<html> <body> I'm going to be visiting family this weekend so no post tomorrow. I should be back on Sunday. --------- Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars II: Denuncio (s) Saturday, May 12, 708 CR Malger woke to a gentle but insistent rapping at his chamber door. His senses expanded outward from his slumber swiftly, taking in the distant clatter of restive birds and mute squeal of swine to learn that it was approaching dawn. Those who awakened early to begin their days were just rousing. Unfortunately Malger was not in keeping with the labor routines of the peasantry over the last couple of years and it only made him twitch his whiskers in irritation. Who could possibly be disturbing his slumber at so early an hour? Misanthe jumped onto his bed and in a soft whisper hissed into his ear, “There is a rat at your door.” Rat, dawn inquiry... Matthias. Of course. “Bid him wait a moment while I properly attire myself.” Grudgingly Malger yawned and cracked his eyes open, met only by the muted glow of a single taper lit in a sconce near the door. Misanthe was a small vulpine shadow perched near his head, bright eyes gleaming even in the wan light. Turning, she dropped from the bed and pattered across the room, swiftly growing to her full height. The marten's eye could not help but admire her lithe form covered in a bright red coat of fur not even the wan light could diminish. He had never, in his many years since being cursed from man to marten, been a tenth so comfortable with his feral, truly animalistic form as she was. And she could speak in that form as well, a surprisingly rare talent Malger had only seen among some of the avian cursed. As he admired, she laid her snout against door and spoke softly; a moment later the rapping ceased. He blinked the last of the sleep from his eye and stretched, one hand drawing away the quilts that had warmed him through the night. Misanthe brought him the ornate breeks he had worn the night previous while shrugging into a robe provided her a reasonable degree of modesty. Once he had cinched the belt about his waist he sat back against the edge of the bed and rolled his hand with a yawning smile. Misanthe's shadow filled the room as she crossed to the door, occluding the sconce, and drew back the bolt. In the shadows of the corridor beyond stood the broad shouldered, stocky form of the rat whose request determined the fate of 'more souls than his own' … a portent that left Malger disquieted. Sir Charles Matthias was dressed in riding gear with a serious expression on his snout. His eyes narrowed in the candle gloom though they found the marten immediately. “Good morning. I am sorry to disturb your slumber, but I am meeting Garigan to ride out to the Narrows with the dawn.” He paused, clutching the front of his traveling cloak in his hands and wringing it. Malger was not surprised to hear the stout material protest noisily. “Do you have an answer for me?” Malger nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with their pads. “Ah, Sir Charles.” Raiding his free hand he beckoned the rat to enter. Holding the door Misanthe stepped aside once more allowing the candle's light to fill the room. “Good morning to you as well. Come, come.” Charles stepped into the room and Misanthe pushed the door closed, though she did not shoot the bolt. For a moment she stood there at the door, head turned slightly. Meeting Malger's gaze she shook her head, ever so slightly; they were not being listened in upon. Charles entered no further than the pair of salon chairs in the center of the room, his tail agitatedly twitching behind him. “Do you have an answer for me?” He asked in a low rumbling hiss of desperate entreaty. His patience hung upon the gossamer strand of a spider's web, too easily broken, Malger knew; and it would take all too little for it to snap. Slowly Malger nodded, leveling his brown gaze across the room to meet the rat's own dark-eyed stare. “Aye, Charles, I have your answer. Nocturna has heard my entreaty, and accepted.” Charles rocked back on his heels, a great breath whistling into his lungs. “I will bring you into the Dream tonight to make your bargain with Nocturna.” A relieved smile crossed the rat's features, his eyes glancing heavenward while his round ears backed in relief. His entire body seemed to lose half of the tension grasping it tight; but not all of it. There was more there, but Malger was unsure what other concerns may weigh upon the petitioner. Perhaps simple things, life as a