[Mkguild] Inchoate Carillon, Inconstant Cuckold (19 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias


March 9, 708 CR


"'Tis our last day of patrol," Sir Saulius said softly as they rode 
down the southern road at a leisurely walk. "Thou hast been in the 
saddle for nigh two weeks, my squire. Dost it suit thee?"

Charles had his eyes on the road as it wound in a mostly southerly 
course through a series of low hills and ever shrinking trees. To 
their left the ground sloped away to the valley floor, while the near 
constant squat ridge line to their right kept the streams from 
washing away the road. They'd already passed the small bridge where 
the Glen defenders, including Lord Avery's father, had fallen in the 
days before the Battle of Three Gates, and now were just waiting to 
see when Lake Barnhardt would come into view.

His mind was lost in thought, pondering what they might see when they 
reached the fortified town by the lake, that it took the rat a moment 
to realize that his knight had asked him a question. He blinked, 
whiskers twitching as he pondered it. So much else was preying on his 
thoughts that it was difficult to concentrate. The vine curled around 
his chest and beck gently pulled tight.

"Aye, it does. More than I would have expected perhaps, but, thanks 
to you, I have grown used to being in the saddle. Having such a steed 
as Malicon helps." He patted the roan on the neck. Malicon turned his 
ears back at the sound of his name, but offered no other sign that 
his attention had been taken from the road ahead. "My hips and back 
aren't sore anymore either. Haven't been for days."

"Good," Sir Saulius said with a confidant smile teasing the edges of 
his muzzle. "Thou hath progressed well since thou didst become my 
squire. I recall thy first time trying to ride Malicon."

Charles laughed a little at the memory. "He gave me the oddest look 
I've ever seen on any horse." He shook his head and then looked at 
the knight. Saulius regarded him with a speculative gaze, but Charles 
couldn't guess what his fellow rat might be thinking. With everything 
else eating at his mind, there was only one question that he could 
conjure. "When we reach Lake Barnhardt, would it be all right if we 
went into the city? I'd like to speak with Jessica while we're there. 
I won't have another chance for a week or more. Would that be all right?"

Saulius's brow furrowed a little beneath his helmet. "And why dost 
thou ask me permission to see thy dear companion?"

"You're my knight, and I have sworn to be your squire." In a quieter 
voice, feeling somewhat irritated that Saulius would choose to 
ruminate on this subject yet again, he added, "Even if I'm paid to 
serve as a Long Scout."

Erick lifted one paw and shook his head. "I desire not to argue over 
thy loyalties, Charles. Thou hast proven to me more times than I 
couldst count that thou art a true friend and fellow warrior no 
matter whether thou dost serve in the saddle or on thy paws. I admit 
that I wouldst rather see thee a knight, but thou must decide on thy 
own how thou wilt serve."

Charles grimaced and nodded, turning his eyes back to the road of 
hard dirt gouged and furrowed on either side with wagon wheels so 
that a small hump ran down the center. "Aye, I know. I've never been 
able to decide that. I am torn by loyalties to both you and Misha, 
and to my clan even! But... you didn't answer my question."

"'Twas clear to me," Saulius replied with a brighter tone, an almost 
marshal staccato as his tongue clicked against the back of his 
incisors, "that it would delight me to reunite thee with any of thy 
friends. Though, the hawk does give my instincts judicious pause."

Charles glanced at the knight and found himself laughing despite the 
heaviness in his heart and mind. The mere image of Sir Erick Saulius, 
two time winner of the Golden Lance, cowering like a simple rodent 
before Jessica, one of the most gentle people Charles knew, brought 
about a mirth uncontainable by simple flesh!

"You just need to get to know her as I do. It's like any other 
predator here at Metamor." Charles shifted about in the saddle, his 
tail sliding across to hang off the other side of Malicon's withers. 
He grabbed his tail with one paw and lifted it onto the pony's 
backside to rest. "Besides, she might have news about what's 
happening in Metamor."

The knight's dark eyes widened and he began to nod. "In sooth, I 
didst not consider that. I wonder what hast become of Julian, Elliot, 
Goldmark, and Hector." Unspoken was that he also worried about Lady 
Kimberly and Charles's children.

