[Mkguild] The Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter LXVI

[C. Matthias]

Still posting updates.  One more chapter to go then I start on new material.

Oh, Ryx seems intent on writing more even though 
I told him not to, so we may see more scenes from him in this still. :-)

Metamor Keep: The Last Tale of Yajakali
By Charles Matthias

Chapter LXVI

New Arrivals at Metamor

         The banquet hall was decorated primarily 
in red and black.  Banners, carpets, and 
standards, all were black with the picture of a 
rearing stallion in bright red.  Even most of the 
knights bore tabards with that heraldry as did 
their squires who served them and the few pages 
assisting them in the supplying of food and 
drink.  There were a few lone knights displaying 
other colours, as well as many from Sir Delacot’s 
troop, but almost all in attendance that winter 
day belonged to the Order of the Red Stallion, 
the chivalric order that answered to Duke Thomas Hassan of Metamor.
         Of those not dressed in the black and 
red of the Order were two of the guests who sat 
in the seats of honour.  The foremost bore a 
tabard of green with a band of white that led to 
a cross over her breast.  Her long equine ears 
framed a jewelled tiara that wound through her 
spiky mane, the only accoutrement to her knightly 
attire that betrayed the status that would soon 
befall her.  She sat with humble gratitude and an 
almost apologetic demeanour.  The greatest place 
was not hers by desire, but because the feast was for her.
         For she, Dame Alberta Artelanoth, was to 
be wed only three days hence to the same Duke to 
whom most of the knight’s answered.  Though she 
had no squire of her own, pages from the Duke’s 
service attended her with utmost care and 
reverence.  To her great relief, her fellow 
knights treated her not as a lady on a pedestal 
but as one of their own.  As the courses wound 
from bread and fruit to fish and meat and back to 
bread again, they cajoled and joked with her, and 
her dearest friends and companions of old told 
stories of their adventuresome youths.  She 
offered some of her own, though due to the nature 
of the events that had stripped all the 
masculinity from her, they still seemed like 
stories of some legendary hero instead of her own past.
         Little was said of how she came to the 
attention of Duke Thomas.  In truth, apart from 
those who were there to witness the evil that had 
controlled her, there were few who knew how she 
and Thomas had fallen in love.  For most, all 
they remembered was the day last Spring when 
Thomas had sought her out at the Knight’s Ball 
and danced with her, an honour he’d scarcely 
offered to any other except when required or 
requested by Thomas’s closest aides.
         This truth was hard for Sir Yacoub 
Egland to forget.  The elk who also bore the 
green tabard common to the knights of Yesulam had 
been there that night when Steward Thalberg led 
select warriors to capture Alberta in the act of 
corrupting Thomas into being a simple horse and 
nothing more.  The true villain in that affair 
had been none other than the very man who had 
killed their former master the Patriarch 
Akabaieth, a fact that Egland constantly reminded 
himself of.  That dark Sondecki bore the sins of 
destroying the last vestiges of the man whom 
Egland had loved as a brother, Sir Albert 
Bryonoth.  Now, as he stood ready to give a toast 
to the comely Assingh who had been born of the 
curses and Bryonoth’s memory, he was grateful to have her as a sister.
         Sir Egland carefully leaned forward 
against the long table, heavy antlers he soon 
hoped to shed threatening to topple him over the 
table, and let his eyes gaze over the many 
different men and women who served as knight’s of 
Metamor.  The Order of the Red Stallion was open 
to both sexes by necessity for many of its 
members had been made women at the Battle of 
Three Gates, and it was nearly evenly 
split.  Only a few who had been locked into youth 
were among the Order, and these were nearly all 
boys of unusual strength and size.  The rest were 
split between those who had like Alberta changed 
genders, and those like Egland who had gained beastly countenances.
         The banquet hall was the same room in 
which the Knight’s Ball had been held last 
Spring.  Three tables were arranged, with a short 
one at the head of the room at the base of 
Thomas’s seat, and the other two branching off 
the cover the length.  Several seats were left 
empty to mark the knights who had died in the 
last year.  Most had died during the Winter 
Assault begun under the terrible storm nearly one 
year ago that day.  Already a dish of bitter 
herbs had been shared by all to commemorate their loss.
         While Duke Thomas had deliberately 
absented himself so as to allow Alberta all the 
honour, Princess Malisa had joined them at first 
in her adoptive father’s stead.  But after the 
second course a messenger had come for 
her.  She’d apologized as she left, and handed 
duty of raising the toast to both knights and the 
Duke’s bride-to-be to her closest companion, Sir 
Egland.  As their squires quietly removed the 
last course of bread and oil, Egland gathered his courage for the task.
         “My fellow knights,” he said at 
last.  His two fingered hand clutched the goblet 
so tight he feared he would shatter the glass. 
“Who are we?  We are men and women who have 
dedicated our lives to the service of our liege 
and our country.  We have sworn to train our 
bodies and minds for war.  We tirelessly pursue 
virtue in our selves and in our land. We defend 
the weak, the innocent, and those who have none 
to speak for them.  We share a kinship with each 
other, and train those who aspire to such a 
life.  Some say we are glory seekers who care 
only for the adulation of the crowd.  But it is 
we who take the most dangerous place in the 
battle, for we bear the standards and it is us 
whom our enemies most seek to kill.  It is we who 
are the visible sign of Metamor in battle and it 
is our bravery that must hold firm.  No knight of 
Metamor can be said to do less.”
         There were hearty cheers from those at 
the tables, including from the squires moving to 
and fro around them.  The elk lifted his goblet 
higher. “To the knights of Metamor, the best 
people on Earth!”  They stood with him and lifted 
their goblets high and each drank it dry.
         Sir Egland wiped the wine from his 
cervine snout and held his goblet out to 
Intoran.  The oryx waited behind him with a ewer 
and dutifully refilled his goblet.  His squire 
favoured him with an approving grin. “And,” Sir 
Egland said as his fellows returned to their 
seats, “I would like to offer another 
toast.  This to she who will be honoured higher 
than any knight of this realm has yet to be 
honoured.  To she who has done what for many 
years Metamor hoped and dreamed would be 
done.  To she, to my Yisaada, who has won the 
heart of our most illustrious Duke.”
         The knights who had been impatiently 
holding back their cheers let forth with another 
round of delightful whooping and baying.  It 
sounded more like a barnyard than a banquet 
hall.  Egland couldn’t blame them.  Though he had 
lived in Metamor Valley for only a year now, it 
was a long standing frustration amongst the 
knights, gentry and peasants alike that their 
liege was without wife or true heir. Even more 
than their relief to know that their liege would 
wed was that he had chosen one of their own to share his duchy.
         Sir Egland lifted one hand and waved his 
friends to silence.   He stood a little taller, 
antlers weighing his head back, and lifted his 
goblet as high as he could. “To Dame Alberta 
Artelanoth, Duke Thomas Hassan’s bride-to-be!”
