[Mkguild] Dominion of the Hyacinth (2/10)

[C. Matthias]

Part 2 of Dominion of the Hyacinth!

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May 2, 708 CR


Kayla wrapped her arms about James much to the 
donkey's surprise. She then repeated the gesture 
for Charles. The rat laughed at her exuberance 
but could only say, “It is good to see you again as well.”

“It's been two weeks,” Rickkter grumbled from 
where he stood beside the pair of tables at the 
rear of the Deaf Mule. “We were supposed to meet 
every week until we're sure this Marzac business is finished.”

“Things have been difficult,” Charles pointed out 
with a faint furrowing of his brow. He gripped 
the edge of his red vest with one paw and tapped 
his buckler with his other thumb. “I have 
responsibilities to the Glen as well as the fief 
I've been given. Murikeer is still surveying the 
holdings Lord Avery gave him. You should be grateful we can still meet at all.”

“Now, now,” Jessica said with a slight spread of 
her wings. “We are all friends here.”

Rickkter gave her a non-committal grunt. The 
raccoon sat down and drummed his claws on the 
table. “Is it just the five of us then?”

“Aye, it will be,” Charles replied as he and 
James sat down together on the opposite side of 
the table. “Murikeer couldn't come down today. 
I'll be riding patrols around the Glen for the 
next three days, and then it is back to scouting 
my land. Hopefully next week will prove easier.”

“I didn't have any trouble,” James offered, 
though the donkey almost shrugged his words as if 
he wasn't even sure why he bothered saying them.

Kayla smiled at the donkey, even as she slipped 
an arm through the crook of Rickkter's elbow. 
“How is that opossum you're sweet on, Baerle?”

James lowered his ears and rubbed his thick lips 
together. “She is well. Charles is going to help 
me find something to buy for her before we head back.”

The rat chuckled and shook his head, scalloped 
ears lifting an inch. “Peacock's Feast, that shop 
with the exotic spices, fruits, and fragrances. 
Kimberly wanted me to see if they had any cumin 
anyway. I heard that you did something for the rooster that runs the place...”

Jessica bobbed her head up and down as she 
perched on a small footstool at the end of the 
table. The black hawk turned her golden eyes on 
the rat and then she almost chirped a little 
laugh. “That rooster is a hen now and the man who 
helped is now a rooster! They wanted to marry 
before the Curses were cast and now they might be able to.”

“I've seen what you did for Larssen and Maud,” 
Rickkter noted with a sullen frown. “How did you 
learn to master the magic of the Curse?”

“I watched what the Marquis did to everyone else. 
At first I didn't understand it, his motions and 
his spells were so subtle. But after meeting 
Pelain in the Imbervand such things just started 
to become clear to me. I have been practicing it 
on a few Keepers I know who wish the Curses had 
done something else to them. And I used it on 
Lindsey too when the Duke asked me.”

“I heard that there is news of Lindsey,” Charles 
said as he glanced briefly at the railing where 
Donny the bull was conversing with another midday patron.

“There is,” Rickkter said with a slight nod. “But 
I want to hear about this power of yours first, 
Jessica. You say you learned it just by watching 
the Marquis – may his soul rot in hell forever – 
but I want to be sure it isn't Marzac again. 
Forgive my skepticism, but Wessex, your former 
master, spent years trying to unravel it without 
any true success, and he also had the assistance 
of other very powerful mages. I just remember a 
similar power being used on me last year by one 
of Marzac's servants. And strange powers have 
manifested themselves in Kayla and James just 
before Marzac tried to strike. We need to make 
sure that this magic is as harmless as you say it is.”

“I haven't manifested any strange new powers,” 
Charles pointed out. The rat cast another glance 
at the railing, and then shifted in his seat. 
“But that doesn't mean anything. I'm going to go 
see if we can have food and drink brought. Rick, 
this may sound odd, but as far as Jessica's power 
of the Curse is concerned, I trust your judgment. 
Now, does anyone want anything in particular?”

Rickkter scowled even more fiercely at the rat's 
back and tail as he walked toward the railing and 
the heavy-set bull standing behind it washing a 
bowl with his apron. Kayla noticed the expression 
and tugged on the raccoon's arm. “What's wrong? Aren't you glad he trusts you?”

“He ought to trust me, but having him say it just 
makes it worse. It makes me feel very... wrong.”

“Silly man, it's not like Charles trusting you is an omen of disaster.”

“It feels like one.”

Kayla rolled her eyes and then turned her snout 
toward the raccoon and snagged the tip of his ear 
between her teeth. “Ow!” Rickkter snapped, 
yanking his ear out and folding it back against his head. “What was that for?”

Her expression was scolding, but there was a 
softness in her eyes that could never truly 
leave, not when they beheld the raccoon she had 
fallen in love with. “Charles is my friend and 
you promised you wouldn't be mean to him anymore.”

“All right, all right. Enough of the rat. 
Jessica, I think the best way to see whether your 
power over the Curses comes from Marzac or not is to see you use it.”

“You want a demonstration? I can only turn you 
into a woman or a child. I cannot change the Curse you already have.”

“I don't want you to change me into anything! My 
body has been changed enough times already by 
magic. I'd like to keep it just the way it is for 
the rest of my life if the world would be so kind 
as to cooperate for once. But I do think I need a demonstration.”