"Then let's not waste any more time," Charles grinned, giving Malicon 
a gentle click with his tongue. "We should catch her before Lord 
Barnhardt can send her on a scouting mission!"

The knight laughed and flicked his reins. Both Armivest and Malicon 
lurched forward into a spirited gallop.

----------

The plague at Metamor was making Jo the Healer's job more difficult. 
Not that she had to contend with the plague at Glen Avery, but 
because every little cough, headache, or general soreness was now 
feared as being the first stages in that fatal malady. In the four 
days since news had spread to the Glen, she'd made nearly a hundred 
visits to every corner of the Glen; many times it was to the very 
same people. She'd climbed dozens of rope ladders, tree bark, and 
descended into more burrows in the last four days than she could ever 
remember doing.

But not once did she blame any of those she visited for their fears. 
Plague was a word that chilled the bones and conjured nightmares of 
pain and suffering that made the bravest of warriors tremble. Jo the 
vixen had never encountered it before in all of her travels with 
Jono, but they had passed through villages that had been ravaged many 
years before. The charred remnants of timber and stone lingered where 
the homes of victims had once stood. Several streets were utter ruins 
on one side, and sometimes both, avenues that no foot, man or beast, 
dare trod upon. Where once a prosperous hamlet had thrived, now the 
remnants struggled to keep each other from leaving.

Jo tried to maintain a cheerful demeanor with each Glenner she 
visited, all of whom were suffering from nothing other than what she 
usually tended. But in those precious few minutes when she wasn't 
visiting one of the many families who lived in the woodland, the 
vixen had to struggle to keep from crying with her own fears for 
Metamor and the Glen.

That morning, with the sun still fresh above the mountains, she'd 
been sent to check on the skunk archer Berchem. He hadn't reported to 
Lord Avery that morning at the brewery. And the master archer was 
never late to report in without good reason. Jo wasted no time in 
gathering her herb basket with its myriad remedies and walking toward 
his home nestled beneath one of the redwoods north of the Commons. A 
few onlookers watched but kept their distance as she approached the 
doors and knocked firmly. "Berchem? Are you well?"

Like everyone else at the Glen, Jo knew the skunk fairly well. He was 
a scout, which meant that he had received the ministration of her 
paws and concoctions many times before. While his demeanor was not as 
warm as that of the badger Angus, he was nevertheless polite and 
amicable. He was honest, proud, and expected the best from everyone 
around him, which meant that he could be a little hard and 
unsympathetic at times. But she'd never heard anyone speak an ill 
word of him, except a few rumors regarding the way his relationship 
with Baerle had come to an end.

The stories surrounding those two were often in conflict, and so Jo 
did her best to ignore them. Who could ever tell the truth of a rumor 
or winnow the facts from gossip? But at the back of her mind, she 
couldn't help but half wonder if Baerle and he had endured an 
unpleasant encounter last night; she hadn't seen Baerle at all for days now.

 From behind the door she heard a muffled groaning. Jo lowered her 
ears and tail, grasped the handle of the door, and lifted it open. 
The air that greeted her was just as cold as the crisp morning air 
outside. She shivered as she climbed down the steps, surprised not to 
find the usual warmth in a Glen home awaiting her. When she reached 
the bottom of the steps, even without any lamps lit, her fox eyes 
could see why. Both windows were open a crack allowing a slight breeze.

"Well no wonder you don't feel well," she said with a slight laugh 
toward the black and white figure curled up tightly beneath several 
layers of quilts. "Just why did you open your windows? Well, let's 
get this lantern lit first." Jo set her basket down, opened the 
receptacle on the lantern, and using her own flint, struck a light. 
It cast an amber glow about the room. Satisfied that they had light, 
she closed and locked both windows.

"And to warm things up in here, let's get this fire going again." She 
put some of the fresh kindling, struck it with tinder, and then added 
a couple smaller logs atop the new flame. It only took a few minutes 
with her practiced paws before a pleasant warmth began to radiate 
from the hearth.

