[Mkguild] Merry Marriage: Sleep Like A Baby

[Rimme the Weasel]

Here's the next part to the Round Robin.

A note about the chronology: I got things a bit mixed up. My earlier scenes
with Gillie, Gallus, and Freya all happen on June 17, a few days before
Nathan's scenes, which are intended to happen on June 20, the day before
the Festival starts (and also the day before Misha's wedding). I apologize
for the confusion.

----

In the immediate aftermath of the Yule Assault, several Keepers whose homes
had been fortunate enough to escape damage had the grace to vacate their
private offices for the use of those Keepers seeking temporary housing.
Some, of course, charged a nominal fee for this service. Others, a somewhat
less nominal fee.

Nathan was fortunate that one such resident, a Lothanasi acolyte named
Niall, had recently left Metamor to go on a pilgramage to Sathmore, with
the aim of joining a local temple and restoring Metamor's reputation to the
community. While preparing one of the spare horses for the acolyte's
journey, Nathan heard about the vacancy in town and quickly gathered an
interview. The landlord distrusted Nathan, not so much for his reputation
as for his lack of one. But with Niall's kind words, and Nathan offering
most of his wage to the rent, the landlord accepted with a few strict
caveats, among them that there were to be no loud noises, no guests, and no
violence.

The room was bare -- the few possessions Niall carried had been taken with
him -- but it was enough for Nathan. A straw mattress with a moth-holed
blanket, a washbasin with a linen washcloth, and a table and chair with a
wobbly leg were all that had been provided. But at least the wind and rain
were kept out. And with a bit of regression, Nathan could make a snug
swaddling wrap for himself.

Oh, how Nathan had wished he could have been an animal morph -- a small
critter like a fox or a badger, or even a mouse! With a thick coat of fur,
he would have had no need of blankets. He did one comfort, though. Deep
inside him, there was an infant mind as wild and frightened as a cornered
beast. Nathan had never known a woman long enough to have children, but
there in his mind was a child all his own. And when he stripped down and
lay on his mattress, Nathan would hum for his inner babe a soothing tune
that his own father had sung to him. He would loosen his grip upon his old
age, his face growing softer and rounder, his body shrinking down until it
became the mirror image of the babe in his mind. As he curled up in his
blankets, he would cradle his inner babe as their hearts beat as one to the
sweet lullabies of dreamland.

Footsteps clacked on the cobblestones outside. As powerful as the babe's
peaceful slumber was, Nathan's protective instincts were stronger still.
Nathan opened one eye, still lightly humming to himself. The window was
half open, letting in the nighttime air and the sounds of nocturnal guards.
Nathan sighed, stuck his feet out of his cocoon, and shifted upwards. The
child inside stirred uneasily, but Nathan kept his thoughts drowsy and
slumberful.

"Sleeping as a baby, huh?"

Nathan nearly jumped out of his bed. The only possible weapon he had in
this room was the chair, and it was currently occupied by the very shadow
that had just spoken to him.

"And in the buff." The shadow stood, wobbling a bit from the chair. "Is
this the life you want to live, Nathan? Shoveling manure for a few pennies
to pay for this run-down slum?"

Nathan clutched his blanket between him and the now-familiar morph.
"Rodrick. What are you doing here?"

The boy slouched against the wall. "You still owe me a trip out of Metamor."

"But... but we're child morphs, Rodrick. You know what they do to us down
south."

"Only if they catch us shifting. And I have -- complete -- control over
that power." Rodrick shuffled his feet as he caught the swaying window. "If
you're so comfortable here in Metamor, you can stay here. I intend to leave
with the festival caravans. But I'll need your help to do so."

"W-what do you need my help for?"

"Unlike you, I've been under guard at the sickbay, pretending to be
unstable from the effects of the curse." He hefted himself onto the
windowsill. "If I were to disappear, the guards are sure to look for me. I
will return in two nights. Provide me the name and location of a caravan
who will agree to hide a poor runaway youth, and I will consider your debt
repaid. Whether you join me or not is up to you."

Rodrick did not wait for a reply. He spun on his heels and swung himself
out of the window. All was silence; not even the sound of disappearing
footsteps. Nathan rushed to the window, but Rodrick had already vanished
into the dark.

----

Down the street, Rodrick slapped the side of his head. Idiot. Idiot. Shut
up!

That infuriating infant in his head was bawling like a wimp. It infuriated
Rodrick to be shackled to such a baby. Still, this current episode of panic
could be used to his advantage. The medics would surely be getting
suspicious by now of the silence in his chambers. If he could just make it
up the window to the sickbay, for just a little while longer...

For the past several weeks, Rodrick saw himself taking the place of his
long-last master, beating the scared frightened child that always plagued
him. How had his former master been so steady with his behavior? The little
brat kept crying, and even broke through sometimes. The only reprieve came
from his imaginings of ever-more elaborate punishments to silence the
child. Had he ever once been so weak as that child?

He raced down the alley and up the cracked brickwork of the walls, just
beside the gutters to just below the window through the curtain wall.
Another slip down through the garden, past the guild hall, under the arch
and up the ivy-covered walls. In his youth, Rodrick had often resorted to
such obstacle races through the city. He had taken his time coming down, so
he knew now which ledges are sturdy and which were precarious. Three
windows to the right, and one up...

A merciful favor that the halls did not change this time. Rodrick never
doubted that Kyia was there, rearranging the Keep to her whim. He knew she
was watching him; ever since that first night, her stone gray eyes had
pierced him, shackling him even stronger to that foul boy, threatening to
crush his lucidity. He knew this was all a game to her. This curse was her
way of puppeting her people into her minions. He would never let her win!
He refused to let her win!

As silently as he had left, he shoved off his traveling clothes, returned
them to the closet, and relocked the door. He slipped on his shift and
tucked under the covers of his cot. Releasing the hellion, his mind settled
into a deep trance as the aides came rushing in to tend to the shrinking
infant's howls.
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