[Mkguild] Hough's Secret (2/3)

[C. Matthias]

Metamor Keep: Hough's Secret
by Charles Matthias

Part 2...

Felsah and Zachary talked of family, their homes, 
and the new lives they had at Metamor as they 
continued toward the Keep. Once they reached the 
stone castle, Zachary looked uncomfortable as he 
ducked his head beneath each transom and kept 
wary eye that he did not strike his horns or 
frill on any crossbeams. When Felsah asked if he 
were all right, Zachary only commented that he felt cramped indoors.

“It's one of the few things I don't like about my 
new size, Father. Only a few buildings are big enough for me now.”

“And the other reasons?”

“I have to eat... a lot!”

The hallways did lift higher, arching 
sufficiently above their heads as if the Keep 
itself had heard his companion's complain, was 
they made their way to the Follower Cathedral. 
The journey was just long enough for them to 
finish their final thoughts when they wide doors 
came into view. “Well, here we are, Father,” 
Zachary said and stopped where he was. “It's been 
a joy and an honor meeting you. I'd wait for you, 
but I must report to my commander. My troop is 
going out on patrol tomorrow and I don't want them to have to search for me.”

Felsah offered him a quick blessing and thanked 
him against for his aid and his delightful 
companionship on the long walk from Metamor's 
markets to the Cathedral. As a man it would not 
have been so arduous a walk, but as a jerboa with 
his much shorter stature, it, like everything 
else, seemed to be twice as far. If he hadn't 
already walked along the roads through the valley 
in this new form, he would have been completely 
winded. As it was, he was looking forward to a few minute's rest.

On entering the Cathedral, the jerboa reached up, 
dipped his paw in the holy water fount, and then 
made the sign of the yew over his chest. The 
water dribbled across the bridge of his nose and 
flicked off one of his whiskers. He wiped it back 
with one paw, and then took a few tentative steps 
inside the vast hall, heart beating in awe as he 
saw the warm colored light pour through the 
clerestory windows and bath the open stone floor 
and the sections filled with wooden pews for 
those too weak to stand or kneel during Liturgy. 
That light illumined ancient paintings and 
tapestries that adorned the walls, each showing 
some scene from the life of Yahshua or the saints 
of older times. Statues of Mother Yanlin, angels, 
and of Yahshua were interspersed between them, 
while the Stations marked each column lining the 
inner arch of the cathedral. At the far end 
against the wall, gilded in gold and silver, 
inlaid with ivory, and fashioned from marble and 
wood was the high altar, the tabernacle, and the 
yew with their crucified Lord hanging in 
atonement for their transgressions. Felsah knelt 
to one knee and struck his breast with his paw 
three times before rising again. Rakka nudged him 
with his cold, wet nose while he knelt, but 
stopped once the jerboa gave him another scratch behind the ears.

Off to his right he found Father Hough standing 
with his six seminarians kneeling on small 
pillows before him. Felsah kept back by the 
vestibule and watched as the boyish priest 
conducted his lesson, the seminarians listening 
with rapt attention. One of the other boys was 
stringing a set of prayer beads as he listened, 
eyes never even leaving Hough as his hands worked with confident precision.

But Felsah could not go unnoticed forever, and 
after a few minutes recitation on liturgical 
norms for the burial of the dead, Hough noticed 
him standing there. The priest's eyes widened in 
surprise as he recognized the Questioner, but he 
continued the lesson for a few minutes more. The 
seminarians asked him a few questions once they 
were complete, and Felsah nodded in approval at 
several whose minds had delved to the heart of 
the matter. The chameleon Patric seemed 
especially good at divining a clear-thought 
question regarding points of doctrine.

Once the last of the questions were offered, 
Hough gave them their final instructions. “Now, I 
want each of you to spend at least a half hour in 
meditation before the altar. Then, you are to 
continue meeting with our brethren in Metamor. 
You are to learn who is in need of prayer, who is 
need of charity, who in need of healing, and, who 
may need some gentle correction. Do this until 
Vespers. Eli bless you, my children.”