         “To Dame Alberta Artelanoth!” the 
knights chorused with a roaring cheer.  Alberta 
smiled where she sat as she watched the knights drink their toast to her.
         “And to Duke Thomas Hassan,” Egland 
crooned, “who has made a very wise choice in 
brides!” There were several laughs but more 
cheers with everyone invoking the Duke’s 
name.  Egland licked the wine from his snout and 
saw that he had a little bit left. “And but one 
more toast have I, then I shall leave you to your 
feast.  To them both.  Long live the Duke and long live his bride!”
         Boots, hooves, and paws stomped the 
ground like the beat of a thousand drums. “Long 
live the Duke and long live his bride!”
         Alberta beamed and rose, her equine body 
both powerful and fetching in her knightly 
tabard.  Her ears stayed perfectly erect.  With a 
fierce pride in her voice, she brayed, “And long live the knights of Metamor!”
         Sir Egland had not thought it possible 
for his friends to smile or whoop louder, but 
they managed.  For several minutes the chanting 
continued, for the Duke, for Alberta, for 
Metamor, and for whomever else struck their 
fancy.  The elk was embarrassed when one such 
chant was offered for him.  Intoran made sure to 
nudge him in the back with one elbow when he nearly stumbled from his hooves.
         But soon the chanting came to an end and 
the squires returned to bringing the last few 
courses of food.  Alberta put one hand on 
Egland’s wrist and smiled to him.  He flicked an 
ear in her direction as he dare not lean toward 
anyone until he shed his antlers. “Thou didst 
speak very well of me.  Art thou ready to lead me to my husband, T’samut?”
         He took a quick sip of wine. “It wasn’t 
easy, Yisaada.  But seeing you in your dress yesterday really helped.”
         She brayed long and heartily, and Egland 
joined her with a laugh of his own a moment 
later.  Alberta lowered her hand and leaned back 
in her seat. “It is hard to believe that the day is almost here.”
         “Three days more.”
         Alberta grimaced, then stared past him 
and smiled. “Ah, good, another bread course!”
         The banquet continued full of good cheer 
and the occasional story regaled by one member to 
the whole.  Most of them were about the things 
they had seen while patrolling with the scouts 
and soldiers over the last month.  Not a one of 
them had been exempt from the duty.  Even Alberta 
had insisted on going out once.  She, Egland, and 
several others had accompanied a large contingent 
of soldiers along the road north to the Giant’s 
Dike, spent a day surveying the fortifications 
with a pair of Long Scouts, and then returned home.
         Egland smiled as he remembered those few 
days.  The few forays he’d led about the Valley 
in the last year had invariably been to the 
south.  Seeing the huge trees of Glen Avery had 
been something he’d never forget.  But he was 
most impressed by standing on what remained of 
the Giant’s Dike and staring across the vast 
expanse to the north that was the 
Giantdowns.  Meredith the Long Scout who’d been 
there had pointed out hundreds of features he 
couldn’t remember, but one thing that stuck in 
his mind was that if one travelled far enough 
north even the trees would disappear.  Egland 
knew what a land with only grass and rocks looked 
like, but to imagine that it could be cold all 
the time was hard for him to fathom.
         His ears turned when the familiar voice 
of the rat sitting to Alberta’s left carried 
across the tables.  Sir Saulius stood in his 
chair, his long tail curling around the chair’s 
arm as he waved for attention.  After a few more 
raucous laughs from the other tables, all eyes 
and ears turned to hear the rat speak.
         Sir Saulius’s whiskers twitched in 
pleasure and he held one paw in a fist over his 
middle. “My fellow knights, I hath a sad tale to 
tell thee.  Most of thee dost know of the valiant 
struggle my squire, Charles Matthias, hast 
undertaken.” Egland and others nodded.  Of 
course, judging by the way the Long Scouts 
talked, the elk wondered if his friend was 
deluding himself when he called Charles his 
squire.  It was true that Charles had been his 
squire during the last two Summer jousts — and 
shared the victory with Saulius — but was there 
any sign that the former writer was going to 
become a knight himself?  Egland was not alone in 
doubting it, but he would never hurt his friend’s feelings by saying so.
         Saulius lifted his snout a little higher 
so his voice would carry better. “Six months ago 
he and his companions didst leave to conquer a 
great evil in lands far to the south.  He alone 
amongst the Keepers hath a family that he didst 
leave behind.  His wife, the Lady Kimberly, and 
five newborn children, Charles, Bernadette, 
Erick,” this last said with only the faintest 
hint of pride, “Baerle, and Ladero.  All art rats 
like my squire and myself.  Strong of spirit and 
body.  But...” His whiskers drooped and his fire 
seemed to fade. “But almost two months ago the 
youngest, who didst barely survive his birth, 
Ladero, wast taken from the Lady Kimberly by a most foul sickness.”
         There were several shocked cries, but 
many more lowered their heads in sorrow.  It was 
clear that many had already heard this news, and 
Egland was one of them.  He knew Charles mostly 
from reputation.  The only times he’d seen the 
rat had been at his trial and during the 
joust.  He knew Lady Kimberly and her children 
only because Saulius had mentioned them — boasted really.
         Still, that even one of the children had 
died while their father was away was enough cause 
for sorrow.  Egland had lost a brother and sister 
to sickness while still infants, and he knew 
almost no one who couldn’t say the same.  That only made the pain more real.
         Saulius took a deep breath and 
continued. “‘Tis my desire that we knights do 
something for my squire’s family.  They dost live 
in Glen Avery, a beautiful village of trees and 
burrows.  I hath greatly enjoyed my stays there 
whilst training Charles.  Yet we must stable our 
ponies at the Inn.  ‘Tis a fine stable, but they 
dost need a place of their own to care and tend 
their steeds.  I propose that we dost build them 
a stable.  Charles hath a pony already in 
Malincon who dearly misses him, but a noble steed 
we shalt need for the Lady Kimberly.  My fellow 
rats hath provided the funds to pay for the 
building of the stable, but I ask thee, my fellow 
knights, to aid me in building it and finding a pony for my squire’s lady.”
         There were several cheers at the notion 
and several volunteers to help with the 
construction.  One of the women knights stood and 
asked, “When would we build them a stable, Sir 
Saulius?  Winter has just descended.”
         “We shalt manage come the new year,” Saulius replied with conviction.
         Alberta rose and smiled, “I wilt come to thy aid, Sir Saulius.”
         “Your husband might have something to 
say about that!” somebody shouted.
         The Steppelands donkey let her ears rise 
to their full height. “And he shalt say, ‘Carry 
on, my dear.’” Several more laughed.  Alberta 
rested one hand on the rat’s shoulder. “Thy 
squire and his family shalt receive thy gift, 
ne’er fear.  And we shalt find a pony for his lady too.”
         Saulius beamed and stood a little 
taller. “Thank you, Dame Artelanoth!  Thou hast answered my prayers.”
         “She’s an answer to all our prayers,” 
Egland said softly and knew it to be true.  The 
wedding between her and Duke Thomas would heal 
more wounds than even he knew of.  Truly, there 
could be no happier time for the Valley.
         Together, the knights laughed, cheered, 
and feasted.  It was a good time to be a Metamorian!