knight, a husband, a father. He hoped such concerns would not hamper the Dream. A long sigh escaped Charles' throat, and one of his ears turned as if hearing something. “Thank you, Malger. I know you wish to keep what you can do a secret. On my honor, for the remainder of my days, I will – I have even not, to this dawn – utter a whisper of it to any, even those who do know.” Malger waved a dismissive hand and rolled his shoulders. “The past is unalterable, but I trust your words. I know that there are places of seclusion in the Glen where we may work; it is best that none see you come to my chambers and remain for a protracted length of time behind closed doors.” A wan smile crossed Malger's lips. “Lars has caverns he uses for storage beneath his brewery,” the rat offered and Malger nodded. He was familiar wit them from times spent in the Glen under a former name, not so long ago. “And Lady Kimberly?” He asked. “She should not be disturbed unless necessary. Perhaps a portent in her dreams is all she needs. Let us find out what sort of bargain can be struck, what price will be asked, and then I will decide what is best.” “The price will be steep,” Malger cautioned as he worked his jaw to tighten the sleep-slackened muscles. “Perhaps too steep.” The rat shrugged. “I am grateful for your concern, Malger, but I will be the judge of the price. Tonight then, in the caves?” “I will see to the arrangements,” Malger assured him. “Now if there is nothing more you may go. I have duties of my own to tend. The Light be with you and your family, Charles.” “And with you.” The rat nodded both to the marten and then to the fox before disappearing silently down the hall. Malger stared at the empty doorway for a moment before shaking his head and waving for it to be shut. Misanthe eased the door closed and secured the bolt quietly. “He... risks his very soul.” The vixen observed in barely a whisper, turning from the door. “He wears the Yew, the Pantheon is...” “Heretical,” Malger nodded as he stood and adjusted the belt about his breeks more comfortably before shaking out his fur. “But what he has asked, and what I have agreed to in Her name, is between Charles, Nocturna, and Eli.” Rolling his shoulders he shrugged and yawned hugely. “As Nocturna told me last night; I am merely the messenger and his guide. The fate of his soul is his own.” Fetching his surcoat from the bureau he shrugged it on without bothering to properly tuck it into his breeks. “What do you wish to do today, master?” Misanthe asked quietly, waiting while he dressed. He seldom asked for or needed help with his garments, save on those occasions he was going to be fully ostentatious, which was often. In the relative roughness of the glen he chose a much more utilitarian, but no less exorbitant, raiment. He paused a moment and looked up through the lashes of one upraised brow until Misanthe blinked and backed her ears. “Sorry. Malger?” He smiled and gave the hem of his surcoat a tug. “First, see if the lady of the house has a meal to warm out bellies. Hopefully the mistress hedgehog has the first pastries of the day soon arriving.” Standing from the bed he stepped over to the patiently waiting servant and rested his hands upon her shoulders. He had to tip his head down to look at her, for she stood quiet considerably shorter than he, and smiled. “Though firstly you should adorn yourself with more than a mere robe.” He plucked at the neckline of her simple garment to accentuate the point. “Unless you want to pad along at my heels all the day.” Misanthe's ears backs and she dipped an ever-so-brief curtsy before slipping from from beneath his paws to her own sachet of clothing. “I mind it not, ma... Malger.” He would break her of that annoying title, he knew, but a lifetime of training was not easily banished. “Ahh, but you are a much more fetching trophy on my arm than pet at my heel, Misanthe.” He leaned against the bedpost while she dressed. Despite her current station as Malger's sole bond-servant he was adamant that she wear the proper clothes of a Lady and not the mean shift of an attendant; that slowed her dressing noticeably. “Once we have broken our fast, and the sun has cast the sky a proper blue, we'll seek out the bruin brewmeister and talk trade, and caverns.” Helping her tighten the laces of her corset Malger smiled; she was a fetching young woman for a fox. “Then I suppose I should find Versyd for one more ride to Master Muri's villa.” ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>