They all claimed their pillows and headed 
silently with heads bowed in reverence toward the 
altar to offer their prayers and meditation. 
Felsah watched them go for a moment, grateful 
that there was so many already here at Metamor, 
and then followed after Hough who had moved 
toward a wide, oaken door nestled between two 
tapestries. The boy said nothing as he held it 
open for the Questioner and his dog, and a moment 
later they were inside a comfortable sitting 
chamber with a small fire already crackling in 
the hearth. A lantern stood by the door they 
passed through and another hung from the far 
wall, giving the room a comforting glow.

Hough shut the door behind him and said with a 
subtle resignation mixed with genuine 
hospitality, “Welcome back to Metamor, Father Felsah. How may I be of service?”

Felsah hopped into one of the two chairs, and 
Rakka curled up beneath his dangling feet. The 
fire warmed both his feet and hands, each of his 
long claw-tipped toes curling and stretching as 
the chill of pavings stones finally left them. 
“Just by offering your company for a short time, 
Father Hough. The Curses have made my stay here 
in Metamor a permanent one as you can see. I know 
that my first visit to your parish caused unrest 
and heartache. I hope that will never again be 
the case. Do me the favor of sitting with me and 
sharing news as one priest to another.”

Hough nodded thoughtfully as he strode to the 
upholstered chair opposite Felsah's and sat down, 
his legs also unable to reach the floor. They 
looked like children play-acting as if they were 
grown men gathered to discuss affairs of the 
land. And in some sense that was exactly what they were.

“Forgive me, it is not that.” The boy sighed and 
curled his hands around the arm rests. “The 
plague was very trying on all of us. It's been 
about two weeks now since it was defeated, but I 
still have trouble sleeping sometimes. I'm glad 
to see that you are well, Father Felsah. And, 
judging by your shape, it seems the Curse likes 
to humble us priests with small, weak forms. I 
heard that Father Malvin became a child like me too.”

“Not always,” Felsah replied with a small squeak. 
“Father Purvis has become a hippopotamus.”

“A what?”

“Hippopotamus. They are sometimes called river 
horses. They come from the rivers of Eavey and 
are much wider and bulkier than any horse. He was 
very grateful when I told him what it was that 
he'd become. I cannot quite seem to do that with 
everyone it seems. I met Zachary of Bradanes on my way here.”

Hough blinked and then laughed. “Ah yes, Zachary. 
He told me once what it was he'd become, but I 
can never remember it much less pronounce it! The 
poor fellow broke the wall of the Confessional 
when he tried to leave it last time. He offered 
to sell his sword on the spot to pay for the damages.”

“He does seem a very pious man,” Felsah agreed. 
“He rescued me from a quartet of Rebuilders who 
thought to attack me near the market.”

The boy priest frowned. “Who were they? I can 
tell Misha Brightleaf and he can see to it they learn to behave themselves.”

Felsah recalled well that Misha Brightleaf was a 
fox of authority at Metamor and also a Rebuilder 
who once lived in Marigund. He was also the man 
who'd rebuilt the automaton Madog who'd 
befriended him on his first visit to Metamor and 
who had later saved him after he'd been nearly 
beaten to death. He didn't know what relationship 
Hough and Misha had, but it seemed that both 
wanted to maintain peace between Keepers.

Still, he had to shake his comparatively large 
head. “I never learned their names, but I can 
describe them.” Hough listened as he did his best 
to describe the bull, the leopard, the 
round-eared canine, and the human male who'd 
surrounded him. Two of them Hough knew but the 
other pair was unfamiliar to him.

“I will pass this along to Misha when I see him 
next. He'll make sure they know not to make such threats again.”

“Thank you.”

Hough smiled a little, and then his cheeks 
flushed with warmth. “Tell me, you have been 
traveling the lands to the south of Metamor. What 
news do you bring? We've had nothing more than 
rumor and I have been too busy to listen even to 
that. Father Purvis has changed, that is good. But what else?”

Felsah's whiskers twitched and his incisors ached 
to chew on something. The knight rat Sir Saulius 
and his squire Matthias had both carried wooden 
staves with them that they chewed on whether 
their incisors ailed them. He had not yet settled 
into the practice but he knew that he would have 
to. “Do you have something I could chew upon? My 
teeth hurt. I'm not used to this yet.”

