[Mkguild] Inchoate Carillon, Inconstant Cuckold (20 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias



James was surprised to find that he, Anson, and 
Ralph had been assigned to guard duty in one of 
the watchtowers overlooking the northern road. 
Normally he was never asked to traverse the 
treeways, but the path to the little watchtower 
disguised as a protrusion of burrs and knots just 
beneath a trio of branches was easy enough for 
even a hooved Glenner. After climbing a rope 
ladder with wide wooden planks that he could gain 
easy purchase with his hooves, they crossed a 
rope bridge between two of the trees and then 
descended a wooden ladder hidden within the bark 
of the redwood overlooking the road. It emptied 
into the hollow so that there was no suggestion 
to anyone traversing the road that they were being watched.

The view was not remarkable in any way, just more 
trees, pine needles, cones, and snow. And with 
the plague in Metamor, there were no travelers on 
the road, not even merchants from Hareford or 
Lake Barnhardt. The watchtower itself was cramped 
with just enough room for the three of them to 
crouch against the overhang and peer out. James 
pressed himself against the wall which curved up 
over him only a few inches above the tops of his 
ears, his pack resting between his legs and tail. 
Every so often, he could feel the bell thrum against the back of his thighs.

The fox and vole looked only slightly more 
comfortable as they quietly passed hand signals 
back and forth. James, with only two fingers on 
each hand, was not as versatile as they, but he 
signed a little too, using what Charles and Angus 
had taught him as best he could. Yet one more thing he'd never be that good at.

They weren't completely hidden in the watchtower. 
Anyone coming in from above would be able to see 
them. That included squirrels and other tree 
dwellers, but most especially birds. With a 
flutter of wings, a youthful sparrow descended 
through the branches to land on one of the burrs 
near the vole's head. Kevin waved one of his 
long, thin toed feet at them, and then resumed 
his perch. “Oh good. Alldis told me you'd be here.”

“What ho, Kevin,” Ralph said with a modest grunt. 
“What brings you here to spoil our hiding place?”

Kevin glanced below them to the road and chirped. 
“There's nobody coming anyway. But you three were 
scouting with him the last few days, so we thought you should know.”

James's ears lifted and he shifted about on his 
side. The bell jabbed into his thigh but he felt 
no pain. “Is it something about Berchem? Is he all right?”

“Well, it's not plague,” Kevin replied in 
exaggerated tones. “I was told to make sure 
everyone knew that, that it's not plague.”

“Well if it's not plague,” Anson said with a wave 
of one paw and a flick of his white tail, “then what is it?”

The sparrow shrugged his wings. “Healer Jo isn't 
sure. She is discussing it with Lady Avery and 
she sent Erica out to gather more herbs. Angus is 
staying with him for now. But nobody's really 
saying what's wrong. But it isn't plague.”

“I hope he'll be all right,” James said as his 
ears lowered against his mane. “He seemed in such good shape last night.”

“Aye, that he did,” Ralph agreed. “I guess that explains why we're up here.”

Kevin nodded and then hopped back and forth on 
his legs. “Well, I better get back to my errands. 
Plenty for me to do today. I'll see you at Lars's 
later!” And with that he leaped into the air, 
spread his wings, and disappeared through the foliage.

Anson kept shaking his head and with a long sigh 
he said, “I wonder what could have felled that skunk.”

“Probably tried sleeping with his bow again,” 
Ralph muttered. “I hope he's okay.”

James clasped his hands together and shifted his 
leg against his pack; the bore of the bell now 
rested comfortably against his thigh. “Whatever 
it is, I'm sure a few days of rest and quiet will 
restore him. That and nothing more.”

His companions nodded glumly, resuming their 
silent watch over the woods. James gazed through 
the trees and along the hard-packed road, 
savoring the thrill coursing up his leg as the 
bell vibrated with a simple, satisfied, rhythm.

----------

The streets of Lake Barnhardt were quiet with 
shuttered windows and pairs of guards walking 
here and there. The two rats were permitted 
entrance because they were in the company of 
Captain Dallar and his soldiers, and despite 
being recognized, they were still greeted 
suspiciously. Charles was irritated by the 
narrow-eyed stares he and Saulius received, but 
his heart was too excited to be distracted by them.

