<html> <body> Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold By Charles Matthias The Matthias house felt so empty with Lady Kimberly and the children gone to Metamor. Baerle busied herself with cleaning the place up, starting with the main room. Only a year ago she’d been a dedicated scout, and now she was nursemaid to the Matthias children, dear friend to Kimberly, and... she wasn’t sure what to Charles. Kimberly had once given her permission to pursue the handsome rat, but with everything that had happened to him in the last nine months, she couldn’t help ponder whether it was such a wise idea anymore. Did she still love him and desire him? Even thinking the question made her tremble. She knocked over a little wooden figurine of a rat, but caught it before it hit the floor. She set it back on the mantle and sighed, resting her forehead against the wooden mantle and peering into the gently burning fire. It crackled, the flames burning low but still flickering as they consumed a bit of oak. She sighed and added another log. Looking back over the mantle, she was surprised to see the cracked bell James had repaired still resting on the end. He must have left it there last night before returning to the Inn. He hadn’t been by at all that day, which was unusual. Even when he was working at the Inn, like he did today, he usually made a point of stopping in under some pretext to offer help or just to say hi. Curiously, Baerle took the bell by the handle and hefted it. The weight was no more than a sword, but still felt awkwardly balanced in her paw. She gave it a downward swing, but the sound was hollow and weak, even if clear. Odd. It had been so beautiful when James had rung it. Now it just sounded dull. She set it back on the counter and resumed cleaning, pondering instead of the rats, the offer the badger had made to her. With the children getting older, there would be more opportunities for her to return to scouting duties. Angus had even promised that she would not have to serve alongside Berchem. The skunk was the best archer in the Glen, and one of the best hunters. But the unhappy relationship she’d shared with him a year and a half ago was well known. Baerle almost dropped her cleaning cloth when the door banged open. She spun on her paws, long tail whipping around behind her and striking the corner of the nearest couch. James stood in the door wide-eyed and a worried look on his face. The donkey stumbled inside, hooves clopping on the wooden floor. His eyes found her and he began to stammer, “Did... Did I... I leave my... my bell here?” “It’s right there on the mantle.” Baerle pointed. James almost ran to the mantle to claim it. He picked it up and rubbed one hand over the side, breathing heavily in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I just had this sudden fear I’d lost it.” The opossum recovered her sensibilities and gestured at the couch. “Would you like to stay? This place feels too empty without the others.” She moved to shut the door which the donkey in his haste had left open. James, eyes locked on the bell, suddenly looked up and shook his head. “Oh, I’m sorry, Baerle. I’d love to stay, but I have to get back to work. Jurmas is going to brain me for running out like I did.” She felt disappointed at his sudden departure. She bid him stay one more time, but he could only apologize again as he slipped out, carrying the bell with him. This time he did shut the door. Baerle looked about the wide empty room, noted the many rings of the tree in which the place was built. So many rings, more than she could count. If not for the magic that had gone into the room’s fashioning, the tree would long ago have collapsed. And that is just what she did, falling into the couch, staring at the rings above her, lost in the endless circles one about another, dark and light like a million suns and moons stacked on top of one another. And if she wasn’t careful, that’s all she’d ever end up doing too, spinning round and round in circles. She hoped Kimberly and Charles would not be gone long. ---------- March 4, 708 CR They reached Lake Barnhardt well after nightfall on the third. Charles wanted to push on to the Glen, but even he could see that their ponies Malicon and Armivest needed the rest. It would be another three hours north to the Glen; better to attempt the ride in the morning when all of them were refreshed. Sir Egland and Intoran had returned to Metamor that afternoon, and the elk promised to deliver a report to George, absolving them of the need to do so. Once they’d parted ways the rats were no longer under orders and could come and go as they wished. So it was that nobody at Lake Barnhardt was expecting them, but as they were known, they were allowed inside the city gates without having to answer any questions. Charles spent the evening conversing with