To Charles's ironic delight, they were not able to reach Lake Barnhardt before Jessica had been sent on a scouting mission. They didn't reach the city at all. By happy fortune, Jessica, Weyden, and the others under Captain Dallar's command were sent north along the road to patrol and watch for travelers. The hawks stayed in the sky, circling so high that they were mere dots dancing between the few clouds that marred an otherwise blue day. Darker clouds coalesced further to the south, but it would be evening before they reached the Glen, if at all.
The two rats and their steeds were greeted around a bend in the road that opened up along a broad stretch of short pine and spruce with a view of the fortified town in the distance by a pair of giraffes. Charles recognized one of them as Larssen; he bore a heavy sword taller than most Keepers, and was dressed warmly from hocks to neck with more fabric than Charles had ever used on his bed. The second giraffe was a woman and she too was similarly attired, though she did not brandish so humbling a weapon as a sword heavier than a horse.
"Sir Saulius, Charles," Larssen said with a hearty grunt as they emerged from the stand of spruce. "It is good to see you again."
"Hail and well met, Larssen," Sir Saulius replied with a warm smile and nod. The rat's jowls spread enough to reveal bright orange incisors just beneath his nose. He regarded the other giraffe with some amusement. "I do not believe we hath met, milady."
Larssen chortled while the other giraffe nodded, long blue tongue moving awkwardly in her muzzle as she spoke. "You have, good knight. I'm Maud. One of Jessica's spells has let me share Larssen's shape."
"For so long?" Charles asked. "Last week she could barely hold the spell for an hour."
"She's found ways to strengthen the spell," Larssen said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't understand how. Only that I like it."
Maud turned her head on her long neck and gave her husband-to-be a coquetish smirk. "I'm still undecided. Speaking of which," she lifted a heavy hand and gestured at the sky. "Here they come now."
The two rats peered up into the sky and had to resist the sudden urge to find a rock to hide under. From out of the sky swooped two figures, one burnished bronze and rust, and the other an obsidian black. They swelled in proportion not because they changed size, but because they dove so quickly from the heavens. And then, just as they were sure the hawks would smash into the ground, their wings spread and they banked upward and around, circling along the road with a rush of cool air.
Charles, even with a heart heavy with fear for his family, chuckled brightly at seeing the antics of the two birds. Their motions were synchronous as if they were two beasts with one mind and one will. They circled twice about the road, before settling on the road in front of the startled ponies and growing in proportion. A moment later the familiar man-shaped hawks Jessica and Weyden stood before them, wings folded along their backs and beaks cracked in avian pleasure.
"Charles," Jessica cawed with warmth and hope. "It is good to see you again. How are you doing?"
"Well enough," he replied with a nod of his head. "And you, Jessica? Weyden? How fare you?"
"Much the same," she replied, glancing once to the red-tailed hawk beside her before returning her gaze to the rat. "Experimenting with my spells as you can see. They're getting better. I will be able to keep Maud a giraffe for their wedding next week if they wish."
Maud's eye ridges lowered as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. "I'm not sure about that yet."
"Thy marriage or thy shape?" Saulius asked, his grin widening as his whiskers twitched in mischief.
"My shape you rascal!" Maud leaned against Larssen and ran one hand across his yellow and brown spotted arm. "Father Malvin agreed to perform our marriage even on such short notice because Father Hough cannot for now."
"Congratulations to thee," Saulius added with a simpler grin. "'Tis a good thing to celebrate in these times."
"Aye," Weyden added, "It'll be a little longer for Jessica and I, but we hope not too much longer." He tilted his head to one side and his beak cracked open in perverse amusement. "I do look forward to watching Father Malvin try to give you the Host. He's not quite the man he used to be."
Charles blinked. The three new priests in Metamor had been in the Valley for two weeks now. "Oh? What has he become?"
"A child," Weyden replied with a squawk. "Even shorter than Father Hough if you can imagine it!"
"Then we shalt be able to look him in the eye! A good quality in a priest," Sir Saulius observed with another twitch of his whiskers.
Charles nodded thoughtfully, and then lifted his ears as he heard more footsteps moving through the spruce. A moment later, the boy Van and the ram Dallar emerged from the line of trees. The ram noted his company with an amused shake of the head, and then nodded to the rats. "Ah, Sir Saulius, Charles, what brings you two down from Glen Avery today?" Dallar asked while brushing needles from his wool coat.
"Patrolling the road as art thou," Sir Saulius replied. "My squire doth desire to speak with Jessica on some matter of import to him, so our meeting this way has been doubly fortuitous."
The black hawk blinked her golden eyes and looked at her friend. "What did you want to speak to me about, Charles?"
Charles grunted and bit back the flash of irritation he felt at Saulius. "A little out of earshot, if it is all right with you."
Jessica and Weyden rubbed their wing feathers together once before Jessica followed Charles back up the road a short ways. Charles glanced behind him as the others continued their pleasant discussion, all of them doing their best to hide the anxiety they each felt. The mirth had been true, but consciously willed. Nobody wanted to dwell too long on the reason they spent their days on long patrols through the cool March air and the Valley's last gasp of winter. Charles felt his flesh harden at the mere thought of what he longed for further to the south, and it took a sudden prayer to unclench the stone in his paws and arms.
Charles guided Malicon a good distance up the road while Jessica wordlessly followed, her head bobbing forward and back as she walked, talons marking the hard earth with each step. They continued for almost two minutes before their friends were well out of earshot, even for Keeper ears.
"I think it's safe to speak," she said gently.
The rat's muzzle twitched and he nodded. With a firm tug, he brought Malicon to a stop. The pony wriggled his lips and then lowered his head to search for grass. He found some wild flowers beside the road that had sprung up with the slightly warmer temperatures in the last week, and contently set to denuding them.
