[Mkguild] Faithful Battles (2/7)

[C. Matthias]

Part 2

Metamor Keep: Faithful Battles
By Charles Matthias

Instead of focusing on the readings of the day as 
Father Hough was accustomed, Felsah chose instead 
to teach Patric and Richard some of the history 
of the Ecclesia. They were well versed in the 
Canticles, and so the jerboa priest told the 
traditions of Mother Yanlin and St. Kephas not 
recorded in their blessed scriptures. Neither 
were familiar with Mother Yanlin's little house 
near Marilyth, nor with the families who kept St. 
Kephas hidden in Yesulam during the latter years of his life.

The hour moved quickly, with Felsah inviting both 
to ask questions. He did not know all of the 
answers, but it pleased him to see how eager both 
young Keepers were to learn more. The tales of 
the heroes and saints of their faith invigorated 
them as they should. The more they knew of the 
saints and Mother Yanlin, the more they would strive to be saints too.

When they finished they returned to the Sanctuary 
and Felsah offered the prayers for Terce. Rakka 
attempted to interrupt them again, but this time 
Richard took care of the enthusiastic dog. As 
there were only a few who had come to pray, he 
did not linger to see if there were any who had 
come in need of a priest. Once the young mouse 
returned and they settled the sandy-furred dog, 
Felsah finished preparing his lists for the day's visits.

The Summer Solstice festival had come to an end a 
few days ago so the streets of Metamor were no 
longer full of stomping hooves, mashing feet and 
paws, crunching wagon wheels, and the pulverizing 
panoply of scents from thousands of different 
kinds of beasts all pressed together. Now they 
were full of the last merchant stragglers, their 
money and wares counted, seeking to flee before 
the Curses forced them to relocate. Residents of 
Keeptowne preferred to keep off the streets while 
they waited for the Inns to empty; already many 
of the craftsmen had resumed their business even 
if the merchants who would trade their wares had not.

Thus it was Father Felsah knew he would find the 
Follower merchant families in their homes or 
visiting one another for celebration after 
another successful festival. While he was now 
familiar to most of the Followers in Keeptowne 
after helping Father Hough with nearly all of the 
Liturgies, the Lothanasi and the Rebuilders would 
view him with suspicion if not outright hatred. 
He would not forget his welcome by the quartet of 
Rebuilders and his rescue by the three-horned 
reptile Zachary. Since he had no Yesbearn of his 
own to protect him, Felsah decided to take both 
seminarians with him on his venture into Keeptowne.

To their delight the streets nearest the Keep 
were no busier than on any other day. They only 
passed a few foreign merchants on their way. 
Their first destination was the home of the 
Urseil family. Cloth merchants, they had once 
known Father Hough when he had still served in 
Ellcaran to the south. They arrived after Three 
Gates and had welcomed Hough after he had begun 
to serve as priest in Metamor even providing many of his liturgical vestments.

And as he neared their home in the merchant 
district, a respectable two-story home with oak 
frame and white plaster walls, he could hear 
their familiar voices through the open windows. 
Patric and Richard flanked him before the 
doorway. Falkirk Urseil, the master of the house, 
had fastened two brass knockers, each in the 
shape of a bolt of cloth, to the door, one at a 
man's height, and the other at a child's height – 
or a jerboa's. Felsah used the second, giving it 
three good raps before leaning back on his 
haunches, doing his best to ignore the scent from 
the gutter and street in need of their midday cleaning.

The door opened a few breaths later by a large 
brown bear who still possessed a suggestion of 
youth. He was dressed in a doublet of bright red 
and black diamonds with frilly sleeves and baggy 
pantaloons. Felsah was surprised to see him – 
Barrick he recalled – wearing festival finery 
still, but perhaps the Urseil family was having a 
private frolic while the city tried to return to 
normal. The bear lowered his snout after a moment 
and his small, dark eyes widened in surprise. 
“Father Felsah! Patric, Richard... uh... won't you come in?”

Felsah chittered as he hopped into their foyer. 
“Thank you, Barrick. How are you, young man? Did you enjoy the festivities?”