----------

         Father Hough always loved the Season of 
Advent.  The Cathedral was decorated with bright 
purple cloths and flowers from the greenhouse 
were arranged about the base of the Holy 
Family.  And a makeshift manger scene was 
arranged in the narthex where all of the roles 
including the animals would be assumed by Keepers 
during the Vigil only three nights hence.
         But otherwise they kept the sanctuary 
bare to emphasize that it was a time of 
expectation.  There were difficulties to face 
first before the true joy of the birth of Eli’s 
Son could be realized.  It was a time of 
reflection for Followers, when they would 
scrutinize their hearts to determine how ready 
they were for the coming of their Saviour.  Were 
they angry with a neighbour?  Was there a debt 
they owed?  Had they some sinful habit they 
wished to be rid of?  All these and more were 
questions that Father Hough wanted his flock to 
keep in mind as the day of the Nativity drew near.
         Though a momentous occasion, the Duke’s 
wedding was one that would not touch the 
Cathedral.  There had been talk early on about 
having both Lothanasa Raven and he performing a 
joint ceremony.  The reason was obvious, Thomas 
was a Lothanasi and Alberta a Follower.  However, 
before Father Hough could consecrate their 
marriage he’d made it clear to the Duke that they 
would need to promise to raise their children in 
the Follower faith, something Thomas was not 
prepared to do.  And so, without recrimination, 
the idea had been dropped and the service would 
be blessed solely by the Lightbringer.
         Father Hough lifted his eyes to the 
monstrance and gazed at the Host within.  The 
gold-plated reliquary was shaped like a cross 
with the sun behind.  The rays of the sun 
stretched out like the branches of the yew 
stripped of their leaves.  And in the centre kept 
safe between two small panes of glass was the 
Host.  Once a thin wafer of bread, now 
consecrated it was the Body of Yahshua given to 
them for their food and adoration.
         Hough turned and took the censer from 
the acolyte kneeling dutifully at his side.  With 
carefully proscribed motions, he incensed the 
monstrance. The fragrant smoke formed a halo 
around the reliquary.  Hough could hear the 
murmured prayers of the faithful who’d come to 
adore the Host and he smiled to himself.  There 
was nothing more beautiful in the Follower faith 
than people come to spend time with their Saviour in prayer.
         When he finished, he handed the censer 
back to the acolyte, knelt, made the sign of the 
yew, and then processed down the aisle.  The 
acolyte followed him, while the two dozen 
faithful in the pews remained kneeling.  They 
would come and go through the afternoon and 
evening.  Each would spend at least an hour in 
prayer just as their Lord had asked St. Kephas to 
do in the Garden of Sorrows.  St. Kephas and the 
other disciples had failed then, but Followers did not fail now.
         Hough thanked the acolyte, a young boy 
who was about Hough’s apparent age.  The Curses 
would touch him sometime next year and the boy 
was plainly excited about what he might 
become.  How many yong ones had Hough counselled 
through their changes now?  The Follower 
population at the Keep was small, but there had 
to have been a few dozen at least.  Only last 
week he’d given advice to Cassius the polar bear 
soldier on how to help his daughter adjust to always being thirteen years old.
         For Hough, the advice was always 
poignant.  He’d at least had an opportunity to be 
a man before Metamor had made him forever a 
child.  It seemed so long ago now, and he’d long 
since adjusted to being his new age and 
height.  It still let him tend to his priestly 
duties without trouble, but he did like to play 
games with the other children from time to 
time.  And his hours spent romping with Madog 
were always such a treat.  Just the thought of 
the mechanical fox brought an impish grin to his cheeks.
         Perhaps after tending to his homilies 
he’d try to find his metal friend.  He gave his 
acolyte a blessing before dismissing him then 
took the corridor to his private chambers.  He 
slipped out of the ornamental dalmatic and hung 
it from a hook on the wall.  His small room was 
pleasant with a fire crackling in the hearth.
         Hough tensed briefly.  He hadn’t started 
a fire.  A shape lurked nearby, man-size, though 
beastly.  Hough saw the figure’s tail in the 
shadow thrown against the far wall. Regaining his 
composure, he asked “May I help you?”
         “Father Hough,” a familiar voice 
replied. “I need to speak with you 
privately.  What I have to say will not be easy to hear.”
         Hough knew the voice, but until he 
stepped around the two chairs next to the fire 
and saw the white-clad raccoon he hadn’t been 
able to conjure the name.  He glimpsed the green 
eyes set within a dark mask surrounded by grey 
fur and felt his heart leap in his chest. “Your grace!  You’ve returned!”
         The raccoon held up a paw and shook his 
head. “Father, please sit down.  I have returned, but not as you once knew me.”
         Hough frowned.  Vinsah’s voice was 
strained and their was a hard look to his 
eye.  What had happened to him on his 
journey?  And why was he dressed in that white 
smock?  It looked like those worn by Lothanasi acolytes.
         Still, the young priest sat down, and 
the raccoon sat opposite him.  He stirred the 
fire with an iron poker and sighed. “It was cold 
in your room.  I started the fire for you.  I hope you don’t mind.”
         “No, not at all.  What is wrong, your grace?”
         Vinsah tensed, his jowls drawing back to 
reveal his many sharp fangs. “You may not call me 
that anymore, Father.  I am no longer a Bishop.”
         Hough felt as if he’d been slapped. “What?  How did this happen?”
         The raccoon set the poker aside and 
sighed.  His eyes gazed into the fire and he 
watched the sparks dance and swirl. “It seems 
that Patriarch Akabaieth’s enemies were more 
numerous than we thought.  Even the one I thought 
to be an ally proved traitorous.  There are many 
there in Yesulam who have allied with the very 
men who killed Patriarch Akabaieth.”
         Despite the fire, Hough went cold.  He 
trembled and pulled his hands to his face. “How 
could this be?  He was such a holy priest!”
         The raccoon sighed and shook his head. 
“The Questioners who came here were part of a 
group trying to unearth those involved.  They 
saved my life and smuggled me out of Yesulam 
after my disastrous appearance before the 
Council.” He closed his eyes and let his chin 
fall to his chest. “They are the only ones I know can be trusted anymore.”
         “The Questioners?” Hough asked, his 
disbelief increasing by the minute.  He had 
always been a simple priest far from the centres 
of power.  And he’d always known the rosy picture 
he had of Yesulam and of the various Bishops was 
too kind to be true.  Yet how could he believe 
what he was hearing now?  It was too vile to be 
true! “But they terrorized many Keepers while 
they were here!  How can you say that they are the only ones to be trusted?”
         “Because it is the truth.  They are not 
the same people they were when they came 
here.  They saved my life.  One of them even 
stayed in my place.  I hope that he survived.”
