<html> <body> Inchoate Carillion, Inconstant Cuckold By Charles Matthias March 5, 708 CR The return to Glen Avery was done next morning. Already the news of the plague had reached them and the town was preparing for the worst. Jo was swamped with scouts curious if their slight maladies were a sign of plague, and Angus was busy making sure that the perimeter of town was safe. He wasn't eager to let the two rats back until they'd been examined by Jo, Burris, and Lady Avery herself. Nor was he that happy with any of the news they brought. “If Metamor is shut up, that means the defense of the Valley falls to us.” The badger's scowl revealed a plethora of yellowed, sharp teeth. He guided them past scrambling scouts trying to erect physical defenses and other busily cleaning up the effects of a slight snowfall the previous evening. “I was afraid of that.” “What of Hareford to the northeast?” Saulius asked as he noted all the activity with twitching nose and whisker. “What of them?” Angus snorted derisively. “They hide in their castle if there's a hand of snow on the ground.” The rat knight regarded the badger with a curious eye and disapproving moue. “I dost not believe thou hast made a fair characterization, Master Badger.” Angus growled. “I have more important things to do than bandy words with you, oh knight! If you are going to stay in the Glen, then you've just been recruited into our army. I need every paw for our defense that I can. And yours are very capable or so I'm told.” Saulius's snout twitched at the injury to his pride, but he quelled it with a noble bow. “My sword is thine.” James was fast upon Angus's paws and he greeted Charles with a worried frown. “We weren't sure if you made it to Metamor on time.” “No,” the rat replied. He'd shed more tears in talking with Jessica, but he was not going to share any with the donkey. The time for weeping had passed. “No, we did not. We'll be staying here until it is over.” The donkey looked aghast, with wide eyes and upraised ears. “But Kimberly and the children!” Charles cut him off with a swipe of his paw. “There's nothing I can do! For them at least. I can help here and that's what both Kimberly and Misha want me to do. So that's what I'm going to do.” The donkey had nothing more to say and meekly backed away as they walked toward his home. Angus gave orders that he would see them both in an hour's time to discuss their roles in the Glen's defense and then returned to seeing to it. Saulius shook his head briefly, looked to the donkey and asked, “And where hath the good Lord Avery gone?” James, still with a stunned expression on his countenance, gestured toward the far side of the Glen with one arm. “At Lars's place discussing plans with the others I think. Word arrived late last night and this place has been crazy ever since.” He glanced at Charles and after a few seconds of lip quivering, said, “I had hoped you would have made it to Metamor.” Charles sighed. “I do too.” Baerle was there waiting for them when they reached Charles's home. The opossum was dressed in scouting gear and looked to have been up quite some time. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and she wept anew at seeing the rat return. She didn't say anything, and neither did Charles, but embraced almost as soon as they saw each other. They held each other for several long moments while James watched, rolling the bell distractedly about in his hands and flecking his lips. Saulius took the reins from Charles's distracted paw and led the two ponies toward the stables. When rat and opossum parted the donkey was gone. ---------- James waved to Jurmas as he passed through the common room of the inn and up the stairs. The mood was sombre and the only smiles that were had were those of the women who'd come to see Jurmas's new daughters. The donkey's hooves clopped heavily on the wooded stairs and down the hall. He tried not to slam the door behind him but it still resounded with a thunderous clap. He pressed the brass bell to his head and took a long deep breath. His chance. His hope. All gone now. What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! - He rang the bell and stilled the thoughts where they were. The image of his friend Charles holding Baerle so close... it infuriated him in a way he could not describe. Why did it upset him so much? Charles was the one real friend he had in the world. He owed everything to him. So why did he, for a single moment, hate him with a passionate gorge he'd never felt for anything or anyone else? Shouldn't he feel pity for his friend whose wife and children were trapped in a castle under the threat of plague? He did. He did feel sorry for him. But... James hunched over his bed for a moment, long tail whipping back and forth. The resonance of the bell had faded at last and he let it drop to his lumpy mattress. The clapper bounced dully off the inside of the bell but no note sounded. He lifted his hand to his neck and ran both fingers through his spiky mane and over the powerful equine muscles. His stomach turned and twisted. He could still see them holding each other. Why should that bother him so? They were friends and she wanted to comfort him. Yet the ear, it fully knows, Yes, he had heard it in their voices, suspected it in the dark of night when he lay in his bed listening to the rattle of his windows, or even on their journey to Marzac when the rat muttered indecipherable words in his sleep. He heard it in the way Baerle spoke to the children, to Kimberly, and especially to Charles. And he didn't hear it at all when she spoke to a poor donkey whom the rat had shown pity on. James ground his flat teeth together and stomped one hoof. If it was one thing James was good at it was listening. The Curses had given him very good ears; ears that were laughed at and seen as foolish. But good ears. He had heard. And they knew. What a horror they outpour Indeed. James lowered his hand and stroked the edge of the bell, noting its warm sheen and sonorous energy. Somehow, there would come a time, a way, a means, for that note to be meant for him. Now was not the time. Let Charles be comforted. A time would come soon enough. He sat down on his bed, and eased the bell into his lap. He brought the crack to his supple lips and kissed. “At least I have you,” he murmured gazing into his own distorted reflection. Forevermore! ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias !DSPAM:4e7d42bf305901804284693! </body> </html>