"Now," Jo added, still a little nervous about what she might find on 
Berchem, "let's see what's wrong with you." She stepped to his 
bedside, noted the folded garments on the floor next to his head, and 
then gingerly peeled back the quilt. The skunk lay with his eyes 
pressed shut so tightly that she could see the muscles in his neck 
and cheeks straining even through the fur. She could see flecks of 
dried blood on the fur just beneath his ears.

When she touched him, one of Berchem's eyes opened briefly, before 
shutting tight again. His left hand reached out from under the quilts 
and grabbed her by the wrist. Jo gasped; his grip was tight and 
pulled on her fur. His other hand pressed into her spread fingers, 
and he started to move his fingers in a familiar array. After 
repeating the same three hand motions, the vixen recognized them; 
scout signals.

The first, with the pointing finger and thumb pressed together and 
raised, while the other three were curled behind looked sort of like 
the *QUIET* sign. The second was familiar to her after almost two 
years of seeing to the needs of the scouts, that of *PAIN*. But she 
wasn't sure about the third. She'd have to bring another scout to read them.

"I can't understand you," she said firmly. "I need to check you for 
plague. It will only take a moment." But Berchem continued to 
frantically press the signs into her paw. Hadn't he heard her at all?

Unless...

Jo swallowed and stroked her fingers down the skunk's signing arm. He 
stopped and let go of her wrist, his arms pulling flush to his naked 
chest and quivering. She leaned over him and, being careful not to 
get between the light, peered into his upturned ear. While it had 
been easier being a healer when everyone she looked after was still 
human because all of their various body parts were roughly the same, 
at least for most of her patients this was still true for ears. And 
in studying Berchem's ear, she had to admit there was nothing inside 
that looked any different from any other mammal-based Keeper she'd 
ever examined. She couldn't even see where the blood had come from.

Resting one paw on top of Berchem's quivering arms, she breathed into 
his ear and asked in a normal voice, "Can you hear me?" But if he 
did, he gave no sign of it.

With a long sigh, the vixen moved her paws down over Berchem's 
shoulder and gently tugged. After a moment, the tension in his 
shoulder pressing his arm to his chest relaxed and she was able to 
peer beneath his armpit. Even through the thick, black fur, she was 
able to quickly check for hideously swollen glands, one of the surest 
signs of the plague; nothing. Relief filled her heart briefly, but 
then worry over the mysterious malady returned.

Something had happened to Berchem's ears, but what and how Jo 
couldn't fathom. She straightened and said in a loud voice, "I'm 
going to fetch one of the other scouts, and then I'm going to make 
something to help with the pain. I will be back soon."

With a firm grasp, she pushed her right paw into the skunk's, and 
made one of the few signs she knew with confidence to let him know 
she'd return quickly. Berchem, eyes still pressed shut tight, nodded 
twice, and then he pushed himself further against the pillow. Jo 
stepped back, jowls trembling with worry, before rushing out the door 
and toward the brewery.

----------

To Charles's ironic delight, they were not able to reach Lake 
Barnhardt before Jessica had been sent on a scouting mission. They 
didn't reach the city at all. By happy fortune, Jessica, Weyden, and 
the others under Captain Dallar's command were sent north along the 
road to patrol and watch for travelers. The hawks stayed in the sky, 
circling so high that they were mere dots dancing between the few 
clouds that marred an otherwise blue day. Darker clouds coalesced 
further to the south, but it would be evening before they reached the 
Glen, if at all.

The two rats and their steeds were greeted around a bend in the road 
that opened up along a broad stretch of short pine and spruce with a 
view of the fortified town in the distance by a pair of giraffes. 
Charles recognized one of them as Larssen; he bore a heavy sword 
taller than most Keepers, and was dressed warmly from hocks to neck 
with more fabric than Charles had ever used on his bed. The second 
giraffe was a woman and she too was similarly attired, though she did 
not brandish so humbling a weapon as a sword heavier than a horse.

"Sir Saulius, Charles," Larssen said with a hearty grunt as they 
emerged from the stand of spruce. "It is good to see you again."

"Hail and well met, Larssen," Sir Saulius replied with a warm smile 
and nod. The rat's jowls spread enough to reveal bright orange 
incisors just beneath his nose. He regarded the other giraffe with 
some amusement. "I do not believe we hath met, milady."

