[Mkguild] Julian's Plan

[C. Matthias]

Although I hadn't intended this when I started, 
I'm going to dedicate this story to my dear 
friend Michael Bard.  Without his input on the 
economy of Metamor Keep, an idea like this would have never taken root.

Michael, we miss you.

Metamor Keep: Julian’s Plan
By Charles Matthias

February 14, 708 CR

         Lidaman enjoyed being a grandfather.  Of 
all the roles he’d had in his long life at 
Metamor, from moneylender and merchant to soldier 
and statesman, none provided him the sheer 
pleasure that came with holding his first 
grandchild in his lap and listening to him 
coo.  Born only last month, the young boy would 
soon have a cousin as his second son’s wife was 
due for her first in a few months.  His youngest 
son was hard at work to produce yet another heir to their father’s fortune.
         And then there was his son-in-law who 
seemed more interested in expanding that 
fortune.  Not that Lidaman found it 
surprising.  Being a son-in-law and not a son he 
would always feel the need to demonstrate his 
worth.  Nor was there any question that Gadfrey 
would diligently take care of his daughter Elsie 
and provide her with a good life.  He even loved 
her which was more than could be said for many 
newlyweds this soon after their arranged marriages.
         But Lidaman did wish that Gadfrey would 
allow him just a bit more time with his 
grandchildren before bringing him another worthy 
investment idea — which most of them 
were.  Generally, Lidaman knew of them already 
and had been making plans to back whatever 
ventures seemed prudent.  Every now and then his 
exuberant son-in-law did find something novel, 
but the great moneylender who’d saved Metamor 
from financial ruin after the Battle of Three 
Gates was far more interested in the myriad 
things to which his first grandchild’s eyes would wander.
         “Ah, Gadfrey, come in,” the fifty-year 
old man trapped in the body of a fourteen year 
old boy said to the twenty-year old similarly 
cursed now standing in his reading room 
doorway.  The latest snow storm, and hopefully 
last of the winter, had finally stopped the day 
before leaving Metamor a shining city in 
white.  The sun had just crested the mountains 
and his grandson Cecil gazed with joyous delight 
at the sparkling lights through the narrow panes 
of glass separating the warmth of Lidaman’s 
reading room from the cold outside.  The light 
particularly glistened on the few stone streets 
freed from the snow.  All who ventured on 
business about the city this day would do so on foot.
         “Good morning, Father,” Gadfrey said 
with a respectful nod of his head.  His 
son-in-law was dressed in warm woolen tunic and 
breeches with firm leather boots and a colourful 
belt.  He fingered an expensive felt hat in his 
hands. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”
         “Nonsense,” Lidaman replied, though he 
did return his attention to Cecil who gazed 
goggle-eyed at the city outside.  In another 
month or two once it was warm enough he would get 
his first tour. “How is my daughter?”
         “Enjoying her morning biscuits and 
tea.  Fresh from Gregor’s.  I just returned from 
there and heard of an opportunity I think you’ll want to see, Father.”
         The corner of Lidaman’s lip turned up in 
a smile.  The opportunity.  He hoped one day 
Gadfrey learned that it was not only permissible 
but desirable for him to call on his 
father-in-law from time to time without a 
business proposal in hand. “Is Gregor hoping to 
expand his shop?  I have offered to help him in 
the past but he’s never been much interested.”
         “I wish he would too,” Gadfrey admitted 
with a boyish delight he couldn’t 
hide.  Lidaman’s smile widened at the sound.  It 
meant Gadfrey was beginning to feel more 
comfortable in his presence.  He was a good young 
man and would make an admirable husband for 
Elsie.  Lidaman just hoped one day he could be a 
son too instead of just a son-in-law.
         But the moment was short-lived and 
Gadfrey regained control of his curse-begotten 
childish impulses. “But that’s not what I 
heard.  The rats are holding a demonstration out 
in the tourney fields today.  They’ve a plan to 
change the way merchants do business in the Valley.”
         “How very ambitious of them,” Lidaman 
said, his smile fading.  Cecil cooed at a mule 
drawn cart passing by in the street below.  His 
smile returned immediately. “The rats... the ones 
who live in the cellars right?  I heard that 
Matthias returned to Metamor a few days ago and 
there was a funeral requiem for Habakkuk of the 
Writer’s Guild yesterday, but I’m sure that’s not who you mean.”
         Gadfrey nodded, his enthusiasm 
welling.  He fidgeted with his tunic. “I’m told 
Matthias will be there as well, but yes, it’s the 
rats from the cellars.  I spoke to one of them, 
Elliot, this morning at Gregor’s, and he specifically asked for you, Father.”
         “Well,” Lidaman admitted in a slow sigh, 
“if he asked for me, then I suppose I must come 
see what they’ve put together.  I confess, their 
names have been on many lips these past few 
months.  Nobody has been quite sure what they’ve 
been up to, but it seems they have many friends.” 
Lidaman turned to look at his son-in-law who did 
his best to meet the fellow fourteen year old’s 
gaze and failed.  Gadfrey’s eyes fell to the 
floor and he shuffled his boots a trifle 
guiltily. “I’m not surprised you’re one of them, 
Gadfrey.  Very well, when shall we gather to see what your friends want to do?”
         Gadfrey blushed for a moment and then 
straightened his tunic so firmly he nearly ripped 
the seams at his shoulder.  In a stiff voice he 
replied, “They said they’d be ready to begin around eleven o’clock.”
         Lidaman’s smile was genuine. 
“Excellent.  That will give me more time with 
Cecil before we have to go.  See to our 
carriages... and check on the roads.  It may be a 
long ride to the tourney fields today.”
         “Of course, Father.  I will have everything ready by ten o’clock.”
         “And ask Elsie to see to a lunch for 
each of us.  I’m sure she’ll be interested as well.”
         Gadfrey’s eyes widened, a lovesick smile 
crept over his lips, and his cheeks reddened with 
the blush of a warm fire.  He stuttered once and 
then stumbled away to do as his father-in-law 
asked.  Lidaman laughed.  Even little Cecil gurgled in delight.