"I'm afraid," Charles said as he watched his steed eat. He ran his hands along the back of Malicon's mane, curling his fingers and claws through the long hairs. "I hurt so... so badly, Jessica. I am scared every day out of my mind for Kimberly and my children. And I ache for my Ladero."
Jessica took a step closer and rested her wing claws on his shoulder. She didn't say anything, her golden eyes beckoning him to speak instead.
His eyes continued to stare across the top of Malicon's head, but they saw nothing. His voice echoed from within his chest like water dropping in a cave. "Every night I kneel before my bed for an hour or two praying for Kimberly and my children. I say their names over and over again, and I try to remember their fur, the colors of their eyes, the number of whiskers they have on either jowl, the shapes of their ears, the length of their teeth, their tails, and everything else. I ask, I beg Eli to bring them back to me. I am so miserable without them!"
The vine curled around his chest and pressed itself gently against his flesh. Charles squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that they wouldn't be gems when he opened them again. "I get almost no sleep at night. When I wake, I go to the graveyard and visit the only family I have left to me. My little Ladero. I... I blend with his tombstone more and more each day when I'm there. The stone isn't buried deep enough to tell me anything about my boy, but the more I merge my own body with it, the deeper we can press. I know... I know all I'd find is a body riddled with worms and decay, but I just keep going there. I just keep letting myself be stone to escape the misery, but it only leaves me empty. Oh, Jessica, I am trying so hard to stop, but... what if Marzac is trying to make me surrender to the stone?"
Jessica continued to peer at the rat for several seconds more before cawing ever so gently. "I don't think this is Marzac's doing, Charles. I don't see any sign of corruption about you; not even any hint like there was with both Lindsey and Kayla." Her tongue quivered and she moved in closer, her wing sliding along his back as she neared. "I am scared for your Kimberly and your children too."
"Tell me they're going to be okay."
The hawk held him in her wings for a moment as he trembled and fought the urge to relinquish his flesh to granite. "They're going to be okay. Misha is protecting them. And..." she lowered her voice even more, the bottom of her beak brushing across one of the rat's still soft ears, "and Misha has been able to use magic to keep in touch with me and a few others. When we spoke last night, your family was doing well."
Charles shifted in the saddle, nearly bruising his snout as he lifted his head into her beak. "You can speak with Misha? Could I... could I speak with my family?"
Jessica blinked and nodded. "I believe so. Misha gave me a crystal that lets me speak with his sister Elizabeth, but we can also use it to speak with each other."
The rat's elation turned like the wind to anger. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"
The hawk shook her head, "I'm sorry. Misha didn't want anyone else knowing. I should have known that he didn't mean you. Please, Charles, forgive me. It was cruel of me not to tell you."
Charles grabbed the reins in one hand and gestured down the road with the other. "Show me now. I have to go into the mountains tomorrow; I won't have another chance for a few days at least. If I can, I must see my family first."
Jessica glanced up at the sky, then down at her friend and carefully held him across the back with one wing. "If anyone asks why I've left my patrol, we'll tell them Long Scout business. Come. I do have to tell Weyden and Dallar where were going. And you need to tell Sir Saulius."
Impatient, Charles nodded and and flicked the reins.
Angus the badger listened with furrowed brow as Jo described the condition of the skunk archer. The leader of the Glen military did not hesitate in following the vixen as soon as she told him that she needed his help. Angus was like that. Jo knew she could rely on him to do the right thing. He was a friend.
And Bercehm was one of his. "I've never known him to have any trouble with his ears," Angus admitted as they reached the skunk's door between the heavy roots. "And he seemed fine yesterday."
Jo carried her herb basket in both paws and waited as the badger lifted the door for her. "There was some blood, but I couldn't see anything that might have caused it. Maybe he tripped and hit his head last night. I didn't feel any bruising, but..."
Angus waited for her to go down the steps, then followed her into the small chamber which the skunk archer made his simple home. The hearth crackled with the vixen's fire casting warm orange light around the circular room. The rich veins blending dark and light wood along the walls seemed to breath with a reclusive personality. And in the bed curled beneath the quilts was Berchem, eyes shut tight and arms clutched to his chest.
Angus scanned the room once, sniffed the air thick with the acrid scent of the owner, and then crossed to the bedside and knelt down next to his friend. He wrapped a meaty paw around Berchem's arms and the skunk allowed him to pull his paw out. Angus slipped his paw beneath the skunk's fingers and began making signs. "I'm telling him we're here to help." After repeating the same set of motions three times, Berchem's muzzle twitched in a facsimile of a smile, and he quickly, but briefly, nodded.
"Now I'm asking what's wrong." Angus kept his paw still, fingers turned in a familiar direction. Jo studied the hand symbol so that she could remember if ever she needed it again. Berchem slid his fingers across the badger's paw, and then began to make symbols of his own. The same three that Jo had seen earlier.
Angus frowned and then put one paw over the skunk's to still his frantic motions. "He can't hear anything we say. He's in a great deal of pain from what he can hear. Some ringing in his ear, if I understand him right."
Jo set her basket down and began searching through the herbs and ointments she kept with her. "Ask him if he thinks he can drink something. I want to make him a broth to ease his pain."
After another flurry of hand signals, Angus nodded. "He thinks he can. I expect I'll need to help him keep his mouth open."
"Talk to him while I get this ready. It shouldn't take too long." While the vixen busied herself with steeping a pot of water mixed with herbs and tea leaves, Angus continued making hand signals to Berchem, who felt them until he understood them, then responded in kind. The skunk's motions were erratic and then tightly controlled, as if the pain in his mind washed across him in undulating waves. Between each shattering detonation in his mind, his will would return and his spirit would gather its strength to master his body. But with each tolling in his mind, that control would falter and he would stumble into insensibility.