Larssen chortled while the other giraffe nodded, long blue tongue 
moving awkwardly in her muzzle as she spoke. "You have, good knight. 
I'm Maud. One of Jessica's spells has let me share Larssen's shape."

"For so long?" Charles asked. "Last week she could barely hold the 
spell for an hour."

"She's found ways to strengthen the spell," Larssen said with a shrug 
of his shoulders. "I don't understand how. Only that I like it."

Maud turned her head on her long neck and gave her husband-to-be a 
coquetish smirk. "I'm still undecided. Speaking of which," she lifted 
a heavy hand and gestured at the sky. "Here they come now."

The two rats peered up into the sky and had to resist the sudden urge 
to find a rock to hide under. From out of the sky swooped two 
figures, one burnished bronze and rust, and the other an obsidian 
black. They swelled in proportion not because they changed size, but 
because they dove so quickly from the heavens. And then, just as they 
were sure the hawks would smash into the ground, their wings spread 
and they banked upward and around, circling along the road with a 
rush of cool air.

Charles, even with a heart heavy with fear for his family, chuckled 
brightly at seeing the antics of the two birds. Their motions were 
synchronous as if they were two beasts with one mind and one will. 
They circled twice about the road, before settling on the road in 
front of the startled ponies and growing in proportion. A moment 
later the familiar man-shaped hawks Jessica and Weyden stood before 
them, wings folded along their backs and beaks cracked in avian pleasure.

"Charles," Jessica cawed with warmth and hope. "It is good to see you 
again. How are you doing?"

"Well enough," he replied with a nod of his head. "And you, Jessica? 
Weyden? How fare you?"

"Much the same," she replied, glancing once to the red-tailed hawk 
beside her before returning her gaze to the rat. "Experimenting with 
my spells as you can see. They're getting better. I will be able to 
keep Maud a giraffe for their wedding next week if they wish."

Maud's eye ridges lowered as she crossed her arms over her broad 
chest. "I'm not sure about that yet."

"Thy marriage or thy shape?" Saulius asked, his grin widening as his 
whiskers twitched in mischief.

"My shape you rascal!" Maud leaned against Larssen and ran one hand 
across his yellow and brown spotted arm. "Father Malvin agreed to 
perform our marriage even on such short notice because Father Hough 
cannot for now."

"Congratulations to thee," Saulius added with a simpler grin. "'Tis a 
good thing to celebrate in these times."

"Aye," Weyden added, "It'll be a little longer for Jessica and I, but 
we hope not too much longer." He tilted his head to one side and his 
beak cracked open in perverse amusement. "I do look forward to 
watching Father Malvin try to give you the Host. He's not quite the 
man he used to be."

Charles blinked. The three new priests in Metamor had been in the 
Valley for two weeks now. "Oh? What has he become?"

"A child," Weyden replied with a squawk. "Even shorter than Father 
Hough if you can imagine it!"

"Then we shalt be able to look him in the eye! A good quality in a 
priest," Sir Saulius observed with another twitch of his whiskers.

Charles nodded thoughtfully, and then lifted his ears as he heard 
more footsteps moving through the spruce. A moment later, the boy Van 
and the ram Dallar emerged from the line of trees. The ram noted his 
company with an amused shake of the head, and then nodded to the 
rats. "Ah, Sir Saulius, Charles, what brings you two down from Glen 
Avery today?" Dallar asked while brushing needles from his wool coat.

"Patrolling the road as art thou," Sir Saulius replied. "My squire 
doth desire to speak with Jessica on some matter of import to him, so 
our meeting this way has been doubly fortuitous."

The black hawk blinked her golden eyes and looked at her friend. 
"What did you want to speak to me about, Charles?"

Charles grunted, a bit back the flash of irritation he felt at 
Saulius. "A little out of earshot, if it is all right with you."