Barrick nodded, stepping as far back as he could 
to let them pass. The claws on the bear's toes 
were larger than the jerboa's hands. He could not 
help himself from hopping straight past and into 
the main hall of the Urseil home. A long 
staircase ran up the rear wall to the second 
floor bedrooms above which hung a string of 
quilts for each of the children. Before it rested 
a cushioned chaise on which reclined a teenage 
girl working a spinning wheel. Beside her was a 
teenage boy studying a counting table and a small 
parchment filled with numbers. On the right wall 
was a hearth with a low-fire and a pot of 
something sweet and fruity cooking. On the left 
were upholstered oak chairs in which sat a young 
man of very handsome comportment and a short 
creature with narrow triangular head, long claws, 
short legs and tail almost as long, and covered 
in plate-like scales from head to tail tip locked 
in a contest of checkers. Along the floor zipped 
two young girls, the older pulling the younger in 
a little wagon. All bore festive garb similar to the bear.

All heads and eyes turned toward them as Barrick 
shut the door behind them. “Father Felsah! 
Patric! Richard!” The teenage girl at the 
spinning wheel exclaimed, stopping the wheel and 
carefully setting the unwoven cloth aside as she 
stood. “Come, sit and I will fetch something to 
refresh you. Barrick, provide them a basin to 
wash the street from their paws. Kendrick, 
Bridgett, come help me fetch our guests something.”

Having been born and bred in a desert, Felsah 
could not imagine refusing an offer of 
hospitality from anyone and so immediately 
offered the lady of the house a respectful nod of 
the head. “Thank you, Mistress Urseil. We 
gratefully accept your offer of food and drink 
and something to wash our paws. The many wagons 
have churned the roads and even those which are 
stone are still full of dust and dirt. I must 
commend you Keepers for you do know how to 
celebrate the changing of the seasons!”

While the two at checkers rose to follow their 
mother, the bear offered each of them a wide 
round basin filled with water. He set it before 
them and each dipped their feet in one by one and 
then dried them with a small cloth. By the time 
Richard finished his paws the water was dirty 
enough they could no longer see the bottom of the basin.

The teenager at the counting board set his work 
aside and shifted the spinning wheel a few paces 
to make room for the three religious to sit 
comfortably Patric took several steps closer to 
the fire to warm himself for a minute before 
sitting down next to the two mice. The young 
girls watched them for a moment, with the older 
offering a curtsy of respect, before they resumed 
their play. Falkirk Urseil favored them with a 
merchant's easy smile and studied them, 
especially the Questioner, with an appraising 
eye. “What brings you to our humble home, Father Felsah?”

“Not until they have something to eat, Fal!” Came 
Mavis' voice from the room beyond the stairs.

Falkirk looked chagrined as he settled back into 
his seat. “Then let me say I am pleased to see 
you settling into life here at Metmaor so well, 
Father. Everyone who has come to know you speaks 
well of you. Can I bring some sticks for you and 
Richard to chew? Patric, would you care for a damp cloth to moisten your eyes?”

“Those would be quite agreeable,” Felsah replied 
even as he shifted his legs and tail to get more 
comfortable. He pulled his legs up onto the 
chaise and underneath himself while his tail 
dangled behind. Patric was large enough he could 
sit almost like a man apart from his long tail 
which was wedged against the frame of the stairs. 
Richard sat much like Felsah, though his eyes 
were drawn to the interrupted game a few paces away.

Falkirk retrieved a pair of kindling sticks from 
near the hearth, then retreated to the far room 
for the damp cloth. Before he returned, Mavis and 
two of her three sons emerged bearing trays. 
Mavis stopped by the pot brewing over the fire 
and ladled a spoonful into each of three cups. 
Bridgett and Kendrick offered their trays to the 
religious, each bearing different types of 
pastries, some with fruit and some with meat. 
Patric skipped over those for one with grasshoppers inside.

“My favorite too,” Kendrick offered with a quick 
dart of his long tongue. “We have a few more if you want another.”

Patric turned it over in his long-fingered hands 
for a moment before turning both eyes forward. 
“Thank you, Kendrick. I will let you know.”

Felsah selected one of the fruit pastries but 
found his nose flickering in interest for the 
grasshoppers. He had eaten insects in the desert 
and never quite understood the reluctance 
forest-folk had for them. Still, he didn't seem 
to catch the pangolin's eye so said nothing.

“And here is something warm to drink,” Mavis 
offered them each a simmering mug. The scent was 
of a blend of northern fruits; Felsah could smell 
peaches among them but did not yet recognize the 
others. “This is what we served at our booth for 
the festival; for you it is free.”

“I thought you were cloth merchants,” Richard 
observed after lapping up a taste. “This is very good!”