Yet Jo heard nothing of their conversation. She occasionally spared a glance at the two men as they spoke with their paws, but she tried not to notice the exact words said. Instead she watched every tremor in the skunk's paws, ears, snout, and fur in hopes for any sign that his pain might be ebbing. But no sign came.
When the kettle finally began to emit a biting steam, she poured out a small bowl and set the kettle aside. After adding another small log to the hearth, she carried the bowl to Berchem's bedside, stirring the potent tea with a wooden spoon. "Can you prop him up? And make sure he swallows, please."
Angus wordlessly did as she bid him. He slipped his right arm around the skunk's backside, and with a quick jolt, pulled him into a sitting position. The skunk shoved his back against the wall, eyes still pressed shut so that his entire face was locked in a rictus of agony. Muscles and sinews in his neck and cheeks were stretched and strained in a way she'd not seen even on a woman giving birth.
Jo's tail flicked back and forth anxiously. She leaned forward, spooning out a small measure of the tea while Angus forced a finger into the skunk's jaws to pry them open. Berchem's paws clasped at the bedside beneath him, claws tearing through his quilts with each twitch of his muscles. His long tongue thrust from side to side in his jaws like an eel caught in a trap. The vixen gritted her teeth, lowered her ears, and then shoved the spoon into the back of his jaws and dumped the contents down his throat.
Berchem jerked back and forth, but with Angus holing him down, there wasn't anything for the skunk to do but swallow. And swallow he did, spoonful after spoonful until the bowl was completely empty. Jo filled it again, and then emptied that down into Berchem's gullet. By the time the last spoonful had been shoved down his throat, the tension in the skunk's muscles began to visibly relax.
Both of them sat waiting several minutes more before Berchem finally slumped against the wall with his arms resting wearily in his lap. His eyes blinked open, bloodshot and limpid, unable to focus clearly on either of them.
"Berchem," Angus said in a loud voice. "Can you hear me?"
The skunk blinked once, eyes swimming toward the badger, before he nodded. "I..." his tongue struggled as if he'd forgotten how to form words, "I can."
"How are you feeling?" Jo asked.
He lifted one arm and rubbed his forehead. "Better... the ringing... still there. Not as bad." He grunted and closed his eyes again. For several seconds he did nothing more than take several deep breaths.
"What happened?" Angus asked. "When I saw you last night you looked fine."
"I... I don't know." Berchem replied with a suggestion of irritation in his voice. "I remember leaving the brewery last night, but I don't remember getting here. I just remember waking up to that ringing in my ear. It's not... plague is it?"
"Nay," Jo replied as swift as her tongue was able. "I don't know what it is. But the tea should help sooth your muscles and take away the pain. I'm not sure how long it's going to take before the ringing is gone. I'm going to speak with Lady Avery to see if she has any ideas."
Berchem nodded and smiled faintly. "Thank you."
"I'm going to stay here with you for now," Angus said with a grunt. "How much tea did you make?"
"There's enough left for another three bowls," Jo replied as she bent to gather her things. "I will leave the bowl and spoon with you."
"Thank you," Angus glanced at the skunk who still had his eyes closed, but now they were in rest. "And have somebody else sent to replace me. I have to leave for the mountains tomorrow and need to ready my gear."
"Going so soon?" Berchem asked while attempting to smile. His muscles tensed again for a moment before he was able to take a deep breath and slump even further against the wall and almost back onto the bed.
"Don't have much choice about it," Angus admitted with a heavy grunt. "And I expect to see you up and about when I get back."
"I hope so."
"As do I," Jo added. She'd gathered all her things and had them secure in her basket. "I will be back as soon as I can." And with that, she swept up the stairs and out into the cool March air. Angus watched her go as he crouched beside the bed, eyes trailing down the stairs and across the floor. And there they lingered for several long seconds. He blinked, mind trying to grasp what it was about the floor that caught his attention.
Leaning forward, Angus splayed his fingers against the wood, and slowly dragged his heavy calluses across the surface, being careful not to touch the wood with his claws. What his eyes had spied in the light from the fireplace his sensitive paws revealed to him in richer detail. He shifted on his haunches, tail twitching curiously. The floor, usually smooth but for the occasional nicks from claws, now seemed to have a series of ridges marring its surface. Were the home built by anyone other than the woodpecker Burris, Angus would have paid it no mind. But Burris's homes always had smooth floors and walls as if they'd been polished and lacquered.
Angus crouched on all fours, pressing his snout and eyes down to the offending gouges. He traced one claw along them, and then tightened his fingers and ran all four of his claws along the same path. With a grimace, he sat back up and turned to his friend. "Did you scratch your floor last night?"
Berchem tried opening his eyes but they blearily shut again. "Did I? I don't remember."
The badger grunted and patted his friend on the knee. "Get some rest. I'll be here."
And while the skunk collapsed beneath his torn quilts, Angus stared at the gouges in the floor and wondered.
James was surprised to find that he, Anson, and Ralph had been assigned to guard duty in one of the watchtowers overlooking the northern road. Normally he was never asked to traverse the treeways, but the path to the little watchtower disguised as a protrusion of burrs and knots just beneath a trio of branches was easy enough for even a hooved Glenner. After climbing a rope ladder with wide wooden planks that he could gain easy purchase with his hooves, they crossed a rope bridge between two of the trees and then descended a wooden ladder hidden within the bark of the redwood overlooking the road. It emptied into the hollow so that there was no suggestion to anyone traversing the road that they were being watched.
