[Mkguild] Inchoate Carillon, Inconstant Cuckold (11 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold
By Charles Matthias



March 5, 708 CR

The return to Glen Avery was done next morning. Already the news of 
the plague had reached them and the town was preparing for the worst. 
Jo was swamped with scouts curious if their slight maladies were a 
sign of plague, and Angus was busy making sure that the perimeter of 
town was safe. He wasn't eager to let the two rats back until they'd 
been examined by Jo, Burris, and Lady Avery herself. Nor was he that 
happy with any of the news they brought.

"If Metamor is shut up, that means the defense of the Valley falls to 
us." The badger's scowl revealed a plethora of yellowed, sharp teeth. 
He guided them past scrambling scouts trying to erect physical 
defenses and other busily cleaning up the effects of a slight 
snowfall the previous evening. "I was afraid of that."

"What of Hareford to the northeast?" Saulius asked as he noted all 
the activity with twitching nose and whisker.

"What of them?" Angus snorted derisively. "They hide in their castle 
if there's a hand of snow on the ground."

The rat knight regarded the badger with a curious eye and 
disapproving moue. "I dost not believe thou hast made a fair 
characterization, Master Badger."

Angus growled. "I have more important things to do than bandy words 
with you, oh knight! If you are going to stay in the Glen, then 
you've just been recruited into our army. I need every paw for our 
defense that I can. And yours are very capable or so I'm told."

Saulius's snout twitched at the injury to his pride, but he quelled 
it with a noble bow. "My sword is thine."

James was fast upon Angus's paws and he greeted Charles with a 
worried frown. "We weren't sure if you made it to Metamor on time."

"No," the rat replied. He'd shed more tears in talking with Jessica, 
but he was not going to share any with the donkey. The time for 
weeping had passed. "No, we did not. We'll be staying here until it is over."

The donkey looked aghast, with wide eyes and upraised ears. "But 
Kimberly and the children!"

Charles cut him off with a swipe of his paw. "There's nothing I can 
do! For them at least. I can help here and that's what both Kimberly 
and Misha want me to do. So that's what I'm going to do."

The donkey had nothing more to say and meekly backed away as they 
walked toward his home. Angus gave orders that he would see them both 
in an hour's time to discuss their roles in the Glen's defense and 
then returned to seeing to it. Saulius shook his head briefly, looked 
to the donkey and asked, "And where hath the good Lord Avery gone?"

James, still with a stunned expression on his countenance, gestured 
toward the far side of the Glen with one arm. "At Lars's place 
discussing plans with the others I think. Word arrived late last 
night and this place has been crazy ever since." He glanced at 
Charles and after a few seconds of lip quivering, said, "I had hoped 
you would have made it to Metamor."

Charles sighed. "I do too."

Baerle was there waiting for them when they reached Charles's home. 
The opossum was dressed in scouting gear and looked to have been up 
quite some time. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and she wept 
anew at seeing the rat return. She didn't say anything, and neither 
did Charles, but embraced almost as soon as they saw each other. They 
held each other for several long moments while James watched, rolling 
the bell distractedly about in his hands and flecking his lips. 
Saulius took the reins from Charles's distracted paw and led the two 
ponies toward the stables.

When rat and opossum parted the donkey was gone.

----------

James waved to Jurmas as he passed through the common room of the inn 
and up the stairs. The mood was sombre and the only smiles that were 
had were those of the women who'd come to see Jurmas's new daughters. 
The donkey's hooves clopped heavily on the wooded stairs and down the 
hall. He tried not to slam the door behind him but it still resounded 
with a thunderous clap.

He pressed the brass bell to his head and took a long deep breath. 
His chance. His hope. All gone now.

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

Through the balmy air of night

How they ring out their delight! -

He rang the bell and stilled the thoughts where they were. The image 
of his friend Charles holding Baerle so close... it infuriated him in 
a way he could not describe. Why did it upset him so much? Charles 
was the one real friend he had in the world. He owed everything to him.

So why did he, for a single moment, hate him with a passionate gorge 
he'd never felt for anything or anyone else? Shouldn't he feel pity 
for his friend whose wife and children were trapped in a castle under 
the threat of plague? He did. He did feel sorry for him. But...

James hunched over his bed for a moment, long tail whipping back and 
forth. The resonance of the bell had faded at last and he let it drop 
to his lumpy mattress. The clapper bounced dully off the inside of 
the bell but no note sounded. He lifted his hand to his neck and ran 
both fingers through his spiky mane and over the powerful equine 
muscles. His stomach turned and twisted.

He could still see them holding each other. Why should that bother 
him so? They were friends and she wanted to comfort him.

Yet the ear, it fully knows,

Yes, he had heard it in their voices, suspected it in the dark of 
night when he lay in his bed listening to the rattle of his windows, 
or even on their journey to Marzac when the rat muttered 
indecipherable words in his sleep. He heard it in the way Baerle 
spoke to the children, to Kimberly, and especially to Charles. And he 
didn't hear it at all when she spoke to a poor donkey whom the rat 
had shown pity on.

James ground his flat teeth together and stomped one hoof. If it was 
one thing James was good at it was listening. The Curses had given 
him very good ears; ears that were laughed at and seen as foolish. 
But good ears. He had heard. And they knew.

What a horror they outpour

Indeed. James lowered his hand and stroked the edge of the bell, 
noting its warm sheen and sonorous energy. Somehow, there would come 
a time, a way, a means, for that note to be meant for him. Now was 
not the time. Let Charles be comforted. A time would come soon enough.

He sat down on his bed, and eased the bell into his lap. He brought 
the crack to his supple lips and kissed. "At least I have you," he 
murmured gazing into his own distorted reflection.

Forevermore!



----------

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

Charles Matthias


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