Jessica and Weyden. He was surprised to learn that the black hawk had learned how to manipulate the Curses, but politely declined the offer of a personal demonstration. He did oblige his friend by showing Weyden how he could turn his flesh to stone and move through rock, but nothing more than shoving his arm into the walls of the barracks. Weyden and his friends were suitably impressed. The ram Dallar who Charles recognized from his last stay in the Keep’s dungeons bade him not attempt that trick should he make another criminal visit. The evening, Charles had to admit, was a pleasant one, but his mind was ever on the morning. And so well before the sun made its first appearance, he and Sir Saulius mounted up and bid their friends goodbye. They traversed the road north in silence, the snow-draped trees muffling everything. The sun just poked its feeble arms over the mountains when the tall spires of the Glen spread before them in welcome. Charles breathed a long sigh of relief. “Home at last,” he murmured. His fellow rat chuffed a laugh. “Hardly compares to thy last venture.” “And if I’d known,” Charles replied, feeling a taste of bitterness in his throat, “that my little Ladero would have died while I was gone, I wouldn’t have.” Saulius opened his snout to object, but turned away and shook his head. The lower clearing for the Glen was mostly swept clean of snow, but even at this early hour of the morning few wished to go out into the cold. A pair of scouts that Charles waved to walked past, but otherwise the town was empty. In another hour or two everyone would be out and about and making ready for Spring, but for now almost everyone slumbered in the warmth of their homes. Saulius took both ponies around to the stables while Charles shook the chill from his frame and crept inside. The scent of rats was strong inside, a biting earthy aroma that swelled his chest and made the vine quiver with sympathetic delight. His ears lifted to catch the sounds of excited squeaks and scampering paws. But everything was quiet and still. Were they all still asleep? He glanced at the tapestry covered door to his bedroom at first, but decided to let Kimberly sleep a little bit longer. He turned to his left and very carefully climbed the wooden steps through the interior of the massive tree. Not even his claws made a sound as he took each step. Everything was dark, but he knew each step with absolutely certainty. At the top of the stairs, a little light came in through the windows, bringing the room into bright enough relief that he could make out the little beds for his children. They’d expanded the cribs while he’d been gone, but in another year they’d have to find something even larger he was sure. Yet, all of the beds were empty. “Charles, Bernadette, Erick, Baerle? Where are you?” He tried to laugh, pretending this was some sort of game. He rifled the quilts but there was nothing there. His fur trembled. A sound from the opossum’s room made him spin on his paws. Somebody was in Baerle’s room moving around. He sniffed and caught the familiar scent of the opossum nursemaid and relaxed a little. She could tell him what was going. A moment later the opossum stepped out of her room dressed in a robe that seemed to have trouble covering her chest. Charles kept his eyes focused on her face. “Baerle! What’s going on? Where are the children?” “Oh, Charles!” Baerle blushed and tried to pull her robe on better. “I was just sleeping when I thought I heard something. I thought you would go straight to Metamor when you got the message?” “What message?” “Kimberly took the children to Metamor yesterday. Bernadette, her mouse friend from the Kitchens, invited her and you to her son’s wedding.” Charles frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Richard. Yes, I remember him vaguely. Stuck as a fourteen year old, but I guess that’s old enough to marry.” He narrowed his eyes as his tail curled around one leg. “What message?” Baerle’s snout lowered and her voice trembled ever so faintly. “Kimberly said she’d have Misha send you a message to let you know in case you didn’t return in time. I guess you didn’t get it. She asked James and I to stay behind to let you know.” He felt his Sondeck tightening like a spring but took several deep breaths to still it. “It figures. Everything seems to be conspiring against me lately. First George tells us to do some pointless patrols and now this! No, it’s not your fault. I better tell Erick we need to turn right back around.” “I could fix something for you both to eat?” “Something quick,” Charles replied, quelling his irritation with every ounce of will power he had. “I’ll go let Erick know.” He turned stiffly and almost ran back down the stairs. His claws dug deep into his palms. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4e6ad4c759711075618241! </body> </html>