<html><head><style type="text/css"></style></head><body><div style="font-family:times new roman,new york,times,serif;font-size:12pt"><div>Due to the first part of my initial attempt bouncing on the 90k barrier I'm reposting the entire piece. Ryx ---<<>>--- <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><style>  </style> Dream’s Aria: Repudiation<o:p></o:p> November 3, 706 CR<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> The autumn sun felt pleasant on Egland’s shoulders as he sat upon the one bench placed near the doors of the infirmary.  Lush greenery filled the stone planters at each corner of the atrium and on the many intricate levels of the central fountain.  A light breeze wended its way through the walls of Metamor Keep to rustle the plants with a cool autumn touch and pluck at Egland’s cervine coat.<o:p></o:p> It was new, this atrium, having not been through the similarly new glass-paneled french doors when he awoke that morning.  None of the night nurses knew when the doors appeared or when the rooms had been shifted to give the atrium room to be where it was.<o:p></o:p>             That alone gave Egland pause when he stepped from his recovery room that morning to visit the privy.  Sunlight near blinded him after the weeks spent in the rush-lit gloom of the infirmary, but it was welcome light.  After being assured that it would not suddenly vanish in a crush of castle stone he went out to enjoy the fresh air and light.<o:p></o:p>             Coe instructed Angton to move Egland’s exercise rig, a frame with a rope and single pulley, out onto the atrium.  The rope had a bucket, now full of weighty stones, at one end and a leather pocket at the other for Egland’s hoof.  With the simple apparatus the elk was able to exercise his legs with variable weight in the bucket.  Through use of the simple apparatus Egland was able to strengthen his legs and escape the constrained travel of his crutches.  Now his ability to get around was limited only by the stamina of his atrophied muscles and not the discomfort of cumbersome crutches as he was able to get around now by use of a cane.<o:p></o:p>             Those strenuous exercises had been completed some hours ago but the sun and breeze felt too comfortable for him to abandon them.  The world, for such a brief time, expanded around him in an inverted sea of sky blue and shoals of cloud supported by gray granite pillars and rustling greenery.  The surf of the upside-down sea was the distant roar of life; hammers at work, the joyous chorus of children at play, the muffled squeak of wagons pulling their loads, and the background din of nature that lived amongst all of those sounds.<o:p></o:p>             So like Yesulam.<o:p></o:p>             Wood smoke and sealing pitch, the smells cleaving closely to the surrounding castle walls to escape the breeze, came to his sensitive nose.  As well scents he had never experienced so clearly; evergreen boughs and ivy vines, late season blooming Snowcaps, freshly reaped autumn wheat, and the pervasive stink of a living city underlying it all.<o:p></o:p>             “Will that be all, Your Grace?” Egland’s acute ear caught the purring female voice as it swiveled quite without the elk’s conscious direction.  Your Grace, that voice said, lancing through Egland’s contemplation of peacefulness with the speed of a loosed arrow.  Of all those who sent prayer to Eli in this heathen northern fastness only one would be addressed by such term.<o:p></o:p>             Egland’s head snapped around, both ears pinning toward the owner of that purring voice.  One of the atrium doors was slightly ajar and through the glass panes sunlight spilled into the common room.  Egland could both hear and see the starkly white, lushly furred feline backing out of Bishop Vinsah’s room.  In one arm she carried a tray laden with dinnerware and two books while with her other she drew the door to the Bishop’s room shut.<o:p></o:p>             “Yes, Your Grace, I will see what my husband can find for you.”<o:p></o:p>             Egland grabbed up his cane and lurched to his hooves with a spasming protest from his legs as he returned hastily to the infirmary.  He recognized the white-furred feline as Irene the cook who prepared meals for the patients.  Her husband was an archivist in Metamor’s extensive libraries so she was often able to bring them books to read as well as meals.  When he barged in through the atrium doors she flinched, fur bushing under her simple dress in startlement making her appear considerably more full-bodied for a moment.<o:p></o:p>             “Milord!” she rasped in feline surprise, “I did not see –“<o:p></o:p>             “He has awakened?” Egland interrupted with a glance at the two books.  Both were texts concerning interpretations of differing translations of the Canticles.<o:p></o:p>             “Milord?”<o:p></o:p>             “The Bishop, he has awakened?”<o:p></o:p>             The cook looked confused and frowned with a droop of whiskers and backing of ears.  “Y – yes, milord.”<o:p></o:p>             Egland tried not to loom.  “How long ago?”<o:p></o:p>             “Not long after yourself, milord.  Some two, near three weeks now?”<o:p></o:p>             A hissing snort of irritation escaped the young elk knight’s nostrils and his ears backed in ire.  The serving woman tried to shrink away from his overbearing presence, tail tucked low against the back of her dress.  “And he has been in there ever since?” Egland demanded sharply.<o:p></o:p>             “To my knowledge, milord, yes!” She explained hastily and retreated a pace.