<div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Metamor Keep</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Introductions Cycle 19</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>October 31, 706 CR</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align=center><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Confronting the Shrew</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>Pausing before the doorway, Murikeer steeled himself for the encounter he was preparing to initiate.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Their first meeting had not gone well, and he had little relished a repeat of it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Self consciously straightening his shirt he took a long breath, then pushed the door open slowly.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Rope muttered and hissed through guides while the counter weight thunked upward in its track as the door opened and he stepped in.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>He could hear the faint crackling from the stoves along the left wall, the heat rushing past him out the door as he glanced around.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The wall to his right was dominated by shelves neatly stacked with all manner of kitchen items with a single tapestry-curtained door set in the center of the wall surrounded by cooking implements.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The curtain rustled quietly at the sudden breeze of escaping hot air, but no one was present in the kitchen.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Not surprisingly, as the usual cook was likely up to her tiny ears with customers at the Keep as the Harvest Festival began in earnest.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“The harvest loaves will not be ready until evening.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>A sharp, irritated feminine voice groused from the room beyond the tapestry, “Go
away.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Walter?” Muri hazarded as he eased the outer door closed.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>He heard an exasperated sigh from the speaker as he approached the tapestry.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“What?!” the voice snarled, “I’ve got fifteen different things to do, all of them annoying.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>I don not have time to mend another shirt.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>Muri frowned and swallowed as he stared at the tapestry, almost afraid to pull it aside and enter the seamstress’ sanctum.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I just wanted to talk for a moment, I do not need to have my clothes mended.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>A muttered expletive preceded a pause of several seconds before he heard any understandable reply.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I do not have time for inane banter, whoever you are, spit it out and get yourself gone.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>“It’s about your sister.” He ventured to the tapestry.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Silence was the only response to that phrase for such a lengthy span he was about to repeat it when the curtain was yanked back with such violence it startled him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Hard eyes glared at him from a face pinched by bitterness and anger, a single pin lodged in the corner of a mouth drawn into a thin line.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Those eyes raked down to his paws and back up with a distasteful sneer.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“You?” she snarled, her eyes narrowing to slits, “What insanity brings you here asking about my sister?” the woman asked sharply,
thrusting a slender finger at his nose.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Mind you to speak with care, I brook no one to gainsay her.” Walter warned.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“I wish to know of her?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“To what end?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“I do not know of her.” He continued, trying to both stand his ground against her palpable dislike of him, and keep his own growing
disdain from his voice or posture.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Of course not, she is dead.” Walter sneered, folding her arms across her chest.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“She was my mother.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Murikeer expected surprise, or even disbelief from her, but what he did get was quite unexpected.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The sudden, powerful blow across his left cheek delivered by a surprisingly strong hand sent him reeling back a step in shock.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Even as he fell back she advanced, shaking a finger in
his face.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Do not speak lies over the grave of my sister” she screamed, forcing him back several steps as the sting of her attack became a dull throb.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Do not hope to usurp your name by lies and false entreaties, I will not hear it!”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Muri’s jaw dropped as his fur bushed under his clothing, tail doubling in size as he felt the surging fire of instincts race through him with such power that he felt his breathing shorten to shallow, wheezing gasps.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Each step
that she drove him back heightened his sense of mind numbing fear, bringing back flashes of terrible memories.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Then something broke; some tenebrous veil, tough like old gristle, snapped with a force almost audible as he felt that welling tide of terror swell with each harsh thrust of the woman’s finger near his eyes.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>That fear, dredged up like the forgotten corpses on a lake bottom, born of years hounded by hunters as a demon-spawned beast, filled his throat with a taste like bile.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Then it was gone, commuted to a sudden, chilling rage that iced through his veins in a single heartbeat, banishing the fire of terror and unbowed his fearful spine.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>With a swift surge he reversed his retreat and stepped forward, one hand capturing her wrist and the other her jaw, propelling her back as he charged forward.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Shelves rattled as she was born back into them.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Upset crockery clattered and rained down to smash at foot and paw.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The seamstress gaped and gasped as the air rushed from her lungs, raking at his arm and face with her free hand.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Justin Windseeker and Emily Diaun were wed in the year of 687 Reckoning.” He growled, ignoring the futile efforts of her blunt fingernails to penetrate his fur.<SPAN
style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Two years later she bore him a male child, a son they named Findahl.” He continued, hammering her back against the shelves once more, then releasing her abruptly.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“In that same year she passed because of the winter lung.” He growled as he took two steps back, “That was his undoing, that broke my father like no hardship ever could.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>He hammered his chest with one hand.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“He took his son, <B><I>me</I></B>, and left those bitter people that hate, full of anger.” His jaw muscles twitching, barely making his animal growl understandable, “People like you.” He finished, thrusting a finger at her.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">