----------

         Falkirk Urseil smiled approvingly at his 
eldest son.  Though Falkirk had been made a 
child, his son was a strange mix of man and an 
odd little beast known as a pangolin.  Utterly 
unknown in the northern lands of Galendor, it was 
sometimes seen far to the south.  Covered in a 
thick hide of scaly plates, bearing strong 
digging claws, and featuring a narrow snout with 
a tongue that stretched longer than his body, his 
son made an odd impression even on many 
Keepers.  Yet his enthusiasm and warmth endeared him to all who knew him.
         And now his son Kendrick had brought him 
news of an opportunity to improve the profits for 
the Urseil family business.  It was a good sign 
that his son was learning more of the trade than 
just the different types of fabrics and what sort 
of prices they fetched.  He just hoped it was worth their time.
         “What sort of opportunity is it, 
Kendrick?” Falkirk asked as he finished his 
morning toast and sausage. “And where did you hear of it?”
         “Well,” Kendrick lowered his triangular 
head and almost blushed, “I actually knew they 
were planning something for a while.  My friends 
the rats that is.” Falkirk lifted one eyebrow 
curiously.  He knew his son had long felt an 
outsider because of his unusual form and had made 
some friends in places that a respectable 
merchant would not go.  He’d cautioned him about 
being too trusting with others, but Kendrick had never disappointed him before.
         Would he now?  Falkirk brushed his lips 
on a napkin and set it down next to his plate. 
“From the cellars?”  Mavis, his wife, sensed the 
sudden change and quietly began collecting her husband’s dishes.
         “They don’t want to hide down there 
anymore, Father,” Kendrick replied firmly. “And 
they have a good idea that could really save us 
and many others a good bit of money in the years 
ahead.  They might even be able to help us open 
up new markets, perhaps even north of the Dike.”
         Falkirk pursed his lips.  Even though he 
was forever trapped in a child’s body, the head 
of the Urseil merchant family had to remind 
himself that he was once as young as his son and 
eager to make friends with everyone he met.  The 
Curses of Metamor changed many things, including notions of class.
         And as they were merchants, it wasn’t 
that long ago that his great-grandfather was 
struggling to get out of the dirty streets of 
Ellcaran to find a warm place to sleep for the 
night.  How could he hold the cellars against the rats?
         “And you say they are holding a demonstration today?”
         Kendrick relaxed visibly, his spines 
along his back lowering and his eyes softening. 
“At eleven o’clock in the tourney fields.  I 
think we should go and see what they have to offer.”
         Falkirk smiled and leaned back in his 
seat. “I agree.  Ask Barrick and Brigitt to come 
too.  Mother will take care of the girls 
here.  It’s much too cold for all of us to go.”
         Kendrick beamed at that, his tail 
curling up beneath him. “Thank you, Father!  I know you won’t be disappointed!”
         “I’ll decide that,” he reminded his son 
gently. “Now see to our carriage and something 
for each of us to eat.  It may take a long time 
to reach the tourney fields with all this snow!”
         “And that’s why I know you won’t be 
disappointed!” Kendrick said with a mischievous 
grin and darted out of their sitting room before 
Falkirk could learn what he meant.
         Falkirk and Mavis exchanged glances and then sighed. “He is your son.”
         “He’s our son,” he reminded his wife.
         Mavis shook her head, leaned over, and 
tapped his nose.  His fourteen-year-old body 
couldn’t help but feel a thrill every time his 
fourteen-year-old wife’s body came so close.  But 
her arch expression chilled that nascent desire. 
“You were just the same way when we first wed.  He’s your son!”
         Falkirk blinked, recalled how he behaved 
those many years ago, and then laughed. “Aye, aye, Kendrick is indeed my son.”

