[Mkguild] Asleep, Awake, Adream (2 of 2)

[C. Matthias]

Merry Christmas, my fellow Keepers! :-)

Part 2 of 2.

Metamor Keep: Asleep, Awake, Adream
by Charles Matthias

May 13, 708 CR

“I hope to return often to your fine 
establishment, Master Jurmas,” Malger offered the 
cervine innkeeper a theatrical bow after 
depositing a small pouch with more than the 
required coin for the rooms he and his men had 
enjoyed; part to pay for whatever Rickkter had 
helped himself to the night before while the rest 
was genuine gratitude for the welcome bed, good 
food, and pleasant wine. “Have you ever 
considered welcoming jongleurs and troubadours to 
entertain during the evening meal?”

The deer bobbed his head, the first tines of 
fresh antlers cutting a careful arc through the 
air. “Begging your pardon, your grace, but Glen 
Avery is not Metamor. We have few of either to 
liven our evenings. Certainly none as skilled as yourself!”

Malger laughed and favored him with a lop-sided 
grin. “Then I shall have to mention this lack to a few ambitious ears.”

Jurmas could only stammer in gratitude as Malger 
made his final farewell and took his leave of the 
Inn. Misanthe followed after in two-footed guise 
and together they greeted the warm Spring 
noon-day air. The commons was filled with various 
Glenners, some gossiping, some training, some 
trading, and others heading down to the lake to 
fish, swim, or bathe. Normal chickens and a few 
geese kept for their eggs wandered about in 
groups pecking at the ground or running from 
boisterous Glen children being chased by yapping 
dogs. Any day in Keeptowne would have seen five 
to ten times as many crowding the market squares 
from the sun's first light to its setting. Even 
with the Glen at its busiest – apart from 
festivals – Malger could still enjoy the creaking 
of branches, the soft rustling of leaves, and the 
spirited song of the many birds watching over their nests.

At the base of the rocky hill overlooking the 
commons the heavy-set caravan-master Hesgebaern 
busied himself with last minute preparations of 
their carriage. He fussed over the rigging and 
harnesses and then kicked each of the wheels with 
a cloven hoof before giving the half dozen 
two-legged horses standing at a short remove a 
suspicious glance. Malger, who'd glimpsed the 
bison's dreams, knew Hesgebaern still smarted 
from Versyd's suggestion the horses he'd selected 
in Metamor were not fit to pull the Archduke's 
carriage by the simple fact they were purely 
normal animals, not those gifted with 
intelligence. Still, he would never have given 
either Hesgebaern or Versyd a chance if they had 
not shown initiative and good sense.

“Master Hesgebaern,” Malger called in a loud 
voice as he took the final steps down the 
well-worn path up the slope, “is all ready for our return to Metamor?”

The bison lifted his eyes, dark thick lips 
wrapped about the long stem of a pipe, and stood 
as tall as his hunched back would let him. “All 
is ready, your grace. We can leave at your whim.”

“I have a duty I must attend to before we leave. 
But first...” He took the remaining steps and 
turned toward the percheron who had watched the 
marten's every step since leaving the Inn. 
“Versyd, you offered yourself and your brethren 
as horses to serve my house. If your brethren are 
as capable and as determined as you are, I'm sure 
I can find room for them. But you, Versyd, I do 
wish to hire as my personal mount. I expect you 
to serve on four hooves whenever I have need, and 
also to train with weapon to serve as bodyguard 
when on two hooves. And if there are other duties 
I find you skilled in, I may ask you to render 
other services. As for payment, is two garrets per week agreeable to you?”

Judging by the wide-eyed expression Versyd and 
his equine brethren shared none of them had ever 
held a garret let alone earned one. Versyd 
blinked once and then stood straighter; proud. 
“It is agreeable, your grace. Do you wish to ride 
to Metamor, or shall I help pull your carriage?”

Malger pondered the question for a moment. Thin 
lips spread in a fang-filled smile. “I am hiring 
you as my personal mount, lad. Unless the need is 
great, you will not be pulling my carriage.” A 
couple of the other horses who had gathered with 
Versyd, all of whom had shown interest in finding 
a place in the reconstituted Sutt house, gave the 
percheron indignant glares. Versyd had an 
expression of surprise and pride. Malger knew he 
had just found a man for his house who would serve with loyalty and honor.