         Hough blinked as he suddenly recalled a 
rumour that had spread three months ago of a 
mysterious stranger brought to Coe’s by Madog 
himself.  Hough hadn’t been privy to the secret, 
though he had heard that Misha himself set a 
guard on him to keep him safe.  Though it seemed 
fantastic at the time, rumour said that it was 
one of the Questioners come back to the Keep.  Hough hadn’t believed it then.
         Now he did.  He lowered his face to his 
hands and shook. “He was here.  Madog brought him 
to Metamor.  They kept it a secret but Misha 
knows.  What little I heard of it was that he was 
saved and sent back where he came from.”
         The raccoon let out a long breath. 
“There is that at least.  Father, I haven’t told 
you what will truly pain you.  Not only was I 
stripped of my position as Bishop, but I was also 
excommunicated by the Patriarch.”
         Hough sat for several moments with his 
mouth agape.  Excommunicated?  Vinsah?  This was 
too much! “No!  I will send a petition for your 
immediate reinstatement.  You cannot be 
excommunicated!  I have never before heard of 
such a gross injustice!  We all thought you would be the new Patriarch.”
         “Many did, but that is gone now.  I have 
been cast out of the Ecclesia.  Believe me, it 
pains me to speak of it and it has been three 
months since that hideous day.  For almost a 
month I could do nothing but weep.  But, I found 
solace in Patriarch Akabaieth’s journals and also 
a new direction.  You may have wondered at my 
clothes, Father, but I am now pledged to serve in 
the Lothanasi temple as one of her acolytes.”
         Hough blinked absently and opened and 
shut his mouth several times.  His heart was so 
weary that it did not even tremble at this latest 
revelation. “The Lothanasi?  Why?  Your 
excommunication will never be lifted if you do that!”
         “It is where I believe I was meant to 
be,” the raccoon replied with a note of sadness. 
“Patriarch Akabaieth in his journals wrote of it, 
and of his desire to see greater unity between 
our peoples.  I may be the only one ever to do 
so, but I will fulfill his wishes.  I have 
already spoken with Lothanasa Raven hin’Elric and 
she has agreed to let me serve.  I take my vows tonight.”
         Hough felt the world spinning out of 
control. “But the Lothanasi!  They deny 
Yahshua!  Why not join one of the Rebuilder 
groups?  They still worship Yahshua even if outside His Ecclesia.”
         The raccoon sneered. “The 
Rebuilders?  They are nothing but thieves and 
vandals!  They stole the Canticles and tore out 
the parts they didn’t like!  They burn our altars 
and kill our priests.  They tore Yahshua down 
from His yew because they couldn’t stand the 
sight of Him!  And they have the gall to accuse 
the Ecclesia of breaking Eli’s Word!  They who 
claim to love Yahshua but call Him a liar!  I 
want their heresy to end and unity to be restored 
to the Followers.  I will never join fellowship 
with those who deface our Lord.  You should be 
ashamed for even suggesting it, Father!”
         Hough flinched as this man who’d once 
been a kind Bishop bared the fangs of a 
beast.  Tears stood in his eyes and one ran down 
his cheek. “But, Vinsah!  If you go to the 
Lothanasi you will make many Followers here think 
they have the truth.  We love you and will protect you from your enemies.”
         The raccoon settled back in his seat, 
his manner coming under control.  He took several 
deep breaths and shook his head. “I had 
considered that.  But I have been 
excommunicated.  How can I point out the error of 
the Rebuilder or even the lapsed Follower if I do 
not adhere to the Ecclesia’s commands?  To hide 
here with you would be to make a mockery of my faith.”
         “And joining the Lothanasi won’t?”
         “I know it isn’t easy to understand,” he 
continued, “but it does not.  I am not 
compromising my faith in Eli and His Son.  I am 
being obedient to them.  I believe the Pantheon 
exists and that they ultimately serve Eli 
too.  Service to them can be good too.  Patriarch 
Akabaieth saw that, and I believe it.  It is why 
I am doing what I am doing.  But I know that not 
all will see it that way.  It’s why I’m here, 
Father.  I needed to tell you so that I might 
warn you.  Lothanasa Raven has agreed to keep my 
service secret for as long as she can.    You 
will have time to decide how best to explain this 
to the Followers.  I do not want to see any of 
them leave the Ecclesia on my account.  And to 
aid you in this I am going to give you Patriarch Akabaieth’s journals.”
         Hough swallowed and rubbed his eyes 
clear of the tears.  The words hurt too much for 
his childish emotions to grasp.  He felt like a 
boy being told by his parents that they were 
giving him away.  Still, he forced himself to say, “Journals?”
         “Yes, Patriarch Akabaieth’s 
journals.  They cover a very long period of his 
life.  Tomorrow go visit the Deaf Mule and ask 
after a guest named Elsevier of Silvassa.  He 
will know you are coming and he will give you a 
locked chest.  I have placed the key on your 
mantle.  Please keep them safe.  It is all that 
is left of Patriarch Akabaieth’s legacy.”
         “What...” Hough stammered for several 
seconds before gaining control over his 
voice.  He blinked the tears from his eyes. “What should I do with them?”
         “Keep them hidden.  Once you read them 
you’ll know why.  The Ecclesia isn’t ready for 
them yet.  I know that these are merely his 
opinions and they will not lead to great reforms, 
nor should many of the things he said be 
done.  But if they come to light now his good 
name will suffer further calumny.  Let it fall on 
my head.  I will bear it.  Not him.”
         Hough sniffled but managed to nod his 
head. “I will do it.  And I will pray for you, Vinsah.”
         The raccoon took another deep breath and 
lowered his eyes.  He suddenly sounded very 
tired. “Thank you, Father.  But please do not 
call me Vinsah.  It is not my name anymore.  My name is Elvmere.”
         “Elvmere?” Hough blinked, the tears finally abated. “But why?”
         The raccoon looked past him, almost 
wistful. “It came to me in a dream, Father.  And 
it feels right to me in a way that Vinsah and 
everything else never has.”  He lowered his eyes 
and stood.  His tail tucked behind his legs and 
he folded his paws before him. “I must return to 
the temple, Father.  Thank you for your 
prayers.  It will be a very long time before I 
leave the temple again, so I want you to know 
that I believe your prayers will do more for me 
than anything else I can ask.  We must be 
patient.  Eli’s will shall be done, and Patriarch 
Akabaieth’s murderers will know His justice.”
         Hough struggled out of his seat and 
lifted one hand to grab Elvmere’s sleeve. “I will 
not stop praying until your excommunication has been lifted.”
         The edges of Elvmere’s jowls twitched as 
if trying to smile. “Thank you.  You may be praying for a very long time.”
         “It will be worth it.”
         “Good night, Father,” Elvmere said.  He 
turned and stepped to the far door. “Pray that I may not fall into error.”
         “I will do that as well,” Hough replied. 
“Good night, Vi... Elvmere.”  The raccoon smiled 
faintly and was gone.  Hough crumpled back in the 
seat and bawled his misery into the chair’s arm.