----------

         The tourney fields were situated in the 
Killing Fields which made it a long hard ride for 
most.  Metamor’s civil crews had cleared the main 
road to the gates enough to allow passage but 
they left no guarantees at how pleasant or punctual a passage it would be.
         A year past the Killing Fields had been 
filled with salvaged supplies from the many parts 
of town torn down after the assault.  Now they 
were stocked with supplies awaiting those 
portions of the city in need of repairs or 
rebuilding.  It would be years before the city 
was fully rebuilt, and so what was usually only 
used at festival occasions now became a supply 
depot for the civil engineering crews and those able to afford their services.
         And this day, it became the site of a 
demonstration by a trio of rats who’d been 
planning and looking forward to it with 
excitement and trepidation.  While they would not 
know whether their venture would be a success for 
many months, what happened today could alter 
their fortunes in ways unforeseeable.  They could 
become powerful merchants in their own right or 
they could inspire another to do what they sought 
only better.  But without today they would never be more than cellar rats.
         To prepare, they’d had a large oval area 
cleared of snow.  The wide ends were framed by 
wooden structures used to hold supplies.  On one 
a row of covered pastries and mugs of fresh cider 
steaming in the air were spread.  Before the 
other a large something or other was covered with 
heavy sackcloth.  About this the three rats 
hovered, gesturing for all who’d come to attend 
to refresh themselves with food and drink.
         “I apologize,” Julian said to several of 
their invited guests, “about the weather.  To 
help keep everyone warm, we’ve arranged a fresh 
supply of pastries from Gregor’s ovens, and some 
good fresh cider from both the Shoeshine Inn and 
the Jolly Collie.” The latter was Misha 
Brightleaf’s doing.  The fox had settled on a 
larger warmer form for the day, and all four of 
his legs were settled by the wooden platform near 
one half of the cider.  He never failed to 
mention it was from the Collie to all who 
received a mug of the delectably steaming brew.
         On either long end of the oval numerous 
carriages stopped, horses, mules, and donkeys 
being tended with fresh water, sweet oats, and 
even a carrot or two after dragging their charges 
through snowy streets.  From those carriages 
emerged many of the more important merchant 
families of Metamor.  By the time eleven o’clock 
arrived, so too had many of the wealthiest in Metamor.
         All total there were perhaps fifty 
Keepers present, not including real children who 
added another dozen to the total.  Many motherly 
eyes were drawn to the four rat children of 
Charles and Kimberly Matthias who if not for the 
watchful eyes of their mother and their nurse and 
the firm grip of their father would have burrowed 
into the nearby snowbank in search of 
adventure.  All dressed warmly, even those 
Keepers with fur suited for the winter, with 
heavy mittens, thick woolen coats, and many a 
hat.  With sweet food to eat, and rich brew to 
drink, the atmosphere warmed between the many 
merchants and the handful of warriors who’d come 
to see what the rats had to show.
         Julian stood in the middle of the large 
object covered in sackcloth.  It was long and 
taller than he and of roughly rectangular 
shape.  The sackcloth touched the ground which 
kept it invisible.  The white-furred rat smiled, 
his red eyes glistened in the winter sunlight.
         “Thank you all for braving the winter 
today.  My friends Elliot and Goldmark are here 
with me today to announce the beginning of a new 
business in Metamor Valley that will, I hope, 
prove profitable for everyone living here at 
Metamor.  I know it was difficult for everyone to 
leave their houses and make it here.  Can you 
imagine how difficult it must be if you needed to 
journey to Lorland?  Or to the Iron Mines?  Or 
how about Lake Barnhardt?  Glen Avery?  And can 
you imagine trying to reach Hareford in this?” He 
shuddered, whiskers vibrating so quickly they glowed in the mid-morning light.
         “But only two days ago,” Julian 
continued, waving two fingers in the air to 
emphasize his point, “many of us here today did 
just that.  The journey from the Keep to the 
woodland demesnes of Glen Avery takes five hours 
by wagon over a road that rolls through hills and 
passes through the forests in the north.  Though 
the soldiers and scouts of Metamor and the Glen 
do their best to keep the road safe from Lutins, 
they cannot keep it safe from the elements.  Two 
days ago, I and many others here made that 
journey.  In the past, it would have taken eight 
to ten hours in such conditions.  We did it in a little less than six.”
         Several merchants lifted their eyes in 
surprise, while those like Misha and Charles who 
had been on that journey grinned, admiring how 