Neither Jessica nor Dallar made Charles wait; the 
ram dismissed the hawk who quickly led Charles 
into the barracks along the southern edge of town 
where she had taken up residence with Weyden 
until his tour of duty came to end. It had come 
to an end two days ago, but until the plague was 
defeated and the quarantine lifted, Dallar, 
Weyden and the others were forced to consider 
Lake Barnhardt there more or less permanent home. 
Larssen had even talked about finding a small 
apartment outside the barracks that he and Maud could share.

While Saulius saw to the ponies, Charles followed 
the hawk into the old stone structure, past a 
cramped room with sleeping pallets that smelled 
of a panoply of animals, and to a storeroom past 
the armory. She summoned a trio of witchlights, 
bringing a cool illumination to the narrow chamber.

“This might take a little while,” Jessica 
admitted as she crossed to the far end and 
unlocked a small chest with a magical sigil. “If 
Misha is in his office, he'll see that I'm trying 
to contact him. But if he isn't there, we'll have to wait until he returns.”

Charles nodded and looked around the room for a 
place to sit while he waited. Not seeing any, he 
loosened his breeches and closed his eyes, 
concentrating on growing another pair of legs. A 
few moments later, while the hawk occupied 
herself with contacting Misha, he grew in size 
until his lower half looked like the body of an 
unusually large rat. Charles reclined 
comfortably, tail curled around his haunches, 
while his upper torso leaned against a grain 
barrel. He folded his breeches and set them 
beneath his forelegs before returning his attention to the hawk.

 From the small chest at the back of the room, 
Jessica had produced an evenly cut gem that to 
the rat's eye did not appear to be very valuable. 
It had a glassy look that suggested tinted 
quartz, though the indigo hue suggested a few 
inclusions of iolite. The cut produced a flat 
head with an octagonal face, while the remaining 
smaller faces were all triangles. Jessica 
carefully cradled the gem in her wingclaws, 
turned and set it down on the floor a few feet in 
front of the rat-taur. The gem stood on a single point perfectly balanced.

“Oh!” she said in surprise as she noticed 
Charles's larger size. “I could have a chair brought in for you, Charles.”

He shook his head. “I'm comfortable like this. My 
children love seeing me like this. I can carry 
all of them on my back. You should see it.”

Jessica cracked her beak in a warm avian smile. 
Her golden eyes brightened. “I will. Now, this 
gem lets Misha and I see and speak to each other 
as if we were in the same room. But we cannot 
touch anything on the other side. You'll be able 
to see them and speak with them, but you won't be 
able to touch them. It's hard, I know.”

Charles grabbed the end of his tail in one paw 
and began to pet down the scraggly hairs. “It's 
more than I can do now. Go ahead.”

“Of course.” Jessica bent over the gem and 
stroked the top with her wing feathers. Charles 
watched as a pinprick of purple light blossomed 
inside the gem. After a few seconds, the entire 
gem glimmered brightly, casting its violet glow 
on the stone floor; Jessica's black feathers 
glistened with a spectral sheen in its light. She 
hopped back toward the far wall, keeping the gem between them.

The gem continued to glow, but nothing else happened. “Now what?”

“We wait for Misha to notice. How are things at the Glen?”

Charles and Jessica talked of the Glen and of the 
Lake for nearly an hour. They spoke little of 
themselves or of Metamor, preferring instead to 
speak of friends native to their adopted homes. 
Jessica at one point did tease the rat that that 
he ended up in the Glen where most of the 
citizens were Lothanasi, and she ended up at the 
Lake, where the Ecclesia held sway. It was the 
only time they spoke of themselves.

After an hour of their quiet conversation, the 
light from the gem blossomed further, stretching 
outward until it obscured the walls of the 
storeroom, replacing the old gray stone with the 
familiar Long Scout office of Misha Brightleaf. 
The fox looked haggard and in need of brushing, 
but with a determined glint in his gray eyes. 
“Jessica! Sorry I was meeting with his grace and 
didn't know you wanted to speak with me.” He then 
turned and blinked. “Charles! Your family is 
safe. Would you like me to fetch them?”