----------

         “And we have almost two-hundred 
soldiers, scouts, and knights patrolling the 
northern woods,” the lizard man said.  Copernicus 
was dressed in his court attire of blue doublet 
and hose with accommodations made for his tail 
which was as thick as his legs.  A third sleeve 
covered the first half with open lacing along the 
top.  This tail protruded from the back of his 
chair as he sat next to Duke Thomas with maps 
spread across the table.  On the Duke’s other 
side was the bat Andwyn, master of the Keep’s spies.
         “Have you found anything?” Thomas asked 
impatiently.  With so many of his chief scouts 
and soldiers on patrol, the duty to bring him 
reports was left with his attaché 
Copernicus.  Although the lizard was very capable 
in managing these affairs, he was not as seasoned 
as those like Misha, Jack, or George.  Unlike 
them, Copernicus’s reptilian body prevented him 
from participating in patrols during the 
winter.  So naturally the task of coordinating 
all the information fell to him and to Andwyn.
         Of course Andwyn was more interested in 
scrutinizing the retinue of Thomas’s vassals for 
possible assassins.  Thomas didn’t blame him.  So 
long as he remained without a true heir one of 
his vassals could aspire to succeed him.  It was 
true that he had adopted Malisa to guard against 
such treachery, but even she acknowledged that it 
were better for Thomas to have children of his 
own than for her to take the throne.
         Thomas was inclined to trust his 
vassals.  In the last year they had shown 
themselves more willing to beckon to his call, 
even those living south of the Curse.  He knew he 
could rely on those cursed because they had 
nowhere else to turn, but the rest had long been 
a question mark in his reign.  But now he felt things were changing.
         But Andwyn wasn’t convinced.
         Copernicus spread his long, supple 
fingers across the map and gestured to several 
places in the far north of the valley. “We 
encountered a Lutin encampment here.  They fled 
as soon as we approached, but we did take a few 
prisoner.  Turns out there are massive storms in 
the north and they’d fled south to escape the 
worst of it.  Misha is convinced they didn’t know anything so he let them go.”
         “He let them go?” Thomas asked in surprise. “Did he say why?”
         “They didn’t try to attack,” Copernicus 
replied with a shrug. “And he said there were 
women and children there too.  He believed them.”
         Andwyn twitched his wings and nose 
unhappily, but Thomas nodded his head in 
satisfaction. “What else have you found?”
         “Glen scouts found a few trappers from 
Starven lurking around Mount Nuln.  Soldiers 
thought they saw ghosts north of Mycransburg, but 
that forest has always been haunted.  You 
remember when Misha found that spectral fox there last year.”
         Thomas shook his head. “Not 
truly.  Misha finds many things in the wood he takes a fancy too.”
         Copernicus chuckled and slapped the end 
of his tail on the thick carpeting. “Very 
true.  There have been a few other minor 
incidents.  Two squads stalked each other for 
several hours before they realized the 
truth.  We’ve had a few soldiers manage to injure 
themselves, cuts, bruises.  One slipped on the 
ice and broke their leg, but they’re recovering 
now.  Misha and George both think the northern 
forests are clear and I agree with them.”
         “Good,” Thomas said.  He studied the map 
for several seconds and took a deep breath. “And 
the Long Scouts have found no activity of another invasion from the north?”
         “Apart from the few stragglers, no.”
         The bat stretched his wings and added, 
“Nasoj has not been able to reconstitute his 
strength.  It seems our hopes that the Lutin 
tribes would abandon him has come to 
fruition.  Neither he nor his forces have 
ventured beyond Nasojassa in the last three 
months.  There is no threat from the north.”
         “Then what of the south?”
         Copernicus shifted the maps and ran his 
fingers along the north-south roads. “We have 
patrols marching along the roads to Midtown and 
Menth.  The watchtowers at the Curse’s end have 
twice as many manning them.  I’ve also stationed 
three squads at the fork, one to inspect 
travellers, and the other to lie in wait in case 
they prove hostile.  No one has yet.  We also 
have troops in all the southern villages, Jetta, 
Shipford, Brackwood, and the rest.”
         “What of the forests?”
         The lizard’s large mouth cracked in his 
closest facsimile to a smile. “Patrols turn up 
even less there than they do in the north.”
         “Then I am satisfied the patrols are 
doing their jobs.” Thomas drew a line across the 
northern valley halfway between the Keep and the 
Dike. “Cut back half the patrols north of the 
Glen.  If any one is going to strike they will 
want to stay close.  Move those soldiers back to 
the Keep.  I want them to help the Watch.  Let’s 
keep the streets clear and quiet.  Malisa tells 
me that they’ve almost filled the dungeon with 
brawlers and thieves.  She’s resorted to 
arranging stocks off the main thoroughfares for the rest.”
         Copernicus chuckled again. “I saw some 
of those this morning.  I don’t think I’ve seen a 
more miserable group than they.  They’re lucky 
it’s been a mild winter so far.  And that they have thick coats of fur.”
         “I’ve told Malisa to make sure that they 
burn fires at night near the stocks.  Just seeing 
them and the soldiers should discourage folk.” 
Thomas glanced at the southern end of the valley. 
“Thalberg says that most of the visitors are 
coming from the south.  Keep what troops we have 
stationed in the south.  If there is any threat, 
that’s where it will come from.  Speaking of 
which, what news have you to report Andwyn?”
         The bat folded his wings around his 