</SPAN>For her part in the argument, Walter merely stood, leaning back against the disordered shelves, and rubbed her throat as she listened.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>They stared at each other, both breathing swift and hard, until Muri turned his back on her and strode for the door.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Wait.” Walter croaked as he reached for the latch.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I did not hate him, not because of Em’s death, not for anything.” She continued as she watched his stiff back and squared shoulders, the thick plume of his tail drawn up against his spine.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>His hand rested on the latch, but he did not raise it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“He was my closest friend, my
brother even before Em’s love made him family.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Muri turned slowly, “Then why do you repudiate me, his son?” he asked carefully, his voice hurt and angry.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter sighed, dropping her hand from her throat, “Who are you to me?” she asked without rancor, “A skunk named Murikeer?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Why did you abandon the name given by your mother?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>“I am a mage.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Our true names have a power of their own, a power we do not offer up lightly.” He explained as he leaned back against the door, suddenly feeling terribly drained.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Running his fingers through the short fur between his ears he took a long breath and let it out in a gust.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I am sorry I lost control.” He offered apologetically.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter frowned and looked down at the shattered crockery at her feet.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I will be when the missus gets back and finds that I’ve broken her mixing bowl.” She mused as she
gingerly stepped over the remains of two large earthenware bowls.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Muri chuffed lightly, “It’d take me a couple days, but I can repair them.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter shook her head as she crossed to a large oven slowly, arms crossed tightly over her chest.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“No, that’s fine.” She said as she hugged herself for a minute, then unfolded her arms and took a long wooden pole down from a hook near one of the ovens.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Opening the metal door, she thrust the pole in and hooked it on the
lip of a pan within, drawing it out and sliding it onto an empty rack.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I’m her temper anyway.” She explained as she took a fresh pan of uncooked pastries and placed it in the oven, taking a second pan out.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“She’s miss bright and cheery, I’m miss shrew.” She sighed as she replaced the second pan, following it with two more.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Does not really need to be that way.” Muri said as he crossed to the shelves and began picking up pieces of broken and unbroken pottery.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter shot him a strange glance as she finished transferring trays and hung the pole back on its hook.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in
0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“You say.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>At least you’re still male.” She groused as she examined the finished trays.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Huh?” Muri grunted as he looked over his shoulder at her, “Maybe, but I’ve become an animal.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>A rather noisome one at that.” He flicked his lush tail, the fur no longer bushed with agitation.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>His magic kept his natural, potent musk to a barely perceptible scent, but he knew that he was rare in having that ability.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Almost every other animal morphed
keeper had to deal with the animal scents that they produced, and everyone else just got used to the heavy miasma of odors that lingered over the Keep.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter grunted as she spared him a sour look and adjusted the wood below the oven and closed the grate.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“This cursed changed our entire culture, social mores, morality, and a hundred other things in… pfft… a mere breath.” She said as she flicked one hand from her lips with an open gesture with her fingers.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“The whole cultural and moral outlook on mates of the same sex was just thrown aside, but where its roots are,” she tapped her head, then heart, “is not so easily changed.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal
style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be a good husband when you’ve been raised a man, and cursed to womanhood?” She asked, some of her old bitterness creeping back into her voice.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“When your wife has become something you can barely comprehend?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Intimacy, closeness, just sleeping in the same bed, all rendered nigh impossible?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Nigh.” Muri reiterated with a slight upward quirk at the corner of his muzzle.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT
face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Oh, aye, nigh.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Not entirely.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>In seven years we’ve figured each other out somewhat well, but it is still painful to feel male here,” again she tapped her heart and head, “but see this in the mirror each morn.” She finished, sweeping her hand down her body.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Tracing the claw tip of his left index finger down his brow, the length of his musteline muzzle, and off the tip of his nose, he flicked his fingers and favored her with a sardonic half smile. “You have a mirror?” he asked laconically as he crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly swept
his tail back and forth.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Touché.” She said with a half-laugh. “Putting such matters aside, tell me of your father?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>I have not seen him since shortly after Nasoj was thrown back.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Muri bowed his head slightly and frowned, countenance grieved. “It pains me to say that he has passed, aunt Walter.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">
</SPAN>She gasped, and then moaned in soft, quiet grief.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“How?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“A bandit’s arrow, near six years ago, in Sathmore, where he still lies.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Unexpectedly she stepped forward and drew him into a solid, comforting embrace.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>It took him a surprised moment to return it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I loved him as a true brother.” She said, her voice rough at the edges.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“It hurt when he left, saying that he