Hough bounced out of his seat and practically 
dashed to the cupboard at the far side. “I am a 
terrible host. I have some that Thimble keeps 
here when I teach them here. Would you care for 
some cider, Father Felsah? It is a family recipe; most have enjoyed it.”

“Thank you again. That will suit me very well.”

The boy returned first with a broken branch from 
a birch tree as long as his arms which Felsah 
gratefully set between his teeth. It felt good to 
work them over the wood, digging into the sinew 
and pulp, wearing down the edges of his 
constantly growing teeth. While Hough rummaged 
through his things for a pair of cups, Felsah 
told him between bites, “There is not much news 
to share. The Follower communities seem strongest 
in Jetta, Lorland, and the Iron Mines. There are 
small pockets now springing up wherever the 
refugees from Bradanes have settled. They have 
settled everywhere, wherever they can find a 
place to work and make their new home.”

“Oh they have no choice in that!” Hough called 
over his shoulder as he poured a sweet and acrid 
broth. “There's not enough room in Keeptowne for 
them all, nor any of the other cities in the 
Valley. So many families have already been broken 
by the plague, and now far too many are being 
broken up further. It is very sad.”

“It is,” Felsah agreed. “But I have never seen a 
people more glad to be alive than they. They have 
brightened every village I have passed through. 
And they have taken on any job, no matter humble that they can find.”

“Metamor is certainly stronger thanks to them,” 
Hough noted as he carried both cups back. He 
handed one to Felsah, and then climbed back into 
his chair. “It is better warm, but I need to 
clean my pots again before I use them.”

Felsah sipped the cider and his tongue danced in 
delight at the fruity pungency. He nodded, wide 
eyes blinking. “This is very good. Thank you. The 
repairs to defenses in Jetta are moving along. 
Sister Rosewain is organizing matters very well 
there. They live near enough the boundary of the 
Curse that a priest from Midtown visits them 
every few weeks. They will eventually need a 
priest of their own, but I think they will be fine for a time as they are.”

He chewed on the stick of wood again for a few 
seconds before continuing. “The Iron Mine 
definitely should have its own priest. Many of 
the people there are Lothanasi, but the relative 
safety of that land, and the certainty of finding 
employ in the mines have brought hundreds of 
refugees there. They've built their own little 
town within the town, scavenging whatever they 
can to build their homes near the foundry walls. 
It is a vile place to live, and to his credit 
Lord Christopher is trying to make room for them 
in the city proper, but there's only so much 
space. As many as four families are trying to 
live in a room no bigger than this. Until they 
can expand the city walls, there's nowhere for them to go.”

Hough frowned and curled his hands around his 
cup. “I hadn't realized it was that bad there. 
The Bishop didn't say anything of this.”

“He didn't see it. It was only just beginning 
when his grace passed through Iron Mine. Since 
Metamor has been under quarantine, all the 
refugees that might have come here have gone 
either to Lorland or Iron Mine. At least in 
Lorland there is plenty of space and there are 
vast fields which they can indenture themselves to, but not so in Iron Mine.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Felsah took a sip of the cider and shook his 
head, long tail flitting against the back of the 
chair and then up behind him, the tuft curling 
back down to nearly rest between his ears. “There 
is nothing to be done except to assign a priest 
to that city at once.” Hough's eyes widened in 
surprise. “Somebody who can be with them, work at 
their sides, and share their lives is what they 
need. Then they will know what it is they can do 
to help. We are too far away to know what's best.”

“We could send them aid. If there weren't so many 
still trying to rebuild after the attack a year 
past, I would start up a collection today.”

“And I know you will be met with great 
generosity. The people of Metamor have a deep 
faith and even more so, a deep brotherhood with one another.”

Hough smiled and nodded. “You've not been with us 
long and you can see that already.”

“It is hard to miss.”

“Yet so many do,” Hough added with a long sigh. 
“How is Father Purvis adjusting to his change?”

“Well enough and with good humor. He doesn't have 
a single piece of clothes that still fits him so 
he was reduced to wearing a bedsheet when I first saw him.”

“Oh my!”