much Julian seemed to enjoy his little secret.
         Julian held up his paws and shook his 
head. “Now I know what many of you are 
thinking.  Magic can see one across many a 
danger, it is true.  But there was no magic to 
our journey.  Only ingenuity.  So how did we 
manage such a feat?  Let us show you.”
         At this, Elliot and Goldmark went around 
back and lifted the corners of sackcloth tossing 
them on top of the surprise.  They both went 
behind the surprise and pushed the middle end of 
the sackcloth up over the side until the back was 
uncovered.  Then, circling around to the sides, 
they took the corners and pulled them 
forward.  With them came the sackcloth, until the 
whole fell around Julian’s feet and tail.  From 
beneath was revealed a long wagon whose four 
wheels did not touch the ground.  Long iron skis 
held the wagon aloft, sleek and powerful with 
wide base to both keep the wagon steady and on top of the snow.
         Several in the crowd applauded but there 
were no gasps of shock.  Sleighs were not unknown 
in Metamor Valley, but this was the first time 
anyone had seriously attached them to a wagon with wheels.
         Julian smiled and bowed to both Elliot 
and Goldmark who returned the gesture.  He then 
turned his gaze back on the audience and said, 
“With these skis, we were able to stay on top of 
the snowfall which gave our horses a much easier 
time of it.  No longer were they having to drag 
the wagons through snow.  The only thing slowing 
them down was their own steps.  I know many of 
you have ridden in sleighs, so you know how they 
work.  But these wagons, of which  we currently 
have three, can serve as both wagons in summer 
and sleighs in winter.  The skis can be removed 
and stored for when they are needed.  Should 
snowfall overtake any travelling in our wagons, 
they can pause for no more than ten to fifteen 
minutes before they have assembled the skis and may continue on their way.”
         “Pardon me, Master Julian,” a youthful 
boy named Falkirk Urseil asked with a studious 
frown. “But surely you intend these for more than 
mere travelling conveniences.”
         The rat nodded to the boy, his smile 
widening. “Indeed I do.  One of the difficulties 
we experience in a Metamor winter is the lack of 
fresh supplies from the south.  With these 
wagons, I and those in my employ will be able to 
bring in fresh supplies from the south or deliver 
goods to the north when other wagons cannot even 
manage to escape the gates.  And even when the 
roads are clear in the winter months, I will sell 
space in our wagons to foreign merchants 
reluctant to risk bad weather for fear of being 
trapped in lands beneath Metamor’s curse.  With 
more supplies in the winter, it will lover prices 
for everyone and provide more opportunities for 
all of you, my friends, to sell your own wares in other markets.
         “Nor do I intend to use these wonderful 
wagons only in winter.  I will offer to anyone, 
Metamorian or not, the chance to buy space in our 
wagons for transport and sale all over the Valley.”
         A large burly human woman crossed her 
arms and shouted, “I have my own men to deliver 
my goods.  Why would I need you?”
         Julian bowed, long tail lifting behind 
him. “You may not.  I do not ask anyone to use 
our service who does not think they need it.  But 
we will be available and it is our intent to run 
our wagons from one end of this valley to the 
other and to every city and village therein at 
least once each week if not two.  You may find a 
day when your wagons are not available and yet 
you need to send goods to a far off village.  We 
shall be there for you on that day.”
         “That’s rather ambitious,” a rather 
modestly dressed fourteen year-old 
surmised.  Lidaman never dressed ostentatiously 
nor showed off his wealth.  He chose his garments 
as carefully as his words. “Three wagons or 
sleighs alone cannot do this.  How many do you 
intend to own to make this possible?”
         Julian smiled very graciously to the 
financier and lowered his head respectfully. 
“Master Lidaman, that is a very astute 
question.  No less than a dozen would be 
required, and at that they would be taxing 
themselves.  Our goal is to have two dozen in 
circulation before the end of the year.”
         “Also ambitious,” Lidaman replied with an admiring smile.
         Misha lifted one paw, his expression 
faintly disturbed. “It sounds like you’re trying 
to start a delivery service.  We have folks like 
Stealth here at Metamor who do that 
already.  He’s a very good friend and I don’t 
want to see his business flounder.”
         Julian nodded and made a fist with one 
paw, his expression grave and sympathetic. “We 
have no intention of competing with people like 
Stealth.  If you have a small parcel, he and any 
other who may follow in his paw-prints will 
always be able to deliver it faster and more 
conveniently to your needs.  That isn’t what we 