“We are cloth merchants,” Falkirk said as he 
returned with a small white cloth. He laid it 
across the bar near the fire and chucked. “We 
know a few other tricks, don't we Kendrick?”

The pangolin bobbed his head, eyes wide for a 
moment, as he set the trays aside. “Oh, aye, aye, 
we do. Is there anything else we can provide for you?”

“No thank you, this is quite enough,” Felsah 
said, offering a smile to the young man and heir. 
“The food and drink is gracious enough. Thank 
you. You are excellent hosts. In the land I come 
from, it is customary to provide refreshment to 
guests, and to clean them from the road. You have 
done both. Is it because you know of the customs 
of my land, or is this your custom as well?”

Falkirk shrugged and handed the now warm and 
moist towel to the chameleon who took it 
gratefully and rubbed it across his face. Patric 
blinked his cone-shaped eyes and let out a 
sibilant sigh of relief. “In a way both, Father. 
It is a custom we Followers of Ellcaran have 
adopted from your land. There are so few of us so 
far north it is how we try and show love to our Lothanasi neighbors.

“And,” the boy who was truly a man added with a 
less pious tone, “it makes good business sense. 
If we have no one to trade with then we cannot 
feed ourselves much less our guests. Making 
friends with all is very important. You will find 
most of the merchant families of Metamor are also 
good hosts. Especially with cleaning the dust 
from the road. So many like you and my sons find 
shoes and boots uncomfortable; a basin of water 
to clean paws and hooves of the grime and muck is 
almost a staple in our homes.”

Mavis collected the trays from where the pangolin 
set them and busied herself with cleaning up the 
leftovers. Kendrick and Bridgett resumed their 
game of checkers which Richard watched with 
anxious paws ever lifting to suggest a move when 
they weren't holding the kindling to gnawing 
teeth. Barrick finished cleaning their tracks 
from the foyer, before setting himself down on 
the floor nearby to watch the game and their 
guests. The two girls climbed out of the wagon 
and carried little wooden animals, two of which 
looked like their older brothers, off into a 
corner to play quietly. Falkirk watched all with 
an air of pleasure as he sat back down in his chair.

“Patric, how does your Deacon's cassock suit you? 
We could have another with thicker wool fashioned 
for you for the Winter months.”

Patric ran a free hand down the front of the 
black vest atop the white robe he bore. The robe 
parted around his wide tail so he could sit 
comfortably without it bunching around his waist. 
“This is very comfortable, thank you. And thank 
you for your generosity. A cassock suited for 
Winter would be wonderful! Even staying indoors 
next to a roaring fire I still feel cold some days!”

“Oh, I know!” Kendrick nodded, his voice almost 
agonized in longing. “I wish it would stay Summer 
another three months here! Maybe Six!”

“Nine?” Bridgett suggested as he pondered the checkerboard.

“Well, I want Barrick to enjoy the weather some of the time.”

The bear grumbled behind him and playfully raked 
his long claws down the pangolin's natural armor. 
“And would my big brother like to go rolling down the hill to Euper again?”

“If there's lots of big anthills down at the bottom, sure!”

Patric and Richard chuckled at the banter as they 
ate. Felsah lapped the fruit cider and wondered 
how long it would be before he understood the 
peculiar humor of Metamorians. He gave no sign of 
his thoughts other than flicking his tail from side to side.

“Boys...” Mavis reprimanded even if her voice 
betrayed her amusement. “Father, we can do 
something similar for your ears. Those are desert 
ears, and they'll grow very cold even before 
Winter arrives. We could have a fleece-lined hat 
made for you to protect them. We've done the same 
for other family friends who've become desert creatures.”

Felsah twitched his whiskers into a rodent's 
smile. “Thank you, Mistress Urseil. I have grown 
quite fond of my ears and do not want them 
freezing. I have never seen your Winters but I 
suppose I will know them quite soon.” There was 
no offer to make a winter version of his 
Questioner robe, but he would not press. He 
doubted any in this land would be comfortable 
fashioning the dreaded red cross, and he could 
always wear other clothes beneath to preserve the 
warmth his body would otherwise shed.

Falkirk offered a knowing smile. “Aye, you will, 
and you'll adapt to them. We all have had to adapt here in Metamor.”

“In sooth!”

“So, what brings you here to our home, Father 
Felsah? I have heard Father Hough is away and has left you in charge.”