The view was not remarkable in any way, just more trees, pine needles, cones, and snow. And with the plague in Metamor, there were no travelers on the road, not even merchants from Hareford or Lake Barnhardt. The watchtower itself was cramped with just enough room for the three of them to crouch against the overhang and peer out. James pressed himself against the wall which curved up over him only a few inches above the tops of his ears, his pack resting between his legs and tail. Every so often, he could feel the bell thrum against the back of his thighs.
The fox and vole looked only slightly more comfortable as they quietly passed hand signals back and forth. James, with only two fingers on each hand, was not as versatile as they, but he signed a little too, using what Charles and Angus had taught him as best he could. Yet one more thing he'd never be that good at.
They weren't completely hidden in the watchtower. Anyone coming in from above would be able to see them. That included squirrels and other tree dwellers, but most especially birds. With a flutter of wings, a youthful sparrow descended through the branches to land on one of the burrs near the vole's head. Kevin waved one of his long, thin toed feet at them, and then resumed his perch. "Oh good. Alldis told me you'd be here."
"What ho, Kevin," Ralph said with a modest grunt. "What brings you here to spoil our hiding place?"
Kevin glanced below them to the road and chirped. "There's nobody coming anyway. But you three were scouting with him the last few days, so we thought you should know."
James's ears lifted and he shifted about on his side. The bell jabbed into his thigh but he felt no pain. "Is it something about Berchem? Is he all right?"
"Well, it's not plague," Kevin replied in exaggerated tones. "I was told to make sure everyone knew that, that it's not plague."
"Well if it's not plague," Anson said with a wave of one paw and a flick of his white tail, "then what is it?"
The sparrow shrugged his wings. "Healer Jo isn't sure. She is discussing it with Lady Avery and she sent Erica out to gather more herbs. Angus is staying with him for now. But nobody's really saying what's wrong. But it isn't plague."
"I hope he'll be all right," James said as his ears lowered against his mane. "He seemed in such good shape last night."
"Aye, that he did," Ralph agreed. "I guess that explains why we're up here."
Kevin nodded and then hopped back and forth on his legs. "Well, I better get back to my errands. Plenty for me to do today. I'll see you at Lars's later!" And with that he leaped into the air, spread his wings, and disappeared through the foliage.
Anson kept shaking his head and with a long sigh he said, "I wonder what could have felled that skunk."
"Probably tried sleeping with his bow again," Ralph muttered. "I hope he's okay."
James clasped his hands together and shifted his leg against his pack; the bore of the bell now rested comfortably against his thigh. "Whatever it is, I'm sure a few days of rest and quiet will restore him. That and nothing more."
His companions nodded glumly, resuming their silent watch over the woods. James gazed through the trees and along the hard-packed road, savoring the thrill coursing up his leg as the bell vibrated with a simple, satisfied, rhythm.
The streets of Lake Barnhardt were quiet with shuttered windows and pairs of guards walking here and there. The two rats were permitted entrance because they were in the company of Captain Dallar and his soldiers, and despite being recognized, they were still greeted suspiciously. Charles was irritated by the narrow-eyed stares he and Saulius received, but his heart was too excited to be distracted by them.
Neither Jessica nor Dallar made Charles wait; the ram dismissed the hawk who quickly led Charles into the barracks along the southern edge of town where she had taken up residence with Weyden until his tour of duty came to end. It had come to an end two days ago, but until the plague was defeated and the quarantine lifted, Dallar, Weyden and the others were forced to consider Lake Barnhardt their more or less permanent home. Larssen had even talked about finding a small apartment outside the barracks that he and Maud could share.
While Saulius saw to the ponies, Charles followed the hawk into the old stone structure, past a cramped room with sleeping pallets that smelled of a panoply of animals, and to a storeroom past the armory. She summoned a trio of witchlights, bringing a cool illumination to the narrow chamber.
"This might take a little while," Jessica admitted as she crossed to the far end and unlocked a small chest with a magical sigil. "If Misha is in his office, he'll see that I'm trying to contact him. But if he isn't there, we'll have to wait until he returns."
Charles nodded and looked around the room for a place to sit while he waited. Not seeing any, he loosened his breeches and closed his eyes, concentrating on growing another pair of legs. A few moments later, while the hawk occupied herself with contacting Misha, he grew in size until his lower half looked like the body of an unusually large rat. Charles reclined comfortably, tail curled around his haunches, while his upper torso leaned against a grain barrel. He folded his breeches and set them beneath his forelegs before returning his attention to the hawk.
From the small chest at the back of the room, Jessica had produced an evenly cut gem that to the rat's eye did not appear to be very valuable. It had a glassy look that suggested tinted quartz, though the indigo hue suggested a few inclusions of iolite. The cut produced a flat head with an octagonal face, while the remaining smaller faces were all triangles. Jessica carefully cradled the gem in her wingclaws, turned and set it down on the floor a few feet in front of the rat-taur. The gem stood on a single point perfectly balanced.
"Oh!" she said in surprise as she noticed Charles's larger size. "I could have a chair brought in for you, Charles."
He shook his head. "I'm comfortable like this. My children love seeing me like this. I can carry all of them on my back. You should see it."
Jessica cracked her beak in a warm avian smile. Her golden eyes brightened. "I will. Now, this gem lets Misha and I see and speak to each other as if we were in the same room. But we cannot touch anything on the other side. You'll be able to see them and speak with them, but you won't be able to touch them. It's hard, I know."
Charles grabbed the end of his tail in one paw and began to pet down the scraggly hairs. "It's more than I can do now. Go ahead."
"Of course." Jessica bent over the gem and stroked the top with her wing feathers. Charles watched as a pinprick of purple light blossomed inside the gem. After a few seconds, the entire gem glimmered brightly, casting its violet glow on the stone floor; Jessica's black feathers glistened with a spectral sheen in its light. She hopped back toward the far wall, keeping the gem between them.