“The people of his parish were quick to sew new 
garments for him, and by the time I left him he 
had a good pair of tunic, breeches, and a start 
on the vestments he'll need.” Felsah set the 
half-filled cup of cider on the flat portion of 
the arm rest and pulled his legs underneath him 
so that he was crouching on the seat. The 
discomfort he'd been suffering left immediately. 
After reclaiming the cup he took a long drink, 
his tongue lapping up the sweet brew in quick 
gulps. “He's spent his time readying a chapel, 
and visiting with every Follower family, as well 
as many Lothanasi just to introduce himself.”

“And what do they think of Father Purvis?”

“The Lothanasi aren't sure what to make of him, 
judging by what I'd heard while I was there. But 
the Followers already love him and are so 
grateful to have him there. I think he was an 
excellent choice and he's proving it even after only three-and-a-half weeks.”

Hough smiled widely and visibly relaxed. “That is 
good news. I have tried not to worry, but... it is difficult at times not to.”

“Given what you have had to endure here, Father, 
worry seems a small thing, but never let it gain 
a foothold in your heart. Liturgies were offered 
for all here in Metamor, both in supplication and 
in thanksgiving when we heard the good news.”

“And they were appreciated by all here,” Hough 
replied, his smile returning faint as a dawn's 
first light. “Many nights I didn't sleep at all. 
Not because I couldn't, but because I was 
visiting families with those sick, hearing 
confessions of those dying, and offering prayers 
with as many as had gathered, hundreds at any 
hour I was here, from the moment the sun rose 
until the moment it rose again the next day. Some 
were so afraid they would not let even I into 
their homes to offer blessing or sacred oils. I 
spent six hours with a mother as she and her 
child wept as that same child lay dying from the 
plague. Without the help of the Sisters I may 
have taken ill myself, but their presence and 
cheer in the face of this gave me the strength I needed.

“And I needed it more than I could guess, as I 
faced the very source of that plague, an evil 
that had been brought in by daedra and demon 
alike. Our own priests had been possessed and had 
come to deliver this evil here. Our own...”

Felsah would have reached over to put a hand on 
the boy's shoulder, but he couldn't reach from so 
far away, especially as small as he now was. “All 
those you ministered have gone to Eli now. Eli 
placed you here, Father Hough. The reasons are 
beyond our count, but they point to the salvation 
of your own soul and the souls of all here in 
your care, and perhaps even those who are not in 
your care. It's over for now, but none will ever forget the love you showed.”

“I trust you are right,” Hough admitted and then 
took a deep breath. “How long will you stay in 
Metamor? I could use an extra set of hands, paws e'en, for a little while.”

“His grace wished me to see all of the Valley 
first, but I had planned to stay for a few days 
at the very least. The community here is strong 
but they do have special needs. Tomorrow we can 
discuss what they are in greater depth, and I'll 
decide then. But I am your disposal while I am here.”

Hough smiled faintly. “Thank you. You know, you 
don't seem as intimidating that way.”

Felsah's jowls quivered in an attempt at a laugh 
but he stifled it. “If Father Kehthaek were here, 
he would say something along the lines of 'If I 
intimidate, it is only to show you how gravely 
important it is that I receive prompt and honest 
answers to my questions.' He was always the 
master of any conversation in which he took part. 
That is not a skill I have, nor do I want it. If 
I do not intimidate, then perhaps it is for the 
better. Although, I confess I wouldn't have 
minded being a bit bigger than this.”

“You seem about the same size as the other mice I 
know. The rats are all a little bigger.”

“It will be good for me, I suppose. Eli knows His 
will. Now, you said that there were priests who'd 
been possessed. What became of them?”

“They returned south as soon as Duke Thomas 
allowed them. They were in Metamor for about two 
weeks, but neither Bishop Josiah or Father 
Alexander showed any signs of the Curse when they 
left. Father Justin was struck two days before 
the quarantine was lifted, but as he became a 
child a little older than myself, he elected to 
return to Yesulam with the Bishop; he may return 
in late Summer or perhaps not at all. I would 
have liked it if he could have stayed, but... this isn't his home and...”