Jessica and Weyden rubbed their wing feathers together once before 
Jessica followed Charles back up the road a short ways. Charles 
glanced behind him as the others continued their pleasant discussion, 
all of them doing their best to hide the anxiety they each felt. The 
mirth had been true, but consciously willed. Nobody wanted to dwell 
too long on the reason they spent their days on long patrols through 
the cool March air and the Valley's last gasp of winter. Charles felt 
his flesh harden at the mere thought of what he longed for further to 
the south, and it took a sudden prayer to unclench the stone in his 
paws and arms.

Charles guided Malicon a good distance up the road while Jessica 
wordlessly followed, her head bobbing forward and back as she walked, 
talons marking the hard earth with each step. They continued for 
almost two minutes before their friends were well out of earshot, 
even for Keeper ears.

"I think it's safe to speak," she said gently.

The rat's muzzle twitched and he nodded. With a firm tug, he brought 
Malicon to a stop. The pony wriggled his lips and then lowered his 
head to search for grass. He found some wild flowers beside the road 
that had sprung up with the slightly warmer temperatures in the last 
week, and contently set to denuding them.

"I'm afraid," Charles said as he watched his steed eat. He ran his 
hands along the back of Malicon's mane, curling his fingers and claws 
through the long hairs. "I hurt so... so badly, Jessica. I am scared 
every day out of my mind for Kimberly and my children. And I ache for 
my Ladero."

Jessica took a step closer and rested her wing claws on his shoulder. 
She didn't say anything, her golden eyes beckoning him to speak instead.

His eyes continued to stare across the top of Malicon's head, but 
they saw nothing. His voice echoed from within his chest like water 
dropping in a cave. "Every night I kneel before my bed for an hour or 
two praying for Kimberly and my children. I say their names over and 
over again, and I try to remember their fur, the colors of their 
eyes, the number of whiskers they have on either jowl, the shapes of 
their ears, the length of their teeth, their tails, and everything 
else. I ask, I beg Eli to bring them back to me. I am so miserable 
without them!"

The vine curled around his chest and pressed itself gently against 
his flesh. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that they 
wouldn't be gems when he opened them again. "I get almost no sleep at 
night. When I wake, I go to the graveyard and visit the only family I 
have left to me. My little Ladero. I... I blend with his tombstone 
more and more each day when I'm there. The stone isn't buried deep 
enough to tell me anything about my boy, but the more I merge my own 
body with it, the deeper we can press. I know... I know all I'd find 
is a body riddled with worms and decay, but I just keep going there. 
I just keep letting myself be stone to escape the misery, but it only 
leaves me empty. Oh, Jessica, I am trying so hard to stop, but... 
what if Marzac is trying to make me surrender to the stone?"

Jessica continued to peer at the rat for several seconds more before 
cawing ever so gently. "I don't think this is Marzac's doing, 
Charles. I don't see any sign of corruption about you; not even any 
hint like there was with both Lindsey and Kayla." Her tongue quivered 
and she moved in closer, her wing sliding along his back as she 
neared. "I am scared for your Kimberly and your children too."

"Tell me they're going to be okay."

The hawk held him in her wings for a moment as he trembled and fought 
the urge to relinquish his flesh to granite. "They're going to be 
okay. Misha is protecting them. And..." she lowered her voice even 
more, the bottom of her beak brushing across one of the rat's still 
soft ears, "and Misha has been able to use magic to keep in touch 
with me and a few others. When we spoke last night, your family was 
doing well."

Charles shifted in the saddle, nearly bruising his snout as he lifted 
his head into her beak. "You can speak with Misha? Could I... could I 
speak with my family?"

Jessica blinked and nodded. "I believe so. Misha gave me a crystal 
that lets me speak with his sister Elizabeth, but we can also use it 
to speak with each other."

The rat's elation turned like the wind to anger. "Why didn't you tell 
me about this before?"

The hawk shook her head, "I'm sorry. Misha didn't want anyone else 
knowing. I should have known that he didn't mean you. Please, 
Charles, forgive me. It was cruel of me not to tell you."

Charles grabbed the reins in one hand and gestured down the road with 
the other. "Show me now. I have to go into the mountains tomorrow; I 
won't have another chance for a few days at least. If I can, I must 
see my family first."

Jessica glanced up at the sky, then down at her friend and carefully 
held him across the back with one wing. "If anyone asks why I've left 
my patrol, we'll tell them Long Scout business. Come. I do have to 
tell Weyden and Dallar where were going. And you need to tell Sir Saulius."