The gem continued to glow, but nothing else happened. "Now what?"
"We wait for Misha to notice. How are things at the Glen?"
Charles and Jessica talked of the Glen and of the Lake for nearly an hour. They spoke little of themselves or of Metamor, preferring instead to speak of friends native to their adopted homes. Jessica at one point did tease the rat that that he ended up in the Glen where most of the citizens were Lothanasi, and she ended up at the Lake, where the Ecclesia held sway. It was the only time they spoke of themselves.
After an hour of their quiet conversation, the light from the gem blossomed further, stretching outward until it obscured the walls of the storeroom, replacing the old gray stone with the familiar Long Scout office of Misha Brightleaf. The fox looked haggard and in need of brushing, but with a determined glint in his gray eyes. "Jessica! Sorry I was meeting with his grace and didn't know you wanted to speak with me." He then turned and blinked. "Charles! Your family is safe. Would you like me to fetch them?"
Charles stretched where he reclined and nodded, "Aye, thank you." A long green carpet was stretched out on the floor of Misha's office, and the illusion made it appear as if the rat were sinking within its depths. Before him he could see the fox's old oak desk stacked with papers, with the Long Scout banner of bow and axe behind him. Misha stood just in front of the desk dressed in tunic and breeches in need of ironing and starch.
The fox's gray eyes stayed on the rat, noting his extra limbs with a flicker of amusement. "I'm glad to see you're doing well. I should have told you that you could use the gem to see them. I forgot and I'm sorry."
"Seems were all forgetting something lately," Charles admitted with a grunt. "You better check the gardens for another hyacinth."
"Not a bad idea," Misha admitted without mirth. "How are you holding up at the Glen? Laura tells me that you and Sir Saulius are patrolling the roads around the Glen and that you met Sir Dupré the other day."
"Aye, that I have and that I did. I've been expecting to run into Laura, Ralls, and the others but I haven't seen them yet."
"They've been patrolling north of Hareford mostly." Misha scratched behind his head with one paw. "Everyone else is okay. Nobody from the Long House has come down with the plague. A couple patrons of the Jollie Collie... well... no one has died yet."
"Usually the plague kills faster than this."
"Coe and his assistants are keeping very busy and doing everything he can. Even the nuns are helping throughout Keeptowne. Father Hough is anointing Lothanasi as well as Followers and Rebuilders. It's... a nightmare, Charles. It's really a nightmare. Seeing the children here at Long House is my only joy anymore, and even that is drenched in fear. So many around Keeptowne have been struck, and everyone is hiding. The streets feel deader than after Nasoj's attack last winter. And all this after what happened with Drift... Caroline thinks we should go away for a while once all this is over, and I am starting to think she's right."
"Misha, if you can't be strong, none of the other Longs will either. You know that."
"Aye, I do." He licked his nose once as he stared at the carpet beneath his toes. "Aye, I do." He blinked a couple of times before lifting his snout and asking, "Would you like me to fetch Kimberly and the children now?"
"Aye," Charles replied softly. Before the fox could move, he added, "Everyone is afraid at the Glen too. Just keep praying."
"All of us," Misha said with a quick nod. "I'll be back in a few minutes." So saying, he walked stiff-legged from the room, each stride carrying him several feet. Charles had never seen the fox move so deliberately or in such haste. Nothing could have emphasized his friend's horror more.
Charles rubbed his paws together as the seconds drained past. Jessica leaned back and forth uncomfortably on her talons, wings folded tight against her back, her beak shut tight and her golden eyes focused intently on the gem. Neither spoke, each listening to the faint sounds of voices and footfalls around them, neither sure whether they were from Lake Barnhardt or Metamor.
And then Charles's ears lifted and his heart thumped loudly within his chest. Four little voices echoed in excitement as they grew louder and nearer. His eyes fixed on the door of Misha's office which opened with an uncertain touch. And then a chorus of excited squeaks welcomed him to joy. "Daddy!" was their one theme.
Charles spread his arms wide as his four children rushed toward him, each remembering to stay standing on their hind legs. They squeaked in delight as they barreled into his arms, chest, and then right through his body. They stopped in alarm, looking around as they stood in the middle of his back.
"Oh, my children, it's just an illusion. I'm not really here. But I can see you and I love you all!" As the four of them exited on either side, he tried to trace his paw across the tops of their heads, but of course he felt nothing. "My little Charles, Bernadette, Erick, and Baerle. How I've missed you so much."
"We've missed you, Daddy!" Bernadette squeaked as she knelt down next to his forelegs. "When can we go home?"
"I don't know," he replied as he felt tears coming to his eyes. "I don't know."
"Charles?" a very familiar and longed-for voice asked tremulously. He looked up and smiled to the tan-furred rat standing in the doorway in a thick silvery-gray dress. Only a veridian stone hanging around her neck brought any color to her countenance. He sighed in longing and lifted his arms to her. She rushed forward, careful of the children clustering in wonder around their father's forelegs, and held her paws out, brushing the air where it seemed his ears and snout smiled. "Oh Charles! It is you. Where... where are you?"
"Lake Barnhardt, my Lady. I am well as you see. I miss you." He lowered his gaze to the four little rats squeaking earnestly to get his attention. "And I miss you!" His heart ached at seeing them but not being able to touch them.
"I will leave you to each other," Jessica said in a quiet voice as she scooted past the rat and out the door. He watched her go, then looked back at his wife who stood with her paws held tightly against her chest, while his children were staring at him and poking their paws through his legs and middle.
"How are you doing?" It felt like such a lame question, yet Charles could think of nothing else to ask.