He nodded and lifted his large ears; they sat so 
close together he almost swatted Patric in the 
eye with one. “Father Hough is visiting Iron Mine 
for two weeks. He is interested in helping Baron 
Christopher find some way to help the many folk 
of Bradanes who have settled there.”

“I've heard they are living between the walls. 
There is so little space there. The plague is 
over; they should continue north to Euper, 
Keeptowne, or even Mycransburg, or Lake 
Barnhardt. Even Glen Avery or Hareford would be better.”

“And they may very well suggest such a journey. 
The weather is right for it, but...” Felsah 
spread his hands wide and drooped his whiskers. 
“We are not there. It is why Father Hough is 
there now. So he can see for himself. But I did 
not come to your house, Master Urseil, to discuss 
matters in Iron Mine. I have come to present to 
you an idea I have to help Follower children here 
in Keeptowne. I have discussed it with Mother 
Wilfrida and she and her sisters are more than 
willing to help take on this task but we need 
funds and children who will participate.”

Falkirk cast a quick glance at his young 
daughters. “And what did you have in mind?”

“I want to start a school for young children. We 
would teach them of the Follower faith more 
deeply than what we provide on Holy days. They 
would learn our history, our rites, our many 
saints, and learn how to live faithfully in the 
midst of all the contradictions thrust upon 
Metamor. If we have enough interest, we might 
even be able to teach more practical subjects 
such as arithmetic, geometry, grammar, logic, and 
perhaps even rhetoric, music, and astronomy. We 
would leave the teaching of trades to the guilds 
and families of course. Consider it preparation 
for your more rigorous training. With children we 
can only begin such subjects, we cannot complete 
them. But of the virtues we would strive for the 
best. But in order to begin we do need both funds 
and families willing to entrust their children 
into our care for some hours each day; when they 
aren't needed for your work at least.”

Falkirk's expression remained one of polite 
interest. Mavis came to stand behind him, her 
hands clasped over her waist, uncertain eyes 
turning to her daughters. Barrick, Bridgett, and 
Kendrick all paused their game to look to their 
father, their expressions curious, but betraying 
none of their own thoughts. The merchant's reply 
was measured in even tones. “A school for 
Follower children taught by you and the Sisters? 
An intriguing idea. I know they have such schools 
in some cites of Galendor. We have never had one 
in Ellcaran, and we Followers have only lived 
here in Metamor for a generation now. Perhaps it 
is a good idea to begin one here. How much do you 
believe you will need to begin such a school?”

He lowered his ears as he stood a little taller 
on his haunches; this time he did bump Patric who 
had leaned in closer to listen. The chameleon 
brushed the damp cloth over his face one more time as he chortled.

“I do not yet know. I am hoping we will be able 
to make room near the Convent for them. The 
Sisters still have many repairs to do before they 
will be ready. There are still many houses torn 
down near there. We would need money to buy the 
land and build new homes there. And once it is 
done we will need supplies for the children to 
use in their lessons. And of course, we will also 
need students.” Felsah turned and looked at the 
two girls for a moment, twitched his whiskers in 
a smile, and even flicked his tail upwards until 
the tuft dangled between his ears. He returned 
his eyes to both parents. “Their religious 
instruction is your duty as their father and 
mother, but we wish to help and this is how we are trying to do it.”

Mavis gripped her dress, clearly unsure. Falkirk 
kept his expression level. “We have done our very 
best and will pray about your request. As for 
money for your school, I will consult my ledgers 
and see what we can offer you. I will find a way 
to provide some, and my sons can certainly spend 
some of their time helping with the repairs.”

“Could we go tomorrow?” Barrick interrupted. The 
bear's rumble was eager, and he flexed one of his 
arms. Bridgett rolled his eyes as he moved a 
black piece. Kendrick grimaced at the move and 
then waved his long claws, eyes never leaving the 
board. Felsah spared the pangolin a curious 
glance; everyone else had met his eyes, but not 
this one. A guilty conscience perhaps?

“So long as your duties to home are done, of 
course you may.” Falkirk turned back to the 
jerboa priest. “As I was saying, we will find a 
way to help some, but I can make no promises 
today. I will promise this. Next Sunday after 
Liturgy I will be prepared to tell you what I can 
promise for your little school. I...”