are trying to do.  But you would not send bushels 
of potatoes on the poor cheetah’s back.  You would use us.”
         “If you’re dependable,” squawked a 
bright red-feathered fellow of wide girth.  His 
splotchy rooster comb jiggled back and forth on 
top of his head.  His beady yellow eyes regarded 
the many mammals gathered together dubiously. 
“Our wagons have soldiers to protect them.  And 
Stealth can outrun them.  What do you have?”
         Julian’s whiskers drooped for a few 
seconds as many others in the crowd nodded their 
heads.  But the rat’s voice lacked none of his 
usual defiant confidence. “Our maiden journey 
this last week was accompanied by many soldiers 
and scouts.  We rats held the reins.  But for the 
future, we too shall hire soldiers to drive them 
and protect them.  They will be as safe as any 
wagon of your own and defended by Keepers so none 
of them need fear the curses.  I know many of you 
have holdings to the south and your caravans are 
manned by those not yet touched by the 
curses.  When dangerous times loom, you can 
transfer those cargos to our wagons at the 
southern edge of the valley and not put your men 
at risk of a permanent stay.  They’ll be happier, 
and you’ll have your goods for far less.  Happier 
soldiers tell tales and that can only encourage 
more business for you.  And if you must spend 
less, the people of Metamor will have to spend 
less, and they will be able to afford more of 
your wares.  Everyone will profit.”
         The rooster crowed in amusement. “You do 
seem to think we will all use your wagons.  But I 
won’t believe you can do what you say until you can prove it.”
         Julian bowed with a sharp smile. “And I 
do hope you’ll give us the opportunity to do 
so.  We have three wagon sleighs to start, enough 
soldiers to protect them, and now all we need is 
something to ship and a place to ship them too.”
         The silence that followed was not so 
much a stillness as it was a mass of muttering 
and pondering by the many assembled as they 
quietly whispered to their neighbours, not a one 
of them willing to be the first to speak.  Some 
wished not to speak because they had no interest 
in using the rat’s wagons but did not want to 
discourage others.  Some stayed quiet because 
they were not in the business of shipping goods 
around the valley at all.  The rest fidgeted 
their tongues because they wanted to suggest 
something but didn’t want to be the first.
         Elliot and Goldmark’s bright eyes began 
to dim and they cast furtive glances at Julian 
who kept up his hopeful façade far longer than 
they.  But even his confidence started to wane, 
whiskers drooping at their ends as the crowd 
continued in its disquieted confusion.  Julian’s 
red eyes swept over the assembled merchants 
faster and faster, but few would meet the plea in his gaze.
         Through the fog of embarrassed chatter 
one voice sounded clear and with a pleased 
chitter. “I would be honoured to have you deliver 
my family back to Glen Avery tomorrow.” Charles 
smiled and sat tall on one of the many boxes 
scattered about the yard.  His children sat 
fidgeting between him, his wife, and nursemaid. 
“You brought my friends to the Glen safely a few 
days past and you delivered us to Metamor 
swiftly.  This time I will pay for those services and gladly!”
         Julian, Elliot, and Goldmark all beamed 
and stood a little taller on their toes at the 
words of their fellow rat.  The white-furred rat 
shook his head, a blush creeping into his ears. 
“We could never accept payment from you, 
Charles.  If not for your efforts all these 
years, we’d never have had the courage to try 
this at all.  We owe you a debt that cannot be repaid.”
         Now it was Charles’s turn to shake his 
head. “Seeing you here and now out of the cellars 
is all the repayment I need.  I will not accept 
charity for this.  You will accept my payment and 
accept it at full price.  And if you won’t do it, 
I’ll just have to hire somebody else to take us home!”
         Julian laughed and held his paws up in 
surrender. “Very well, very well, you 
win.  Tomorrow we will deliver you and your 
family back to Glen Avery.  That will leave quite 
a bit of room in our wagon.  Does anyone else 
have anything they wish us to deliver to the Glen?”
         Master Lidaman lifted one hand and said 
in a clear voice, “If I may interject.  There is 
one thing about your remarkable service that you 
have not disclosed.” All ears, especially those 
of the rat trio, turned toward the financier. 
“Your rates.  How much will you be charging for your service?”
         Julian’s ears blushed again and he 
laughed. “How silly of me!  You’re right.  The 
charges depend on the destination, but we intend 
to charge roughly one bronze crescent per square 
foot of space in our wagons per hour of the 
journey.  To travel to the Glen, for a square 
foot of space it will cost five crescents.  This 
will pay to feed our horses and to recompense our drivers and soldiers.”