Charles stretched where he reclined and nodded, 
“Aye, thank you.” A long green carpet was 
stretched out on the floor of Misha's office, and 
the illusion made it appear as if the rat were 
sinking within its depths. Before him he could 
see the fox's old oak desk stacked with papers, 
with the Long Scout banner of bow and axe behind 
him. Misha stood just in front of the desk 
dressed in tunic and breeches in need of ironing and starch.

The fox's gray eyes stayed on the rat, noting his 
extra limbs with a flicker of amusement. “I'm 
glad to see you're doing well. I should have told 
you that you could use the gem to see them. I forgot and I'm sorry.”

“Seems were all forgetting something lately,” 
Charles admitted with a grunt. “You better check 
the gardens for another hyacinth.”

“Not a bad idea,” Misha admitted without mirth. 
“How are you holding up at the Glen? Laura tells 
me that you and Sir Saulius are patrolling the 
roads around the Glen and that you met Sir Dupré the other day.”

“Aye, that I have and that I did. I've been 
expecting to run into Laura, Ralls, and the 
others but I haven't seen them yet.”

“They've been patrolling north of Hareford 
mostly.” Misha scratched behind his head with one 
paw. “Everyone else is okay. Nobody from the Long 
House has come down with the plague. A couple 
patrons of the Jollie Collie... well... no one has died yet.”

“Usually the plague kills faster than this.”

“Coe and his assistants are keeping very busy and 
doing everything he can. Even the nuns are 
helping throughout Keeptowne. Father Hough is 
anointing Lothanasi as well as Followers and 
Rebuilders. It's... a nightmare, Charles. It's 
really a nightmare. Seeing the children here at 
Long House is my only joy anymore, and even that 
is drenched in fear. So many around Keeptowne 
have been struck, and everyone is hiding. The 
streets feel deader than after Nasoj's attack 
last winter. And all this after what happened 
with Drift... Caroline thinks we should go away 
for a while once all this is over, and I am starting to think she's right.”

“Misha, if you can't be strong, none of the other 
Longs will either. You know that.”

“Aye, I do.” He licked his nose once as he stared 
at the carpet beneath his toes. “Aye, I do.” He 
blinked a couple of times before lifting his 
snout and asking, “Would you like me to fetch Kimberly and the children now?”

“Aye,” Charles replied softly. Before the fox 
could move, he added, “Everyone is afraid at the Glen too. Just keep praying.”

“All of us,” Misha said with a quick nod. “I'll 
be back in a few minutes.” So saying, he walked 
stiff-legged from the room, each stride carrying 
him several feet. Charles had never seen the fox 
move so deliberately or in such haste. Nothing 
could have emphasized his friend's horror more.

Charles rubbed his paws together as the seconds 
drained past. Jessica leaned back and forth 
uncomfortably on her talons, wings folded tight 
against her back, her beak shut tight and her 
golden eyes focused intently on the gem. Neither 
spoke, each listening to the faint sounds of 
voices and footfalls around them, neither sure 
whether they were from Lake Barnhardt or Metamor.

And then Charles's ears lifted and his heart 
thumped loudly within his chest. Four little 
voices echoed in excitement as they grew louder 
and nearer. His eyes fixed on the door of Misha's 
office which opened with an uncertain touch. And 
then a chorus of excited squeaks welcomed him to 
joy. “Daddy!” was their one theme.

Charles spread his arms wide as his four children 
rushed toward him, each remembering to stay 
standing on their hind legs. They squeaked in 
delight as they barreled into his arms, chest, 
and then right through his body. They stopped in 
alarm, looking around as they stood in the middle of his back.

“Oh, my children, it's just an illusion. I'm not 
really here. But I can see you and I love you 
all!” As the four of them exited on either side, 
he tried to trace his paw across the tops of 
their heads, but of course he felt nothing. “My 
little Charels, Bernadette, Erick, and Baerle. How I've missed you so much.”