chest and narrowed his red eyes. “Very little, 
your grace.  Your vassals are nearly all here and 
ensconced in private suites that my spies keep 
constant watch over.  Only Lord Calephas of 
Giftum has yet to arrive, and my spies report he 
will be here tomorrow.  At present no one in 
their retinue has acted suspiciously, nor is 
their presence surprising.  However, if my 
information is correct, Prime Minister Malisa 
will be bringing very shortly to your attention 
an unexpected visitor from Pyralis.”
         Thomas blinked as his ears shot up. “From Pyralis?  How soon?”
         Somebody knocked at the door and the bat 
grinned. “That will be her now.”
         While Copernicus chuckled and Thomas 
glared at the bat, one of the pages saw to the 
door and ushered Malisa inside.  She was dressed 
in comfortable blue clothing the colour of the 
Hassan house with a pendant bearing the crest of 
Metamor draped around her neck.  Her face was 
harried, but there was also a cast of unexpected 
pleasure, as if she’d received a gift from a friend she’d forgotten about.
         “Your grace,” Malisa said with a quick 
bow.  She could barely contain her enthusiasm. “I 
have just treated with Kurt Schanalein, the son 
of Duke Friedrich Schanalein of Breckaris.  He 
has come with news of Habakkuk, Charles and the rest.”
         Duke Thomas jumped to his hooves in 
surprise.  Andwyn stared gape-mouthed at Malisa. 
The smug expression he’d bore at Malisa’s 
entrance was completely gone. “News of Habakkuk 
and Charles?” Thomas blurted. “Then he is a most welcome guest!  Where is he?”
         “I had Thalberg place him and his 
attendants in one of the guest suites.  Thalberg 
had been complaining that there was one more than 
necessary for your vassals.  It seems Kyia 
anticipated even this.” Malisa shook her head in 
astonishment. “I’ll have him brought here if you wish.”
         “Please do,” Thomas replied. “And have 
Thalberg bring his men plenty of food and 
drink.  See to it that there are places at my 
wedding for them if they wish to attend.”
         Malisa nodded and left with a jump in 
her step.  Andwyn tapped the ends of his wigs 
together and muttered, “Is it so wise to treat 
them so well?  We do not even know what they are 
going to say.  Could he not use the promise of 
news of Habakkuk, Charles, and the rest to entice you to lower your guard?”
         “But how would they know?” Copernicus 
asked. “I didn’t even know where they went for a 
month, and I’m one of the few here at Metamor who 
ought to know.  The only way they’d know of them 
in Breckaris is if they’d passed through the 
city.  It is one way to reach Marzac.”
         “I think Copernicus is right,” Thomas 
said, flesh trembling with excitement. “It’s been 
nearly six months since they left.  I want to 
hear whatever news this Kurt Schanalein has for 
us.  Copernicus, please stay and listen.  You can 
take whatever news we hear to the Long Scouts.  They’ll tell the right people.”
         Both Andwyn and Copernicus nodded while 
Thomas reclaimed his seat.  The pages brought 
another pair of seats for Malisa and their guest, 
while Copernicus cleared the table of maps.  By 
the time he returned to his seat, Malisa knocked again at the door.
         At Malisa’s side was a young man of 
perhaps sixteen years of age.  He had curly dark 
hair and a somewhat olive skin tone.  He dressed 
in a deep green uniform bearing the marks of an 
officer.  For the son of an important Duke in 
Pyralis, he dressed very humbly.  Thomas liked 
him already and he had done nothing more than 
walk in the room.  He didn’t even stare at the 
three animal men like most who’d never been to Metamor before do.
         Malisa stood to one side and gestured to 
the lad. “May I present, Kurt Schanalein, heir to 
Duke Friedrich Schanalein of Breckaris.”
         Kurt lowered to one knee. “I bring you 
greetings from my father, your grace.  He sends 
his congratulations and warmest wishes to you at 
the news of your engagement to be married.  He 
also sends his fondest thanks to you and your 
people for the aid given to him and his land by 
your subjects this October.  I came personally 
because the debt of our gratitude, and especially 
mine, cannot be measured.  I am your humble servant, your grace.”
         “Come sit with me, lad,” Thomas said 
with an almost fatherly affection for the boy. 
“You do your family proud.  I have never had the 
honour of dealings with your family, but I am 
grateful for them now.  Come, eat, and tell me of 
my subjects.  My Prime Minister tells me that 
they passed through Breckaris and that you have news of them.”
         Kurt rose and joined them at the 
table.  A still human page brought a platter of 
fresh bread and cheese.  Kurt thanked him with a 
smile and a nod and then lowered his eyes to 
quietly offer a word of blessing over the 
food.  When he lifted them he stared at the 
Keepers one by one. “Thank you for your 
hospitality your grace.  I am so grateful for the 
chance to see your beautiful land.  I have not 
seen snow in several years, yet Prime Minister 
Malisa tells me that it is a mild winter you have now.”
         “This time last year we suffered a 
terrible blizzard.  Our enemies to the north 
attacked during it and many lives were lost.  We 
are more grateful than you know for a mild 
winter.” Thomas paused while Kurt ate a bit of 
bread. “You are welcome to stay with us as long 
as you wish, but I caution you to leave after the 
wedding.  If you stay too long you might look as we do.”
         “That was my intent,” Kurt replied after 
swallowing. “My father wants me to discuss the 
possibility of opening diplomatic relations with your land as well.”
         Malisa smiled fondly to him. “We can 
discuss that later.  For now we want to hear your news.”
         Kurt nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at 