"We've stayed in the Long House," Kimberly said as she sat down behind the children and began to gently stroke the fur between their ears one by one. They looked back at her briefly, but kept their eyes on Charles, their bodies brimming with excitement held in check by the manners that their mother had instilled in them. "There's enough food in the stores to keep for months so we are not in want. But they have kept all the doors and windows shut, so it's been days since we've seen the sun or stars. Misha keeps the clocks running and has bells rung so we can know the days, but... it is like being in the cellars again."
Charles nodded and swallowed; Kimberly had wanted to hide her rat-ness in the depths of the cellars when she first changed after coming to Metamor but he had brought her out of that place as quickly as he could. "It won't last forever," he said with as much confidence as he could muster. For her sake and for his children he would be strong. "Misha says Coe is working very hard to bring the plague to an end, and to heal those struck. He says even the sisters are working in the city to help all who are sick. And I know Misha and George are not about to let this contagion spread outside the city. Metamor has many great magicians. Just, a little bit longer my love. My little ones."
"Daddy, you a ghost?" little Baerle asked as her paws moved through his forelegs.
"Nay, my sweet, I'm not a ghost. This is an illusion. I'm not really here." He pointed his finger toward her chest. She was wearing a little dress with flowers on it, one that he'd bought for her two weeks ago from Walter Levins. How he loved helping her put it on for the first time, the way her ears, whiskers and tail wriggled as she squirmed her slender, wiry frame into the bright wool. His finger circled right over her left breast. "I'm in there for now, my sweet. I'm in your heart." And then he pointed to just between her eyes. "And I'm in your thoughts." He placed his palms together in front of him, claws pointing heavenward. "And I'm in your prayers."
Their dark eyes stared at him, wide an hopeful, full of love and confusion. He placed his hand over his chest and kept a firm smile. "And each of you is right here in my heart." His other paw touched his brow, "My thoughts." He folded his paws again. "And my prayers. We are not apart." He lifted his gaze to Kimberly who was making the same motions as though in a mirror. "We are never apart."
"But when can we go home?" little Charles wailed. The other three echoed him, each of them scooting closer, but they stopped short of actually putting more than a tentative paw into his flesh. Their anguished squeaks made his heart ache.
"I don't know. I want you all to come home very much. But you need to listen to your uncle Misha, and to the other Long Scouts. They will make sure you stay safe. Aren't there lots of places to play? I bet you can play hide-n-seek really well there in Long House."
The thought of playing brightened their faces considerably, but they still missed their daddy more. He took a deep breath and ached that he couldn't actually touch them. "This will be over someday soon. Pray that it ends soon, my little ones. And then we will be together again and I promise I will be there with you and we can be a real family again. Until then, well, I will come here and be with you like this as often as I can."
His children looked at him hopefully, their faces softened some by his assurances. He smiled and stretched out his hands to brush across their faces even though he could feel nothing. He glanced at Kimberly who smiled back at him, one paw pressed firmly over her heart. "Now, my little ones, tell me all about what you've been doing at the Long House. I want to hear all your stories!"
Charles and Kimberly spent the next couple of minutes trying to get their excited children to speak one at a time. And for a few hours more he listened and shared their lives in the only way he could. But at least he was a father. And that gladdened the rat's weary heart.
The bright red-crested woodpecker bobbed his narrow head and long beak as he walked into the brewery, a look of exhaustion coating his large brown eyes. The black feathers along his wings and chest were in need of preening and the white stripe from his cheeks down his sides was gray with grime. Burris had not given any thought to bathing so intent had he been on finishing his work.
Lord Avery bounded from his seat as his two sons welcomed the wood mage with their chipper enthusiasm, noting ungraciously Burris's aromatic elan by pinching their noses shut. The lord of the Glen could not help but comment, though he did try to be more diplomatic. "Burris! It is good to see you again. You carry what I hope to be good news and not just bad airs."
Burris tilted his head to one side and spread his wings a bit, both Avery boys backed up, paws clenched firmly over their noses. Several of the other patrons at the brewery stared wide-eyed in horror at the bird. "Fear not, my lord, I have completed the artifices needed to recharge the sentinel talismans. I need a bit of sulfur in the last part of the enchantments and have not yet been able to cleanse myself. Forgive me; it was so late in the day I feared not finding you in time."
Lord Avery waved one paw and nodded. "That is good news. Darien! Christopher! Where is your comportment?"
The two young squirrels lowered their paws and managed to look suitably abashed. "Forgive us, Burris," Darien said with a slight bow. Christopher intoned a similar brief apology a moment later.
The woodpecker's long beak creaked in mirth. "Thank you both. I won't stay long. I want to clean up too."
"After you do," Lord Avery said, "Angus asked for you to come by Berchem's burrow. He's spent most of the day there with Jo. My wife was there a short while ago to help, but Angus wants your opinion."
Burris's eyes, if possible, grew larger. "What's wrong with our master archer?"
"Jo used some word, tinnaborous or something. He has a powerful ringing in his ears that doesn't seem to want to go away."
"Tinnitus I believe the healers call it," Burris corrected with a faint nod of his beak. "I will go there as soon as I've bathed." He turned to leave, but paused, one talon lifted in the air. "The artifices are at my place and I will bring them here in the morning. They smell bad too and need some time in the air first."
"Thank you, Burris," Lord Avery said with a genuine laugh. "If not before, then I will see you in the morning."
"Until then, milord."
This time, Darien and Christopher managed to hold their breaths while the sulfurous woodpecker made his exit.
The sky was dark when the tapping claws of Burris's talons were heard outside the skunk's burrow. Berchem was sleeping fitfully, but he was sleeping. Angus sat at his side on a small stool, watching his friend with a moue so deep that it appeared chiseled onto his snout. He rose only to help the bird come down the steps into the small room within the tree roots.