“We've missed you, Daddy!” Bernadette squeaked as 
she knelt down next to his forelegs. “When can we go home?”

“I don't know,” he replied as he felt tears coming to his eyes. “I don't know.”

“Charles?” a very familiar and longed-for voice 
asked tremulously. He looked up and smiled to the 
tan-furred rat standing in the doorway in a thick 
silvery-gray dress. Only a veridian stone hanging 
around her neck brought any color to her 
countenance. He sighed in longing and lifted his 
arms to her. She rushed forward, careful of the 
children clustering in wonder around their 
father's forelegs, and held her paws out, 
brushing the air where it seemed his ears and 
snout smiled. “Oh Charles! It is you. Where... where are you?”

“Lake Barnhardt, my Lady. I am well as you see. I 
miss you.” He lowered his gaze to the four little 
rats squeaking earnestly to get his attention. 
“And I miss you!” His heart ached at seeing them 
but not being able to touch them.

“I will leave you to each other,” Jessica said in 
a quiet voice as she scooted past the rat and out 
the door. He watched her go, then looked back at 
his wife who stood with her paws held tightly 
against her chest, while his children were 
staring at him and poking their paws through his legs and middle.

“How are you doing?” It felt like such a lame 
question, yet Charles could think of nothing else to ask.

“We've stayed in the Long House,” Kimberly said 
as she sat down behind the children and began to 
gently stroke the fur between their ears one by 
one. They looked back at her briefly, but kept 
their eyes on Charles, their bodies brimming with 
excitement held in check by the manners that 
their mother had instilled in them. “There's 
enough food in the stores to keep for months so 
we are not in want. But they have kept all the 
doors and windows shut, so it's been days since 
we've seen the sun or stars. Misha keeps the 
clocks running and has bells rung so we can know 
the days, but... it is like being in the cellars again.”

Charles nodded and swallowed; Kimberly had wanted 
to hide her rat-ness in the depths of the cellars 
when she first changed after coming to Metamor 
but he had brought her out of that place as 
quickly as he could. “It won't last forever,” he 
said with as much confidence as he could muster. 
For her sake and for his children he would be 
strong. “Misha says Coe is working very hard to 
bring the plague to an end, and to heal those 
struck. He says even the sisters are working in 
the city to help all who are sick. And I know 
Misha and George are not about to let this 
contagion spread outside the city. Metamor has 
many great magicians. Just, a little bit longer my love. My little ones.”

“Daddy, you a ghost?” little Baerle asked as her 
paws moved through his forelegs.

“Nay, my sweet, I'm not a ghost. This is an 
illusion. I'm not really here.” He pointed his 
finger toward her chest. She was wearing a little 
dress with flowers on it, one that he'd bought 
for her two weeks ago from Walter Levins. How he 
loved helping her put it on for the first time, 
the way her ears, whiskers and tail wriggled as 
she squirmed her slender, wiry frame into the 
bright wool. His finger circled right over her 
left breast. “I'm in there for now, my sweet. I'm 
in your heart.” And then he pointed to just 
between her eyes. “And I'm in your thoughts.” He 
placed his palms together in front of him, claws 
pointing heavenward. “And I'm in your prayers.”

Their dark eyes stared at him, wide an hopeful, 
full of love and confusion. He placed his hand 
over his chest and kept a firm smile. “And each 
of you is right here in my heart.” His other paw 
touched his brow, “My thoughts.” He folded his 
paws again. “And my prayers. We are not apart.” 
He lifted his gaze to Kimberly who was making the 
same motions as though in a mirror. “We are never apart.”

“But when can we go home?” little Charles wailed. 
The other three echoed him, each of them scooting 
closer, but they stopped short of actually 
putting more than a tentative paw into his flesh. 
Their anguished squeaks made his heart ache.

“I don't know. I want you all to come home very 
much. But you need to listen to your uncle Misha, 
and to the other Long Scouts. They will make sure 
you stay safe. Aren't there lots of places to 
play? I bet you can play hide-n-seek really well there in Long House.”