         The hushed whispering started 
anew.  Many gaped in astonishment at the 
price.  Those who did not have their own men were 
used to paying more to have their items 
delivered.  And those with their own wagons knew 
just how little profit the rats could expect if 
they did not fill their wagons for every trip.
         Still, with such a low price, it was 
inevitable that some would give them a chance.  A 
badger standing in the middle of the crowd put 
his paws to either cheek and shouted. “I’ll send 
a bushel of onions to the Glen and to Lake 
Barnhardt on your wagons, Master Julian!”
         “Thank you, Master Derygan!” Julian 
pipped, standing on his very tip toes, snout 
lifted into the air as if he were sniffing a 
particularly tasty morsel. “I will see to it that 
they find their ways into the hands of grocers 
and innkeepers and whatever price they bring back into your paws.”
         Falkirk Urseil waved his hand, and his 
pangolin son beside him beamed, “I’ll have sample 
bolts of cloth sent on your wagon to the tailors 
in both Glen Avery and Lake Barnhardt.  I’ll 
include instructions if they wish to order anything more from me.”
         Julian thanked him and then turned as 
yet another merchant sought to sample their 
services.  The rats eagerly listened and assured 
their newest customers that they would 
deliver.  No one was willing to commit to a large 
shipment, but most of them had something to 
offer.  By the time the bells of Metamor chimed 
the noon hour, all three rats were busy 
scribbling down agreements from various merchants 
on how much to deliver, where, and making estimates on how much it would cost.
         Many went back and had more cider and 
pastries until that supply was exhausted.  And 
then, one by one, the merchants began to disperse 
back into Metamor.  The roads were still clogged 
with snow, and even the new ones the civil crews 
had cleared were often beset by foot traffic as 
Keepers went about to find something to satisfy 
their hungry bellies.  Many returned to their 
homes with ideas on how to improve their 
wagons.  Others plotted ways to offer better 
services than the rats.  And a few hoped that the rats succeeded.
         One of the last to leave, Master 
Lidaman, approached Julian and shook his paw.  He 
stood only a little taller than the rat, and 
smiled a grandfatherly smile. “I am not yet going 
to invest in your venture, Master Julian.  But I 
may yet.  Let us say that I will be keeping a close eye on you three.”
         Julian shook his hand with genuine 
appreciation. “I do hope you change your mind, Master Lidaman.”
         The teenager nodded and patted the rat 
on the shoulder. “At the very least, I wish you 
luck.  If your plan works, it will do all that 
you say.  As well as make you three very wealthy.”
         Julian’s red eyes fixed on the financier 
and with an equal firmness replied, “And anyone 
who invests in us.  One thing we rats pride ourselves on is loyalty.”
         “And wisely choosing your friends too 
I’ve noticed.” This last was said with a knowing 
wink.  Before Julian could stammer a response, 
Lidaman turned back to his waiting daughter and 
son-in-law, climbed into his carriage and departed.
         Charles and a quartet of little rats 
were at his side a moment later.  Julian looked 
at the brown rat and sighed gratefully. “Thank 
you, Charles.  If not for you I fear we would 
have been investing in firewood and scrap metal.”
         The two rats exchanged a quick brotherly 
hug and then Charles chuckled. “That’s what it 
looked like.  I don’t have the kind of money 
Lidaman does but I’ll be delighted to invest in 
your wagons.  We can discuss details this 
afternoon...” His eyes wandered down to his 
sides, and then up to something just out of 
Julian’s range of vision.  Julian turned, and saw 
the four children climbing onto Goldmark’s 
taur-back while the other rat laughed and waved 
his long tail back and forth.  Little Erick was 
jumping on all fours back and forth over the end 
of the tail.  Kimberly and Baerle watched them with stern eye.
         “They move fast,” Julian said with a 
pleasant laugh. “This afternoon is a wonderful 
time to discuss things.  We’re still operating 
out of the cellars, but we hope to buy a place in 
Keeptowne once we have enough saved up.”
         “Good.  Good.” Charles gripped Julian’s 
shoulder firmly and stared at his friend with 
admiration. “I’m proud of you three.  Now there’s 
not a rat in hiding in all of Metamor.  I’ve 
waited so many years for this.  Thank you.”
         Julian took a deep breath and let his 
red eyes gaze up into the clear blue sky. “It’s 
good to be out of hiding.  We may still live in 
the cellars for now but we’re never going to be 
cellar rats again.  Not a one of us.”
         Together, the two rats hugged and then 
turned to watch the children at play, their 
voices a boisterous chorus of chittering squeaks 
that knew nothing of the shame of rodents.