James lifted one hoof-like hand. “She can change 
me. But if you don't mind, I think I'd much rather be a child than a woman.”

“If I make you a child,” Jessica warned, “your 
clothes won't fit you anymore. It would probably 
be easier and less noticeable if I made you a woman.”

The donkey's long ears pressed against the back 
of his head and neck. He flecked his lips and 
shook his head. “No, no, I definitely would 
rather you made me a child than a woman.”

“Very well, a child it is then. I will try not to 
make you too young.” She turned to the raccoon. 
“How long do you want the spell to last?”

“As long as it takes for me to study it. But not 
too long; James has to get back to Glen Avery 
this evening. Kayla, do you think you can help me watch the spell?”

The skunk nodded as her long tail danced behind 
her head. “I can try, but if anything happens 
you'll see it sooner than I will.”

“You have felt the touch of Marzac directly. I've 
only ever felt its effects. If there is any 
Marzac taint you may be able to recognize it 
better than I can. That taint can hide. We all 
know it. Besides that, I want to know what your intuition tells you about it.”

Kayla could not argue with Rick's logic and so as 
Charles began carrying a pair of plates with 
bread and dipping oil back to the table, she let 
the world of magic fill her vision. It was a 
skill she had learned from Jessica on their long 
journey together, one that eluded her for a few 
months before she began to notice a faint 
discoloring of the world as if everything were 
covered in thin cobwebs. After another month or 
two of practice she was finally able to resolve 
those cobwebs into the skein of magic that 
tangled through all living things and all 
inanimate matter. To her it seemed as if she were 
standing in a room with ten thousand different 
ropes all tangled together and she was tasked 
with the impossible chore of sorting them all out 
by texture and then laying them end to end in order to lasso the moon.

Nor did the experience prove any less daunting 
for her that day. The interior of the Deaf Mule 
was still filled with the midday crowd of Keepers 
who'd come to relax with a good warm meal before 
returning to their daily vocations. The windows 
were opened to let in the warm Spring sunlight 
and it seemed to brighten every face and snout 
present. But between each patron and the many who 
were busy working the tables or behind the 
railing with Donny was gathered an impenetrably 
dense maze of silvery blue strands of energy 
whose source and destination were mysteries 
beyond her skill. She was used to solving puzzles 
and games of logic, but the world of magic, 
despite her growing proficiency with simpler 
spells, was a frightening morass that defied the application of logic.

But what she could still see clearly was her 
friends. Rickkter had moved out from behind the 
table so he could get a better view and to block 
others from watching. James stood sort of between 
the raccoon and black-feathered hawk with one 
hand holding the waist-line of his trousers. 
Charles watched everything with a curious glance 
as he set their food down and went back to the railing to gather drinks.

James had donned simple traveling clothes for the 
day, all of them a plain brown and green in hue, 
complimenting his gray hide much as if he were 
walking through the forest. He kept a short sword 
buckled at his waist, but at a word from the 
hawk, he removed his buckler and set it on the bench where it would be safe.

All of this Kayla saw through the complicated 
weave of magic that otherwise overwhelmed her 
vision. She let her glance move from donkey to 
hawk and back again noting the way many of those 
strands of energy drew taut between them, 
wrapping themselves about Jessica's wing claws. A 
warm radiance suffused them, one whose glow 
seemed one moment a soft lavender and the next a 
crystalline violet. Kayla almost felt mesmerized 
by that glow, but quickly turned her attention to 
James before she could become distracted.

Nothing happened to her friend at first. James 
stood with one hand on his waistline and the 
other hanging at his side, thumb rubbing against 
the thick flesh of his other two fingers, long 
face and ears turned toward the hawk, with ropey 
tail bouncing back and forth from one shin to the 
other. Mixed in with the various lines of forces 
passing through him, and spread to each extremity 
of flesh was the black presence of the Curse. It 
wasn't a substance she could describe in any 
terms other than black, ominous, sleeping, and 
sated. Yet when the spectral lines of energy from 
Jessica reached that mass it quivered like a dog 
dreaming of the chase. And then James began to shrink.

Kayla had not seen anybody change under the power 
of Metamor's Curses since the day they were 
struck. She had seen the effects of the change, 
and a few times had seen a person in the middle 
of changing, but in each case, there was nothing 
perceptibly different from one moment to the 
next. The only thing she could compare it to was 
watching one of her friends turn into their feral 
form, or Charles growing an extra set of legs.

Even knowing that it was going to happen it still 
made Kayla gasp in wonder. James, the quiet and 
helpful donkey who never seemed to see his own 
strength, lost the weight of years in a matter of 
seconds. He wobbled on his hooves as his height 
dwindled, face shortening some, while his entire 
frame softened. After a few seconds, the 
lavender, violet glow settled along the black 
presence and everything returned to a quiet 
pause. James was a child of perhaps no more than ten years in age.

“If my little ones saw you they'd want to play 
horsey,” Charles noted with a laugh.

James looked up at the rat, and then all of them, 
hanging on to his sagging trousers which were far 
too large for him now. The ends were bunched 
around his hooves, while the waist shifted back 
and forth from hip to hip every time he moved his 
tail. His tunic was sliding along his shoulders; 
another couple of years younger and it would have 
slid down his arms and chest completely. His 
voice was also that of a child, higher pitched 
with a playful cadence. “That actually sounds fun!”