The thought of playing brightened their faces 
considerably, but they still missed their daddy 
more. He took a deep breath and ached that he 
couldn't actually touch them. “This will be over 
someday soon. Pray that it ends soon, my little 
ones. And then we will be together again and I 
promise I will be there with you and we can be a 
real family again. Until then, well, I will come 
here and be with you like this as often as I can.”

His children looked at him hopefully, their faces 
softened some by his assurances. He smiled and 
stretched out his hands to brush across their 
faces even though he could feel nothing. He 
glanced at Kimberly who smiled back at him, one 
paw pressed firmly over her heart. “Now, my 
little ones, tell me all about what you've been 
doing at the Long House. I want to hear all your stories!”

Charles and Kimberly spent the next couple of 
minutes trying to get their excited children to 
speak one at a time. And for a few hours more he 
listened and shared their lives in the only way 
he could. But at least he was a father. And that 
gladdened the rat's weary heart.

----------

The bright red-crested woodpecker bobbed his 
narrow head and long beak as he walked into the 
brewery, a look of exhaustion coating his large 
brown eyes. The black feathers along his wings 
and chest were in need of preening and the white 
stripe from his cheeks down his sides was gray 
with grime. Burris had not given any thought to 
bathing so intent had he been on finishing his work.

Lord Avery bounded from his seat as his two sons 
welcomed the wood mage with their chipper 
enthusiasm, noting ungraciously Burris's aromatic 
elan by pinching their noses shut. The lord of 
the Glen could not help but comment, though he 
did try to be more diplomatic. “Burris! It is 
good to see you again. You carry what I hope to 
be good news and not just bad airs.”

Burris tilted his head to one side and spread his 
wings a bit, both Avery boys backed up, paws 
clenched firmly over their noses. Several of the 
other patrons at the brewery stared wide-eyed in 
horror at the bird. “Fear not, my lord, I have 
completed the artifices needed to recharge the 
sentinel talismans. I need a bit of sulfur in the 
last part of the enchantments and have not yet 
been able to cleanse myself. Forgive me; it was 
so late in the day I feared not finding you in time.”

Lord Avery waved one paw and nodded. “That is 
good news. Darien! Christopher! Where is your comportment?”

The two young squirrels lowered their paws and 
managed to look suitably abashed. “Forgive us, 
Burris,” Darien said with a slight bow. 
Christopher intoned a similar brief apology a moment later.

The woodpecker's long beak creaked in mirth. 
“Thank you both. I won't stay long. I want to clean up too.”

“After you do,” Lord Avery said, “Angus asked for 
you to come by Berchem's burrow. He's spent most 
of the day there with Jo. My wife was there a 
short while ago to help, but Angus wants your opinion.”

Burris's eyes, if possible, grew larger. “What's wrong with our master archer?”

“Jo used some word, tinnaborous or something. He 
has a powerful ringing in his ears that doesn't seem to want to go away.”

“Tinnitus I believe the healers call it,” Burris 
corrected with a faint nod of his beak. “I will 
go there as soon as I've bathed.” He turned to 
leave, but paused, one talon lifted in the air. 
“The artifices are at my place and I will bring 
them here in the morning. They smell bad too and 
need some time in the air first.”

“Thank you, Burris,” Lord Avery said with a 
genuine laugh. “If not before, then I will see you in the morning.”

“Until then, milord.”

This time, Darien and Christopher managed to hold 
their breaths while the sulfurous woodpecker made his exit.

----------

The sky was dark when the tapping claws of 
Burris's talons were heard outside the skunk's 
burrow. Berchem was sleeping fitfully, but he was 
sleeping. Angus sat at his side on a small stool, 
watching his friend with a moue so deep that it 
appeared chiseled onto his snout. He rose only to 
help the bird come down the steps into the small room within the tree roots.

“Jo had to help Erica gather more supplies,” 
Angus explained when the woodpecker asked after 
the vixen healer. “She's left enough for another 
two batches of tea in case the pain comes back 
too strong.” The badger looked the freshly 
cleaned and preened woodpecker up and down and 
then blew out a long sigh. “Thank you for coming, Burris. I'm worried.”