the other two and smiled.  He turned to the 
lizard first. “You are Copernicus, yes?  And you are Andwyn?”
         “That is right,” the lizard replied. “Do we intimidate you?”
         Kurt shook his head. “After seeing what du Tournemire did, no.”
         All of them stiffened. “What do you know 
of the Marquis du Tournemire?” Thomas asked.
         “Nine months ago he used his deck of 
cards to take control of my father.  I was forced 
to join the army to keep me out of their way.” 
Kurt took a quick bite of cheese and puckered his 
lips at the unfamiliar taste.  He took a second 
bite and then sipped the wine set beside him. 
“That was quite good.  My compliments.” He took a 
breath and then noted how anxiously the Keepers 
waited. “It is a long story, but only two months 
ago your subjects were captured by our 
armies.  Only Jessica the hawk escaped.  I 
watched as du Tournemire tortured them that 
night.  He then left for Marzac with the black 
Sondecki.  He left the Runecaster Agathe in 
charge.  I, along with a friend, met up with 
Jessica, broke Charles, James, and the rest out 
of the dungeon and we rescued my father.  We then 
assaulted the tower Agathe had hidden herself in and killed her.”
         “The Runecaster is dead?” Malisa said in 
awe. “Then Charles is flesh again?”
         Kurt nodded. “He changed back into flesh 
right in front of my eyes.  And they’re all 
well.  Not a one of them has died or taken 
serious injury during their journey.  They set 
sail for Marzac the same day I left for 
Metamor.  My father put them on our fastest 
ship.  I do not know what has become of them 
since, but when I saw them last they were well and in good spirits.”
         Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. “This 
is very good news, Kurt.  Thank you for making 
this journey.  For your part in aiding them, you 
have earned the gratitude of all Metamor.  I will 
see to it that a place of honour is granted to you at the wedding banquet.”
         “Thank you, your grace,” Kurt said with 
a broad smile.  He rolled the bread around his 
fingers. “There is one more matter I wished to 
bring to your attention.” Thomas gestured for him 
to continue.  Kurt sucked in his breath to gather 
his courage. “ In my company came a small group 
of Follower nuns as well as the woman who aided 
me and your subjects.  They seek to form a nunnery here in your lands.”
         “A nunnery?” Thomas asked in surprise.
         Copernicus grinned. “I’m rather fond of 
the idea.  They could be a good influence and 
serve everyone’s needs. I’ve heard about the 
hospitals they’ve set up in the south.  It would help relieve Master Coe.”
         “You’re a Follower,” Malisa pointed out.
         The lizard shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t a good idea.”
         Kurt licked his lips. “They do have 
permission from the Bishop, or from the Bishop’s 
second.  The Bishop was indisposed when he went 
to see him on our way.  And they are willing to 
face what the Curse will do to them.”
         “They may not be nuns for very long,” 
Malisa pointed out. “Why do they want to do this?”
         “Because of Tugal,” Kurt said with a 
shade of reluctance. “When Charles, Jessica and 
the rest left Metamor, they were hunted by Agathe 
and a group of barbarians from the 
Giantdowns.  Tugal was one of them, but the Curse 
made her a woman.  The other barbarians raped her 
repeatedly.  After our friends escaped, Agathe 
took her to Breckaris and had her placed in a 
whorehouse.  When I found out where she’d been 
placed, I freed her and brought her to the nuns 
in Breckaris.  They tended her, told her of 
Yahshua, and showed her that there is a life 
outside of cruelty.  When we assaulted Agathe a 
spell struck her in the side.  She’s not been able to walk since.”
         Malisa, who looked ready to jump from 
her seat, rush down the hall, and find Tugal to 
hug her tight, suggested, “We have many healers here that can help her.”
         “The wound is a magical one.  Jessica 
said that it couldn’t be healed like that.”
         “So why did she risk coming all the way 
here?” Copernicus asked.  The lizard shifted in 
his seat, long tail sweeping over the 
carpet.  Kurt watched it for several seconds before turning back to the Duke.
         “Because she’s hated Metamor all her 
life.  All she was taught to do was to try and 
kill Keepers.  She wants to spend the rest of her 
life serving them, and the sisters have shown her a way she can do that.”
         Thomas glanced at Malisa.  It was clear 
from her expression that she was leaning toward 
allowing this.  He tapped his thumbs together and 
nodded to Kurt. “Tell Tugal and the other sisters 
that I will meet with them and with Father Hough 
that we might discuss possible dispositions for 
them.  I am not promising them that they can 
build a nunnery here in Metamor, but we will see what can be arranged.”
         Kurt bowed his head gratefully. “Thank 
you, your grace!  They will be delighted to hear it.”
         Thomas nodded and set his hands on the 
table, tapping the thick hoof-like nails against 
the wood. “Now, Kurt, if there is nothing else, I 
want you to tell me more of Charles, Jessica, 
Habakkuk and the rest.  I want to know everything 
that’s happened.  Afterward, Copernicus can give 
you and the sisters a tour of Metamor Keep.  But 
you are not leaving here until we know more about 
our friends.” Thomas lowered his snout and gave 
the young man a deep equine stare.  Kurt stared 
back into his large brown eyes and began to smile.
         “Of course, your grace.  I’ll tell you as best I can.”
         “That’s all we can ask of anyone, Kurt.  Now, tell us of our friends.”
         “Well,” Kurt began, “the first I saw of 
them was in the forest.  Our army was waiting for 
them, and they rode in on the most beautiful golden horses...”