<o:p></o:p>             “In all that time no one had thought to tell me? “ Egland fumed angrily, “Why?”<o:p></o:p>             “Because, sir, he asked that no one be told.” Interjected the Master physician Coe upon coming from the room from another patient with a stack of soiled dressing in the crook of one arm.  “Irene, you may go.”  Coe dumped the stained dressings into a basket and set his medical kit upon a table.  The feline sketched a hasty curtsy and retreated toward the door.  “Sir Egland, I am little pleased having my staff berated for things not within their control.” Said the raccoon healer levelly once Irene had closed the outer door.<o:p></o:p>             Egland scowled down at Coe, “He and I are all that remain here of the Patriarch’s entire retinue, and I am left ignorant of his status?”  Egland paced in irritation with only the control drilled into him by years of discipline keeping him from lashing out in frustration.  “The Bishop is all I have left, I’ve no one else to serve!”<o:p></o:p>             “You are still a Knight of your Church, Sir, you still serve that.  You are a Knight in, and of, Metamor and Duke Thomas, you serve him as well.” Coe pointed out flatly while washing his hands from a basin.  “Father Hough has come to you, he could use your aid, and Sir Saulius as well.  The Bishop has his own reasons to desire solitude at the moment.”<o:p></o:p>             “From me?” Egland moaned and thumped his broad cervine chest in frustrated desperation.<o:p></o:p>             “From everyone, Sir. “  Coe took up a clean towel to dry his nimble hand paws, still remarkably human for his having become a raccoon.  Egland was left with hands that were more like hooves, with two thick fingers and a stout thumb that lacked much of the dexterity he had once enjoyed.  “From you, from the Lothonassa Raven who has asked after him, even Father Hough.  Not even our Duke knows more than the fact that he is recovering from his injuries.”<o:p></o:p>             Egland looked toward the featureless hardwood door separating Vinsah from the world around him.  “I do not even know what injuries he suffered.”  He walked toward the door leaning heavily on his cane and Coe paced him, moving to stand before the door.  “You still say ‘he’, which I guess is some comfort.  How has he been touched by Metamor?”  The elk knight stopped a pace away from the raccoon and the door he warded.<o:p></o:p>             “That is his counsel to keep as well, Sir.”<o:p></o:p>             Reaching over the healer’s head Egland rapped upon the stout wood with his knuckles.  “Your Grace, it is I, Yacoub.” Coe did not move at the reach behind his warding presence and continued to block the door from more than a reaching knock by the elk.  Only silence returned from the room beyond the door.<o:p></o:p>             “He has asked to be given peace, Sir Egland.” The raccoon scolded warningly.  Egland glowered down at him.<o:p></o:p>             “He is the only Master I have left, healer.  I would speak with him.”  He rapped the door again.  “Your Grace, I wish to speak.  It is your knight, Sir Egland.”  Once again he was greeted with several seconds of silence.<o:p></o:p>             “As I said, Sir, he does not – “<o:p></o:p>             “Be silent, healer.” Egland hissed furiously with backed ears and his voice pitched low.<o:p></o:p>             “I hear you, young Yacoub.” Came a weary and muffled voice through the door.  Egland’s ears raised back up to pin forward at the door and he completely ignored the raccoon’s affronted hiss.  “I – I am not desirous of company, lad, but your concern is well received.”<o:p></o:p>             “Are you well, Your Grace?  Can you not open your door that we might speak face to face?”  Egland made to reach for the door latch but it was still blocked by the angry raccoon.<o:p></o:p>             “I am well, lad, I am well.  I do not wish audience, though, if you could grant me that peace.”<o:p></o:p>             Egland blinked in surprise.  Did not wish audience?  He spoke as if Egland were merely a petitioner.  “I am your retainer, the only other left in this place, Your Grace!”<o:p></o:p>             “Peace, young Yacoub, peace.  I am pleased to know you are well but I – I desire solitude for the nonce.”  Vinsah’s muffled voice was weary and rough edged through the thick barrier of wood that stood between them.  “I need time yet to – to come to grips with all that has happened.”  The voice fell into silence for some long moments and was much more quiet when it spoke again, as if the speaker had turned away from the door.  “Please, lad, allow me this peace.  Your service is not needed for the time being.”<o:p></o:p>             “Your Grace?”  Egland asked at the door with a sinking heart at his unexpected dismissal.  He tried to swallow the lump constraining his throat and the un-knightly tears burning in his eyes. “Your Grace?  Bishop?”  The elk fought to maintain his fast eroding composure as the last shred of his existence was torn away and dashed.  Of all that he had known since he was but a boy of twelve the Bishop was all that remained and now even that was slipping away.  “Vinsah?”  Only silence was returned at his query.<o:p></o:p>             “He has asked to be left in peace, Sir knight.” Coe said levelly from somewhere below the tall elk’s chin.  “Please retire to your own room, or the atrium if you wish.”  Egland took a step back, anguish flashing to anger in the span of a single heartbeat, and glanced down at the raccoon.<o:p></o:p> </div> </div> !DSPAM:4c395928169351804284693! </body></html>