mother have arrived at
the High Box and request your presence. Your
sister adds, 'if you can sit down'. I'm not sure
what she meant, but the rumors I have heard
suggest you might deserve it if you have just visited the Matthias pavilion.
Few were the Sutt servants allowed leeway to
speak so about the household; Kurgael's length of
service and closeness to the family allowed him
that privilege. Had Charlie a ball of some sort
he would have bounced it off the gryphon's head
and then laughed. Lacking the ball to brain the
beast he just laughed. One of these days Suria
is going to be the one in trouble. She'd better not...
Expect you to be anything less than chivalrous?
Maysin suggested with a flick of her tail.
Charlie nodded with a slight bow, the impish grin
remaining. Of course. When he straightened, his
smile and tone grew serious. I should never be anything less.
Maysin returned the smile and inclined her long
head respectfully, the bright green gem in her
ear sparkling in the first rays of the sun.
Where do you wish to go, milord Charlie?
Let us to the High Box, my friends.
It was not a long distance from the Matthias
pavilion and what time they had Charlie spent
listening to Kurgael describe what he'd done the
last two days of the festival when he'd been
given leave of his duties as a messenger. Maysin
walked at his side, quiet and attentive, though
her eyes and ears kept guard against interlopers
as she'd been trained. But of the many revelers
already up to enjoy the morning shows and
displays none paid the richly adorned rat much
notice. Or at least, their guarded glances and
sudden whispers when they thought they were out
of view of the rat's widely set eyes, suggested
that they didn't want to pay him obvious attention.
It would not be the first time he had been the
object of talk and it would not be the last.
They found Versyd and Argamont and several other
servitors in the antechamber below the main part
of the High Box playing a game of dice. Kurgael
joined the two horses while Maysin followed Charlie up the stairs into the box.
While normally throughout the day the box would
witness the coming and going of many who were
close to Duke Thomas or Archduke Malger Sutt, it
seemed unusually crowded that morning. Not only
was King Pelaeth and his retinue in attendance,
but several others who were not so closely
attached to the Ducal household were present as
well as some retainers rarely seen in the public eye.
Charlie found his father first. Malger Sutt was
deep in an animated conversation with two others
off in a corner of the box that was clearly
visible to all on the field. Both of them stood
on stools so that they could be readily seen. The
first was the chief Exchequer for Metamor,
Lidaman, whom the curses had reduced to a
bright-haired boy of twelve. He spoke with rather
exaggerated motions of his arms which made his
voluminous green sleeves fall over his hands.
Lidaman was a grandfather and in another five
years likely to be a great-grandfather and
preferred to tend to the affairs of his office in
private away from the hustle and bustle of court life.
The second was far more enigmatic and almost
never showed his face except in private
conferences with the Duke. Charlie had only seen
him a handful of times and had only once
conversed with him. Disfigured by a series of
crisscrossing bilious green scars down the left
side of his face, chest, and wing, he offered a
hideous appearance that made any who were
unfortunate enough to treat with him distinctly
uncomfortable. For this reason beyond even the
rigors of his duties, Metamor's Spymaster, Andwyn the bat, kept out of sight.
And yet now he, Lidaman, and Charlie's father
were engaging in a very public conversation that
had the appearance of great weight. And even
though his rodent ears heard them speak of the
weather, the latest fashions from Kelewair, and
in the bat's case, which visiting nobles were
acquainting themselves with the seamier side of
Metamor, anyone else looking at them would assume
something very important was taking place.
Metamor's spymaster, the keeper of the treasury,
and her chief diplomat recently returned from
negotiations over a stolen bar of mithril the
conversation was a charade with one purpose in
mind, to unnerve the true thief. Charlie caught
his father's eye, smiled in approval, received a
smile in return, and then turned to leave them to their task.
In the furthest corner of the High Box he saw the
Magyar mage whose face was covered in burn scars
kneeling down and speaking in a harsh tongue to
the jerboa Father Felsah. The Questioner priest
appeared to be laughing about something. Charlie
wondered where his hulking reptilian knight
protector was for the two were rarely separated,
but doubted the High Box could have survived his weight.
Bryn was at the railing with his younger brother
Philip and King Pelaeth helping the young colt
see the early morning festivities. Pelaeth had
hoisted Philip on his shoulders and was trying
not to wince when the enthusiastic horse kicked
him in the chest with his hooves. Seated a short
distance behind them was Duchess Alberta with
Princess Brygitta. The princess had one of Bryn's
young sisters in his lap and was braiding her
mane in the traditions of the Steppe. On the
other side was his mother Misanthe and his sister
Suria. The chief of the King's escort, First
Hunter Horvig, sat awkwardly next to Suria with
his bow in hand while pantomiming holding an
arrow in the other for her instruction on Steppe techniques.
