Elizabeth did not arrive that next day, though of those who knew of her coming, none anticipated seeing her earlier than dusk. Even so, there was still much for the Metamorians to do to prepare. Their meeting in the morning was perfunctory, merely an opportunity to compare notes, most of which they already knew, and for Andwyn to finally reveal who he had selected to stand in for the Duke until the spells upon him were broken.
The man chosen was human, roughly twenty-five years of age, with an affable smile and easy but firm manner. After becoming a man during the Battle of Three Gates, Leofe had posed as a Midlands merchant that did business with Metamor. In reality of course, Leofe was a spy collecting information which he had brought to Phil, and now to Andwyn whenever he was at the Keep.
Andwyn had selected him for the role because he possessed a measure of experience negotiating with those of upper station. Once the rest were satisfied that Leofe was a good choice, Rickkter and Malisa fashioned an illusion to make him appear as Thomas himself. While Rickkter admitted that the skunk Murikeer could do a better job, this would suffice so long as none came too close or scrutinized him for too long. As far as those assembled could tell, Thomas now stood among them, and when he spoke, it was with Thomas’s voice.
However, both Malisa and Steward Thalberg noted almost immediately that Leofe lacked the particular inflection that Thomas possessed, and took it upon themselves to spend the rest of the day training him so that there would be no doubt that he was in fact Thomas, at least for the short time in which he would have to play the role.
Rickkter went with Jessica and Christopher to examine the halter once again. Varnal joined them for it, and together, they decided that there was little more that could be done with it. After several frustrating hours of approaching and then withdrawing from the prominence laden halter, Rickkter finally withdrew, telling both Jessica and Christopher privately that the type of magic appeared closely similar to what he’d found on Thomas himself, and had found in traces within the stables.
Together, those three also went to spend some time with Thomas. Thomas was still a horse, and after Rickkter cast another calming spell, was docile and rather friendly. At one point, Rickkter picked up a small handful of hay in his paws, and Thomas tried to eat it right out of his palm. Christopher tried to speak directly to Thomas’s mind, but he met with as much success as Rickkter and Jessica met when trying to speak vocally. Much to the bear’s dismay, there seemed to be a vast emptiness, or simply unawareness where Thomas’s mind lurked. In fact, as they left, he remarked that if not for the magic of the curse obviously anchored to him, he would never have suspected that Thomas was anything but a normal horse.
Misha, unable to aid in the magical experiments spent some time that morning with Caroline. The otter could tell that something was troubling him, and had known it for days, but did not ask. Instead, she distracted him by playing a silky sultry tune upon her flute as she danced. Her skill upon the instrument had blossomed under Malger’s teaching, though at times she still sounded blocky and uncoordinated. But watching her own lithe lutrine body move with the music was enough to distract the fox for many hours.
But of course, such a sweet occasion could not last, and the two of them began to straighten up Misha’s quarters. It was Elizabeth his sister who would be arriving, that much he did tell Caroline. And of course, she insisted that he make sure his apartments were as impeccable as her own would be.
And it was while they were cleaning that Sir Egland came around to see him. The knight had spent the previous day intensely training his squire, in part, Misha surmised, to forget what had just happened, and possibly to keep Intoran too busy to wonder what had happened to Bryonoth. But it was about the Flatlander that the elk had come a calling, and after asking Caroline to give them a few minutes, Misha explained what little he knew.
“That means she’s innocent right?” Sir Egland had asked, the hopefulness in his voice betrayed by the fear that layered it.
But Misha had sighed. “I don’t know,” he’d finally replied. “I hope for her sake it does, but...” And it had been on that note that Sir Egland had left, venturing to the Chapel where he offered every prayer he could think of.
But it was not the visit of the elk knight that Misha found the most peculiar. Only an hour later, Kerhsaw came to him informing him that the fox Varnal was outside Long Hall and wished to speak with him. Curious, Misha went and there sat Varnal upon his haunches, looking every bit the animal he’d become. And then, though it appeared difficult for the mage to do, Varnal thanked Misha.
