<html> <body> --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars II: Denuncio (e) Tuesday, June 22, 724 CR Argamont rose from the game of dice as they came down the stairs. His supple lips bore an amused grin, but no japing words escaped them to needle the noble stallion's pride. At least until they were nearly on the pavilions and well out of earshot. “So how is that little filly of yours?” “She is not my filly nor my wife!” Bryn rebuked with a snort. “At least not yet.” He made the sign of the yew and Argamont laughed. Charlie managed a slight smile as well around the stick in his mouth. He lowered the stick long enough to ask, “When did they arrive? I heard no word of them and I certainly heard no fanfares to announce them.” “With as much as you had to drink last night all of the armies of the Midlands could have marched through Metamor and you wouldn't have noticed! But, aye, they arrived late last night. Mother waited until this morning to inform me of the reason for their visit.” “Is she going to be your wife?” Charlie asked, lifting one eye to study his friend. Bryn's hide shimmered anxiously but not in anger. “Perhaps,” Bryn admitted with a shrug. “My mother certainly is going to try to arrange a marriage. I knew something was amiss when she began to regale me with history lessons of her homeland last month.” “Did your father know?” Bryn narrowed his gaze. “Aye, but on this matter he defers to her judgment. He didn't have has marriage decided for him!” “Is she willing to endure Curse?” “Maybe. Master Jessica has had some limited success keeping people from suffering one of the Curses they don't want so I suppose they might keep the princess from turning into a child or becoming a prince, though it would not be a sure thing by any stretch. Murikeer claims the Curse responds to belief and desire and, unlike Jessica, warns that attempting to guide it only causes problems.” Bryn shrugged helplessly and shook his head with a sigh. “I suppose, between the two of them, they could make the odds better that the Curse manifests in a positive way for her, if she remains. And the people of the Steppe do have a special love and admiration for horses. I suppose that makes me more attractive, but it also makes me feel like I'm being offered up to stud!” Charlie frowned, his claws digging into the chewstick, a sudden flash of memory filling him. Bitterly, though he tried to hide the acid in his voice, he suggested, “A prize sow on market day, eh?” Bryn's ears lifted in sudden amusement and he gripped Charlie on the shoulder and squeezed much like his father had done an hour ago. “Not quite that bad at least!” He sucked in his breath and quickly changed the subject. “Vysehrad... those are the mountains at the eastern reaches of the Steppe. I didn't know there was a kingdom there.” “There wasn't until a few years ago. Pelaeth united all of the peoples living on the edge of the mountains and even some of the horse tribes of the Steppe. Mother says they call him the Vyusher Grai. In the old tongue of the Steppe that means Wolf Horse. Apparently, he is... indomitable in battle.” “His armor and blade... they are ancient aren't they?” Bryn nodded. “As old as his homeland and lineage. I feared mother would swoon when she saw them!” Bryn tilted back his head and laughed. Argamont held out an arm to steady him. But Bryn waved him off with a smile. The smile turned to a frown as they reached the pavilion and saw only darkness within. “Where's your family? And Maysin?” “They'll be here soon. I left them while they were still gathering to break their fast. Why don't we check the lists to see who were are paired against for our next bout.” “Shouldn't we wait for Sig?” “He'll catch up once he gets free.” They made their way to the lists through the many Keepers already gathering for another day of festival. Charlie consoled himself with the lack of other rats congregating on the tourney grounds that morning, but his relief soured when they found the list of combatants remaining. “So my sire defeated my brother,” he noted with an irritated hiss. “Points only,” Bryn noted as he scanned for his name. “Neither of them knew until the judges finished counting. I see your sister is still on the archery lists.” “That will please her. Here you are for jousting.” Charlie gestured for Bryn to come closer. The stallion glanced at the name, grunted, and stomped a hoof into the dust. “Sir Dupré? That old ram? I'll ask him about his Wall and skewer him while he's distracted.” Argamont could not hold back his guffaw and even Charlie laughed. “Don't underestimate him. He's old but he's vicious in a brawl. He made Master Vidika sweat when they squared off for the Summer Crown ten years ago.” “When I was four!” Bryn snorted. Charlie shook his head and returned his eyes to the lists. He found his name a moment later and chuckled anew. “Oh, poor Sig. Well, at least he'll still be in the magic tourney.” “Don't embarrass him too much now,” Bryn noted sardonically when he saw that the lists had put the rat and the alligator against each other for the next melee bout. Charlie was somewhat surprised that Sigismund, with his short arms and general lack of physical dexterity, had made it through the first two melee rounds. His chuckle at the draw curdled in his throat when he spied across the field a group of rodents and a familiar banner and colors assembling on the other side of the tourney field. Charlie turned from the lists and stepped aside to let other curious Keepers inspect the names of the remaining combatants. Bryn and Argamont followed after him through the growing crowds. The morning was still young but already the festival was brimming with merrymakers, food, and song. Charlie debated finding something more to eat, but out of the corner of his eye he could see almost two dozen rodents gathered together. Beside him were only two horses. “Let's find Sig and Maysin, and then get ready for our first bouts,” Charlie finally suggested in as happy a voice as he could manage. “Maybe even something to eat; together.” Bryn waved with one arm and flicked his tail. “Lead on!” ---------- By the time they returned to the pavilions Charlie's family and retainers had arrived. Both Malger and Misanthe were reclining in the High Box with Thomas and guests, while Suria stood behind her mother's chair and scowled petulantly as she waxed the string of her bow. After greeting the new arrivals Bryn quickly excused himself to prepare for his match against Sir Dupré. The visiting princess did not look his way, but from the corner of her alert eyes Bryn could not escape. Suria glanced from Bryn to the newcomer and frowned, plucking the string of her fine longbow with an expression of such sourness that even Misanthe seated in front of the russet wolf could not fail to notice. Argamont laughed at his rider's discomfiture and followed him through the tent flaps at the back of the High Box and down the back stair. Charlie was in no mood to try to assuage his sister's jealousy at the sight of yet another possible bride for the ducal heir and followed after a brief greeting of his adoptive parents and fuming sister. On arriving at their pavilion, Hogue and Jackson assisted him with his armor and buckler while Maysin arrayed her tack nearby. The human and antelope could not control their tongues as each in turn boasted of their favored mages still competing in the tourney. But the rat who their skillful hands attired and armored said not a word. He found it somewhat irritating that neither of them mentioned Sigismund, who had advanced through the early contests with little problem and, despite his low guild rank, easily had the same odds to emerge from the day's magical tests successfully. And neither Timothy nor Peter were anywhere to be found, further rankling his temper. Maysin sensed his unease first. The zebra lowered the saddle whose straps she had been inspecting and crossed the short space to tap the gazelle on the shoulder. “I will take care of Lord Sutt. The first mage combat starts soon and you should be there to cheer them.” Both glanced at Charlie for permission which he gave with a quick nod of the head. They professed their gratitude, bowed their heads respectfully, and then practically ran out of the pavilion. Maysin briefly studied the empty space his servants had a moment before occupied for before shaking her head and lowering her ears. “Do you think the Duke has found a bride for Lord Bryn?” “Maybe,” Charlie shrugged as Maysin resumed securing the straps to his breastplate. “This wouldn't be the first potential bride either he or I have faced.” He winced as she drew the straps tight. “You know my first fight is on foot, right? Why are you readying your tack?” Maysin flicked her ears back as if offended. “You, young Lord Sutt, will ride to the tourney field as befits your station. Let the common folk walk on paws!” For some reason, the fiery reprimand from the young woman who had sworn service to him as mount brought the faintest of smiles to his cheeks. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>