A loud rapping at the door turned all their eyes. 
Barrick pushed himself to his feet and within 
four strides was at the door. He barely had it 
open when a hen dressed in garish pink frills 
burst in, her beak already moving with the 
urgency of terrible news. “Oh, Mavis, my dear! 
Did the Festival treat you well? I had such a 
ghastly time! My husband, Lord Halvemore, bought 
me pastries from some foreigner and it left me 
with vapors for days! I practically molted my 
tail feathers off.” So saying she bent forward 
and fanned her tail, which was filled with bright 
red and orange feathers curling up and over like 
a spouting fountain with a single gap near the middle.

The hen held out one of her feet and Barrick 
lifted the basin of water to meet it. She swirled 
her toes, even as she continued to talk. “And 
don't get me started on the contests this year. 
The jousting was horrible. I've never seen such 
poor displays. My husband could have cleared the 
lot of them in his prime. And my son, oh Dokorath 
help him, what in the world is his wife feeding him. Goodness!”

Barrick rolled his eyes, even while Kendrick 
stuck his long tongue out and wrapped it over his 
face where the hen couldn't see. Both girls 
vanished into an adjoining room. Bridgett 
appeared so focused on the game nothing else 
existed, while Falkirk smiled as warmly as he 
could as his grip ever tightened on his chair. 
Mavis stepped toward the hen with a calm patience 
none of her family seemed to share. Richard 
shrank in his seat, chittering beneath his 
breath. Patric sighed and moistened his face once 
more before finishing off his juice, tail curling 
and uncurling around one of the chaise legs.

Her first golden foot cleansed of the dirt, she 
lifted her second for the bear to wash. “I mean 
really, and the feast Duke Thomas served! Hah! 
You think we didn't have any produce or grains in 
from the fields yet. My husband's lands would 
have done better but for the blasted plague 
keeping us cooped up here. Truly, I nearly wasted 
away hiding in my home. I don't know how you all 
managed to keep your business afloat.”

Mavis gestured to the pot of cider simmering over 
the low flames. “Welcome, Lady Halvemore. Is 
there anything I can interest you in. Will you be staying long?”

Barrick, from behind the hen, shook his head and 
mouthed with his supple lips, “Please no!”

The hen put a golden-scaled hand spreading into a 
flightless wing across her chest. “Oh, dear 
Mavis, you are so good to me. I would waste away 
if not for your generosity. Have you anything to 
eat? I'm practically famished! I cannot stay 
long, there's just so many people to see today. 
It's finally safe to leave your home without 
having horses and wagon wheels crush your toes. I 
just wanted to pass you the news and...” her eyes 
seemed to see, for the first time, who else was 
in the house with her. The hen's red feathers 
along the back of her neck rose, her pair of 
wattles hanging halfway down her neck shook, and 
her small eyes fixed with astonishment upon the 
jerboa who sat with hands cradling the empty cup 
of cider. He bore no expression, neither smile 
nor scowl, toward the gossip. But his eyes never left her.

“Oh my, Mavis...” Lady Halvemore appeared ready 
to harangue her host for letting vermin lose in 
her house, but something dissuaded her. Either 
fear of the dread Questioner or greater pleasure 
in her news, Felsah could not say. Perhaps she 
was merely irritated there were no seats 
available for her to swoon upon. He was merely 
grateful her attention returned to the lady of the house.

“Mavis, I came here to tell you, oh my thank 
you.” She accepted one of the leftover pastries, 
plucked large chunks with her beak, and swallowed 
without chewing. “Delicious! Mavis, you are a 
dear, aren't you. My, oh.” Within a few more 
pecks the pastry was gone and the hen shook the 
crumbs from her wattles and feathers. “Your cook is as ever excellent.”

Falkirk's chin tightened and the wood of his 
chair groaned. Felsah knew immediately the pastries were made by Mavis herself.

Lady Halvemore almost swooned in her direction, 
clucking a pleased note as she swung her wings 
wide and with them the pink frill of her gown. 
“Ah, yes, I came to tell you – and everyone else 
who knows them mind you, it is a burden I suppose 
I will have to fill – of Elsie. You know Elsie, 
Lidaman's daughter?” Kendrick lifted his head at 
the news, though he did not turn to look at the hen.

Mavis was ever polite. “Oh yes, we do know Master 
Lidaman and his beautiful daughter. We were 
honored to attend her wedding to Lidaman's clerk 
Gadfrey earlier his year. What of her? Is she 
well?” Whenever did gossips come with such joie de vivre about good news?