"Jo had to help Erica gather more supplies," Angus explained when the woodpecker asked after the vixen healer. "She's left enough for another two batches of tea in case the pain comes back too strong." The badger looked the freshly cleaned and preened woodpecker up and down and then blew out a long sigh. "Thank you for coming, Burris. I'm worried."
Burris stretched his wings a foot – he could do no more than that in the confining space beneath the tree – and then bobbed his head. "Of course. How is he?"
Angus stepped aside and let the woodpecker approach. Burris strode over to the stool, but eschewed it in favor of leaning over the skunk and brushing the black fur on his face with one wing claw. The tip of his beak gently tapped the skunk's shoulder as he examined him.
"When we found him this morning, he was in so much agony he couldn't even open his eyes, and the ringing was so loud he couldn't hear anything we said to him. Jo's made some tea that helps relax his muscles and dull the pain, but it's come back each time after only a few hours. Jo and Lady Avery made him a stronger batch this last time and he's been able to get some sleep."
"Tinnitus should not incapacitate. This is strange." Burris gingerly pulled back the quilt and noted the way the skunk's arms and legs were all curled together like a newborn babe. Only his limbs were tensed and trembling, his long tail wrapped up over his front so that the tip nearly touched the end of his nose. "When did it start?"
Angus grunted and thrummed his toe claws against the floor. "That's also strange. He doesn't remember anything after he left the brewery last night until this morning when he woke to the pain. And I found this," he gestured to the floor and spread one hand wide. "It looks to me like he dragged his claws across the floor. The cuts feel fresh." And having made a hobby of carving wood, Angus knew exactly how to tell the difference.
Burris covered the skunk with his quilt again, then turned and crouched near the floor. He spread his wings before him so that the black feathers were pressed against the veins of wood. His beak tried to peck at the ground, but he held his neck still. His wide, brown eyes focused on the four gouge marks that the badger found, the dark pupils glimmering with an inner light.
"These do seem to be his," Burris cawed after a long period of silent contemplation. "But not even the tree seems to remember what happened."
"Trees can remember?" Angus asked in surprise, casting a wary glance at the wood around him.
"Not as such," Burris replied as he continued his inspection, shifting along the floor and following where the gouge marks led. "They are alive, but they do not think as we do, or even as the animals we now resemble do. But they can feel when they are harmed and they react to protect themselves and to heal themselves. The tree has forgotten to do this. I do not know what could make that happen."
"It sounds like magic to me," Angus grunted.
"It may be."
"Can you tell?"
The woodpecker stopped just beneath the stairs and traced his beak across the wood for a moment. "There's something here, but it is even fainter than the gouges."
Angus bent down to look, but though he gently ran his paws over the spot the woodpecker indicated, he could feel nothing but the smooth grains of magically molded tree. After several seconds of fruitless searching he grunted and leaned back on the steps. "I can't feel anything, Burris. I'll have to have Alldis look at this tomorrow. He's a much better tracker than I am."
"And I will go to Lake Barnhardt and seek the help of Jessica. She is much better at reading magical signs than I. I do wish the lad Muri were here but that plague..." Burris straightened and glanced around the room. "Something magical happened here. I can feel traces of it, but I cannot see it."
"Is it dangerous?"
"To Berchem, aye. But I don't think it's dangerous to anyone else. We need to keep a constant watch on him until we can figure out what's wrong."
"And you better figure it out, Burris, and fast." Angus ground his teeth in frustration. "Now I wish I wasn't to leave for the mountains tomorrow. I'm going to be anxious about him the whole time."
"Then he's very lucky to have you as his friend."
Angus looked at the skunk curled up on the pallet and tried his best to smile, but could only grunt. "Yeah, well, Berchem's going to owe me quite a few drinks when he's better."
Burris cawed in amusement, then turned and glanced around the room. "I will cast some wards and strengthen this room. What of you?"
"I'm waiting for Marcus and Anson. They're supposed to come soon and watch Berchem until midnight. Jo told me that Lord Avery has already devised a rotation."
"Good." He turned and stared at the skunk. Stress lines creased the mephit's eyes and cheeks. "He's going to need watching."
It was well past dusk when James's watchtower duty came to an end. He first went to the Matthias house to see if Baerle was there, but the place was dark and empty, so he returned to the Inn to prepare his fear for the trek into the mountains. It did not take long. The only things he needed in addition to his scouting gear were the ice shoes and extra bundles of clothes.
But after he finished packing, the donkey emptied his pack in order to retrieve the cracked bell. It was warm in his hands and glistened in the pale lamplight. Everything in the room seemed brighter now that the bell was there.
"One more thing then," he said softly as he brushed the bore against his lips. He secured the bell at his right hip, arranged his things on the bed so that it would not take long to pack them again, and then headed down to the Common room to enjoy a meal.
He ate with Anson and Ralph, congratulated Jurmas and Kinslee once again on the birth of their daughters a few days before, and generally enjoyed his time in the company of friends. These had never said ill of Baerle nor touched her body. They were friends.
After finishing his meal, he excused himself and walked through the cold night air, crossing the Glen commons from Mountain Hearth to Matthias home. He could see a lamp lit within and hoped that Baerle had returned. His hand stroked down the bell's side and his heart pounded anxiously.
He lifted the latch and stepped within the main room, but saw no fire kindling, nor any sign of Baerle or Charles. The forest tapestry before the bedroom fully draped the door. No light came from the kitchen. A faint flickering could be seen from the staircase and so to that James went.
The second floor had the children's playroom and Baerle's room. He went straight for the latter but was disappointed to see that it was empty. Her joyous, euphoric scent filled the small room with its single bed, chest, and washbasin, and rack for scouting gear, but it was stale. She hadn't been here since the morning.