The only warning they had was Rakka lifting his 
head. A moment later a loud metallic clank jolted 
at their side and Felsah leaped straight into the 
air so high that he nearly banged his head on the 
stones above. A familiar voice riddled with 
enthusiasm barked, “Father Felsah!” And then the 
blue-eyed gray metal fox screeched to a halt and 
stared in stark wonder as he saw the jerboa land 
in the seat, the last remnants of his cider 
sprayed all over the floor and his robe. “You 
aren't a fox! I thought you'd be a fox.”

Felsah sucked in his breath and tried to still 
his rattled nerves. “Nay, nay, I am not... not a 
fox. I'm a Jerboa, Madog. I don't think my body 
likes your surprise appearances anymore.”

Rakka and Madog sniffed each other, before their 
tails wagged in excitement. Madog yipped once, 
then turned his head back to Felsah while Hough 
rolled back and forth in his seat laughing. “Not 
a fox.... jerboa are really small, Father. Now you can ride on my back!”

“Ride on... oh, Madog, maybe I will. But I can't right now.”

Madog sat on his haunches and blinked those 
piercing blue eyes. “Oh? When can you, Father?”

“I don't know, but I'll find some time in the next few days. I promise.”

Madog yipped again and jumped back to his paws so 
quickly that Felsah almost took another leap at 
the ceiling. He wrapped his left arm about the 
arm rest and shook his head in laughter to still 
his rodent nerves. Neither Sir Saulius nor his 
squire Matthias had been exaggerating when they'd 
described the self-mastery they'd needed to build 
after being changed into such excitable creatures as rodents.

Father Hough was still laughing like a the little 
boy he'd become. Felsah rubbed his robe together 
with one paw to dry the cider stain. “Why did you 
think I would be a fox, Madog?”

Madog and Rakka had begun circling each other 
again, sniffing playfully, but the mechanical fox 
turned back to the Questioner and, if he weren't 
mistaken, shrugged his shoulders. “She said you'd 
play with me too. I wanted to romp with you fox to fox!”

He chortled, a faint blush creeping into his 
large ears and burning beneath his cheeks. The 
utter innocence reached right through the layers 
of emotional control and pierced his heart as 
surely as the spear had pierced Yahshua's. And 
for a moment, he wished he had become a fox so 
that he could have taken to all fours and chased 
and be chased by his friend. But that was not possible.

“Well, that is why I was given Rakka, so there 
would be a friend to romp with you; and perhaps I 
can ride your back as we romp together.”

Madog's tail wagged. “I'd like that!” He then 
lowered his front paws and lifted high his hips, 
tail quivering as he mock snarled at Rakka. The 
golden-furred dog barked and then the chase 
began, running around in circles through Hough's 
sitting room. The boy got control of his laughter 
and pulled his leg up into the chair to keep out 
of their way. For a few minutes they watched in 
delight, neither speaking, the only sounds the 
crackling of the fire, the clank of metallic 
paws, the skittering of Rakka's claws, and the 
yipping and barking of two canids at play.

“So,” Felsah asked after the two had settled into 
a game of tug of war with a bit of rope attached 
to a length of thick chain – apparently Rakka 
wasn't the first dog to play with Madog – “the 
three are on their way back to Yesulam. Did they 
say if they would send message once they arrived?”

“Aye, and Father Justin said he would send word 
if he were to be assigned to Metamor. Perhaps you 
can make reference to this when you tell his 
grace Bishop Tyrion what Metamor needs from him.”

“I will. Which brings me to something I did wish 
to mention. Nobody seems to have heard of him, 
which has me worried, as I thought for sure he 
would have reached this place ere I did.” Hough 
leaned forward in his seat, curious. “You know 
that Bishop Vinsah arrived in Yesulam, where he 
was excommunicated; I helped him escape, but 
afterward I have heard nothing of him.”

Hough's eyes flashed for a moment and then they 
grew cold and inward, his cheeks withdrawn as the 
boy slowly leaned back in his chair. Madog turned 
his ears toward them for a moment before 
returning to his game with Rakka. Felsah noted 
the sudden change in Hough's mood and felt a 
stirring of suspicion grow in his heart. 
Instinctively he knew that something was even more amiss than he had guessed.