“Well as you know,” Lady Halvemore replied as she 
leaned her tail feathers back against the wall 
near the hearth, folding her hands before her 
with a self-satisfied turn of her head, “Elsie is 
pregnant with their first child; the young clerk 
has not wasted any time! But and this is the news 
I came to bring Oh, it is so terrible, but I must 
say it. She's come down with a most malodorous 
illness; coughing, sneezing, and the most foul 
smelling vapors. She's been in bed now for the 
last three days, Mavis. Three days! Master Coe 
would have seen her already, but you know he is 
always so busy tending wounds from the festival. 
Especially with those atrocious fighters; I'm 
surprised some of them didn't hit themselves with 
their own swords! But, oh, poor Elsie, she's 
still waiting. And what with her father the 
richest merchant in Metamor! Can you imagine it? 
And what about her child? Poor cow, oh my! We 
just don't know yet! But I will be sure to let you know once I hear more.”

“Oh, Elsie!” Mavis replied, her face bunched in 
genuine concern. “Does Master Lidaman not have healers of his own?”

“Oh he does, but the poor man serving them was 
away down south visiting family during the 
festival and has not been able to return yet.” 
Lady Halvemore began fanning herself with her 
wing, eyes fluttering and looking to the sky. 
“And the Lothanasa has not had a chance to see 
her, so preoccupied they've been with Samekkh 
knows what. It's just so terrible a situation, I tell you!”

Felsah hopped to his feet and clasped his hands 
in front of him, ears fully erect. “Thank you for 
bringing us this news, Lady Halvemore. I will see 
to it personally the Sisters are able to tend to 
Elsie, daughter of Master Lidaman, in her time of 
need. They will make sure she recovers and no harm comes to her child.”

The hen's feathers lifted along her neck and back 
in surprise and, Felsah judged, in irritation. “The Sisters?”

Patric and Richard climbed off the chaise behind 
him. Bridgett looked ready to follow them.

“Aye, the Holy Sisters of Mother Yanlin. They 
have already tended the sick and dying during the 
plague. This task is one they know well. I will 
make straight for them now. You have no more need 
of worry, for Elsie will recover under their 
care.” Felsah turned to Mavis and Falkirk. “Thank 
you Master and Mistress Urseil, for your kind 
hospitality. Kendrick, Barrick, Bridgett, we look 
forward to seeing you tomorrow at the Convent to 
help with repairs. Good day, and Eli's blessings be with you.”

The hen clucked several times but could find no 
words as Falkirk, Mavis, and the children rose to 
see them to the door. They reentered the busy 
streets without another word; Felsah hopped with 
steady gait but determined jumps toward the 
Convent. Only when the Urseil home disappeared 
behind them did Patric let out a gasp of breath. 
“Oh, Father, thank you. I know Lady Halvemore 
from... well... she's... her husband is a landed 
knight well past his years who lives here in 
Keeptowne instead of their land. When she does 
come she is almost impossible to get rid of. I 
confess I felt an ill satisfaction at seeing her 
expression when you told her about the Sisters.”

Felsah stopped to let a carriage grind past and 
turned to the chameleon and mouse at his sides. 
“Deacon, we all felt an ill satisfaction and 
should offer prayers for her and for the Urseils. 
But I meant what I said. We will visit the other 
merchant families another day. Let us go to the 
Convent and tell Mother Wilfrida.”

“Shouldn't we visit the Lidaman family first?” 
Richard asked. “You know, to let them know and 
make sure we have their permission?”

“Master Lidaman and his family are Lothanasi,” 
Felsah noted as he resumed hopping. “The request 
will be more readily accepted coming from Mother 
Wilfrida and the Sisters than it will a Questioner.”

The mouse could only squeak as he rushed to keep up.

----------

The Convent had once been several homes ransacked 
and burned during the Winter Assault; they were 
now mostly rebuilt so the nuns had walls and 
warmth and a place to worship together. The 
garden in the midst of their home had its first 
growth a week past. The additional rooms they 
wished to build for study, work of any trade, and 
even a common place to eat were still rubble, 
though a few foundations had been laid. The 
entire company of sisters spent a few hours every 
day cleaning out the refuse in and around the 
lands they'd been given, and with the help of 
many Follower Keepers, adding in new sections of 
floor, wall, and roof. Each week saw a new room 
ready for use, and the gifts they received of 
food and clothing had blossomed into full 
storehouses they were ready to open and offer to 
any Keeper in need no matter whether they 
worshiped Eli or the gods of the Lothanasi. Even 
the Rebuilders of Metamor spoke well of them 
while wagging their heads in private.