And standing around Duke Thomas were both
Thalberg and Justicar Weyden. Thomas sat reading
a letter with a look of years weighing down his
brow. The hawk, chosen of Dokorath, practically
beamed as he stood with wings barely held at his
back. Thalberg had the appearance of a man
relieved beyond measure. Charlie wondered what
the letter could possibly be and why it concerned
both the Steward of Metamor and the Justicar.
Before his attention returned to the seat
provided for him on the Sutt side of the High
Box, Thomas lowered the letter and let out a long
sigh. Charlie's ears turned to hear. That is
good news. Thank you, Thalberg, Weyden. It's been
too many years. I will write to Emily as soon as
my duties will allow. You may tell the others the good news.
I shall, Weyden squawked, unable to hold back
his excitement. Charlie marveled seeing the
otherwise stoic bird so flush with delight that
he actually molted a feather or two. And then we
shall make ready for this afternoon. It will be
Humphrey's first festival flight! He is so eager he can barely keep aground.
Give him, your wife, and the rest of your family
our love and pride, Thomas said with a broad
smile and confidant mien. And tell Humphrey that we'll be watching for him.
Weyden cawed a laugh. He'll make sure you see
him. With your leave, your grace?
Thomas wished the hawk well once more and
dismissed him, before turning to Thalberg and
clasping the alligator on the shoulder and saying
with a whicker that almost became a whinny. That
is a weight that has been on my heart and yours
for too many years now. Now smile, my friend, I know you wish to!
I fear that if I were to smile too broadly I
might frighten our guests away, your grace.
Even as Thomas laughed, and Thalberg joined him
in his reserved way, Charlie chuckled at the jest
and started forward toward his seat, Maysin close
behind and ever patient. A few moments and many
faces were enough to remind him that his was not
the only tale unfolding at the festival. Life at
Metamor was full of these long-held pains and the
healing that came at moments unexpected. He
likely would never know what the letter had said
to Thomas, or what Felsah said to the Magyar
mage, or even what Pelaeth said to Bryn, and just
as likely they would never know or understand
what Charlie had seen and endured. Sometimes it
was best to leave it that way and not intrude on
these private joys and sorrows.
He took his seat and asked Maysin to bring him
something to eat and drink. Misanthe turned to
him and smiled though the iron lingered in her
eyes. Did you have a good walk?
And a good talk with my mother. I have apologized to her.
Maysin returned with a platter of fresh tidbits
of meat, cheese, fruit, and some pasty sauce that
smelled of cinnamon in one hand and a small glass
of wine in the other. Charlie thanked her for
both and proceeded to nibble at the cheese.
Between bites he added, She forgave me. I've
been a fool. I should have trusted in their love for me.
As well you should, Misanthe agreed.
I will seek my sire out this evening after the
festivities, he announced while rolling a bit of
cooked ham between two fingers. They are
planning to stay at Metamor tomorrow to avoid
the rush of foreigners trying to leave I expect
so I thought I'd spend the day with them.
Misanthe nodded and her vulpine snout offered him
an approving smile. That is very noble of you,
Charlie. But do not forget your responsibilities.
Maybe I can introduce Erick to Master Vidika.
He dipped the ham in the sauce and popped the
morsel into his mouth before a glint of mischief
could touch his cheeks. The reproof in his
mother's glance was, for the first time in two
days, filled with warmth and humor. I shall not
forget them, he added after swallowing and
deciding not to use as much of the potent sauce
on his next bite, but is not my true first responsibility to family?
Misanthe inclined her head in assent. I expect
most of your tutors will be recovering from the
festivities anyway and so your absence will be,
by many, appreciated. I have nothing for you
tomorrow, so if your father has nothing either,
you are free to spend the day as you wish.
He smiled, and breathed a long sigh,Thank you, mother. I love you.
Her smile broadened into one of actual joy. She
reached her arm across the empty seat where
Malger would sit once his charade with spy and
banker was at an end and patted him on the arm. And I love you, my son.