“What for?” Misha had asked, quite surprised.
“It was you, I know it was you, that suggested they ask me to help,” Varnal had explained then, his tail curled up around his haunches, the white tuft poking out brilliantly between his forepaws. “I’m thanking you for trusting me, Misha. It was you who I attacked so long ago now it seems. And now you trust me.”
Misha had been startled by this, for he had not considered it in this light. When the intervention of his brother had rendered Nasoj’s mage a simple animal, one that was locked up in a cage much of the time, he had felt nothing but contempt and satisfaction at his plight. Though it was true that he had suggested Varnal, he had never thought his one time foe might be so grateful as to thank him for it.
“Am I wrong to do so?” Misha had asked, a bit surprised at his own question.
If Varnal had been taken aback at the question, he did not show it. “I do not think so. I think you showed good judgement. But I thank you for it still.”
Misha had only been able to nod then. The rest of his day proceeded as if in a dream, and when dusk finally settled upon Metamor, the fox barely knew it. Only after he prepared himself for bed did he realize that his sister had not arrived that day. Strangely, this discommoded him more than anything else had, and he slept fitfully that night.
So it was that Misha found himself standing atop the parapet to the tower over the Long House just before dawn on the next morning, unable to get more than a few hours sleep that night. His eyes were weary, and he leaned against the crenellation with both arms, paws crossed at the wrists. Staring out over the quiet valley, he could see the townsfolk beginning to rise as well. The stars were winking out one by one as light began to creep into the world, and the bright yellow lights coming for windows began to dim as well.
The scents of the baker’s over warming, produce being shipped to and fro, and the thousands of people living below only barely reached his nose, but his mind was not truly alert enough to recognize them. A gentle wind was blowing across his back, but even his tail could not find enough energy to fight against it, so it brushed haphazardly up against his trouser leg.
But even in his inattentive state, his grey eyes did catch sight of the large bird that was gliding in towards Metamor over the great white peaks of the Barrier Range to the east. In fact, as it neared, dim in the early dawn twilight, he felt certain that he had seen that sort of bird before. It was one that he had known in the days of his youth in fact. A dark gangly bird with huge wingspan, but unknown in most parts of the world. It had made the rocky crags of the Sylvan mountains its home.
And when it began to glide around the large belltower of Metamor, slowly circling in towards the parapet at which Misha stood solemnly, he was certain that it was a condor. He turned as the bird swooped in low, until it landed with a sudden rush of air in the parapet only a few feet from where he stood. Eyes wide, he stared as the creature’s form began to shimmer and dissolve. Standing in its place was his sister Elizabeth, her normal silken robes draped in a rich damask travelling cloak.
“Elizabeth!” Misha shouted, his tail wagging suddenly. He rushed to her side and embraced her firmly. She smiled and returned the gesture, hugging him tightly, her smooth human cheeks rubbing against his own furry vulpine muzzle. It was several long moments while they held each other close, neither wishing to release the other. “It is so good to see you in the flesh! I mean in the fur.”
Elizabeth laughed at her brother’s joke. “And you, Misha. It has been too many years. Far too many. I should have come to see you sooner.”
“Aye, I agree. Be that as it may, you are here now. Do you need anything? You must be tired.”
“Tired, yes, but I will be fine for now. Something to eat will be good. But first, we should meet with the rest of your friends to see what needs to be done, and where I can help.”
Misha nodded emphatically at that, finally stepping back a space to give her room to move. “I’ve an extra bed in Long House waiting for you for when you do rest, Sis. I do still want to show you around some. There is so much here that is amazing that we could spend an entire year studying it and not see everything.”
“I believe it, from what I have read and from what you have already told me.” Elizabeth cast her eyes about the land, what she could see from the vantage of the parapet. “It does look very beautiful. I can see why you decided to settle here, even before you had no choice.”