His heart began to pound more firmly in his chest as he wondered who was here and where they were. The bell throbbed in time to his quickening pace. He checked the children's bedroom but it too was empty and even more bereft of scent. The only light he'd seen was a single lamp at the top of the stairs. Nothing more.
James glanced at that light, noting the way that it fell in both the stairs down, and the stairs that wound up through the tree to the balcony up above the lower branches. It was either he climb those stairs or he risk opening Charles's bedroom to discover the rat and the opossum with their bodies locked together in passion.
Nevermore.
No, never would he have to fear that again. He curled one hand around the haft of the bell, and with the other he lifted the lantern from its sconce and carried it before him up the long flight of stairs. The passage was narrow and short so that the tips of his ears brushed against the wood in several sections. He tried to count the steps but lost track after twenty. And that's when he also realized that only the rat's scent lingered in the passage. If he were to find anyone at the balcony, it would be Charles.
Charles who had betrayed him by taking Baerle for his own.
James ground his flat teeth together and tightened his grip on the bell.
It took longer than he remembered, but he did reach the balcony at the top of the stairs. As expected, he saw the rat resting his arms on the railing, staring out across the trees of the Glen. James could see lamps lit in the homes they could see through the branches, and the rope bridges stretched from one home to the next in the complex and hidden weave of life that was Glen Avery. In the distance the mountains could be seen through the trees glimmering under the starlight. He could also see clouds covering many of those stars. Soon the sky would be nothing but darkness and the mountains would be lost.
The rat turned and smiled to him. "James, good to see you. I didn't mean for you to climb all the way up here. What are you doing here?"
"Oh," James replied as he uncertainly made his way to the rat's side. The light from the nearby homes bathed them in a subtle radiance. "I saw the light on and wondered who was here, you or Baerle."
"I'm not sure where Baerle is," Charles admitted with a faint shrug. "I haven't seen her much in the last few days."
"But you have seen her?" James pressed.
"Aye, usually in the mornings or evenings." Charles grimaced and stared out across the Glen. "I saw Kimberly and my children today."
James blinked in surprise. "You did?"
"Aye. Jessica had a way to contact Misha. It was... it was good. They are well. Nobody in the Long House has the plague."
A smile crept across the donkey's lips and he nodded. "That's wonderful news. So, why did you come back here?"
He looked askance at the donkey with a rather incredulous expression, the sort that suggested he thought James was an idiot for asking. "I couldn't stay forever. Misha is right. We need to do what we can to keep Metamor safe. And that means you, me, Baerle, and Angus will be going into the mountains tomorrow. Aye, I heard the good news from Lord Avery a short time ago."
"Have you packed your things?"
"Not yet. I wanted to make sure Baerle had everything she would need, so I was going to show her what I have when she returns."
James bristled. "I could do that."
"No need for you to stay up too late, James. I don't know when Baerle will return, and we'll both want plenty of sleep tonight. It's back to sleeping on the ground for us for a few days."
"Just like most of last year. And I don't mind staying up to help. But she's very smart and skilled at being a scout. She'll know what to pack."
Charles nodded and returned his eyes to the forest. The clouds were thickening overhead and the mountains were already fading from view. "You're probably right. It will be good to travel again. And I'm glad to have you at my side."
"And Baerle?"
The rat blinked, and then turned to face the donkey. His lips parted, revealing both pairs of incisors as his eyes narrowed. "You're asking about her a great deal, James. Is something on your mind?"
The donkey's ears went back, and he felt the bell throb against his leg. His tail lashed back and forth, slapping against the railing. His voice caught in his throat for a moment before he was able to find words. "I... I heard an interesting story from Ralph the other day. He said that you and Baerle were very close during the assault last year."
Not entirely untrue. Ralph the vole had intimated as such, but it had been Berchem's words that had made the hints clear.
Charles frowned and shook his head. "Aye, that is true. She is quite fetching, I admit, and she didn't know that I was engaged to be married to Lady Kimberly at the time. She flirted with me, and I, I suppose, I enjoyed it and let her. Of course, once she found out I was engaged she slapped me, and it was a well deserved slap. That was the end of it."
"Nothing more?"
The rat shrugged a bit and then half turned toward the empty air. "Oh, I know she still has feelings for me. I can see it in the way she looks at me when she thinks I'm not paying attention. And I do care for her, but not in that way. Kimberly is my life and my love, and my children... they are everything to me. But, she is a good friend, almost family, and so aye, I am glad to have her along."
James slowly nodded, hand tightening about the bell. It sounded so reasonable, so innocent, but the skunk's words rebounded endlessly through his mind. He knew better. Charles was a man with a reputation; he could hardly admit to infidelity, even to a friend as close as the donkey. But listening to the sounds between the words, to what wasn't said, he knew that it had to be true.
"I am too," James said with a broad smile. "She's a very good scout. And a good friend."
The rat smiled and then turned to stare out over the Glen again. "I'm sorry you had to hear that from Ralph. The vole likes to embellish stories."
Tolling.
It would be so easy, James knew. He could end the adulterer and betrayer now with a quick flick of his bell. But everyone would hear that. To make sure that Baerle loved him after Charles was gone, the rat's death would have to look like an accident. And the donkey would have to be the one all thought had tried to save him.
He set one hand on the bell and stilled its enthusiasm. The bore trembled against his flesh. "He does. I'm sorry I should have trusted you, Charles." He shifted on his hooves and smiled. Best to quell any suspicions the rat might have. "Well, I will go back to the Inn and get some rest then. I will see you in the morning at Lars's. Good night, Charles."
"Good night, James. And don't worry about it. We all get twisted up sometimes. I will see you tomorrow."
James walked back down the steps, trying not to laugh to himself the whole way.