“As for your companions,” Malger continued, 
gesturing to the other five horses who'd come 
with Versyd, “if you are willing to pull my 
carriage, to carry riders for my house, and to 
serve as guards for my house, I extend to each of 
you the same offer.” He lifted one hand and 
tilted it back toward the bison who more chewed 
the end of his pipe than smoked. “Providing 
Master Hesgebaern decides you are both fit and 
cooperative enough for carriage work.”

The bison took a step closer in surprise at the marten's invitation, “Milord?”

Part of being the head of a noble house was 
maintaining loyalty and the good-will of his 
servants. He liked both Hesgebaern and Versyd, 
and the best way to keep peace between the 
caravan-master and the horses who would pull them 
was to let Hesgebaern have the choice over who 
would and would not serve. “Master Hesgebaern, 
while I attend to my last errand here in Glen 
Avery, I wish you to inspect Versyd's companions, 
should they wish employment, and select only 
those you deem fit for carriage work. You may 
hire all of them or none of them, it is your 
choice. I expect you to guide them and care for 
them on the road as you would a normal horse. 
There is a great advantage in having a horse 
which understands your speech and can think on 
their own. I trust your judgment and I trust you will treat them fairly.”

Now to assuage any resentment the other horses 
had toward Versyd. “And for those selected, if 
you prove yourself more than capable and show 
good initiative, there will be opportunities for 
other positions in my house. I will never let a 
good man go to waste.” Seeing Misanthe, quiet as 
ever, standing slightly to the side Malger 
half-turned and proffered a sagacious nod. “Nor 
woman.” The vixen's whiskers lifted and her ears 
backed briefly in a demure smile, gaze dipping.

He flashed them one more smile before turning to 
walk past the carriage; Misanthe followed quietly 
behind. “Now, I expect all to be ready for our 
departure on my return in an hour. Versyd, I look 
forward to learning if your walk is as graceful as your gallop!”

The percheron stood taller, eager to prove himself.

----------

After tea the three skunks and raccoon all 
excused themselves; Rickkter and Kayla began 
their journey back to Metamor while Murikeer and 
Kozaithy returned to the mage's villa to continue 
its restoration. To keep the children still, 
Charles performed a story while Kimberly, Baerle, 
and James attempted to hold the squirming little 
rats in their laps. The tale was one he'd learned 
in Sondeshara and well-suited for children as it 
was about new Sondeckis arriving in the fabled city for the first time.

As he finished describing their first day of 
training there was a firm rapping at their door. 
Charles gave a flourish with one arm and 
announced, “And so their days as Sondeckis 
began!” Before sweeping a bow to his children's 
delight, and then skipping to the door with two 
steps. Beyond stood foppish marten and an 
enticing but deferential vixen. “Milord Malger! 
Misanthe. You honor our humble home. Do come in.”

Kimberly pulled their eldest boy a little closer 
to her chest, the purple stone about her neck 
resting between his ears, as the marten stepped 
inside and cast his snout about. “Humble? It is a 
lovely home well-lived and full of family love!”

“Is there anything we can offer you? A bit of tea?”

“No, no, do not trouble yourselves on my account. 
I've just had a fulfilling meal and merely wish it to settle.”

Charles nodded and shut the door after the vixen 
swept through, a smile touching her snout as her 
eyes noted the wooden home, its furnishings, and 
the clutter filling it. “Baerle, James, could you 
take the other children up to their play area for a while.”

“I wanna go swimming, Dada!” little Erick 
objected as he tried to slip free from the donkey's arms. “You promised!”

“And we will,” Charles assured his second son. He 
brushed his fingers through the short fur between 
his ears and smiled. “Once Dada and his grace 
finish some business. Now go play with your sisters for a bit.”

James and Baerle stood. The girls squirmed a 
little in the opossum's arms at first, but had 
settled down and held tight around her shoulders 
as she carried them up the stairs. James had to 
struggle to keep hold of Erick who pointed at his 
brother and complained, “But Charles!”