Charles laughed again. Kayla couldn't help but 
smile too. The only one not smiling was Rickkter. 
The raccoon wasn't looking at James so much as he 
was looking through him. He had one arm crossed 
over his chest supporting the second, the paw of 
which was held out as thought he had been caught 
in the middle of waving good-bye to someone. It 
was a look Kayla had seen on him before, right 
down to the slightly parted muzzle and lightly 
twitching fingers, when he was trying to puzzle 
out some deep aspect of magic. He blinked several 
times and with a chuff, shook his head and 
lowered his paw, glowering down at the donkey and 
then up at Jessica. “Well, I don't see anything 
obvious. I didn't expect I would. But I did 
expect to be able to follow what you did to the 
Curse. You may as well have given me a letter in 
Åelvish telling me that the instructions are in a 
warded chest ten miles beneath the tallest 
mountain in Fan Shoar for all the good it would 
do me. I don't like not knowing what you did.”

“There are many forms of magic you can perform 
that I don't understand either,” Jessica pointed 
out as she folded her wings to her back. “And 
nearly every master in the mage guild has some 
knowledge beyond the both of us. Don't be so upset.”

“Yes, but they can all teach others, or at the 
very least codify it in some manner. If we're to 
put what you've learned to use, so that we can 
finally begin to control the curse, this has to 
be something other mages can learn and use.”

“Once I know I can explain it in a way you'll 
understand,” she said. “Give me some time to see 
what I can write down.” She lifted one of her 
talons and shrugged her shoulders. “It takes me 
longer to write than it does you.”

“You could dictate,” Rickkter suggested.

“Words, but not sketches. For this I'm afraid I 
will need to make many illustrations. I have a 
few started, but I'm going to need to create many more.”

The raccoon continued to glower and appeared as 
if he wanted to argue further, but finally 
slumped his shoulders and nodded. “Very well, but 
I expect you to have something written down when we meet again next week.”

“I will do what I can.”

“Now...” Rickkter glanced at the child donkey who 
was admiring his free hand and touching his snout 
to feel the difference. A chuckle seemed to 
appear at the edges of the raccoon's snout but 
they vanished beneath his veneer of irritation. 
“Kayla, did you notice anything when Jessica cast the spell?”

“Anything that looked like Marzac? No, I didn't 
see anything like what I experienced, or like we saw on Lindsey.”

Charles had the drinks arranged on the table for 
them all, and his ears perked at the name. “How 
is Lindsey doing? I think we've satisfied ourselves with this experiment.”

“Indeed,” Rickkter agreed. “At least for now.”

“Do I get to be me again?” James asked as he took 
a tentative step and nearly toppled over when his pants leg caught on his hoof.

“Oh, of course! That's easy.” Jessica narrowed 
her eyes for one moment and then the donkey 
started to grow again. A few seconds later, James 
was back to his real age and trying to straighten 
out his trousers and tunic which had become 
tangled during the changes. Charles helped him 
and then the two friends sat down to enjoy the 
plate of breads and mazers of mead.

Rickkter slumped into his seat and shook his 
head, taking a slice of bread and dipping it in 
the small bowl of seasoned oil. Some of the oil 
dripped along his snout which he rubbed off with 
his sleeve. “All right, I'm satisfied. So what's this news about Lindsey?”

“About a week ago,” Kayla said with a broad 
smile, “the three birds we sent to Arabarb 
returned with the news that Baron Calephas is dead.”

“And good riddance,” Charles said, slamming his fist into the table.

“Calephas had been trying to create a potion, a 
set of potions I mean, that would turn him into a 
real dragon. And apparently he was successful, 
but he was killed before he could ever use them 
himself. Do you remember that tiger Keeper who 
murdered his friend? Wicker Potter?”

“I recall something of that,” Charles said with a 
nod. He tapped the end of his loaf of bread on 
the side of the dish to let the excess oil drain. 
“I heard only that he escaped justice and if we 
ever saw him we were to subdue him if we could, kill him if necessary.”

“Calephas had captured him instead and had turned 
him into his slave. Well, he didn't do a good 
enough job because Lindsey says they found 
Calephas and Wicker drowned together. They'd 
killed each other just before Calephas was able 
to get away with his dragon potions.”

“And the potions?” Rickkter asked.

“Destroyed. Probably by Wicker, but nobody knows for sure.”

“Pity.”

“Oh?” Kayla interrupted. “Weren't you just going 
on about how you didn't want your body changed any more?”

“Yes, but... dragon!”

Charles snorted and rolled his eyes before 
bringing them back to topic. “Why was he trying to escape?”

“Lindsey's mother helped lead the men of 
Fjellvidden and Arabarb in a rebellion. They were 
attacking the city and keeping Calephas's army 
and Gmork distracted. Calephas had his potions 
and he knew they worked so why would he stay? But 
he's dead now and the potions are gone. And the 
one person he used them on was already a half-dragon anyway.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Who was that?”

Kayla took a deep breath, and in an amazed whisper replied, “Lindsey.”