“Have you seen him, Father? I can see that you 
have; your eyes make it clear.” Hough turned away 
and put his face in one hand, rubbing at his 
forehead, thick boyish cheeks flushing red one 
moment and then turning white the next. Felsah 
crossed his paws over his knees and curled his 
tail around his feet. The hood dangling behind 
his neck felt heavy. “What happened to Bishop 
Vinsah? Is he well? Is he even still alive?”

Hough swallowed and shook his head. “He bade me 
speak of it to no one. Aye, he is alive but he is 
beyond our reach for now. We can only pray for him.”

“Where is he that we can only give him our 
prayers? You speak as if he were in grave danger.”

But the boy priest closed his mouth and looked at 
the fire, the light dancing in his eyes. He 
rested his chin on his fist, and tucked his feet 
beneath him, shaking his head the whole while.

In a softer voice, punctuated by the staccato 
barks and yips from their friends, Felsah pressed 
more gently. “Francis, he is our friend as well 
as fellow priest. If there is anyway we can help 
him, then we must. But we can do nothing unless 
we both know where he is and whether he is in any 
danger. Please, Father, tell me where Bishop Vinsah is.”

Madog bounded up to the chair between them and 
whined. “Father, tell Father Felsah. He can be trusted.”

“If I tell you then Yesulam will learn of it,” 
Hough said through clenched teeth. “His 
excommunication will never be lifted then!”

Felsah sucked in his breath, ears folding back, 
and tail tightening about his feet. “That does 
not sound encouraging.” He tried to conceive of 
what the raccoon might have done that would only 
irk the hierarchy more. “Has he joined the Rebuilders?”

“Nay,” Hough admitted with a bitter laugh. “He 
declared he would never join with heretics like that. But...”

“But what has he done?”

Madog whined again, “Tell him, Father!”

Hough took a deep breath, lowered his eyes, but 
did not turn to face the Questioner whose own big 
black-eyed expression was fixed upon the boy. “He 
came to me here three months ago. It was just 
before the Duke's Wedding. Nobody saw him arrive 
and nobody saw him leave; he's become very adept 
at using his animal form. He brought with him a 
stack of journals, Patriarch Akabaieth's journals, and he gave them to me.”

At that he did glance at the jerboa, although his 
eyes, brimming with tears, flicked back to the 
fire a moment later. “I still have them and I 
have tried to read them and find whatever it is 
that he saw. I haven't yet. But... but...” his 
voice trailed away and he stared for several long 
seconds at the flames. They were dwindling and 
would soon need more fuel to keep lit. “But he 
saw something; he said that Patriarck Akabaieth 
wished it of him. Wished that... he would... 
join... that he would join the Lothanasi.”

Felsah blinked as if he'd been slapped. He leaned 
back in the chair and took a long deep breath 
before asking, “Is that where he is? In the Lothanasi temple?”

“As an acolyte,” Hough said with a nod. “He 
doesn't call himself Vinsah anymore; he says his name is Elvmere.”

“Have you seen... Elvmere since?”

Hough shook his head and then let his gaze fall 
to his hands in his lap. One of them reached out 
and stroked Madog between the ears. “Nay. I don't 
think he has even left the temple since that day. 
I didn't see him at all when I went there to help 
Merai and Raven two weeks past. And neither of 
them will speak of Elvmere to me.”

“Have you asked?”

Hough shook his head. “It is not my place to ask such questions.”

“But it is mine,” Felsah announced. He stood up 
in his seat and looked down at Madog. “Perhaps 
now is a good time for our first ride, Madog.”

Hough blinked in alarm even as the automaton 
yipped in eager delight, standing up and offering 
his back to the rodent. “What are you doing?” 
Hough stammered. “You... you can't seriously 
think Lothanasa Raven will allow you entrance to 
the temple, or that she'll allow Elvmere to come forth?”

“Nay, I do not think that at all,” Felsah said as 
he eased one leg over the metal fox, grateful 
that his gray skin was not as cold as it looked. “But I will try nevertheless.”

“You won't even see them! They are in councils 
these days and nobody sees them!”