The main entrance to the Convent was near the 
center of a long stone wall and featured a pair 
of solid oak doors on which a stylized 'Y' 
surmounted by the yew had been painted. Father 
Felsah knew it was Mother Wilfrida's dream to 
have it fashioned from bronze and inlaid within 
the oak. She also dreamed of replacing the stone 
wall, which had been assembled from whatever 
stone was available and easy to cut, with larger 
custom blocks to provide better warmth in the 
Winter and minor ornamentation to help show their 
place within the city. It would be years yet 
before either were realized, but Felsah suspected it would only be a few.

He rapped as loudly as he could upon the oak door 
and hopped down the large flat steps next to 
Patric and Richard to wait. He did not have to 
wait long, as one of the sisters, apparently a 
girl of twelve with freckled face where her habit 
did not cover it, opened the door wide for them. 
“Good morning, Father Felsah, Deacon Patric, 
Richard. What can we do for you today?”

“We are looking for Mother Wilfrida,” Felsah said 
as he hopped through the doorway, tail lashing 
back and forth as he stepped around to more fully 
face the girl. Her name came to him a moment 
later. “Is she in, Sister Perpetua?”

“Aye, Father. But you will have to wait here. 
Mother Wilfrida already has a visitor. I will go 
and announce you.” Perpetua bowed her head and 
offered a faint smile to each of them before 
disappearing down the hall along the main hall 
and into another doorway. At the far end of the 
hall they could see part of a wall still being 
built and could hear the sounds of a few Keepers 
talking as they moved stone and wood about. Two 
other nuns were carrying baskets of rumpled 
cloths at the other end of the corridor, but they saw no one else.

Patric eased the door shut behind him after 
making sure both his and Richard's tails were 
clear. Felsah could see smiles on both of their 
beastly faces. “If it were not just the three of 
us here at Metamor, I'd suggest we spend some 
time helping put a few more stones in their 
walls.” Felsah took a deep breath, his whiskers 
fanning outward, before he lifted a foot to 
scratch behind his ear. “It brings me great joy 
to see Keepers here every day helping.”

“Just having the Sisters here brings me joy, 
Father,” Patric admitted. He laced his long 
fingers together and the end of his tail curled 
into a whorl. “I've lived my whole life here and 
being a Follower has always made me feel as if I 
were a foreigner in my own home. Seeing them here 
now... and also you, means Metamor is finally 
becoming a city of Followers too.”

“There's still lots more Lothanasi,” Richard 
pointed out as he gnawed at the stick Falkirk had 
given him. Felsah also felt the urge and lifted 
his stick to gnaw. “Duke Thomas and most of the 
nobility are Lothanasi too. Metamor is one of the 
ancient jewels of the Lothanasi. It will take a 
miracle to make it a Follower city.”

“Miracles happen all the time,” A quacking, 
motherly voice called out to them from a doorway. 
“Be they large and known by many, or small and 
touching a single life or two, they are all 
miracles. It is the small miracles, beautiful and 
intimate, Eli chooses to use in most of our 
lives. His fields are filled with a bounteous 
array of wildflowers, bright and colorful. 
Amongst them he places a few delicate rose 
bushes. But roses grow only among thorns, 
Richard. Every great miracle is crowned with thorns.”

Waddling toward them in her black habit was a 
dull-feathered mallard, wing-hands much like Lady 
Halvemore's folded serenely before her in a 
posture ready for prayer. Her long orange bill 
and the creases in her face and feathers seemed 
locked in a peaceful smile. At her side was a 
small beast child dressed in badly cut and 
stained linen and ill-fitting trousers. His 
sandy-colored fur was marked by black rings 
around the eyes, black paws, and a black tip at 
the end of his long, thick tail jutting out 
behind him and dragging across the stone. He had 
short round ears, wide eyes, and many little 
sharp teeth. There was a manic energy about him even when he stood still.

“Mother Wilfrida,” Felsah greeted, inclining his 
head, allowing the warmth in his heart to spill 
over into his words. “Eli's blessings be with you.”

“And with your spirit, Father Felsah.” Her 
bright, beady eyes captured them as if they were 
being hugged beneath her wing. “Deacon Patric, it 
is so very good to see you again as well. And 
Richard, have faith and hope in Yahshua; He will 
make this city His jewel in time as well. You 
play no small part in it, my dear mouse.”