Burris stretched his wings a foot – he could do 
no more than that in the confining space beneath 
the tree – and then bobbed his head. “Of course. How is he?”

Angus stepped aside and let the woodpecker 
approach. Burris strode over to the stool, but 
eschewed it in favor of leaning over the skunk 
and brushing the black fur on his face with one 
wing claw. The tip of his beak gently tapped the 
skunk's shoulder as he examined him.

“When we found him this morning, he was in so 
much agony he couldn't even open his eyes, and 
the ringing was so loud he couldn't hear anything 
we said to him. Jo's made some tea that helps 
relax his muscles and dull the pain, but it's 
come back each time after only a few hours. Jo 
and Lady Avery made him a stronger batch this 
last time and he's been able to get some sleep.”

“Tinnitus should not incapacitate. This is 
strange.” Burris gingerly pulled back the quilt 
and noted the way the skunk's arms and legs were 
all curled together like a newborn babe. Only his 
limbs were tensed and trembling, his long tail 
wrapped up over his front so that the tip nearly 
touched the end of his nose. “When did it start?”

Angus grunted and thrummed his toe claws against 
the floor. “That's also strange. He doesn't 
remember anything after he left the brewery last 
night until this morning when he woke to the 
pain. And I found this,” he gestured to the floor 
and spread one hand wide. “It looks to me like he 
dragged his claws across the floor. The cuts feel 
fresh.” And having made a hobby of carving wood, 
Angus knew exactly how to tell the difference.

Burris covered the skunk with his quilt again, 
then turned and crouched near the floor. He 
spread his wings before him so that the black 
feathers were pressed against the veins of wood. 
His beak tried to peck at the ground, but he held 
his neck still. His wide, brown eyes focused on 
the four gouge marks that the badger found, the 
dark pupils glimmering with an inner light.

“These do seem to be his,” Burris cawed after a 
long period of silent contemplation. “But not 
even the tree seems to remember what happened.”

“Trees can remember?” Angus asked in surprise, 
casting a wary glance at the wood around him.

“Not as such,” Burris replied as he continued his 
inspection, shifting along the floor and 
following where the gouge marks led. “They are 
alive, but they do not think as we do, or even as 
the animals we now resemble do. But they can feel 
when they are harmed and they react to protect 
themselves and to heal themselves. The tree has 
forgotten to do this. I do not know what could make that happen.”

“It sounds like magic to me,” Angus grunted.

“It may be.”

“Can you tell?”

The woodpecker stopped just beneath the stairs 
and traced his beak across the wood for a moment. 
“There's something here, but it is even fainter than the gouges.”

Angus bent down to look, but though he gently ran 
his paws over the spot the woodpecker indicated, 
he could feel nothing but the smooth grains of 
magically molded tree. After several seconds of 
fruitless searching he grunted and leaned back on 
the steps. “I can't feel anything, Burris. I'll 
have to have Alldis look at this tomorrow. He's a 
much better tracker than I am.”

“And I will go to Lake Barnhardt and seek the 
help of Jessica. She is much better at reading 
magical signs than I. I do wish the lad Muri were 
here but that plague...” Burris straightened and 
glanced around the room. “Something magical 
happened here. I can feel traces of it, but I cannot see it.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“To Berchem, aye. But I don't think it's 
dangerous to anyone else. We need to keep a 
constant watch on him until we can figure out what's wrong.”

“And you better figure it out, Burris, and fast.” 
Angus ground his teeth in frustration. “Now I 
wish I wasn't to leave for the mountains 
tomorrow. I'm going to be anxious about him the whole time.”

“Then he's very lucky to have you as his friend.”

Angus looked at the skunk curled up on the pallet 
and tried his best to smile, but could only 
grunt. “Yeah, well, Berchem's going to owe me 
quite a few drinks when he's better.”

Burris cawed in amusement, then turned and 
glanced around the room. “I will cast some wards 
and strengthen this room. What of you?”

“I'm waiting for Marcus and Anson. They're 
supposed to come soon and watch Berchem until 
midnight. Jo told me that Lord Avery has already devised a rotation.”