Impatient, Charles nodded and and flicked the reins.

----------

Angus the badger listened with furrowed brow as Jo described the 
condition of the skunk archer. The leader of the Glen military did 
not hesitate in following the vixen as soon as she told him that she 
needed his help. Angus was like that. Jo knew she could rely on him 
to do the right thing. He was a friend.

And Bercehm was one of his. "I've never known him to have any trouble 
with his ears," Angus admitted as they reached the skunk's door 
between the heavy roots. "And he seemed fine yesterday."

Jo carried her herb basket in both paws and waited as the badger 
lifted the door for her. "There was some blood, but I couldn't see 
anything that might have caused it. Maybe he tripped and hit his head 
last night. I didn't feel any bruising, but..."

Angus waited for her to go down the steps, then followed her into the 
small chamber which the skunk archer made his simple home. The hearth 
crackled with the vixen's fire casting warm orange light around the 
circular room. The rich veins blending dark and light wood along the 
walls seemed to breath with a reclusive personality. And in the bed 
curled beneath the quilts was Berchem, eyes shut tight and arms 
clutched to his chest.

Angus scanned the room once, sniffed the air thick with the acrid 
scent of the owner, and then crossed to the bedside and knelt down 
next to his friend. He wrapped a meaty paw around Berchem's arms and 
the skunk allowed him to pull his paw out. Angus slipped his paw 
beneath the skunk's fingers and began making signs. "I'm telling him 
we're here to help." After repeating the same set of motions three 
times, Berchem's muzzle twitched in a facsimile of a smile, and he 
quickly, but briefly, nodded.

"Now I'm asking what's wrong." Angus kept his paw still, fingers 
turned in a familiar direction. Jo studied the hand symbol so that 
she could remember if ever she needed it again. Berchem slid his 
fingers across the badger's paw, and then began to make symbols of 
his own. The same three that Jo had seen earlier.

Angus frowned and then put one paw over the skunk's to still his 
frantic motions. "He can't hear anything we say. He's in a great deal 
of pain from what he can hear. Some ringing in his ear, if I 
understand him right."

Jo set her basket down and began searching through the herbs and 
ointments she kept with her. "Ask him if he thinks he can drink 
something. I want to make him a broth to ease his pain."

After another flurry of hand signals, Angus nodded. "He thinks he 
can. I expect I'll need to help him keep his mouth open."

"Talk to him while I get this ready. It shouldn't take too long." 
While the vixen busied herself with steeping a pot of water mixed 
with herbs and tea leaves, Angus continued making hand signals to 
Berchem, who felt them until he understood them, then responded in 
kind. The skunk's motions were erratic and then tightly controlled, 
as if the pain in his mind washed across him in undulating waves. 
Between each shattering detonation in his mind, his will would return 
and his spirit would gather its strength to master his body. But with 
each tolling in his mind, that control would falter and he would 
stumble into insensibility.

Yet Jo heard nothing of their conversation. She occasionally spared a 
glance at the two men as they spoke with their paws, but she tried 
not to notice the exact words said. Instead she watched every tremor 
in the skunk's paws, ears, snout, and fur in hopes for any sign that 
his pain might be ebbing. But no sign came.

When the kettle finally began to emit a biting steam, she poured out 
a small bowl and set the kettle aside. After adding another small log 
to the hearth, she carried the bowl to Berchem's bedside, stirring 
the potent tea with a wooden spoon. "Can you prop him up? And make 
sure he swallows, please."

Angus wordlessly did as she bid him. He slipped his right arm around 
the skunk's backside, and with a quick jolt, pulled him into a 
sitting position. The skunk shoved his back against the wall, eyes 
still pressed shut so that his entire face was locked in a rictus of 
agony. Muscles and sinews in his neck and cheeks were stretched and 
strained in a way she'd not seen even on a woman giving birth.