“Will be up shortly, Erick. Have patience, and 
attend James as I asked.” Charles cast a loving 
but stern glance at his second eldest – if only 
by an hour – and motioned for James to withdraw.

His eldest son stared at Malger as if mesmerized.

James carried the still protesting Erick up the 
stairs and out of sight. Misanthe deftly captured 
a pair of neglected playthings and chew-sticks 
from the couch before Malger settled and made 
himself comfortable opposite Kimberly. She 
settled in one of the kitchen chairs, ceding 
Malger the entirety of the couch while Charles 
sat next to his wife, tail slipping the slot 
between the cushions to lay on the warm wooden 
floor. He cupped one hand behind his son's ear 
but still he stared at the marten, jaw open, eyes unblinking.

“Thank you for coming, Malger, Misanthe. How are you both this day?”

Malger stretched and doffed his feathered cap, 
looking back at the boy with a curious and 
enigmatic gaze. “Well enough. I've just hired at 
least one of the Polygamites to serve my house, 
and perhaps as many as five others. I am now 
pondering if Master Murikeer or one of the other 
mages could fashion a horseshoe my new horses 
might don and doff as need be without recourse to farrier or nail.”

Charles's eyes darted to the wooden ceiling and a 
small chuckle escaped his snout. “Do not mention 
it to James; those folk invite him to join their 
herd from time to time and it upsets him.”

“Than I shan't mention it again.”

“And how are you, Misanthe?” Kimberly asked while 
smoothing down the fur atop her boy's head.

A tremor touched the vixen's eyes at the question 
but her poise covered the moment. “I am well, 
milady. I have enjoyed my stay in your beautiful 
village.” Charles knew there was more she could 
say, and likely had to Malger, but they were not 
words she would share with strangers.

“Well,” Malger said, eyes still intent on the 
dark-furred child in Kimberly's lap, “and how are you, little one?”

Little Charles's pink nose twitched as his white 
whiskers bobbed up and down. All eyes turned to 
him, but his own remained fixed on the marten. 
His voice was clear, if small and uncertain. “Awake, your...”

“Grace, or Malger if you will,” Malger finished 
for him with a curious smile. “Have you seen me before?”

Charles felt a heaviness in his heart as his son 
nodded. The boy did not wait to be prompted. “Was sleepin', grace.”

Kimberly gripped her son's shoulders and looked 
between Malger and her husband. An anxious note 
touched her voice. “I don't understand. What is this about?”

“Something we both learned last night,” Charles 
said, his tongue heavy as if he forced an apology 
from it. “Our little boy has the same ability 
Master Malger has. He is – I know little how to 
explain, my love. When we sleep our minds wander 
unaware. Our little Charles is aware when he 
dreams, as Malger is. He can leave his dream and 
look into others. He saw into one of my dreams 
last week and it terrified him.” In a low voice he added, “As it terrified me.”

“Your husband speaks true,” Malger said, leaning 
forward, his eyes meeting the boy's mother. 
“Little Charles is a Dreamer as I am. Where you, 
your husband, and your other children will each 
have their own dreams and ne'er step foot or paw 
in any other, little Charles can and will visit 
each of your dreams as easily as you might visit the rooms of your own home.”

Kimberly gaped, pulling her son closer to her 
chest. “But how? How could he see our dreams?”

Malger cast a quick glance at Charles and then 
smiled to the worried mother. “The same way I 
walk the dreams, milady.” One paw touched the 
crescent moon medallion about his neck and his 
whiskers twitched in the pleasure of a great 
secret. “For whatever reason and from wherever it 
came, your son was born with this ability. It is 
an ability Nocturna herself granted to man many 
hundreds of centuries ago, for the realm of dreams is Her realm.”

“Nocturna!” Kimberly lowered her snout and kissed 
her son between his ears. “But we are Followers of Eli!”

Charles sighed and scratched at his leg with one 
claw. “And yet in the last year how many times 
have we sought the aid of the Pantheon? How many 
of their festivals and celebrations have we 
participated in since we've come to the Glen? I 
have seen Akkala, Velena, and... others face to 
face.” He shuddered at the dark memories still 
clear in his mind. “Their power is real. But our 
children have been Immersed; they are protected 
in a way subtle and powerful. I know the thought 
of Nocturna is frightening, but she seems the 
least of our worries... for the moment.”