Kayla explained everything that she had been told 
by Misha and Andwyn of the news from the far 
north. Her friends listened in stunned awe as 
they learned of the draconic heritage of their 
dearest companion Lindsey; not a one of them 
dared to ask her a question, preferring to hear 
the tale in the skunk's convivial tones free of 
pretense or attempts to obscure details for 
dramatic effect as might have happened if either 
Charles or Misha had been telling the tale.

They were all delighted to hear of Calephas's 
death but the news of the creature Gmork and what 
it did to the Sondecki and their friend Jerome 
left James and Jessica shaken and Charles 
seething. Charles ground his incisors on a 
chewstick as Kayla explained what they knew about 
this wolf-like mage; he'd reduced half of it to 
splinters by the time she was finished.

Charles put his chewstick down and trembled with 
choked fury. “I have never heard of anything like 
this Gmork. Rickkter, Jessica, have either of you 
heard anything like it before?”

“No, I have not,” Jessica replied with a solemn shrug of her wings.

“And neither have I,” the raccoon added with a 
darkened brow. “Misha asked me about this 
creature a few days ago. I've spent a good bit of 
time looking through old books to see if there is 
anything. I haven't found anything either in the 
bestiaries of Galendor or Sonngefilde that 
matches what they saw. It's possible that this 
Gmork is something new, some new devilry 
unleashed by Nasoj and now out of his control.”

“That's true,” Jessica mused. “We don't know many 
of the things that wizard has done. But if Gmork 
is his creation, why did he not use him in his attacks against Metamor?”

“Perhaps he kept Gmork back for magical support. 
He did need mages to help control that blizzard 
and also to cast the Curses in the first place. 
If Gmork can really transform some into 
werewolves, then he may have had some hand in Nasoj's first attack.”

Jessica turned her worried expression to the 
skunk. “Kayla, is there any way of knowing where Gmork has gone?”

“I was told that they fled Arabarb but that's all.”

“Most likely they went back to the Giantdowns,” 
Rickkter said, curling one paw around his mazer. 
“Misha also asked me to think of ways they can 
better prepare the Longs and any other scouts in 
case they come across him or his pups.”

“I hadn't heard about this,” Charles pointed out 
with narrowed eyes and almost hissing tone. “I am still a Long!”

“That's because I haven't come up with anything 
yet,” Rickkter snapped. “You were inspecting your 
lands, Sir Charles.” He sneered the title with as 
much contempt as he could muster. Kayla smacked him on the back of the head.

“That's enough of that now!”

Rickkter glowered and downed some of the mead. “It's true.”

“Fine,” Charles grunted, lowering his snout to 
look at the last of the bread. He reached for a 
loaf, but paused before picking any up. “But what 
about Jerome? Will he recover?”

Kayla's expression turned apologetic. “There's no 
way to know yet. All we know is that he was 
turned into one of Gmork's pups but has broken 
free of Gmork's control. Lindsey and Pharcellus 
are watching over him. That's all I've been told.”

Charles took the bread and dipped it in the oil, 
smearing it onto the loaf. “They should bring my 
friend here.” He leaned forward and took a bite 
of the bread with only a little of the oil 
glistening on one of his whiskers. “A fellow 
Sondecki may see some way to remove whatever Gmork did to him.”

“I will tell Andwyn,” Kayla promised. “Another 
messenger should be leaving for Arabarb in a few 
days. I'll make sure your message is sent.”

Charles finished the last of the bread and 
lowered his ears. He did not speak so much as 
sigh, his anger restrained. “Thank you.”

“Well, if there is no more news to share,” 
Jessica said after several long seconds of 
silence, “then I suggest we forget about our 
troubles and just enjoy our time together. I'm 
sure there's lots of other things we can talk 
about before we have to go back to our regular lives.”

The suggestion was met gladly even by Rickkter.

----------

They spoke of simpler matters such as Charles's 
fief, Jessica's marriage to Weyden, James's 
opossum friend, and of course how much longer it 
would be before Misha and Caroline finally 
decided to marry. James even had the temerity to 
ask Rickkter when he would ask for Kayla's paw. 
The raccoon demurred but cast a withering glare 
at the donkey that couldn't quite penetrate their good cheer.

But after another round of drinks, Charles and 
James decided that if they wished to return to 
the Glen before nightfall they would need to head 
out. Jessica hugged them both in her wings, and 
then Kayla did the same with her arms. Rickkter 
nodded to the Glenners but otherwise kept his 
distance. Once they had departed, Jessica also 
announced she would return to the home she shared 
with her husband. Kayla and the hawk hugged while 
Rickkter began gathering the empty mazers and 
piling them up in one corner of the table. They 
were about to follow the hawk out of the Inn when 
a human man in his late teens stepped between 
them and the door and held up his hand.

“I'm sorry, Master Rickkter. But I was told by a 
friend to bid you to wait here.”

Rickkter frowned and glared at the young man. He 
was not well-muscled like a soldier despite 
obviously having once been a woman, but he wasn't 
weak either. There was a scent of cherry and pine 
about him; possibly an apprentice in the 
carpenter's guild. “Who are you? And who told you?”

The young man grinned nervously and swallowed. 
Doubtless Rickkter's reputation was well known 
even amongst the laboring class of Metamor. “I am 
called Eamon. He asked me to tell you one word 
and he would explain everything else when he arrived.”

“And what word is that, Eamon?” Kayla asked, 
putting a paw on the raccoon's arm to still his gorge.

Eamon's smile wavered for a moment before returning. “The word is Marzac.”

Rickkter hissed between his short, sharp fangs 
and narrowed his dark eyes. “I see. Thank you, 
Eamon. We will wait here for your employer.”

“He's not my employer,” Eamon started, but then 
managed to shut his lips and nod several times. 
The young man ducked out the Deaf Mule with a 
patina of embarrassment reddening his cheeks. 
Rickkter scowled while Kayla slid her tongue 
between her teeth nervously. A message about 
Marzac? What could it mean? Thoughts and wild 
speculation ran rampant through their minds as 
they settled back down at the rear table waiting their mystery guest.

They waited almost ten minutes before another 
familiar hawk stepped through the front door to 
the tavern. Even as he stepped through the 
doorway he was staring at them with fixed golden 
eyes. His reddish feathers thrummed with the 
draft from the door as it shut behind him; all he 
bore was a sash around his chest to mark him as a 
soldier of Metamor. Those now clad in feathers 
often found it too difficult to wear any clothes 
at all, even when they could manage to slip 
something on with their wings and usual lack of 
arms. The most the hawk Weyden ever bore was 
either a simple vest or military sash. He didn't 
even carry any weapons for they would have been even more useless than clothes.

“Weyden?” Kayla said in surprise as he stood on 
the perch where a short while before his 
black-feathered wife had stood. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to speak with you both and this was the 
only place I knew I could find you. My wife 
thinks I am on a routine patrol today. My friends 
think I am spending the day with my wife. I hope 
that neither finds out I lied, but more my wife 
than they. I'm sorry about Eamon. I had to make 
sure you both stayed here after Jessica left. I can't risk her seeing me here.”

Kayla reached out a hand to touch the hawk on the 
wing. “What's wrong? Is something wrong with Jessica?”

“I'm afraid there might be. I know you are 
worried about the corruption of Marzac overtaking 
each of you who went there. I'm worried that it 
might be happening right now with my wife.” 
Weyden's voice, already harsh and squawking 
because of his hawk's throat, now trembled and warbled with a plaintive tone.

Rickkter leaned forward, resting his chin on his 
fists. “What makes you think so?”

“The day after our wedding I saw her reduce Master Kuna to a child.”

“Master who?” Rickker asked with a frown.

“Kuna. He's the meerkat who'd used trickery to 
win his election as headmaster of the Guild last year.”

The raccoon shook his head. “I don't remember 
hearing about that. The Guild has been in 
disarray for some time, but I know in the last 
month it has started to have meetings again. I 
have already received two invitations to join. 
The mages here are good folk, but I've always had 
a distaste for the bureaucratic morass and 
politicking of Northern guilds. At least the laws 
of Metamor allow me to forgo membership in the 
Guild should I choose. It would be quite 
insufferable to be roped into their guild 
politics here after fleeing it in my home.” 
Rickkter shook his head again and reached for a 
mazer of mead that wasn't there. He glared at the 
empty spot on the table, and then returned a 
neutral gaze to the hawk. “I can't say I blame 
your wife for not joining either.”

Weyden blinked once and turned his head between 
the two of them, a bewildered expression creasing 
his beak. “What are you talking about?”

“The Metamor Mage guild,” Rickkter replied, 
narrowing his eyes. “That is what you asked me about.”

“That's what I thought,” Kayla agreed.

“I mentioned Master Kuna, the former headmaster 
of the Guild. The one who perpetuated all of the 
disarray and was just voted out of his position.”

Rickkter shook his head. “I've never heard of him.”

“Aye, you said that a moment ago. And then you 
started talking about the Guild. Don't you remember why I'm here?”

The raccoon blinked and turned to Kayla. She 
looked at the raccoon and felt a strange disquiet 
fill her. It was clear that Rickkter couldn't 
remember why they'd come to the Deaf Mule, and to 
her astonishment, she couldn't recall either. 
“No,” he said very slowly. “Why are you here?”

“I'm here about my wife. She turned Kuna into a 
child and now nobody even remembers who he is or anything that he's done.”

Rickkter opened his jaw to speak, and then jabbed 
himself in the arm with one claw. “How many times have you told us this?”

“Twice now.”

“Let's try a little experiment then,” Rickkter 
suggested. “I'm going to start talking about some 
adventure from the last year or so. Interrupt me 
and ask me about this mage again in a few 
minutes. If I've forgotten it, mentioned the name Zhypar Habakkuk.”

“Isn't he the one who...”

“Just do as I ask.”

“I will.”

Rickkter nodded and leaned back in his chair, 
wrapping one arm around Kayla's shoulders. She 
relaxed into his grip, and listened nervously as 
he began to describe how he helped Misha reduce 
the Lutin fortress of Stepping Rock to rubble. 
Misha had been insane with anger over the death 
of fellow Long Craig Latoner, and the raping of 
his lady Caroline. His posture relaxed as the 
tale progressed. Kayla, despite all of the 
violence she had seen in the last year still felt 
nauseated at the raccoon's descriptions of battle 
complete with severed limbs, sprays of blood, and 
wails of anguish that dwindled into gurgling 
chokes and mewling whispers. His jowls quivered 
with a beastly hunger and challenge as if he were 
defending some morsel of food from scavengers.

Just when Rickkter was describing what happened 
when he and Charles were back to back facing a 
horde of Lutins, Weyden spread his wings and 
cawed. “Rickkter, do you know why we're here?”

“What an odd question. Do you mean why we're here 
sharing old stories, why we're here at Metamor in 
the first place, or why we are here in the world at all?”

“I'm here to warn you about my wife! She turned 
Kuna into a child! Don't you remember?”

“Kuna?” Rickkter blinked. Kayla could see that he 
was irritated at having his story interrupted. 
She felt a little uneasy at Weyden's erratic 
behavior. What could be bothering him so much? 
“I've never heard of him. Who is he?”

“This is the third time I've told you. You just 
keep forgetting it moments after I mention him. 
You told me to tell you a name if you forgot again. Zhypar Habakkuk.”

“I keep forgetting? Zhypar Habakkuk?” Rickkter 
narrowed his eyes and drummed his claws on the 
table. And then he jumped backward, paws slamming 
into the table and his voice chocking in his 
throat. “By the gods and daedra! A hyacinth!”

“A what?” Kayla asked.

“A hyacinth. Like Yonson planted. You remember that, don't you, Weyden?”

“Aye,” Weyden replied with a quick nod, his 
agitated feathers beginning to relax. “I recall 
the hyacinth. Yonson was quite upset when it was destroyed in a terrible fire.”

“I destroyed it,” Rickkter snapped as he managed 
to make himself sit back down. “Habakkuk proved 
to me that I was forgetting things just like I 
had you do now. He knew the hyacinth was there in 
the gardens. He asked me to destroy it because he 
wasn't sure what magical protections it might 
have. And now there is another hyacinth at 
Metamor. Who is it I keep forgetting? I can't remember their name already!”

“Kuna. He was once the headmaster of the Mage's 
Guild, but he won his election through trickery. 
He was ousted not long ago and just after Jessica 
and I were married, he approached her at our home 
asking her to teach him her ability to manipulate 
the Curses. She refused and then turned him into 
a child. I've not seen him since and nobody I 
mention him to seems to remember who he was.”

“That is the hyacinth's doing,” Rickkter noted 
with a sullen grimace. “Insufferable bloody 
plant. Kayla, do you have anything to write with?”

Kayla shook her head. “I'll go see if I can fetch 
something from Donny. I will be right back.”

As Rickkter and Weyden continued to talk, Kayla 
wandered past the other patrons until she was 
standing at the railing. Donny was at the other 
end talking with one of the local merchants about 
a delivery of onions. The badger on the other 
side assured him that the delay was nothing that 
he, Donny, should be concerned with. Kayla waved 
her tail back and forth behind her head, hoping 
that could get his attention. Donny saw her and 
nodded, holding up one finger to bid her wait 
just a moment more. She sighed and turned around, 
her soft fur shifting beneath her tunic and 
breeches, looking back across the room to where 
Weyden and her raccoon were deep in conversation. 
She couldn't help but smile as she admired the 
raccoon's angular features, firm countenance, and 
assertive personality. There was a gentle 
playfulness beneath his gruff and irascible exterior.

“Did you need more drinks, milady?” A deep, rumbling voice behind her asked.

Kayla turned again and nearly smacked Donny in 
the snout with her tail as she did. But the 
auruchs only smiled and regarded her with his 
glassy stare. “Oh, aye, more drinks.” What other 
reason would she have had for coming to the railing anyway?

Donny poured another three mazers and Kayla 
wrapped two in one paw and one in the other 
before heading back to the table with a broad smile.

Rickkter looked up as she approached and smiled. 
“Drinks, excellent idea, Kayla.”

“What about the writing implements?” Weyden asked 
as he regarded the mazer of mead as if he were 
afraid something unpleasant was hiding in its depths.

Rickkter rapped his forehead with his knuckles 
and ground his fangs together with a hiss. 
“Kayla, could you go ask Donny if he has anything 
we can write with? And interrupt him if you have to.”

This time she was able to remember what she 
wanted long enough to ask the bull. Donny was 
gone for only a moment before he returned with a 
small sheaf of parchment and a charcoal stick. 
Kayla thanked him and brought both back to the skunk.

“Excellent. Now I can write down what you tell me 
so I won't need to worry about forgetting. 
Weyden, start at the beginning and don't leave 
anything out. What happened to Kuna; I know 
you've told me a few times now, but I'm lucky I remember his name.”

----------

It took only a quarter of an hour for Weyden to 
explain what he had seen his wife do, who Kuna 
was, and all the little things that the hawk had 
noticed in the pair of weeks since. Rickkter 
wrote everything down, being careful not to smear 
the charcoal or to spill the mead. He wrote in 
large letters at the top of the parchment the 
word 'Hyacinth' and apparently that was enough to 
rouse his memory. Kayla listened, but found 
despite her best efforts, she had a hard time 
keeping any of the hawk's warnings in her mind. 
The magic forcing them to forget was powerful and frightening.

“Now, what I do not understand is why you aren't 
forgetting everything,” Rickkter said after 
setting the charcoal aside and wiping his paw off 
on his trousers. “I can barely keep any of this 
in my head for a minute and you recall every detail.”

“I wish I knew,” Weyden admitted with a shrug of 
his wings. “I don't understand magic at all. I 
always trusted that to Yonson and to Jessica.”

“A mystery to explore later if we can but for now 
it is an important advantage.” Rickkter picked up 
the mead in his other paw and lapped a few times. 
He brushed the dripping froth from his muzzle 
with his sleeve and glanced at the parchment 
covered in letters. “Our two most important 
questions: how did Jessica plant a hyacinth, and where did she plant it?”

“I think I know the answer to the first,” Weyden 
admitted. “After the first hyacinth was destroyed 
Yonson sent me to the gardens to dig up the 
bulbs. The fire had destroyed most of them, but I 
was able to save two of them. I thought he wanted 
to plant it anew next year. I kept them wrapped 
in soft paper and stored in a wooden box where 
they would be safe. After we were released from 
the dungeon they were returned to me and I kept 
them as something of the ambassador's. I didn't 
think anything of them. Jessica must have found 
them after her return; she stayed with us in the barracks and 
 well...”

Kayla saw his embarrassment and nodded her head. “Go on.”

“She must have found them. After we moved into 
the Twin's Hearth, I went through all of my 
things and I discovered the box was empty.”

“Well,” Rickkter mused, “where was the barracks you both stayed in?”

“Lake Barnhardt. We returned to Metamor after the quarantine was lifted.”

Rickkter tapped his snout with one finger and 
flicked his striped tail. “Lake Barnhardt it is 
then. I wager the hyacinth is there... somewhere. 
I've never been there before. Did you see any gardens there?”

“No, never,” Weyden replied.

“That doesn't mean anything. I walked past the 
hyacinth in Metamor's gardens several times 
without ever remembering it was there. I'm going 
to arrange a little trip out to Lake Barnhardt.” 
He took the charcoal and added those very words 
to the bottom of the page. “Weyden, if you need 
to send me any messages, use Habakkuk's name. 
Kayla, I will meet you in your quarters this evening to discuss this further.”

“Thank you,” Weyden said with a long sigh. “I'm 
so worried about Jessica. She is... too good to do these things.”

“Marzac is like that. Now go and keep her from 
paying attention to us. I'll pay our tab then I 
will see about hiring a carriage out to Lake Barnhardt tomorrow.”

Kayla hugged him round the shoulders once while 
Weyden professed his gratitude one last time. The 
three of them rose together and after one brief 
glance at each others' eyes, went their separate ways.

----------

Although he was suspicious of their friendship 
with Charles, in truth there was no one better 
for providing a reliable and quick transport 
across the Valley than the rats and their new 
shipping business. It had only been in operation 
for a few months now but already it was the talk 
of the merchants and the various guilds, each of 
whom was eager to discover that they could 
transport even their low-priced goods and still 
have a little money left over. While he could 
borrow a horse, or rent one if need be, he 
couldn't be sure that he'd be able to remember 
the purpose of his trip or even where he was 
going. By riding in one of the rat's wagons, he 
could keep his note in his paws and be reminded 
of his duty every time he looked down.

He even kept the letter in his paws as he walked 
across the streets of Keeptowne. Twice already he 
had turned down the wrong street in confusion as 
to where he was going only to look at what he 
held and chide himself for forgetting so quickly. He hated hyacinths.

The rats – at least the handful that had been at 
the Keep for several years now; there were 
several more amongst the Bradanes refugees from 
what Kayla had said – continued to live in the 
cellars beneath Metamor Keep despite the success 
of their business. But they had bought a few 
homes that had been badly damaged and abandoned 
after Nasoj's winter attack and were in the 
process of converting them into warehouses for 
their sleigh wagons. But this meant that Rickkter 
had to walk halfway across Keeptowne which left 
him vulnerable to numerous fits of amnesia.

To his chagrin he found himself standing at the 
corner of an intersection with Inns on either 
side and wagons and horses crossing in front of 
him. Rainwater collected in the numerous 
depressions in the road where the stones had been 
worn over the years, while mud tracked in every 
direction. His nose wrinkled as a passing horse 
lifted its tail to leave a present for the street 
cleaners who had one of the foulest jobs in all 
of Metamor; all of them were still human and paid very well or so he'd heard.

Rickkter sighed and glanced down at the sheet of 
paper. The large word at the top reminded him 
what had happened yet again and so he carefully 
reviewed the text he'd scrawled. He was half-way 
through the page when he finally recalled that it 
was Weyden who'd told him his fears about Jessica 
and that he was out to secure transport to Lake Barnhardt.

“Damn hyacinth,” he muttered under his breath as 
he quickly finished reviewing his notes on where 
he had to go. With his destination recalled, he 
lifted his snout and looked about to see which 
direction he should go to find the rats.

Instead he spat in alarm as a team of horses 
dragging a heavily laden wagon churned past him, 
the driver screaming at the fool of a coon 
standing in the street to get out of the way. The 
wagon wheels drove through one of the puddles of 
water, spraying Rickkter from the top of his head 
down to his booted paws. He lifted one arm to 
shield himself even as he hopped backward.

“You asinine oaf! I ought to tie you to one of 
your wheels for a day or three!” He shook his 
fist at the impatient merchant who was already 
out of earshot, and then shook his arms to get the filth off.

And then he noticed the parchment again and the 
charcoal words smearing together into a dense and 
incomprehensible mess. He gaped in disbelief for 
a moment but the smearing only grew worse. Even 
the word 'Hyacinth' which he'd written in large 
letters was becoming impossible to decipher.

“No,” he whispered, and then his paws began to 
tremble with rage. “No!” He turned left and 
right, scanning the street for sign of any 
merchant house, artisan, or even a cook who might 
have something he could write with. But he saw 
nothing he could use and so ran down the street, 
startling several Keepers making ready to cross 
the street or carrying foodstuffs and cloths. He 
repeated the words 'hyacinth', 'Jessica', and 
'Lake Barnhardt' over and over to himself, 
stuttering like a madman in his attempt to keep 
them all fresh in his memory. He had to write it 
down before he forgot it all again!

Several houses down he saw a sign hanging over a 
rather well-to-do establishment featuring a 
Peacock seated before what looked like a 
decorated and abundantly adorned table. The 
Peacock's Feast! They always kept a stylus for 
tracking orders of spices and exotic fruits, 
vegetables, and shellfish. He remembered visiting 
them several times in the past when he'd wanted 
to cook something with the flavor of his 
homeland, and sometimes just to make a muffin for 
Misha to set the fox's tongue on fire. He almost 
laughed to himself as he recalled the way his 
friend had gagged at the curry filled muffin and 
then foolishly tried to wash it out with water; 
fitting revenge for spreading that story about 
him being injured in battle with a mighty warrior 
when it had just been some foreign mage's rat 
familiar and the wound a single bite on the flesh 
between his thumb and his fingers.

He stepped inside the shop and cast a quick 
glance around. The scent of various spices 
assaulted him immediately, but also a faint scent 
more commonly found in a chicken coop. As the 
merchants who ran the shop were both now chickens 
this was not a surprise. He saw the rooster 
Norbert cleaning a broad table behind which were 
little labeled boxes in stacks against the wall. 
The rooster glanced up with his beady yellow eyes 
and floppy red comb, and then returned to his work.

Rickkter almost pounced the table, the ruined 
piece of parchment now torn between two of his 
claws. “Do you have something I can write with? Please, hurry!”

“Write? Of course. Just a moment.” The rooster 
set down his damp rag and bent down to look through another set of drawers.

“Hurry!” Rickkter repeated the litany of words in 
his mind, even as his eyes were drawn to the 
names of various spices along the wall, each one 
bringing out a memory of this pleasant meal or that culinary failure.

“Here we are,” the rooster clucked, setting a 
feather, an inkpot, and a fresh piece of 
parchment on the table. “Usually we prefer to 
write down any orders, Master Rickkter.”

Rickkter grabbed the feather and dabbed the quill 
into the ink, and then blinked. He looked at the 
ruined parchment in his other paw but couldn't 
make anything out. He tried to remember why he'd 
come into the shop, but the irritation he'd felt 
at the soaking he'd received a moment ago had 
left him confused. And then he recalled that rat 
Charles talking about buying cumin and he felt 
himself relax. As much as he thought the rat 
Sondecki insufferable, even he had to admit that 
the fellow had a good idea from time to time. 
Cumin was the perfect spice to give grilled fish a sharp but earthy bite.

He crumpled the ruined parchment and tossed it 
aside. “I guess since I'm here I can let you 
write it down. I was hoping for a tablespoon of 
cumin. And...” he pondered for a moment and then 
a wicked grin spread over his narrow snout. “Do 
you happen to have any wasabi? I have a friend 
who yearns to burn his tongue out.”

The rooster fluffed his thick red plumage and 
squawked. “We don't have any wasabi powder now. 
It'll take a month or more but I'm sure we can 
provide some if you wish to wait and can afford 
the coin. The cumin I can give you now. That will be four moons.”

Were he in Sonngefilde that price would have been 
laughably exorbitant. But cumin was not grown in 
Metamor Valley and so he dropped the old, 
crumpled bit of parchment and reached for his 
money pouch. It may still be expensive, but it 
was not unreasonable, especially not when it came 
to Kayla. “Four moons then,” he agreed as he 
reached into his pouch and counted out four silver coins.

The rooster scooped the coins into his apron with 
a wing-like arm and then began searching through 
the labeled boxed behind him. His tail feathers 
spread out in a fan as he bent over. Rickkter 
shook his head in wonder; this rooster had 
started life as a woman, and had spent almost 
eight years as a human male. He had taken to 
being a rooster very well it seemed. He would 
have to compliment Jessica on her excellent work 
with the Curses when next he saw her.

Norbert lifted one of the boxes and set it on the 
table. It was not very large, nor was there much 
cumin within, but only the well-to-do could have 
afforded such an exotic spice in the first place. 
With deft wing-hands, the rooster took a little 
glass bottle and began spooning small doses of 
the pungent, brown powder into it. Rickkter's 
nose twitched until both box was closed and glass bottle was stoppered.

“There we are,” Norbert offered the bottle which 
Rickkter took and gingerly placed in one of the 
pouches attached to his belt. “Now, how much of 
the wasabi powder did you want?”

His grin was malicious as he plotted how he might 
make Misha regret having so much fun at the 
raccoon's expense. When he left the store a few 
minutes later he didn't even bother picking up 
the crumpled piece of paper on the floor by his boots.

----------


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

Charles Matthias