“Then I will make a nuisance of myself until they 
do.” He settled onto Madog's back, tucking his 
legs up as much as he could to keep his paws from 
the floor. His hands grasped at the fox's neck, 
finding purchase in the metal fur almost as 
easily as if it were real fur. Rakka stared at 
him in confusion, but Felsah warmly told him to 
come. Turning back to the nearly apoplectic boy 
priest, he said, “If you would, please bring out 
His Holiness's journals. I will want to study 
them myself. Perhaps together we can learn what 
Elvmere, that is Vinsah, saw in them.”

Hough tried to reach out for him, but Madog 
bounded away with a heavy clank. Felsah bounced 
on his back, long tufted tail thrust high into 
the air with each leap. Rakka was at their heels, 
barking in excitement as he chased them. They did 
not pass through the Cathedral, but instead took 
a side passage that Felsah hadn't noticed before, 
winding through a twisting, narrow pass which was 
lit only by small candles, each one just coming 
into view as the last passed beyond the curve. 
The shadows rushed over them one after another, 
so that Felsah could only trust his metal friend 
to lead them safely through the tight passage.

How well Felsah remembered the way that Madog had 
simply come up through a doorway that had not 
been there when he'd first visited the 
Questioner. And how could he ever forget that 
shadowy journey from Yesulam to Metamor in a 
matter of a week's time? He had held on tight 
then, not daring to let go for fear of being lost 
in between the shadows, flitting away from the 
sun's touch no better than an imp until the 
automaton rescued him again. He did not relish 
the idea of being lost in this twisty little 
passage, each stone looking just like any other, 
each turn as indistinguishable as all the rest, 
and each candle smelling of the exact same wax. 
His long fingers and short claws gripped at the 
metal ruff around Madog's neck all the tighter.

But where Madog was concerned, as Felsah should 
have known, there was no reason to fear. The 
tight passage opened out into a wide hall lined 
with bright brass lamps that cast away all 
shadows. Madog slowed to a walk, Rakka behind 
him, and the jerboa chanced a glance over his 
shoulder, but already their little secret conduit 
through Metamor was gone. He chuffed a laugh and 
together they walked at a brisk pace down the 
hall until it reached a broad double set of 
ornate doors. The doors were inlaid with panels 
depicting pagan history and rites.

Two humans flanked either side of the doors, 
their garments simple but dignified, bearing the 
double bladed cross of the Lothansi in faint 
relief. Both of them were somewhat older men, 
meaning that at one time they had been women and 
probably mothers. They gaped at the bizarre group 
walking toward them, a dog that, in their minds 
at least, could just as well have been another 
Keeper, the always perplexing automaton Madog, 
and a small rodent with very large ears in a 
black robe riding atop him. He sat up as they 
neared, the big red cross on his chest a little rumpled but clear.

“Questioner!” the darker haired of the two 
exclaimed when he saw that symbol. “You aren't 
allowed here. Go on; take yourself from this 
place, Phergold beast!” To emphasize his command 
he lifted a fauchard decorated with bright 
feathers where the sickle met the cedar beam and laid it across the door.

Madog came to a stop and remained standing, tail 
stretched out, ears and blue eyes alert. Rakka 
lowered his forequarters and growled at the two 
men. Felsah put a paw on the dog's shoulders and 
said, “Pax Rakka. Pax.” The dog licked his nose 
and glared at the two men but he did stop 
growling. Felsah lifted his head, straightened 
out his robe, and said, “I am here to speak with 
Acolyte Elvmere. Could you fetch him please? This 
way I do not have to enter your Temple where I, 
as you have noted, do not belong.”

The lighter-haired, and somewhat younger of the 
two, laughed and sneered, “We don't have to do 
anything for you. Now leave. You have no business here.”

Felsah rested his paws before him on Madog's 
neck, slender, furless fingers curling around the 
metal mane. “No. I am not going to leave until 
you have brought Acolyte Elvmere out to speak with me.”

The dark-haired one turned the fauchard toward 
Felsah. “I mean it, Questioner! Leave!”

Rakka began to growl again, his hackles lifting. 
Felsah sighed and shook his head. “If you have no 
authority to bring Elvmere to me, then I request 
you seek the counsel of someone who can. Because 
I am not going to leave, and no threat you make will convince me otherwise.”

“Oh we're not threatening you,” the light-haired 
one said, eyes narrowing. “We're... that's Madog! 
You're riding Madog?” It was the first note of 
uncertainty in his voice; the automaton began 
wagging his tail, but he did nothing other than carefully watch the two guards.