“Sir Matthias speaks true,” Malger nodded and 
then smiled down at the boy. “But you should not 
be afraid. Your son has something I did not.” He 
leaned back in the couch, resting both hands over one crossed knee.

“What does he have?”

“A family aware of his rare and precious talent. 
And guidance in the understand of it.” Leaning 
forward, his brown gaze shifted from sire to dam 
and then down to the child they both touched 
protectively with embrace or paw. “I had neither. 
For many years I knew not what I did, and it near 
drove me mad. One did come to me in time, and 
guided me. I, too, was Immersed and fought to 
cleave to those teachings, until I was embittered 
and turned from them. But your son will have a 
tutor in these paths if you trust me to teach him.”

Kimberly raised one brow and cast Malger a 
dubious glance, drawing her son closer. “Your 
words would have me believe that you wish to be 
this tutor to him.” She frowned.

Malger nodded slowly, “Indeed, milady, that is indeed my wish.”

Kimberly's frown deepened into a scowl as she 
boldly met the marten Noble's eyes. “You have a 
certain rather odious reputation, your grace, and 
forgive me for saying so, but it is not one I would trust with my children.”

Malger took a long breath and let it out slowly, 
not dropping his gaze. After a moment he bowed 
his head and turned his hands over upon his knee 
in a motion of penitence. “A reputation carefully 
fostered and nurtured, but to noble ends all the 
same, as well your husband knows. I do not blame 
you or take offense, milady Kimberly.” Lifting 
one hand slightly he made a short cutting motion. 
“But that reputation was – is – for the fosterage 
of an ability I have that your son does not. I 
assure you on my honor and that of my House and 
very title, it is for the safety of your son – 
and yourselves, your family, and any near you – 
that I seek to offer myself as tutor to your 
son.” A soft, rueful chuff puffed his thin lips 
and whiskers as he realized just then how 
pervasive his long reputation was within the 
Valley. He would have to bring it to heel, and 
soon, now with a title a tad higher than 'sybarite minstrel'.

“But they are just dreams?” Kimberly asked, her 
anxious voice trembling. “Aren't they?”

“Dreams are very important to us, be they human 
or Lutin or Åelf,” Malger added, his smile now 
gentle. “Most are bound within their dreams and 
are never given to understand their full import. 
Some can never remember them, while others recall 
each detail. A very small few might stumble 
beyond the bounds of their dreams and into those 
of others, but are unaware they do, becoming a 
part of the dreams into which they stumble, 
mistaking those dreams as their own. All 
completely unaware. But a blind wanderer can Act, 
interfering with another's dreams. This can often 
merely be distressing, but can also be quite 
dangerous to both. Your son can, at his own will, 
step from his dream and into another's, unchanged 
by their dream nor sharing it as his own. He can 
affect them – profoundly, even dangerously. And 
those dreams he walks, now, would be of those 
closest to him; yours, your children, your retainers.

“Sleepless nights, nightmares, thought coming to 
them which are not their own, the sensation of 
another speaking when no one is there. These are 
some of the little things which can happen. There 
is much worse. Your son, without realizing it, 
may look in on your dreams, see something he does 
not like, and try to change it. Without 
understanding he could cause you to suffer any of these.

“And then there is the dangers your son faces. He 
will see things you cannot imagine; there will be 
terrors and nightmares you cannot protect him 
from. He has already seen in on your husband's 
dreams; it frightened him so much he roused your husband from slumber.”

Kimberly turned to Charles and all he could do 
was nod. “It is true. A few days past Marzac gave 
me a terrible nightmare. Little Charles saw it 
and woke me telling me he had been frightened by 
my dream.” Charles sighed and looked at his hands 
helplessly. “My dream frightened him, not a mere 
nightmare as children may have. We cannot protect 
him from our own dreams, Kimberly.”

For a moment Kimberly stared at him uncertain and 
afraid, her grip on their little boy so tight he 
started to squirm. But all their ears lifted when 
a little voice announced from behind their couch, “I'm gonna bite your tail.”