----------

         “I swear my service to the Lothanasi of 
Metamor, and pledge my obedience to Lothanasa 
Raven hin’Elric and to the gods who guard and 
shelter their people.” The words reverberated in 
the raccoon’s ears long after he lay down to 
sleep amongst the other acolytes.  Most were 
children, that is, men who like Father Hough, had 
been cursed to be as children, but there were a 
few older infirm men who’d once been women and a 
pair of animal men that all slept together in the men’s chambers.
         They had no beds only sleeping pallets, 
but after so many months on the road and in the 
hold of tossing ships, this felt like an 
indulgent comfort.  All around him he heard the 
soft whispers of sleep in the darkened 
chamber.  His ears twitched uncertainly at the 
sound of the bear’s loud rumbling as he 
slept.  What had he said his name 
was?  Christopher?  Elvmere would learn all their names in time.
         He rolled onto his back and closed his 
eyes, tail caught between his legs, blanket 
pulled up to his chin to keep him warm.  With so 
many bodies, the chamber, even in the cold of 
winter, seemed to have a warmth of its own, but 
with the fire dwindling away, the first touches 
of cold crept over his snout and around every bit 
of him exposed.  Yet the elements remained only 
an afterthought as his mind made its descent into sleep.
         This day he had offered his vows to the 
Lothanasi.  What had begun with Patriarch 
Geshter’s excommunication had now been completed 
by his own tongue.  He was no longer a Follower — 
Patildor, rather — but a Lothanasi.  He also 
dwelt on his conversation with Hough.  The priest 
hadn’t taken it well, but Elvmere hadn’t expected 
him too.  Hopefully in time he’d read through 
Akabaieth’s journals and understand.
         After making his vows, he’d felt a 
thrill that had carried him through the last 
hours of the day.  Raven had allowed Nylene to 
observe, and for that he was grateful.  Her smile 
was the only true smile he’d seen all day.  The 
unease Raven had with him, and Merai’s obvious 
hurt, had transferred to many of the other 
acolytes.  Though Celine had done her part in 
introducing him to many, they were by and large 
uncertain even though not a one of them knew him 
from his previous life.  But for all that, he’d 
been too excited to let that trouble him.  In time this too would change.
         But what would tomorrow bring?  Celine 
had said something about tending the birds and of 
writing, but he did not know what either would entail.  He would do them.
         The sounds of snores faded with 
time.  Even the sensation of cold slipped beyond 
his awareness and into the fog of that moment 
when a man passes from wakefulness to 
sleep.  Elvmere, now again a sleeper, rested in a 
comfortable warmth that wrapped him in its 
arms.  But with dawning awareness, those arms 
took on a more intimate form, and Elvmere noted 
colour and definition entering into his dream.
         Where before had been darkness now lay a 
beautiful garden.  It reminded him of the gardens 
outside the Keep’s walls in late Spring, full of 
rich blossoms that radiated every colour and cast 
about a bouquet of fragrances all tantalizing to 
his senses.  The arms remained about him, and he 
turned to find their source.  A heavenly face 
gazed down at him, a woman with dark hair dressed 
in white robes laced with silver who held him 
close.  His Lady!  Gone so long from his dreams 
but for whispers and hints, and here now she is again.
         “My Lady!” he cried, throwing himself 
further into her arms like the simple beast he was.
         She stroked the fur on the back of his 
head with one gentle hand and spoke so simply and 
full of love that he felt his heart exult. “My Elvmere.  Welcome home.”
         “You...” he said through the tears 
standing in his eyes, “you brought me here?”
         “You have always been mine to 
protect.  Let all your weariness go, my 
Elvmere.  You are safe with me.  You must be 
strong for all that is yet to come.”
         He gazed into her face, trembling. “Will I always have you?”
         She smiled and stroked back his fur. 
“You are with me now, my Elvmere.” And then she 
pulled him close and he could think of nothing 
more to say.  The raccoon smiled and curled up 
tight to his Lady, over-joyed to be with her 
again after so many long months.  Yes, he truly was home.

----------


May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias