[Mkguild] Felsah's Little School (1/7)

[C. Matthias]

I wrote most of this tale over my Christmas break 
as I was bound and determined that I would write 
more than 100 total pages last year.  I managed 
it.  I only had a few pages left to write after 
the wonderful news of our adoption.  Big thanks 
to Hallan for his help in editing and approving 
some scenes.  And apologies to Hallan if this 
narrative gives anything away for his own stories.

If somebody does not approve of the use of their 
character, let me know and we can make 
changes.  I'm just juggling a lot of things right 
now and wanted to get this tale out.  I hope you all enjoy it!

---------

Metamor Keep: Felsah's Little School
by Charles Matthias


April 18, 708 CR


Though it had been over a year since he had last 
seen the high peaks, dense forests, and sprawling 
farmland of the Metamor Valley, and though he 
knew that his presence had instilled fear, 
indignation, and a definite measure of anguish in 
the hearts of many, he felt nothing but delight 
at seeing the place again. He peered at the 
majestic peaks and thick woods through the window 
of his carriage and marveled at the trees 
sporting wild blossoms in yellows, pinks, and 
blues of such delicacy and profusion that it 
seemed to him they must have been painted for no 
land could truly boast such vibrancy. It was not 
that he had never seen such vistas before in his 
many travels – indeed he had seen even greater 
explosions of hue than this for the trees here 
were broken up by numerous pines and elms which 
did not change their colors with the season – it 
was that in his homeland such vibrant colors came but rarely.

But life in the desert brought with it other 
beauties that a place like Metamor could never 
possess. Such were the gifts of Eli to His 
children, different and sometimes hard, but gifts 
nevertheless. Father Akaleth of the Questioners 
kept this kernel of truth in mind as their 
carriage made its way north along the main road 
through the valley toward Metamor Keep. A part of 
him had always hoped he'd be able to see this 
place again, and how grateful he was that he was 
not here for a Questioning! It would be years 
before he could do another in this place, if ever.

Of course, if Eli choose him for such a task, he would do as he was asked.

“You look distracted, Father,” the now familiar 
voice of Hugo Maclear offered from the other side 
of the wagon. Akaleth turned toward the 
pale-faced brown-haired man with a rat sitting in 
his lap. The rat had black fur along his body 
except for his paws which were white and he was 
busying himself with eating a small collection of 
seeds that rested in the palm of Hugo's right 
hand. It had been a month since they had left 
Marigund together; a month since Hugo had been 
scourged with fifteen cruel lashes. The wounds 
had healed but Hugo still winced from time to 
time. And though Hugo was grateful beyond words 
for the healing that Akaleth had given to the rat 
named Boots, there was still a strange dance in 
their words and interaction, as if the mage were 
still trying to determine if the Questioner 
priest were his friend or his keeper.

“I was not on my best behavior when last I came 
this way,” Akaleth admitted with only a slight 
twitch to his lips. “Though my purpose here has 
little to do with Metamor Keep itself, I fear 
that I will be met with some difficulty. I 
apologize to you in advance for any troubles my 
past actions will bring you during out brief stay.”

“I've never been to Metamor,” Hugo mused as he 
stroked his rat's back with one finger. He cast a 
quick glance out the window and a faint smile 
crossed his lips and ever so gently touched his 
eyes. “It is beautiful here.” Those eyes had far 
more often shed tears than joy in the last month. 
His fits of sorrow were not as common anymore, 
but when they did occur Akaleth always took out 
his copy of the Canticles and began reading them 
aloud. The words, even if Hugo was only beginning 
to learn Suielish, brought him comfort.

“It is. The wonders and beauty of Eli's creation should be appreciated.”

“And you have a friend who lives here now? What has the Curse made of him?”

“Father Felsah, a very dear companion. And I have 
no idea what has become of him!” Akaleth tried to 
imagine his fellow Questioner as a child or as an 
animal, but couldn't manage anything in 
particular. He considered a canine of some sort, 
perhaps a fennec, given his friendship with that 
dog, but even that didn't seem quite right.

Boots finished the last of the seeds in Hugo's 
hand and curled into a ball, tail to nose, in his 
lap. Hugo continued stroking a finger down the 
rat's back. “I have heard it said that many who 
have ventured into this pass have been waylaid by 
brigands or by monsters from the Giantdowns; they 
have been trapped at Metamor and changed to be 
like they. Are you afraid that may happen to us?”

“If we are waylaid, we are waylaid. I am not 
afraid.” Akaleth chuckled lightly to himself. “I 
would be a bit irritated though.”

Hugo blinked and then chortled under his breath. 
He snapped his head around when a rapping sounded 
from the front of the carriage. A little window 
opened and they could see the sun-browned face of 
Kashin staring back at them. “Father, there is a 
contingent of Metamorian soldiers blocking the 
road ahead. What do you wish us to do?”

“Stop and see what they wish,” Akaleth replied as 
he stretched his arms out and cracked a few of 
his knuckles. “If they are soldiers stationed 
here to accost travelers, let them do as they have been ordered.”

Kashin nodded and then shut the little window. 
Outside they could hear their team of horses 
neigh as they were brought to a halt. Little 
Boots jumped from Hugo's lap to sniff at the edge 
of the window before rushing back to hide in the 
folds of his tunic. Hugo's face brightened as he 
gently pulled his cloak over top of his tunic to 
help hide the rat. “You are a mystery, Akaleth. 
You are the only person I have ever met who can 
both deny and submit to authority at the same time.”

Akaleth felt an urge to smile and to offer a 
witty retort. He smothered that impulse as the 
stirrings of pride and said instead. “All 
legitimate authority comes from Eli. It is our 
duty to understand whether the authority 
presented to us is legitimate or not. If it is we 
must obey. To disobey would be to disobey Eli Himself. That never ends well.”

“But what is legitimate authority?”

“Now that is an interesting question!”

----------

Kashin felt a deep pang in his heart the moment 
their carriage rode into the cursed valley. A 
year and a half ago he had come this way for the 
first time as the chief Yeshuel to Patriarch 
Akabaieth. That visit had ended in calamity as 
the Marzac corrupted Sondecki named Krenek 
Zagrosek had slaughtered their camp on the first 
day out from Metamor. Only a handful of them had 
survived, and the battle had cost Kashin most of 
his left arm. The bright sky and faint warmth in 
the air was some solace; a day of rain and bitter 
cold would have reminded him of that tragic night 
with a clarity that would have set him to tears.

Still, even though he had been expecting to see 
the strange animal-men of Metamor, their 
appearance nevertheless was startling and made 
him wary. But his reactions were blasé compared 
to Sir Czestadt who had only ever seen Vinsah 
before; the former Driheli gaped at the merchants 
and soldiers that they passed on the road north. 
The expression of astonishment was unnerving on a 
man as shadowed and fearsome as Czestadt, but it 
struck the Keepers as no more than a brief amusement.

By the time they reached the checkpoint with the 
distant castle in sight over the treetops the 
newly sworn Yesbearn had recovered his wits and 
knew each creature to be a man just as they were, 
though his eyes still twitched, flickering with 
suspicion and glaring darkly at those who paid 
them any heed. Few did. At least until they reached the checkpoint.

A large man in the shape of a bear who was taller 
than either of them and carrying a large spear 
banded with iron held aloft a paw with long claws 
and bellowed for them to stop. “In the name of 
his grace, Duke Thomas Hassan, I order you to halt for inspection.”

They had already stopped, and after a quick 
conference with the Questioner, Kashin decided to 
at least satisfy his curiosity. “Good soldier,” 
he replied, not bothering to disguise his rough 
Yesulam accent, “On my last visit we did not have 
to face any such inspection. What is the purpose 
of this? Why must we submit to your inspection?”

The bear frowned at them, even as six other 
soldiers, some human, others beastly in shape, 
began to fan out around them, three to a side. 
“Vicious men smuggled an evil artifact into 
Metamor that brought a terrible sickness. We are 
here to make sure you have nothing of the sort.”

“A terrible sickness?” Kashin gasped in genuine 
surprise. “Has this malady been cured?”

“Not before a lot of Keepers died, stranger,” the 
bear replied with a rumbling growl. “But it is 
gone. Now you will submit to inspection. Who are 
you and what is your purpose here?”

“My name is Kashin,” he said, gesturing to 
himself with his only hand. “My companion is Sir 
Czestadt, and with the wagon you will find two 
men. Hugo Maclear and Father Akaleth. We are here 
to visit with a friend and then return to our home.”

“You look familiar, Kashin,” the bear said as 
dark eyes studied him. It was hard to see those 
eyes moving so well did they blend in with his 
brown fur. “You say that you have been to Metamor before?”

“Once before,” Kashin admitted. “It is our hope 
not to cause a stir.” Czestadt stiffled a laugh.

The soldiers pulled back the canvas covering the 
doors to the carriage and saw the black wood with 
red cross emblazoned on the side. They fell back 
and drew their swords with a startled yelp, “Questioners!”

The door opened and with his hands outstretched 
stepped Father Akaleth. “Only one Questioner,” he 
said with a laconic sigh. “My cowl is down, so as 
you can see, I am not here in my capacity as a 
Questioner. My business is solely with Father Felsah.”

“Put your swords away,” the bear snapped to his 
men. The three Keepers in front of Akaleth stared 
at him as if they were afraid he would reduce 
them to ash if they took another step closer. 
Still, they obeyed their orders, even if they kept their distance.

“Do you speak true?” the bear asked with gruff 
command. “The last time we had more than one 
Questioner in Metamor your kind caused more than 
a little stir from what I've heard!”

“I am well aware of that,” Akaleth replied with a 
nod of his head. “Do forgive me for my part in 
that. But yes, I do speak the truth.”

It took the bear a moment to grasp just what 
Akaleth had said. He blinked twice before 
exclaiming, “You were one of those three! Men, 
keep a good eye on him and don't let him move.”

“Is it really necessary to hold a man who has no 
weapons at the point of a sword?” Kashin asked as 
he climbed down from the buckboard. Czestadt 
followed him, his mailed boots clinking as he 
landed. Only Hugo remained in the carriage while 
the other three soldiers performed their search.

“That's not my decision,” the bear snapped with 
another growl. His lips drew back as he spoke, 
revealing a vicious array of sharp teeth beneath 
his broad, black nose. “Although, it does seem 
odd. You two appear far more dangerous.”

“It does appear that way,” Kashin agreed. “What do you intend to do with us?”

“I'm going to send word to Metamor Keep. They'll 
decide what to do with you. In the meantime, we 
want your carriage off the road and the four of 
you where we can keep a good eye on you.”

“There is no need for weapons,” Kashin said with 
a faint smile as he took a step toward the bear, 
his one hand out before him, palm open. “We will 
do exactly as you ask.” He lifted his arm and 
took the reins, stepping ahead of the horses to 
guide them off the road. The bear grunted but let him do so.

Czestadt waited for the carriage to slip past 
before he turned and put on hand on Akaleth's 
shoulder. “Come, Father,” he beckoned with a 
grumble. The three soldiers had their swords out 
again, and with a blink of his eye, the tips all 
fell to the ground, driving into the grass a few 
inches. The soldiers gasped in surprise, even as Akaleth shook his head.

“They were not going to hurt me,” the priest 
chided as he allowed the heavy knight to guide him after the carriage.

“You are my charge,” Czestadt replied. “None will 
threaten you.” His Galendish had vastly improved 
in the months since they had left Yesulam; he 
rarely ever transposed his verbs and nouns anymore.

Akaleth did not object further, and soon stood at 
the side of the road next to the carriage. The 
horses grazed on the fresh grass, while two of 
the soldiers searched through the carriage and 
their traveling gear. Hugo climbed out of the 
wagon with a nervous expression, his pale 
complexion making him seem even stranger amidst 
the sun-baked foreigners. Boots was nowhere to be seen.

The grizzly bear who stood like a man surveyed 
them with small but steely eyes. He wrapped both 
of his meaty paws around the shaft of his spear 
and then turned to one of the soldiers in his 
company. “Send a message back to the Keep. We 
have a Questioner here wanting to come to 
Metamor.” The young man nodded and ran toward the 
watchtower rising a short distance within the woods.

Kashin stroked his fingers through the mane of 
the nearest horse and relaxed. Beside him Hugo 
turned to Akaleth and said with a dry chuckle 
beneath his words, “You were right, Akaleth. 
Another warm welcome for Yesulam's emissaries!”

----------

They waited two hours before another force of 
soldiers rode down from Metamor to greet them. 
The sun continued its westward trek across the 
sky, drawing near the snow-capped mountains while 
a series of high wispy clouds drifted in from the 
south. The day turned cool, but huddled near each 
other and next to the carriage they were out of 
the worst of it. The soldiers guarding them had 
to inspect a few more travelers in that time, but 
George the bear, the largest and strongest of the 
Keepers by far, never took his eyes from the quartet.

Kashin engaged George in a professional 
conversation, though it took some time before the 
bear began to warm to the Yeshuel. Once George 
learned of Kashin's earlier visit to Metamor he 
actually smiled; Hugo flinched at the sight of 
his fangs. Neither Akaleth nor Hugo said 
anything, but Czestadt did ask the bear what it 
was like being part animal. The reply involved 
strange appetites, long hours of grooming, 
gorging in the fall and being very sleep in 
winter, and extra care in picking up anything 
lest his claws or his grip do what nature intended.

A squad of six soldiers riding horseback and one 
very large lizard-like man walking alongside them 
drew to a halt a short distance from the 
checkpoint. A ram led the group, his appearance 
oddly lopsided due to one horn being missing. His 
left horn curled properly about a tufted ear, but 
the right looked like it had been first shattered 
and then trimmed down to an even edge that was 
only just beginning to regrow. He bore a blue 
tabard with an issuant horse over his armor and 
his black wool, with a shield buckled to his back 
and his sword resting against his right hip. 
Cloven hooves that were almost as bright as 
burnished brass poked out of the front of his 
stirrups. Behind him rode two human men, one 
young and the other a veteran of many battles, 
who were both strong and wide in shoulder as well 
as handsome in countenance. A small man who 
looked more like a mouse rode in the midst of 
them, his only weapon a narrow dagger sheathed at 
his side. Flanking him were two more animal-men, 
one of them boar-like in appearance with fine 
brown bristles except for a brighter collar about 
his neck, the other was a stag with velvety 
antlers growing from his head. Behind them all 
ran the three-horned lizard man, the top of the 
armored frill on the back of his head reaching as 
high as the mounted deer's antlers.

“So,” the ram said with a bit of a laugh, “you 
are the dangerous horde of Questioners we heard about.”

George glared at his messenger, but the man shook 
his head firmly, “I said there was just one 
Questioner and three men with him like I was supposed to!”

The ram laughed again. “A joke! A joke! I knew it 
was just you four. My name's Wolfram. I and my 
men are to guide you to Metamor Keep where my 
superiors are anxious to meet you.”

“We are well met, Wolfram,” Kashin said with a 
nod of his head. “I am Kashin of the Yeshuel. 
This is Sir Czestadt of the Yesbearn, Hugo 
Maclear of Marigund, and Father Akaleth of the 
Questioners. Our business in Metamor is nothing 
his grace Duke Thomas Hassan need worry about. We 
are not here to ask questions or interfere in any of his affairs.”

Wolfram and a few of the others in his company 
all widened their eyes in surprise. The ram 
bleated and then his snout split in what could 
only be a smile. “Kashin of the Yeshuel? I heard 
about you. I only ever saw you or Patriarch 
Akabaieth from a distance, but... it is a great 
honor to meet you.” He bowed his head low, 
bumping his one horn against the back of his 
horse's head. Most of the rest of his company 
also showed them honor, the huge lizard-man in 
the rear actually going down to one knee and 
striking his breast with a fist bigger than Kashin's head.

“But let me introduce my men and then we can be 
on our way.” The ram gestured behind him to the 
man on his left. “This is Gweir who splits eyes 
with his arrows, and this is Ross who splits 
limbs with his axe. Behind them is Kindle our 
mage, and Owain our tracker,” he gestured to the 
boar-like man, “and Burkhart, who knows more ways 
that I thought possible to mend split eyes and 
limbs. And of course, Zachary, our diplomat; we 
call him that because he can open any door.”

Kashin smiled at the brief but witty 
introductions. “It is a pleasure to meet all of 
you. I am sure we are in capable hands.”

“Good,” Wolfram said, slapping his left hand on 
his thigh. “Then get back in your carriage and let's head to Metamor.”

----------

Wolfram's soldiers were friendly with them, 
though there was a cautious regard for the two 
warriors that could not be hid. The ram could not 
hide his enthusiasm and awe at meeting Kashin and 
kept asking for stories of his time in service to 
the Patriarch, and especially how he brought 
justice to the Patriarch's murderer. Kashin was 
all too willing to share tales of his earlier 
years but of the time since Akabaieth's murder he 
could not speak as freely; Wolfram noted the way 
his throat and hand clenched when asked of his 
deeds during the darkness and soon stopped asking about them.

Ross, Owain, and Gweir kept as close as they 
could to Sir Czestadt that they might interrogate 
him on as many southern sword-fighting techniques 
as they could. Riding on the carriage did make it 
difficult for the knight to demonstrate his 
skills so he assured them that if there was time 
and they could find him again, he would be glad 
to give them a private lesson during his stay. He 
did ask them of their weapons and Ross, who gazed 
at the foreign knight with a bit of awe, handed his blade over.

Czestadt turned the blade over in his right hand, 
studying the haft and tang with a critical eye, 
while he gently slid one of his fingers against 
the cutting edge. All three of the soldiers gaped 
at the way Czestadt effortlessly handled a blade 
that Ross, despite his Curse-given strength, had 
to wield two-handed. “A good blade,” Czestadt 
noted even as he lifted it over his head and gave 
it a few careful swings that came near none of 
them. “Serviceable, but good if you take care of 
it. It wants to be to be sharpened again, but the 
metal is balanced and I would wager was folded a 
few times at least. Were I to visit again in a 
few years, I would not be surprised to see you using the same blade.”

“You can tell how many times the metal was 
folded?” Ross asked, breathless as his large 
hands clasped the pommel before sheathing the blade behind his back.

“Swords, real swords, speak to me in ways they do not to most men.”

“How can a sword speak?” Owain grunted, his snout 
wrinkling and his bristles shivering.

Czestadt almost smiled as he spoke of that which 
he loved as a man loves a woman. “The forest 
speaks to one who knows it well. The sand speaks 
to one who makes it their home. And the sea and 
the ship speak to the sailor. To any who would 
master the sword, the sword also will speak to 
you. Give it time and you will learn the voice of your sword.”

“Well, as long as it doesn't actually start 
speaking to me,” Ross murmured with a grunt. “My 
brother told me about this mink lass who had a 
sword that spoke to her. It made her do... 
terrible things. So my brother says.”

“Your brother says anything he hears,” Gweir 
noted with a heavy laugh. He was missing one 
earlobe, but was otherwise entering into his 
prime; this one had several years of soldiering 
under his belt. That both Gweir and Ross had once 
been women only occurred to Czestadt when they reached Metamor itself.

Riding alongside the carriage was the mouse who 
peered down through the open window to speak with 
his fellow mage. Hugo felt a powerful urge to 
reach out and pet down the fur sticking up 
between Kindle's large ears, as well as to give 
his tummy a gentle scratch. While his fur 
coloring was very different from Boots, as well 
as the fact that he was obviously a mouse and not 
a rat, the other similarities were strong enough 
that he felt an affinity for this Keeper that 
made him glad for the first time that he was here at Metamor.

“How has becoming a mouse affected your magical 
ability, Kindle?” Hugo asked, finding it 
difficult to keep his voice from betraying a strange affection.

“I'm not entirely sure,” Kindle admitted with a 
wave of one paw. His thin, blonde-furred tail 
darted from one flank of the horse to the other 
as he shifted about in the saddle to talk more 
comfortably with his fellow mage. “I was only an 
apprentice for a few years when the curses were 
cast and I became a mouse. If my teacher were 
still alive he might be able to tell you what 
changed. All that I know is that I must be extra 
careful around ritual magic, especially 
symphonies and other constructions with drawn 
symbols. My tail has broken spell lines before.”

A light chuckle escaped Hugo's throat and he 
nodded, eye moving to note the thin tail the 
Curse had given Kindle. “I hadn't thought of 
that. Does your tail drag behind you?”

“At first it did,” Kindle admitted as he turned 
his head to cast a withering glance at his 
beastly appendage. “But I learned with practice 
to keep the end up and not just to protect the 
integrity of spell lines. Dragging your tail on 
the ground hurts, and it doesn't take long before 
it starts to rub flesh tender and raw. The fur 
protects it some but not enough.” His nose and 
whiskers twitched and his cheeks scrunched closer 
to his nose. “I smell a rat on you, Hugo.”

“That is Boots,” Hugo replied, reaching into his 
tunic and drawing out the black-hooded white 
booted rat. Boots squeaked in protest at which 
Hugo said, “I know he is a very big mouse, but he 
won't hurt you or me.” He smiled to the rat and 
the rat turned its head to look directly at him. 
The rat's whiskers trembled but the rest of his 
body went still and seemed to relax.

“How adorable,” Kindle noted with a clicking of 
his tongue against his incisors and a grinding of 
his molars. “Boots is your familiar? I can see a connection between you.”

“Aye, he is. For about twenty years now. In all 
that time we've never been more than a few minutes apart.”

Kindle reached out a hand and very gently ran the 
rough callous of one finger down the soft fur 
between the rat's tender ears. Boots sniffed at 
Kindle's hand, little paws gripping his fingers 
and inspecting his claws. “If you aren't 
careful,” Kindle warned, “you might look an awful lot like Boots here.”

Hugo blinked but continued to hold his friend 
high enough that the mouse mage could pet him. 
“If I were to fall under the Curses of Metamor I 
can think of nothing else I would rather be. But 
we have no intention of staying so long as that.”

“There was a plague in Metamor last month,” 
Kindle added. “No one was allowed to leave. Many 
travelers trapped there were changed by the Curses against their will.”

“I had heard of the plague,” Hugo admitted with a 
sigh, even as he finally lowered his arm, Boots 
scampering up his sleeve to nose into his hair. 
“By the time we heard of it we were hearing of its passing not its arrival.”

“Be grateful then,” Kindle added with a long, 
slow shake of his head. Hugo sucked on his lip, 
even as Boots rubbed his snout through his hair 
as if washing off the scent of that big terrifying mouse.

On the other side of the carriage stalked the 
massive reptile Zachary whose gaze was fixed upon 
the Questioner priest with a warmth that seemed 
natural to his guise. Akaleth regarded him with 
an expression that would have betrayed awe if his 
Questioner training had not made the concealment 
of his inner emotions second-nature to him; but 
the awe was obvious to any who knew him as his 
eyes sparkled and he ravenously studied the 
three-horned man from top to bottom several times 
to take in his bulk. Zachary stood taller than 
their carriage but did not lean over so much as 
inclined his head and beak down.

“Welcome to Metamor Keep, Father Akaleth. My name 
is Zachary and if you need additional protection 
while you are here I will be honored to offer it. 
Forgive me for saying so, but I am surprised to 
see another Questioner come to Metamor so soon, 
Father,” Zachary said in a voice that surprised 
Akaleth. Not because it boomed or because of the 
deep rumbling vibration that seemed to accompany 
his words; the Curses of Metamor had certainly 
made him something Akaleth had rarely seen, but 
he had expected to see many similar marvels here 
at Metamor. What he hadn't expected to find was a 
layman who spoke with and acted with the utmost 
respect toward a Questioner. Guilt filled him 
briefly, but he chased that away with the stronger memory of forgiveness.

“Thank you, Zachary,” Akaleth replied with a nod 
of his head before leaning back on his cushioned 
seat to stare into the creature's face. Just one 
of Zachary's eyes was bigger than both of the 
priests's fists put together! “I am impressed by 
your offer of protection, but I believe that your 
duties to Metamor, and especially to your company 
must take precedence. I'm sure that Wolfram would 
appreciate your undivided loyalties.”

“I will do as you say, Father. May I ask what brings you to Metamor?”

“The saving of souls leads us where we are 
needed, Zachary. And there is one soul here at 
Metamor that I am interested in. Do you know 
where Father Felsah can be found? We received 
word that he arrived safely, but not what has become of him since.”

“Father Felsah is staying at the cathedral in 
Metamor. He is helping Father Hough with the many 
Followers who live there. Do you know him too?”

Akaleth had to admit that he already liked this 
dragon-like creature and knew he would enjoy 
their conversation. He may be in the body of a 
giant, but he had a gentle, simple soul. What a beautiful sight to behold.

Of Wolfram's company, only Burkhart the deer did 
not try to engage one of their guests in 
conversation. The archer and healer followed 
after the carriage while keeping a wary eye on 
the woods on either side of the road the rest of 
their way back to Metamor. The roads were 
generally safe this close to Metamor, but there 
was always some risk of trouble. But that day 
they encountered nothing more serious than an 
irate merchant whose carriage had run afoul of a 
muddy ditch and needed some help getting unstuck. 
One lift by Zachary and a push from Wolfram, 
Owain, and Burkhart, and they were on their way again.

When they reached the gates of Euper Wolfram 
apologized to Kashin. “We are supposed to be 
escorting you, both to protect you from any one 
who might not want another Questioner here, and 
to keep you from coming near any Keepers who are 
afraid of what you'd do to them.”

“We will do nothing to them,” Kashin assured him 
though there was no fire in his voice. “But I 
understand your duty. Be diligent and bring us to 
where you have been ordered. We will obey.”

The people of Euper and Keeptowne all gave the 
carriage and the soldiers a wide berth. Some 
stared and whispered to their neighbors in worry. 
Others ignored them or pretended to. A young man 
only a year or two past his change hefted a 
vegetable, but at the glare of the soldiers only 
flung a sneer and a bit of spit toward the 
carriage. They met no other trouble. Akaleth 
watched all of this from his window, though he 
focused his attention on the strange way that the 
animal Keepers had to walk, talk, and otherwise 
express themselves. He hadn't taken the time to 
appreciate the beauty of their blended shapes the 
last time he was here and he would not allow 
himself to disdain it a second time.

By the time that they reached the gates nearest 
the castle itself, the afternoon had worn on to 
near its end. The prayers at None were past, but 
it was still far too early for Vespers. Not that 
Akaleth wouldhave had the opportunity for the 
formal prayers as they were greeted by another 
array of soldiers, this one headed by two 
beast-men with crossed arms and dour, threatening 
expressions. Wolfram blinked in surprise when he 
saw them. “Misha! I've brought them here as you ordered. What's wrong?”

“Thank you, Wolfram,” Misha replied. He had the 
giant midnight black axe Whisper in front of him 
and the claws of one hand drummed the blade. “I 
will commend your name to George for your 
diligence. But there is something wrong. This 
Questioner is to be kept confined during his 
stay, and we will make sure it is a brief one.”

“A very brief one,” the raccoon standing at 
Misha's side said through clenched teeth. Wolfram 
recognized him as Rickkter only a moment later 
and was quick to take a step back. He had heard 
stories of what that one was capable of when 
goaded to a rage. What had this Questioner done 
to have so upset both Misha and Rickkter?

Miasha and Rickkter formed the apex of a ring of 
Long Scouts that flanked the carriage on all 
sides. The gate closed behind them, trapping them 
in place. Beyond the ring of Longs stretched the 
gardens and towers of Metamor Keep. Behind them 
and atop the gatehouse archers stood with drawn 
bows. Kashin and Czestadt turned their heads from 
side to side and then lifted their hands, faces placid and unconcerned.

“I promised them safe passage,” Wolfram objected, clearly bewildered.

“And you kept your promise; they're here safe,” 
Misha added as he started to walk toward the side 
of the carriage. “Come on out, Questioner! We 
will escort you the rest of the way.”

Akaleth sighed, deciding that he probably 
deserved the suspicion, all the while trying to 
remember just who this Misha was. As he climbed 
down the steps, keeping his robe from tangling 
around his legs, he recognized the fox as the 
Rebuilder they'd Questioned who had answered them 
through clenched teeth, except when Father Felsah 
had asked about that metal fox Madog. He seemed 
to recall some hideous bit of jocularity that 
Kehthaek had enjoyed about what happened to 
Questioners who went to Marigund and was grateful 
that he had been spared that fate.

His feet no sooner touched the ground than a 
massive green and brown figure stepped between 
him and the two Keepers, thick legs and tail so 
wide that Akaleth couldn't even see the castle anymore.

Misha growled. “Zachary, step out of the way. This does not concern you.”

“I will not let you harm him,” Zachary replied, 
shifting not a muscle, not even to sway his tail, 
the tip of which was barely a hand-span from Akaleth's knees.

Wolfram stood by Zachary's side, his shield over 
his right arm and his gaze steely beneath a brow 
of black wool. His sword remained in its 
scabbard, but the fingers of his left hand 
stretched wide ready to grasp the hilt. “This is wrong. He has done no harm.”

“Yet,” Misha growled, eying them both with that 
quick way he had for assessing threats.

“If he does break Metamor's hospitality, I will 
be among the first in line to throw him out,” 
Wolfram countered with a steady voice free of 
beastly bleats. “But until then, I won't let you 
sully Metamor's reputation. Or, for that matter, your own!”

“Wolfram, Zachary,” Misha continued, his gaze 
darkening. “You will step aside now.”

But neither ram nor the kharrakhaz would move. 
Akaleth felt a smile touch the edge of his lips. 
He stepped around to Zachary's side and put a 
hand on the middle of his side, which was the 
highest he could reach. “Step aside and let them 
do their duty, Zachary. And you as well, Wolfram.”

“But Father!” Zachary objected, his voice pained.

“You have your duty. They have their duty. And I 
have mine. It pleases Eli to see us answer our 
duty with humility. Do yours and let them do theirs.”

Zachary grunted and carefully stepped out of the 
way, his thick fingers drumming along the long 
pommel to his sword. His tail bumped one of the 
wheels and the carriage rocked back and forth a 
moment. Wolfram lingered a moment more, his lips 
trembling behind the shield a moment longer 
before he nodded to the priest and joined the rest of his company.

Misha did not spare either the ram or the 
kharrakhaz more than a moment's glare before 
turning his ire back to Akaleth. He turned 
Whisper back and forth in his paws. “What brings 
you back to Metamor, Questioner?”

“That is not your concern. I am not here on a 
Questioning nor do I intend to stay more than a 
day or two. Please allow us to continue on our 
way and I assure you that you will find us inoffensive guests.”

“You were not inoffensive on your last visit. And 
from what I have heard you put the last place you visited into an uproar!”

“The guest can hardly be blamed for that when the 
host who invited him treats him so poorly,” 
Akaleth replied. “You were referring to Marigund were you not?”

“It is within our authority to have you carted 
off in chains to the very Marchbourne river!” 
Misha declared with a narrowing of his eyes and a 
lowering of his one good ear. “Don't tempt me.”

“If you intended us to be in chains, you would 
not have asked Wolfram to bring us here. What are your intentions?”

“As I said, you will be kept confined during your 
stay somewhere that you won't cause trouble. The 
rest of you may do as you wish.” Misha glanced at 
the Yeshuel with the white lock of hair. “You are 
well-remembered in this city, Kashin of the 
Yeshuel, and as well regarded as this Questioner is rightly feared.”

“Wrongly feared!” Another voice shouted from the 
carriage. Hugo jumped out the door and walked 
right up to Misha, standing with a breath from 
the sharp edge of Whisper's blade. “That 
Questioner did nothing at Marigund, Misha! I, 
loyal citizen of Marigund and member of its 
vaunted Mage guild, conspired to have him killed! 
Praise Eli I failed! He demanded to take the 
lashes meant for me. Demanded! No man should ever 
be afraid of this priest! Least of all you, Misha!”

Misha blinked in surprise, his ear lifting again 
and his tail wagging once. “Hugo? You don't 
understand! He did terrible things when he came here a year ago.”

“He's told me,” Hugo replied. “But that's not the 
Questioner I know. That's not the man I know.”

Rickkter glared and put the end of a short 
eastern sword at Hugo's throat. “Back away little man.”

Hugo appeared ready to do so when from out of his 
tunic leaped a small black rat with white paws. 
The rat bounced off the sword once and then 
landed on Rickkter's paw, sinking teeth into the 
soft flesh between thumb and fingers. The raccoon 
yowled in surprise, shaking his hand up and down, 
while Misha grabbed Hugo with his free paw and 
throwing him to the ground. All of the soldiers 
surrounding them moved in to help or to keep the 
rest of the Questioner's party at bay.

But two sharp tangs of metal sliced through the 
air and nestled themselves against flesh, one 
before Misha's throat, and the other before 
Rickkter's. The fox tried to twist out of the way 
but the blade was fixed firmly in place. Rickkter 
managed to dislodge the rat who scampered back to 
where Hugo was crawling out of the way, before 
sweeping his gaze up at the Yesbearn who sat 
placidly with a scowl across his face.

And in the southern tongue, the raccoon shouted, 
“Czestadt! Of all the people and in all the 
places of the world, how by all the gods above 
and below did we two end up in the same place on 
the same day on the other side of the world and 
on the other side of the swords! It's Rickkter! Of the Kankoran!”

The Yesbearn blinked at that and narrowed his 
eyes. The blade pressed more firmly against 
Rickkter's throat, but the only blood was that on 
the raccoon's hand where he'd been bitten. 
“Rickkter,” Czestadt replied in his native 
speech, “so that is where you ended up. I heard 
that you had left the Dragons; rumor has it you 
were ill. Did you come here to Metamor for healing?”

“That I did. Is that whelp of a mage right about the Questioner?”

“He is. Father Akaleth will not hurt anyone and 
will not Question anyone. Our purpose here is entirely benign.”

Rickkter's muzzle twisted down and then up, eyes 
narrowing for a moment before he relaxed and 
spread his arms wide. “I will lower my swords 
then. If you will lower yours.” Czestadt nodded 
and gestured for him to continue. Behind them the 
archers moved around the gatehouse trying to find 
some vantage point from which they could actually 
shoot the Yesbearn, but the carriage was tall 
enough that neither he nor Kashin could be seen.

The raccoon bent down, the sword at his neck 
moving with him. He let the two eastern blades 
clatter to the terrazzo, a sound that seemed to 
echo into the Spring afternoon as if the sound of 
life continuing apace and unawares on the other 
side of the gate were on the other side of the 
world. Slowly, Rickkter stood back up, keeping 
his paws held out to either side. Everyone held 
their breath, Misha growling in the back of his 
mouth, one eye watching the raccoon curiously.

And then Rickkter snatched the pommel of the 
sword at Misha's throat with one paw, diving 
backward, even as the one at his throat leaped 
forward to follow him. But Rickkter was able to 
grab that as he tumbled head over heels backward, 
rolling across the ground before landing on his 
hind paws and shouting in Galendish, “Grab your 
swords! He can't touch your swords if you hold them.”

Czestadt applauded and laughed. “You have learned 
very well, Rickkter. And you even leave behind 
swords that aren't swords at all so I cannot 
touch them.” He gestured with a wave of one hand 
at the two eastern swords laying crossed on the 
ground where the raccoon had stood a moment 
before. “Now don't you think threatening us when 
we have done nothing is a foolish idea? Let us do 
what we have come to do and we shall be gone even sooner.”

“Not until we have that priest,” Misha said even 
as he ran one paw along his throat; several tufts 
of fur came free where the sword had sheared 
them. “And I think I want you under watch as 
well. And Hugo, you too for that matter. My 
sister has told me all about what you did when these three came to Marigund.”

“So you already knew that Father Akaleth begged 
to take the blows meant for Hugo?” Kashin noted 
in angry voice. “You disappoint me, Misha. When I 
met you the first time, I judged you to be a man of good judgment.”

Misha appeared ready to snarl when they could 
hear the sound of excited barking and two voices 
shouting at them from the direction of the 
castle. Zachary, who could see over everyone, 
trumpeted in relief, “Father Hough! Father Felsah! Praise Eli you've come!”

Misha's good ear flicked in surprise as he heard the barking. “Madog?”

The Long Scouts and Wolfram's soldiers had long 
since fallen out of any semblance of order and so 
easily parted for the trio. Hough was at his 
oldest the Curses would let him be, and he ran 
alongside Madog who loped with more grace than a 
metal creature should ever possess. The silver 
automaton carried on his back a small creature in 
a black robe with ears almost larger than his 
head, a long tail with a tuft at the end, and 
scrawny arms and legs. They came to a stop in 
front of Misha. Madog leaned back on his haunches 
and the jerboa scrambled off his back. Madog 
looked at the fox and blinked his bright blue 
eyes. “Poppa, I don't want you to go blind.”

“Blind?” Misha stammered, the anger in his face 
evaporated into a mass of confusion and 
uncertainty. “What are you talking about, Madog?”

“That priest is brighter than the sun, Poppa!”

Misha glanced at Akaleth who could only sigh and 
shake his head. Rickkter glanced at the priest 
his eyes narrowing to focus more clearly on him, 
and then he doubled over both paws over his eyes. 
“Oh, damn! Madog's not talking in riddles again, 
Misha! Damn!” He rubbed at his eyes several more 
times while everyone gave the priest a wider berth.

That is except for the jerboa who hopped toward 
him and exclaimed, “Father Akaleth! You came!”

Akaleth glanced at the rodent and then laughed, 
bending down and wrapping his arms about the 
jerboa's shoulders. “Father Felsah! I am so 
grateful to see such a friendly face here. I 
never would have guessed Metamor would make you a desert mouse!”

“I take it you imagined me as a fennec instead?”

“It had crossed my mind,” Akaleth replied with 
another laugh. “You must tell me of your new 
home. From everything I have heard so far I will 
be spending my brief stay in seclusion and that 
won't allow us the chance for a proper tour.”

“Misha!” Father Hough said, waving his arms 
around in exasperation. “What lunacy have you 
been up to this time? These men should have been 
welcomed with honor and not with axes and swords! 
That man protects the Patriarch's life, and that 
one is the former Knight Templar of the Driheli, 
a noble order of knights from Stuthgansk, and 
that one is the first Questioner in over a 
hundred years to visit Marigund and not break any 
of your homeland's laws! If you do not stop this 
and let them go about their business, I will 
protest this to Duke Thomas himself.”

“Poppa, please!”

“That priest threatened every single person he 
met when he came here a year ago,” Misha snapped. 
“He has no right walking free in this city ever again!”

“Then,” Akaleth said as he stood up again, “we 
will leave. Now. Kashin. Sir Czestadt. Hugo. Let 
us go. Wolfram, thank you for kindly bringing us 
here. Zachary, I am sorry that we did not have 
more time. Father Felsah, I am terribly sorry 
that we couldn't speak more.” And after briefly 
sketching the sign of the Yew, he climbed back into the carriage and sat down.

Felsah hopped around and glared at Misha, his 
long tail flipping from side to side in 
agitation. “Father Akaleth has come to speak with 
me and me alone. I would appreciate if you would 
be so kind as to allow him to stay with us in the 
Cathedral for a few days, no more than that. We 
will see to his needs and you need not fear him doing anything to anyone.”

“I promise you he will bother no one,” Hough 
assured him, though the boy priest still glared 
in irritation at the soldiers assembled there.

Misha looked down at Madog who sat on his 
haunches staring back at him. The leader of the 
Long Scouts lowered his free paw and gently 
stroked the automaton behind the ears three 
times. “They can stay in the Cathedral. I'll 
reserve judgment about whether that priest is a 
threat to anyone. If I hear that he has so much 
as even looked at screw, a whip, or a manacle, I 
will...” Misha seemed as if he would finish that 
sentence for several seconds, but he finally gave 
up and turned away from the Ecclesia priests to check on his friend.

“Are you all right?”

Rickkter nodded and blinked his eyes several 
times until they could focus. He kept one paw 
against his forehead to shield his eyes from the 
sun. “I will be fine.” And then in a quieter 
voice he added, “Misha, that priest, if he lowers 
his defenses... he's nothing but pure light. I 
don't understand it. He has magical talent, and 
he bottles it up very, very deep. I don't think 
we want to see it unleashed.” Rickkter shook his 
head and stepped away from the fox. “Later then.”

Misha nodded and turned to Hough. The boy priest 
stood tall, a sympathetic look in his eyes, but a 
sternness to his lips. “Father, forgive me for 
treating your guests so poorly. Wolfram will help 
you escort them to the Cathedral. I will go tend 
to something... actually important.”

“Thank you, Misha,” Hough said with a bow of his head.

Misha continued shaking his head as he started 
walking off. Madog fell into step beside him. One 
fox looked at another and once they were almost 
out of earshot of the carriage, Misha asked, “Since when do you give rides?”

----------


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

Charles Matthias
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