----------

         After the day’s excitement was well 
passed and the clear sky gave way to a brilliant 
panoply of stars, the trio of rats gathered in 
the secret basement beneath Master Derygan’s 
onion shop.  A quartet of Keeper’s joined them 
one by one as the night wore on.  Each approached 
silently and through the shadows, knocking 
carefully and precisely on the hidden door when the Watch wasn’t watching.
         But once they were in the hidden room 
beneath the shop, they were all smiles and 
laughter.  A trio of rats and the four they had 
invited into greater knowledge.  Julian hugged 
both Elliot and Goldmark and almost did the same 
to the rest.  Kendrick was delighted with their 
success, but kept a small secret hope buried in 
his heart.  Gadfrey looked immensely relieved but 
also eager to return to his wife’s 
side.  Davine’s delight was sober but 
true.  Timmins seemed the least enthused of them all.
         Julian waved them all to silence and did 
not bother to hide his joy. “I first want to 
thank you all for the hard work you’ve done that 
has brought us here this day.  You brought your 
families to hear what we had to say, and they 
responded even better than I expected.  How much do we have to haul tomorrow?”
         Ellliot’s nose twitched as he scanned 
over the numbers in the little folds of parchment 
he carried. “Almost two wagon’s full.  We may 
have to bring the third in case the little ones get rambunctious.”
         “Two will be fine,” Julian replied. “I 
had hoped to fill one wagon, but to almost fill two is remarkable!”
         “Praise Eli for Master Matthias,” 
Kendrick said as his tongue stuck out a few 
inches. “If not for him jumping in I don’t think anybody would have spoken up.”
         Julian nodded and hooked a thumb to the 
roof. “Derygan was always going to pitch in, but 
he had to wait for somebody else to go first.”
         “It might have raised suspicions 
otherwise,” Goldmark added as he stretched four 
rat legs and two arms. “And now we need to scale 
back our nightly activities to avoid any more unseemly suspicions.”
         Timmins’s ears backed unhappily.  The 
stoat grimaced and churred in the back of his 
throat. “Do you mean we won’t be stealing from 
foreigners anymore?” Kendrick suspected the paper 
merchant’s youngest son was stealing from more 
than just foreigners when he could get away with 
it but didn’t offer that opinion.
         Julian’s whiskers drooped thoughtfully, 
red eyes appraising his four non-rat 
thieves.  Even so his answer was swift. “Of 
course we will continue.  But we won’t have to do 
it as much.  And it won’t be as safe for some of 
us.” He turned first to Gadfrey.  The teenager 
had his hands folded and was tapping his thumbs 
together. “We’ve already discussed your 
situation, Gadfrey.  A husband takes too many risks being a thief.”
         Gadfrey took a deep breath and nodded. 
“I’ll do what I can to convince Master Lidaman to finance you three.”
         “We know,” Julian replied with a warm 
smile.  His eyes shifted to Davine.  The young 
woman, once a boy, smiled back at him all dimples 
and brown curls. “Davine, how does your family feel about our venture?”
         “Curious,” she replied with a toss of 
her head. “They import all their goods, so 
they’ll be keeping a close eye on you.  If you 
can really deliver everything safely, on time, 
and at your price, they’ll shift much of their merchandise to you.  I know it.”
         “Good,” Julian rubbed his paws together. 
“I’m not going to ask you to continue thieving 
either.  You’ll be of far more use convincing 
your family and overseeing their merchandise.  I 
trust this does not upset you.”
         She shrugged, her smile vanishing only 
for a moment. “It was fun while it lasted.”
         Julian then turned to Timmins, and 
Kendrick felt his gut tighten.  The rat was 
leaving him for last deliberately, he knew 
it!  But the stoat’s gaze was perhaps the most 
intense of any of them.  And even before the 
white rat could speak, Timmins made known what he 
wanted. “I am my father’s third and youngest son, 
Julian.  He plans to make me a clerk and find 
some girl for me to marry, maybe even ship me off 
to another village in the Valley.  I’m not going 
to be able to help you much with him.  I want to be a thief.”
         “And that is what I want you to be,” 