Charles blinked and called back, “Erick? I 
thought I told.... OUCH!” He twisted on the 
couch, yanking his tail from his other son's jaws 
before the sharp incisors could do more than 
break the pebbly skin. The little rat flipped 
over once and landed on his head. His claws 
skittered on the wood as he scrambled back toward 
the stairs. Charles stood and glared after him, 
one hand trailing down across his tail to check for damage.

Kimberly reached toward her husband. “He's 
jealous we're paying special attention to his brother and not him.”

“It's no excuse for such behavior.” Charles 
rubbed his fingers over the injury but could not 
produce any blood. “If he comes back down again 
he will not be going swimming with the rest of 
us.” The last he spoke toward the stairwell where he was sure Erick was hiding.

“I do not want to be a cause of discord in your 
family,” Malger said, shifting backward in his 
seat, eyes ever on the dark-furred rat in 
Kimberly's lap. Little Charles had looked toward 
his father when Erick bit his tail, but had 
already resumed his study of the Archduke. “But, 
milady Kimberly, Sir Matthias is correct. You 
cannot protect him from your dreams. But I know 
how to help and how to teach him. And I offer my 
instruction without charge. I will be visiting 
the Glen fairly regularly, and when I am here, I 
will give little Charles instruction. And it need 
not cause his brother any alarm as it will be 
within the dreams; at least after he trusts me 
enough not to flee when I approach.”

He lifted one hand to forestall Kimberly's 
objection. “And you need not fear what will 
happen in dreams. I could ne'er harm the lad. 
Should I do so my goddess will be quite wroth 
with me, and your husband can attest how 
frightening a god can be! I will protect him and 
I will teach him how to protect himself from the 
dreams of others. It will take time, but without 
instruction I foresee only sorrow for you, the child, and all your family.”

Kimberly smoothed down little Charles's fur and 
nuzzled his pink ears. Her voice quavered a bit 
as she asked, “What of Nocturna? What will she do?”

Malger shrugged his shoulders, casting one glance 
to the knight rat before returning to the boy's 
mother. “I do not know. It is Her realm, so your 
boy will know Her, either closely or from afar I 
cannot say. Such choice is Hers alone. But his 
religious instruction is yours. I will not 
interfere if you wish to raise him to be a Follower.”

Charles let his tail fall back to the couch and 
he settled down next to his wife. He wrapped her 
shoulders in one arm and nuzzled her cheek with 
his snout. “He will be safe, my love. Our boy 
will be safe. I trust Malger to keep him safe.”

Malger touched the fingers of one hand to his breast. “On my very life.”

Kimberly swallowed and pressed her hand against 
the amethyst medallion. “He will truly suffer if you do not, your grace?”

Malger stretched his legs and arms as he nodded. 
“I did. I thought for a long time I was going 
mad. Your son will not. He has two things I did 
not: a tutor in the way of dreams and a family 
who loves him dearly.” He offered Kimberly a warm 
smile and stood from the couch. Misanthe stood a 
moment later. “I will be visiting the Glen a few 
times a month for three four days at a time. I 
believe it will be sufficient time for your boy 
to receive all he needs from me. And if you 
should venture to Metamor and I am there I will 
be happy to spend time teaching him there too. 
Regardless of the path you choose, I will watch 
over him, as I must, and ward him from harm, or 
causing harm, while he Dreams. I will do no more without your leave.”

Kimberly climbed from the couch, shifting about 
to keep her boy comfortable in her arms. “How... 
how long would you need to teach him, your grace?”

But the marten could only shrug. “Years, I 
suspect. It is another waking world for your son 
and I, the world of Dreams. To know all its 
vagaries, its dangers, and its beauties takes a 
lifetime. But like all skills, training is only 
the beginning of mastery. You are never going to 
fully understand your son, milady Kimberly. As 
with the Sondeck, possessing it separates one 
from those without. I know you will love him nevertheless.”

“Aye, I will, your grace. Very well, please, your 
grace, please teach my boy.” Even with her 
agreement her voice quavered in fears, tears 
gleaming within her eyes. To have her son, but 
not know him in some ways most important, 
clutched her heart in a merciless fist and squeezed.