“This is Madog, and he is my friend.” Felsah 
stroked the metal fox between his ears once, and 
then with an exasperated sigh, said, “Please go 
seek whoever you must. I will wait here until you bring me Acolyte Elvmere.”

The dark-haired man scowled deeply, but the 
lighter-haired man backed away, and shook his 
head. “We're not allowed to do that. He's not supposed to leave the Temple.”

So at least Vinsah was in the Lothanasi Temple; 
at least they had not secreted him away. “Then 
pass my request on to whomever you must who can 
make that decision. We will wait here until you return.”

While the younger of the two opened the doors and 
slipped within, the man with the fauchard crossed 
it over the doorway, glaring at the trio. “I'm 
watching you three. Don't you move.”

Felsah did not. Rakka, seeing the threat was 
gone, curled up beside Madog who remained 
standing with the jerboa on his back. The posture 
was not as uncomfortable as he thought it might; 
it was no more onerous than riding a horse had 
once been. He mentally prayed for wisdom and 
patience while the seconds turned into minutes, 
and then stretched onward beyond his count. He 
was completing his ninth decade when the door 
opened again and a white-robed wolf emerged, her 
ice blue eyes finding him and fixing him from a much higher vantage.

He didn't want to be intimidated, but with the 
soreness of sitting too long, and the rodent 
instincts that urged him to flee and find some 
hole to crawl into, it was difficult not feeling 
very small and very vulnerable beneath that gaze. 
Her voice was as quiet as new-fallen snow, and as 
cold as iron, quenching his heart with every 
word. “Father Felsah. I am Lothanasa Raven 
hin'Elric. I am told that you are demanding to see one of my acolytes.”

“Not demanding,” Felsah said mildly. “I have 
asked for Acolyte Elvmere to be brought to me, that I may speak with him.”

“You may not,” the priestess said curtly. “I know 
your kind, Questioner, and I know where your 
conversations lead. My order expelled our own 
Inquisitors long ago. If Yesulam had done 
likewise, much grief and sorrow might have been 
spared.” She folded her arms into the sleeves of 
her robe. “This is my temple. My holy ground. I 
do not care that the Duke tolerates your 
presence. I do not care that you look like one of 
us. I do not care what papers you may carry from 
Yesulam. You will not Question my acolyte. Not 
now, and not ever. If you are wise, you will not 
mention his name again. Now, you will leave this 
place at once, and cease to bother my guards with your pointless posturing.”

Felsah nodded his head. “Of course, Lothanasa. 
Give him my regards and my delight in knowing that he is safe.”

The wolf-woman's jaw clenched. She looked from 
him to Madog, who scowled back at her. Her nose 
wrinkled briefly, and then she turned that 
piercing, wintry regard on the jerboa again. “No, 
Father Felsah. The man you knew is dead. The 
acolyte who serves with us now has found peace 
and satisfaction in his new life. I will not have 
you threaten that peace with the knowledge that 
he is still being hunted by you and your kind.” 
She turned to go, looking back over her shoulder. 
“Leave now. If you persist in occupying our 
doorstep, I will have you escorted to the 
dungeons for violating the concordant your Bishop signed.”

“What would the charge be?”

“Trespassing. And if you are still outside this 
door by the time I return through it, I will have 
to make that charge. You do not wish to test me in this.”

“No, that would be rather foolish. Well, if you 
will not pass my message along, I will take my 
leave of you. Thank you for taking the time to see me, Lothanasa.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I do not ever wish to see you again, Questioner.”

Felsah nudged Madog with one knee and the metal 
fox turned around, giving the priestess a parting 
stare both enigmatic and unpleasant. The jerboa 
kept his face as expressionless as he could, 
though he knew his whiskers were twitching 
nervously. “We do not always get what we wish, 
Lothanasa. Eli's blessing be with you.” He turned 
his head at that, not wishing to see her reaction 
for fear that it might be too satisfying to his 
ego. Rakka climbed to his paws and followed after 
them. They had gone no more than three paces when 
they heard the great doors shut behind them.

----------

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

Charles Matthias


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