could not return, but I understood.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>He left for you.” She continued, bowing her face to his shoulder.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“But I miss him still.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Though he knew that her grief was spilling over, Muri was surprised to find his own rising in its echo.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>When hers broke in a sob he found his heart squeezed by aching grief, reducing them both to tears.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>The lady Levins returned some time later, backing through the door with an armload of freshly scrubbed baking trays, to hear the incongruous sound of laughter coming from the back room.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter’s workroom, where no laughter had been heard in it seemed years if ever.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>After setting the trays upon the preparing table that dominated much of one side of the kitchen she turned around, and suffered her second surprise.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>The kitchen was a wreck.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Not much of a wreck, to be sure, but in Mrs. Levins’ orderly bakery the disarrayed shelf of crockery looked glaringly
out of place.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>One of the wooden shelves was even slightly upended and cracked, the crockery upon it tossed haphazardly against the back of the shelf.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>On the counter was a broad bowl filled with broken pieces of some victim of the events that had damaged the shelf.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Beside it was an empty bottle that had once held port wine, dusty from years spent in the little used wine cellar.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>More laughter, raucous and tipsy, issued through the muffling curtain separating the kitchen from Walter’s tailor shop, prompting the confused hedgehog to investigate.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>She knew one laugh to be Walter’s, but the
other was an animalistic churring sound she could not place.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Drawing back the curtain was no more informative, for the source of the rapid-fire churring was seated with their back to the door.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The source was a skunk, but it was not Berchem the archer because he was markedly different in physique; not quite so broad of shoulder or heavy of frame.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN></FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“… when Berchem could not immediately open the door he grabbed at it with both hands,” Walter was saying, modeling her explanation with expansive gestures.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>In one hand she held a beaten bronze chalice, the other a pair of scissors like a
door’s handle, <SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“braced his feet, and yanked for all he was worth.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter took a draught from her chalice, eyes bright and merry, face flushed with considerable tipsiness.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Of course, all that did was yank the stay pin out of the wagon’s rear gate, and the chock from under the wheels, when he hauled the door open, and you can imagine the results!<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>There was manure and slop everywhere!<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>While it was spilling out of the back of the wagon it started to rolling, knocked Berchem on his rump before he knew what had happened, and rolled right on over him, down the hill, and into Master Andre’s front door with the most almighty crash.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter rattled a nearby footlocker with one foot, brandishing scissors and chalice
emphatically while her guest laughed that hissing, churring staccato exultation of breath.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Anne!” Walter crowed upon spying her wife and sidling past her guest to greet her.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The skunk turned and looked over his shoulder, but the hedgehog could still not identify him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“I was just regaling Murikeer here about the time Justin tied the old slop wagon to the barn door when we were kids.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Putting an arm bravely around the hedgehog, Walter led her into the cramped confines of the clothier’s shop.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </SPAN>“Walter, my dear, you are drunk!” Annette Levins exclaimed of her once-husband, now wife, completely and utterly amazed.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter had never been one for her cups.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter made a dismissive sound with her lips, waving the hand that held her scissors, “Ahh, pooh, I… er, well, we had a good cry and I figgered a good port would blunt the raw edges a little.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Anne looked sidelong at her typically acerbic, waspish wife, “A good cry?”
she blurted, spines rustling under her apron and kirtle and looking toward the skunk.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>She saw that he, too, held a beaten bronze chalice recently dusted clean.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>He looked somewhat familiar, she had seen him about, and he had even come into the shop a few months earlier.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter identified him as Murikeer, but that meant little.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Dearie, you haven’t cried since Justin left.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter sobered a little and nodded ever so slightly, “He will not be coming back, either.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN
style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Confused, Anne frowned, crossing her stout arms across her ample chest.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“He said as much last he was here, afeared of Nasoj’s handiwork he was, and wanted his boy clear o’ the same touch.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>With a slow shake of her head Walter shifted her hands up to Anne’s shoulders, “No, love, he will never be coming back.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>She watched the slow realization dawn in her animalistic wife’s eyes and nodded soberly, “His son brought news of his fate.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Would that he had known, he may have remained with us.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal
style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Anne’s gaze flicked to the skunk who had not stood from his seat, watching the pair of women quietly and taking a slow draw from his chalice.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Had he known what, Walter?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>You’re vexing me with these riddles.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“The boy was touched by Nasoj’s magic because he was here, in the Keep, when it was laid upon the land.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Justin did not know, because the lad was too young to show the change.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Releasing Anne’s shoulders
Walter turned slightly and waved one hand toward her guest, “This is Justin’s son, Anne, dear.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Findahl.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>The curse came upon him in the south, some years after Justin took him away.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>Walter stepped aside as Anne sidled past her closer toward their guest, eyes looking him up and down.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>“Justin’s son, Emily’s son.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>She said slowly, wonder crossing her face followed by a warm smile, “Their legacy, come back to us.” She held out a hand to Murikeer who reached up to grasp it, a small surprised chirp escaping his lips as she smoothly pulled him to his feet.</FONT></FONT></div> <div
class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </SPAN>“Aye, our nephew.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN>Walter beamed.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div><p> 
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