Richard murmured an embarrassed thanks before 
shoving his stick between his incisors again.

“Now, if you'll pardon me, but I must see this 
good young man to the door,” Mother Wilfrida 
stretched one wing atop the beast child, who 
smiled brighter beneath it. The two mice stepped 
and hopped out of the way while Patric opened the 
door for her. “Kuna, this is Father Felsah, 
Deacon, Patric, and Richard. Richard is a 
seminarian and will be a Deacon in another year 
or two. They would certainly love to hear of your 
friends and give what help they can.”

The meerkat stood taller on short haunches, hands 
dangling in front of him as his triangular snout 
pointed at each of them in turn. “Oh, um.... Hi!” 
Before any could greet him, the boy dropped to 
all fours and darted out the door, tail bouncing 
after him. He disappeared around a bend and was gone.

Wilfrida sighed and folded her wins before her. 
“Oh, Kuna!” She lifted her bill and with one 
sweep took in the three men. “What brings you 
here, Father Felsah? Father Hough informed me you 
three would be the only ones from the Cathedral 
here in Keeptowne for the next two weeks. I had 
thought managing the parish would have kept you too busy to visit.”

“And it is for parish reasons we are here, as it 
were. But first, who was the young lad? A meerkat 
I believe; it has been years since I have seen any. His name is Kuna?”

“Aye, Father. He has been visiting since early 
May. He is a child only because the Curses of 
Metamor made him so; he is very much a child, but 
many times I have seen the man hidden within him. 
He lives with other children orphaned during the 
last attack on the city. Some are cursed so who 
find life on the streets easier, but most are 
actual children whose families were slain. He 
will not tell me where they are, but he wants us 
to help find them homes. Kuna comes by every few 
days for a short visit. Last week I finally 
convinced him to start coming during the day and 
to come inside so we could talk more comfortably. 
He is a bright boy; I think he wants to help the 
children because he's never helped anyone before. 
I have mentioned the children to Father Hough.”

“He has not told me of them,” Felsah noted.

“I told him not to tell anyone else just yet. 
Kuna is afraid of what might happen if the Watch 
finds the orphans. They are stealing their food, Father.”

“How does he expect you to help them if you 
cannot tell anyone about them?” Richard asked, brows furrowed and ears lifted.

“Eli will show us in time,” Wilfrida replied with 
serene confidence complimented with an 
exclamatory quack. “For now I am merely 
suggesting things to Kuna to help him and the 
orphans and to keep them out of trouble. I am 
also teaching Kuna what little he lets me. He 
said his first prayers today; one of those little 
miracles Eli loves to grow in His fields.”

Chagrined, Richard resumed gnawing.

“I will let you know if we ever see him in the 
Cathedral.” Felsah took a half step closer to the 
nun. “We are here to ask for your help, Mother 
Wilfrida. Elsie, the daughter of Master Lidaman 
the moneylender, is ill and has been for three 
days. They are friends of the Urseil family. 
Master Coe has not been able to spare the time to 
see her, and their own physician is delayed on 
the roads. Could you send some of your sisters to tend to her?”

The smile on Wilfrida's face stretched. “Of 
course, Father. Do they know we might be coming?”

“Perhaps, if any of the Urseils have told them. 
They are of the Lothanasi so they may refuse your aid.”

“We will still offer it. Sister Perpetua?”

The young nun appeared around the corner from 
which she had moments before disappeared. “Yes, Mother Superior?”

“Find Sisters Mina and Clare and go to Master 
Lidaman's house and see what can be done for his daughter.”

“Of course, Mother Superior.”

“One thing more,” Felsah added, “Elsie is 
pregnant. I do not know how far along the child is.”

“Sister Perpetua, make haste!”

Richard lifted a hand. “I can guide you to their house.”

“Excellent. Then it is settled.” Wilfrida shook 
her tail feathers in pleasure, and glanced 
between jerboa and chameleon. “Father, if you 
have time, would you care to see the state of the 
Convent and the other Sisters here?”

“It would be our pleasure. Thank you.” He turned 
to Richard and favored his fellow rodent with a 
whisker-filled grin. “We shall see you at the 
Cathedral for Sext.” He took a hopping step toward the duck. “Lead on, Mother.”

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

Charles Matthias