Jo's tail flicked back and forth anxiously. She leaned forward, 
spooning out a small measure of the tea while Angus forced a finger 
into the skunk's jaws to pry them open. Berchem's paws clasped at the 
bedside beneath him, claws tearing through his quilts with each 
twitch of his muscles. His long tongue thrust from side to side in 
his jaws like an eel caught in a trap. The vixen gritted her teeth, 
lowered her ears, and then shoved the spoon into the back of his jaws 
and dumped the contents down his throat.

Berchem jerked back and forth, but with Angus holing him down, there 
wasn't anything for the skunk to do but swallow. And swallow he did, 
spoonful after spoonful until the bowl was completely empty. Jo 
filled it again, and then emptied that down into Berchem's gullet. By 
the time the last spoonful had been shoved down his throat, the 
tension in the skunk's muscles began to visibly relax.

Both of them sat waiting several minutes more before Berchem finally 
slumped against the wall with his arms resting wearily in his lap. 
His eyes blinked open, bloodshot and limpid, unable to focus clearly 
on either of them.

"Berchem," Angus said in a loud voice. "Can you hear me?"

The skunk blinked once, eyes swimming toward the badger, before he 
nodded. "I..." his tongue struggled as if he'd forgotten how to form 
words, "I can."

"How are you feeling?" Jo asked.

He lifted one arm and rubbed his forehead. "Better... the ringing... 
still there. Not as bad." He grunted and closed his eyes again. For 
several seconds he did nothing more than take several deep breaths.

"What happened?" Angus asked. "When I saw you last night you looked fine."

"I... I don't know." Berchem replied with a suggestion of irritation 
in his voice. "I remember leaving the brewery last night, but I don't 
remember getting here. I just remember waking up to that ringing in 
my ear. It's not... plague is it?"

"Nay," Jo replied as swift as her tongue was able. "I don't know what 
it is. But the tea should help sooth your muscles and take away the 
pain. I'm not sure how long it's going to take before the ringing is 
gone. I'm going to speak with Lady Avery to see if she has any ideas."

Berchem nodded and smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"I'm going to stay here with you for now," Angus said with a grunt. 
"How much tea did you make?"

"There's enough left for another three bowls," Jo replied as she bent 
to gather her things. "I will leave the bowl and spoon with you."

"Thank you," Angus glanced at the skunk who still had his eyes 
closed, but now they were in rest. "And have somebody else sent to 
replace me. I have to leave for the mountains tomorrow and need to 
ready my gear."

"Going so soon?" Berchem asked while attempting to smile. His muscles 
tensed again for a moment before he was able to take a deep breath 
and slump even further against the wall and almost back onto the bed.

"Don't have much choice about it," Angus admitted with a heavy grunt. 
"And I expect to see you up and about when I get back."

"I hope so."

"As do I," Jo added. She'd gathered all her things and had them 
secure in her basket. "I will be back as soon as I can." And with 
that, she swept up the stairs and out into the cool March air. Angus 
watched her go as he crouched beside the bed, eyes trailing down the 
stairs and across the floor. And there they lingered for several long 
seconds. He blinked, mind trying to grasp what it was about the floor 
that caught his attention.

Leaning forward, Angus splayed his fingers against the wood, and 
slowly dragged his heavy calluses across the surface, being careful 
not to touch the wood with his claws. What his eyes had spied in the 
light from the fireplace his sensitive paws revealed to him in richer 
detail. He shifted on his haunches, tail twitching curiously. The 
floor, usually smooth but for the occasional nicks from claws, now 
seemed to have a series of ridges marring its surface. Were the home 
built by anyone other than the woodpecker Burris, Angus would have 
paid it no mind. But Burris's homes always had smooth floors and 
walls as if they'd been polished and lacquered.

Angus crouched on all fours, pressing his snout and eyes down to the 
offending gouges. He traced one claw along them, and then tightened 
his fingers and ran all four of his claws along the same path. With a 
grimace, he sat back up and turned to his friend. "Did you scratch 
your floor last night?"

Berchem tried opening his eyes but they blearily shut again. "Did I? 
I don't remember."

The badger grunted and patted his friend on the knee. "Get some rest. 
I'll be here."

And while the skunk collapsed beneath his torn quilts, Angus stared 
at the gouges in the floor and wondered.


----------

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

Charles Matthias


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