Julian replied. “But you need to moderate 
yourself.  Only steal what I we ask you.”
         Timmins stood taller, offended. “I can 
steal far more than you ask and not get caught!”
         “Aye, you can at that.  But we’re not 
here just to steal.  We’re here to make ourselves 
and Metamor wealthy.  We can do the former by 
stealing, but not the latter.” Julian paused, 
glanced at Elliot and Goldmark, and then smiled. 
“We’ll do what we can to provide you plenty of 
opportunity to answer the call of your true 
vocation, Timmins.  Have no fear of that.”
         “Good,” Timmins said with a short 
churr.  He crossed his arms and sat down, eyeing 
the others with a haughty delight.
         Finally Julian’s eyes turned to 
Kendrick.  There was a sternness to the rat’s 
gaze, but the pangolin tried to meet it with an 
unperturbed calm. “As much as I would like to 
keep you on as a thief, Kendrick, you are the 
heir to the Urseil family trade.  If not for that 
you would stay a thief.  You are too gifted in 
both worlds.  It almost seems a shame.  But after 
tonight neither you, nor Davine, nor Gadfrey, 
will ever need return here again.”
         Kendrick felt a surge of elation rush 
through his chest.  His heart beat 
faster.  Somewhere hidden in this room were his 
thieving tools.  Never more would he ever need 
set his eyes upon them.  No more would he sneak 
into his house and go to bed with a guilty 
conscience.  He wasn’t a thief anymore!  He could 
not hide the smile from his triangular snout. 
“Thank you, Julian!  I will do what I can to 
bring you more business from my family.”
         “Good!” Julian beamed, patted him on the 
shoulder, and then turned his eyes from Elliot to 
Goldmark. “Well my friends, I’m off to the 
cellars again to enjoy some well earned rest.  We 
three have a long journey tomorrow, the first of 
many more.  Leave one by one as 
always.  Goldmark, can you tend the lights on your way out?”
         The six-limbed rat chittered and grinned. “It would be a pleasure.”
         Julian smiled, waved to them one last 
time, and then left, whistling a soft tune as he 
disappeared into the dark tunnels that led to 
various alleys and hidden holes about 
Keeptowne.  A moment later and even that little 
noise was gone.  Timmins followed him a minute 
later, and then Gadfrey after him.  Kendrick 
watched them each go, one eye drifting toward the 
young woman idly wrapping a curl of hair around a 
slender finger.  Elliot glanced at them briefly 
before taking his leave.  Goldmark excused 
himself a moment later to make sure that the back entrance was securely shut.
         Kendrick turned toward Davine and tried 
to smile. “Well, I guess we aren’t thieves anymore.”
         “No,” she said with a dimpled 
smile.  His heart flushed and his paws curled 
more tightly around his winter coat. “No more 
late night assignations to pilfer a purloined 
profit from a persnickety pillager of poor 
Keeper’s purses!” She laughed at her own wit and 
then lowered her eyes. “All right.  I’ve been 
thinking bout that one for a few minutes.”
         Kendrick laughed at that, and noted that 
she was sitting a lot closer to him than she had 
been when Julian had left.  He swallowed, long 
tongue bunching up at the back of his throat. 
“Well um, now that we’re no longer thieves, and 
we don’t have to worry about, well, you know, 
being seen in the, um, um, same...”
         Davine smiled and leaned forward. “I’d love to.”
         Kendrick started leaning back, tail 
curling up tight. “L... l... love to what?”
         Her eyes sparkled with mischief. 
“Whatever it was you were going to ask.  So long 
as it’s just the two of us.” And then she kissed 
him on the end of his nose. “I’ll see you again soon.”
         And with that she stood and waltzed down 
the dark tunnels and out of sight.  Kendrick 
gasped for breath and stared after her.  Despite 
the cold air in the cellar the pangolin felt as 
if he were roasting in his coat.
         A chuckling chitter from behind him made 
him turn.  Goldmark was at the edge of the stairs 
shaking his head. “Ah, Kendrick.  I wish I had your problem!”
         The poor confused pangolin still didn’t get any sleep that night.

----------

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

Charles Matthias


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