No more was said between them and Charlie
finished his platter and wine without further
interruption. His eyes strayed to the field where
various acrobats and dancers were hard at work
showing their talents and hard-won techniques. He
beheld a gaggle of jugglers, tumblers, and even
some who were doing handstands on running horses
real horses and not animorphed Keepers. A few
who were gifted with grasping tails were taking
full advantage of these to juggle with 'three
hands' or otherwise aid in tumbling or dancing.
At some point, Felsah must have left the box as
had the Magyar mage for the mage Grastalko
appeared on the field and joined in the juggling
and tumbling with a reckless abandon and vivacity
that astonished the Keepers already performing.
But like a seasoned troupe they welcomed the
foreigner into their ranks and all of the King's men applauded him with fervor.
And not long after that Malger returned to his
seat and gave Charlie a dignified smile. Good
morning, my son. How are you feeling today?
Well enough, he replied. I have apologized to
Maysin, Bryn, and then my mother, the Baroness. And then I came here.
Very good. Malger nodded and then turned his
eyes to the tourney field. Charlie shifted in his
seat, tail curling beneath his toes, and tried to watch.
As the morning drifted past a variety of
performers took the the field, performed to the
delight of the Keepers and all their visitors,
and departed to make room for the next group.
Charlie found his mind wandering as the minutes
turned into hours. He barely noticed the last
bout in the archery contest, and by the time the
last of the jousts between a heavily armored ram
and elk he had little attention for their combat; his mind had turned inward.
Chin propped upon his fingers, Charlie ruminated
on all that his sire had told him the night
before, weighty and difficult to grasp, yet it
seemed to the young rat to have absolutely no
bearing on the deal that had been struck with Nocturna.
And about her Charlie did not wish to dwell. He
had warded his dreams and studiously turned his
nocturnal paths away from the Night Temple
wherein he normally awakened to the Dream. In
avoiding her, and the conflict that clawed at his
heart, he knew he was ensuring that the reckoning
between them could be extreme.
But She was a fey spirit, and held so little
anger that Charlie was unsure how she would stand
before him. When he was a child newly wandering
the dreams she had come upon him in the fullness
of her deific potency a time or thrice, when he
had far overstepped himself or caused wrack in
some hapless sleeper's dreams. That countenance
had so frightened Charles that he learned those
lessons mostly clearly and never stepped beyond the bounds she set afterward.
At least, until he had wandered into Baron
Matthias' dark dreams, further so when he had pushed him to recall them.
She would, as the saying went, have his hide for
that breach of faith and trust.
He watched the tournament field where Sir Egland,
once more astride the Oryx Intoran as his mount,
was tilting against Sir Dupré. The Steppelanders
did not have the practice of mounted lance in
their style of warfare, which was mounted and
swift, so had not entered any of the tilts. A few
from beyond Metamor's borders, and the Curse, had
come to join the tournaments but none had lasted.
One was even being hastily borne south with a
broken leg for his errors, albeit a break that
had been aided with the healing magic of Metamor's healers before he left.
A roar of the crowds louder than the rumbling
susurrus of rising and falling cheers broke
through Charlie's inner turmoil and he focused
his eyes. Dupré was leaning from his horse with
an arm outstretched to help the fallen Egland to
his hooves. The elk knight was laughing loudly
and spitting dirt from his helm much as Charlie
had done the day before. Oh, how he knew that
feeling, Charlie considered. Vidika's training
and sparring with Bryn had often seen his muzzle
in dirt, grass, or wood shavings rather often.
Not that Bryn escaped a similar fate almost as often.
Dupré's shield was split in twain, and his last
lance lay shattered upon the dirt, but he was
still upon his blowing mount. Intoran, saddle
canted wildly to one side of his barrel, ambled
over to stand next to Egland within easy reach.
Clapping the cuisse of Dupré's leg, Egland said a
few words that Dupré found hilarious. With the
help of squires the ram dismounted to walk beside
Egland, offering a shoulder while Intoran walked
on his opposite side. Charlie noted that Egland
was limping but, if the jocularity of the
conversation below was any indication, had not
been terribly harmed by his unhorsing.
Despite the fact he had not been mounted on a horse to begin with.
Charlie dutifully stood with the rest in the High
Box to applaud Dupré's victory in joust, the two
knights coming to stand before the Duke's high
vantage and bowed awkwardly in their dusty, dented armor.
The final melee dost follow, King Pelaeth
rumbled once the applause had died down and the
two combatants made their way to their respective
ends of the list. Unless the lad dost wish to
return to his position on the list? He turned
his gaze to Charlie, dark brows raised.