“Good.” He turned and stared at the skunk. Stress 
lines creased the mephit's eyes and cheeks. “He's going to need watching.”

----------

It was well past dusk when James's watchtower 
duty came to an end. He first went to the 
Matthias house to see if Baerle was there, but 
the place was dark and empty, so he returned to 
the Inn to prepare his fear for the trek into the 
mountains. It did not take long. The only things 
he needed in addition to his scouting gear were 
the ice shoes and extra bundles of clothes.

But after he finished packing, the donkey emptied 
his pack in order to retrieve the cracked bell. 
It was warm in his hands and glistened in the 
pale lamplight. Everything in the room seemed 
brighter now that the bell was there.

“One more thing then,” he said softly as he 
brushed the bore against his lips. He secured the 
bell at his right hip, arranged his things on the 
bed so that it would not take long to pack them 
again, and then headed down to the Common room to enjoy a meal.

He ate with Anson and Ralph, congratulated Jurmas 
and Kinslee once again on the birth of their 
daughters a few days before, and generally 
enjoyed his time in the company of friends. These 
had never said ill of Baerle nor touched her body. They were friends.

After finishing his meal, he excused himself and 
walked through the cold night air, crossing the 
Glen commons from Mountain Hearth to Matthias 
home. He could see a lamp lit within and hoped 
that Baerle had returned. His hand stroked down 
the bell's side and his heart pounded anxiously.

He lifted the latch and stepped within the main 
room, but saw no fire kindling, nor any sign of 
Baerle or Charles. The forest tapestry before the 
bedroom fully draped the door. No light came from 
the kitchen. A faint flickering could be seen 
from the staircase and so to that James went.

The second floor had the children's playroom and 
Baerle's room. He went straight for the latter 
but was disappointed to see that it was empty. 
Her joyous, euphoric scent filled the small room 
with its single bed, chest, and washbasin, and 
rack for scouting gear, but it was stale. She 
hadn't been here since the morning.

His heart began to pound more firmly in his chest 
as he wondered who was here and where they were. 
The bell throbbed in time to his quickening pace. 
He checked the children's bedroom but it too was 
empty and even more bereft of scent. The only 
light he'd seen was a single lamp at the top of the stairs. Nothing more.

James glanced at that light, noting the way that 
it fell in both the stairs down, and the stairs 
that wound up through the tree to the balcony up 
above the lower branches. It was either he climb 
those stairs or he risk opening Charles's bedroom 
to discover the rat and the opossum with their 
bodies locked together in passion.

Nevermore.

No, never would he have to fear that again. He 
curled one hand around the haft of the bell, and 
with the other he lifted the lantern from its 
sconce and carried it before him up the long 
flight of stairs. The passage was narrow and 
short so that the tips of his ears brushed 
against the wood in several sections. He tried to 
count the steps but lost track after twenty. And 
that's when he also realized that only the rat's 
scent lingered in the passage. If he were to find 
anyone at the balcony, it would be Charles.

Charles who had betrayed him by taking Baerle for his own.

James ground his flat teeth together and tightened his grip on the bell.

It took longer than he remembered, but he did 
reach the balcony at the top of the stairs. As 
expected, he saw the rat resting his arms on the 
railing, staring out across the trees of the 
Glen. James could see lamps lit in the homes they 
could see through the branches, and the rope 
bridges stretched from one home to the next in 
the complex and hidden weave of life that was 
Glen Avery. In the distance the mountains could 
be seen through the trees glimmering under the 
starlight. He could also see clouds covering many 
of those stars. Soon the sky would be nothing but 
darkness and the mountains would be lost.

The rat turned and smiled to him. “James, good to 
see you. I didn't mean for you to climb all the 
way up here. What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” James replied as he uncertainly made his 
way to the rat's side. The light from the nearby 
homes bathed them in a subtle radiance. “I saw 
the light on and wondered who was here, you or Baerle.”

“I'm not sure where Baerle is,” Charles admitted 
with a faint shrug. “I haven't seen her much in the last few days.”

“But you have seen her?” James pressed.

“Aye, usually in the mornings or evenings.” 
Charles grimaced and stared out across the Glen. 
“I saw Kimberly and my children today.”

James blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Aye. Jessica had a way to contact Misha. It 
was... it was good. They are well. Nobody in the Long House has the plague.”

A smile crept across the donkey's lips and he 
nodded. “That's wonderful news. So, why did you come back here?”

He looked askance at the donkey with a rather 
incredulous expression, the sort that suggested 
he thought James was an idiot for asking. “I 
couldn't stay forever. Misha is right. We need to 
do what we can to keep Metamor safe. And that 
means you, me, Baerle, and Angus will be going 
into the mountains tomorrow. Aye, I heard the 
good news from Lord Avery a short time ago.”

“Have you packed your things?”

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure Baerle had 
everything she would need, so I was going to show 
her what I have when she returns.”

James bristled. “I could do that.”

“No need for you to stay up too late, James. I 
don't know when Baerle will return, and we'll 
both want plenty of sleep tonight. It's back to 
sleeping on the ground for us for a few days.”

“Just like most of last year. And I don't mind 
staying up to help. But she's very smart and 
skilled at being a scout. She'll know what to pack.”

Charles nodded and returned his eyes to the 
forest. The clouds were thickening overhead and 
the mountains were already fading from view. 
“You're probably right. It will be good to travel 
again. And I'm glad to have you at my side.”

“And Baerle?”

The rat blinked, and then turned to face the 
donkey. His lips parted, revealing both pairs of 
incisors as his eyes narrowed. “You're asking 
about her a great deal, James. Is something on your mind?”

The donkey's ears went back, and he felt the bell 
throb against his leg. His tail lashed back and 
forth, slapping against the railing. His voice 
caught in his throat for a moment before he was 
able to find words. “I... I heard an interesting 
story from Ralph the other day. He said that you 
and Baerle were very close during the assault last year.”

Not entirely untrue. Ralph the vole had intimated 
as such, but it had been Berchem's words that had made the hints clear.

Charles frowned and shook his head. “Aye, that is 
true. She is quite fetching, I admit, and she 
didn't know that I was engaged to be married to 
Lady Kimberly at the time. She flirted with me, 
and I, I suppose, I enjoyed it and let her. Of 
course, once she found out I was engaged she 
slapped me, and it was a well deserved slap. That was the end of it.”

“Nothing more?”

The rat shrugged a bit and then half turned 
toward the empty air. “Oh, I know she still has 
feelings for me. I can see it in the way she 
looks at me when she thinks I'm not paying 
attention. And I do care for her, but not in that 
way. Kimberly is my life and my love, and my 
children... they are everything to me. But, she 
is a good friend, almost family, and so aye, I am glad to have her along.”

James slowly nodded, hand tightening about the 
bell. It sounded so reasonable, so innocent, but 
the skunk's words rebounded endlessly through his 
mind. He knew better. Charles was a man with a 
reputation; he could hardly admit to infidelity, 
even to a friend as close as the donkey. But 
listening to the sounds between the words, to 
what wasn't said, he knew that it had to be true.

“I am too,” James said with a broad smile. “She's 
a very good scout. And a good friend.”

The rat smiled and then turned to stare out over 
the Glen again. “I'm sorry you had to hear that 
from Ralph. The vole likes to embellish stories.”

Tolling.

It would be so easy, James knew. He could end the 
adulterer and betrayer now with a quick flick of 
his bell. But everyone would hear that. To make 
sure that Baerle loved him after Charles was 
gone, the rat's death would have to look like an 
accident. And the donkey would have to be the one 
all thought had tried to save him.

He set one hand on the bell and stilled its 
enthusiasm. The bore trembled against his flesh. 
“He does. I'm sorry I should have trusted you, 
Charles.” He shifted on his hooves and smiled. 
Best to quell any suspicions the rat might have. 
“Well, I will go back to the Inn and get some 
rest then. I will see you in the morning at Lars's. Good night, Charles.”

“Good night, James. And don't worry about it. We 
all get twisted up sometimes. I will see you tomorrow.”

James walked back down the steps, trying not to laugh to himself the whole way.

----------

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

Charles Matthias


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