“I will. You have my word, good Lady Kimberly!” 
Malger sketched a deep bow and with a flourish 
almost skipped back around the couch. “I fear I 
must depart for Metamor. I will return before the 
week is out for little Charles's first lesson. 
Until then, Eli's blessing be on you and your family.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Charles called, stepping 
toward the door to hold it open for them. “I hope 
your journey to Metamor is uneventful.”

Malger laughed and cast one last look at the 
little boy in his mother's arms. Little Charles 
stared at him wide-eyed. “I'm sure Versyd will 
attempt to make it quite eventful. I will see you again soon.”

“Buh-bye!” Little Charles cried out, waving a pink hand toward the marten.

Malger waved back, a gentle smile stretched 
across his snout. “Good bye, young man.”

----------

Versyd pranced beneath the marten for the first 
ten minutes out of the Glen before settling into 
a comfortable gait. Malger could not help but 
delight in the youth's enthusiasm and ability. It 
made him wonder why none of the Keep's horses had 
ever thought to offer their services on four 
hooves before. And as he rode through the 
pleasant Spring air, he pondered what other 
services animal Keepers might offer in their beastly guises.

The other five Polygamites who'd sought 
employment with his house were tethered to the 
rigging hauling the carriage in which Misanthe 
reclined. The horses the bison Hesgebaern had 
used to drive the carriage to the Glen a few days 
past were roped behind. Malger would ponder what 
could be done with the other horses apart from 
pulling wagons after he returned to Metamor. 
Perhaps, should he hire a sufficient number of 
those of a mind with Versyd he could sell the 
other horses away. Keeping the cursed as mounts 
could hardly be any more expensive than 
establishing a wing of the stables and staffing 
them for the sole use of his household.

For once his delight at how responsive and smooth 
Versyd's gait was had passed, the marten's mind 
slipped back to the little rat child who dreamed. 
His smile dwindled into an uncertain moue. For 
once he did not need to sleep to hear his goddess's voice.

A few days every other week will not be enough.

Malger grunted to himself; Versyd's ears flicked 
back to him in expectation. I cannot always stay in the Glen.

This child will spend more time with your 
instruction than he will his father's.

He exhaled long and slow. The sweet fragrance of 
honeysuckle filled him as he drew the breath 
back. But it is not for me to decide, my love.

But the thoughts were still within again. Malger 
sighed, leaned forward, and patted Versyd on his 
powerful neck. “You've ruined me, Versyd. I can 
never ride a normal horse again!”

The Percheron Glenner performed a double step 
with his hind hooves in delight at the praise.

----------

Charles waded into the cold waters of the lake 
and wondered how the frogs Gibson and Bertram 
weren't slipping into torpor. Two months ago 
there had been ice covering the lake. Now his 
children were cavorting about in the shallows 
attempting to capture the slippery frog who 
glided about on the surface with breathless ease. 
Gibson reclined half in the water with gangly 
legs sprawled atop the rippling surface. None of 
them looked half as cold as the rat felt.

At least he'd had the presence of mind to take 
off his shirt. The sun warmed his chest and back 
and he did his best to keep his fur above the waist dry.

And, he thought with a smile, all of his children 
were playing together; whatever jealousy his 
second son had for his eldest at the attention 
the archduke paid him had long since passed. How 
well he knew the tales of noble houses torn 
asunder by rival brothers – he had written a few 
in his Writer's Guild days – and such was the 
last he wished for his family. With two sons and 
possibly more awaiting them he would have much 
sacrifice in the days ahead to keep peace in his family.

Unable to capture Bertram, his boys turned to 
splashing each other and their sisters. Charles 
laughed with them, eyes ever drawn to his eldest 
boy; the Dreamer. How could he ever protect his 
son from a foe he could not touch in a world he could not enter?

Only the words of his brother Sondeckis brought 
comfort. And whatever happens, do not be afraid for him. He will be protected.

He lifted his eyes heavenward and twitched his 
whiskers into a smile. “Keep him safe, Ladero. Keep him safe.”

----------

--- Postscript ---

When I was two, my Dad heard a little voice under 
the table say, "I'm gonna bite your toe".  That 
was me.  And I bit his toe!  He loves telling 
that story and I am glad to share a little bit of it here. :-)

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

Charles Matthias
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