Charlie smiled in his rodentine way, unsure how
the visitors might read it since the expression
was markedly different on a muzzle, and shook his
head. No, your majesty. I forfeited when I left
the field yesterday. He chuffed
self-consciously, Especially having not offered
my liege even the slightest respect in doing so without his leave.
Ah, the forfeit 'twas not thine, lad, The
steppelands king offered, turning toward his
bodyservant hovering nearby. 'Tis why they didst
allow me to stand champion in thy stead for the
last contest of foot yesterday. The other rat
didst break the rules of the engagement, it appeared.
He did, Charlie nodded, because I forced him
to. With a shrug he settled back in his chair.
But I would ill grace myself taking the field
after such crass behavior. I cede the battle to
you, your Majesty, if that is your wish.
Hah, my wish, aye? A warm hearth, warm woman,
fine family, and peace art my wish. Leave the
clashing of swords to contests as this. His
calloused hand waved at the field being cleared,
groomed, and prepared for the next event. Let us
play at war, not engage in its bloodiness, aye?
Indeed, o' wise King! Charlie smiled with a
nod, bowing from his seat. And, that said, I
would feel more confident that you could wear the
Summer Crown more regally than I.
Pelaeth laughed and clapped Charlie heartily on
the shoulder, rocking the youth in his chair. In
sooth, lad! For I art a King! His hand left
Charlie's shoulder to thump his broad chest.
Regal wearing of crowns dost come to us by
nature. With a wave of his thick arm to his
retinue he made for the stairs at the back of the
high Box. I shalt make ready my armor.
When his heavy footfalls faded into the depths
below Charlie glanced over at Bryn, who sat
beside the King's sister, far more relaxed than
yesterday though his hide still shuddered as if
he would rather be elsewhere, making idle
chatter. I have paid little heed since I
disgraced myself on the field, but I believe that
it is the merchant Goldmark whom yon King shall face?
Bryn smiled hugely and Thomas nickered a hearty
laugh. The rat, Goldmark, aye, the Duke
answered before his son could speak. Malger,
holding a lute in one hand that he had been idly
playing most of the morning, trailed his fingers
across the strings in a quick trill. Lifted from
a common comedy the brief chord was easily read
as a musical punch-line. He managed to get
Keleficks to take himself out of the running
yesterday evening. On his first parry he batted
the poor Lutin's truncheon into his brow and he knocked himself unconscious.
Though he'd heard the tale from Suria that
morning, Charlie still shook his head and
chortled softly. The poor guy doesn't stand a
chance. He observed. The wagers are going to be steep.
Malger barked a laugh and played another musical
stanza from comedy. I've put ten garrets on Goldmark all the same.
Five, Bryn whickered behind his hand, his
discomfiture at the admission causing the visiting princess to laugh brightly.
Charlie gaped, What, do you want to bankroll the wager keepers?
As much as bankrupt them, Thomas admitted with a shrug and a smile.
Charlie could only shake his head, having placed
no wagers on any of the events.
Bryn leaned ever so closer to Charlie as if he
were sharing a confidence though everyone in the
High Box could easily hear him. No disrespect is
meant to his Majesty, of course. He is a
fantastic warrior; a figure from legend almost!
You should have seen his bout against Sir Intoran
last night. You would have thought our Oryx a
wounded animal and the King not just a man but a pack of wolves!
In a much quieter voice, one meant only for his
friend, the rat replied, It is no wonder then
your mother wishes to bind such blood to your
own. He was rewarded with a scowl followed by
another laugh as they both settled back in their
seats to watch the field prepared for one final bout.
Across the tournament field Charlie could see the
seats given to the Matthias House and, beyond the
stands, something of their pavilion as well. He
could see the rat in question, Goldmark, in his
massive 'taur form being caparisoned for the
upcoming battle. He stroked his whiskers while a
troupe of musicians took to the field to
entertain the waiting crowds. A handful of
acrobats capered around the periphery to the
laughter and cheers of the throngs as they
pantomimed knights at joust on imaginary steeds.
After a few minutes he quaffed the last of his
mead and stood. Maysin, please stay here and
attend the Lady Misanthe, he said hastily,
handing the cup off to a waiting servant before
he trotted for the stairs. Surprised by Charlie's
sudden exit, Maysin could only gape after him,
obeying the request after only a couple of steps to follow him.
Charlie? Bryn called in surprise, afraid to be
abandoned to the attentions of his mother and the
princess. Where are you going?
To find a better vantage! He called back,
quickly descending the stairs, tail whispering along the wood behind him.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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