“And there is more than just the castle too,” Misha pointed out.
“Your soul was always in the woods, Misha,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “We should not waste any time though, for there is much to do and I can not afford to be claimed by the curse.”
“True,” Misha mused, his sudden elation fading only slightly. “But you do look good in feathers.” He pointed towards the stairs that led up to the parapet, and soon the both of them were navigating the narrow circular stairs. Elizabeth had to bend over slightly at first, but soon they both could stand up straight on the way down.
“Caroline is dying to meet you,” Misha said with a smile as they strode side by side.
“I can hardly wait to meet her. That reminds me brother.” Her face filled with sudden interest, though restrained. “Why haven’t you married her yet?”
The fox came to a dead halt and looked down at his footpaws. He twitched several of the claws down there as well. “Ah,” he stuttered, his one ear folding back in chagrin.
“Come now Misha. You can’t tell me you haven’t considered it.”
“I have but so much has happened lately. I was thinking of asking her in the Spring,” he answered in a soft whisper. Elizabeth could see that the white tip of his tail had managed to wedge itself between his legs even as he stood there. Though her brother’s physical form may have been radically altered by the curses, there were some things about him that would never change.
Still, she knew this was a sore spot with her brother so she changed the subject as they resumed walking. Turning her attention to the Keep itself, she ran her fingers along the stone walls as she moved, her face a mixture of wonder and delight. “There is so much magic here, so much, that any wizard could spend a lifetime studying it, and never understand the barest hints of it. So many strange lines, some that I cannot even identify. There was dark magic used here, and there still is.”
The fox nodded at that, moving only a few paces behind her. “Aye, Sis. The curses were laid down with the help of one of the daedra. But it is still part of us now. I would never give up my current form, even if I could. In fact, as I’ve told you before, I can now take on three different forms, and you would not believe how many times I’ve found each useful.”
“I do believe it. Metamor is a living testament to the old adage that every curse is a blessing in disguise.” Elizabeth smiled warmly then, her eyes sparkling as if she’d discovered some pleasant irony. “I will do my part to insure that this land never falls, brother.”
Misha could not help but walk a little taller at that, and he smiled and gave her his thanks. They continued to talk on the way down, pausing only to take a breath. The fox could not help but point out every detail as they passed, and frequently they had to stop at each window so that he could identify the buildings within the city, or name the mountains in the distance. And even when they did not speak of Metamor, there was always family to talk about; cousins, aunts, uncles, mother and father.
For Elizabeth, there was an enchantment in the air greater than that of Metamor itself. Though her magic had allowed them to see each other over the years, it could never be the same as this. Up atop that tower had been the first time she had every truly touched and felt his fur. It was a disconcertingly odd feeling. No matter how many times she had seen and talked to him by magic she was still unprepared for seeing him in person. Still it was her brother and any momentary doubts vanished as they walked and talked. This was truly her brother in spite of all the fur.
When they reached the landing, they found two figures waiting for them. The short bat was Andwyn of course, but the other figure looked like Thomas himself. And if Misha had not known better, he would have thought it Thomas as well.
“Ah, Mistress Elizabeth Brightleaf, allow me to welcome you to Metamor,” Andwyn said with a gracious bow, reaching out with the claw at the end of one wing to clasp her hand gently. He daintily brushed the back of it with his muzzle, smiling oddly as he did so. “It bring me great pleasure to see you here to aid us in our hour of need. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Andwyn, Master of Intelligence here at Metamor.”
“We are well met, Master Andwyn,” Elizabeth said, smiling at the rather lordly way in which he had greeted her. “I see this is your stand in. That is quite a good illusion. My compliments to the caster.”
Andwyn visibly winced at that, and the faux Duke Thomas clopped his hooves warily. “If you would while you are here, maintain the façade that we have created, even if you think us alone.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Of course Duke Thomas. Forgive my error, your grace.” And then her expression became grave. “Shall we begin?”
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