Charles smiled and wiped his paws before him surveying the tables they’d helped arrange in the main room of the Inn. Jurmas the innkeeper was already expecting to have quite a bit of business as some of the Glenners who lived further to the South would come and spend the night. Yet now the deer was practically salivating at the thought of having all of the Longs as well. Charles didn’t blame them, but he had made sure that his friends were not going to be overcharged for anything.
It was not that Jurmas would do so, but merely a matter of courtesy. Smiling across the table he nodded to his friend James. The donkey worked at the Inn, and also occasionally worked for Charles too, doing odd jobs, helping out with the chores around his home when he couldn’t be there. In fact, Charles had forked over a few silvers to the Innkeeper so that James would not have to work during the festival, but could enjoy it just as much as everyone else. He’d not told the donkey of course, preferring to let him think that Jurmas had merely been kind.
“Well,” Charles said, resting his paws on his hips, nodding as he glanced across the tables, “I think that about does it. Shall we return to my home?”
One of James’s ears flicked back. “Well, your friends will be there. I don’t want to be in the way.”
The rat let out a pleasant laugh. “You are one of my friends too, James. Now come, I insist. We’ll have a nice evening in good company, and tomorrow will be even better.”
It did not take much more coaxing to convince him, and soon, the pair of them were heading back through the darkened clearing towards the massive tree that the rat’s home was built into. The night air was chill, even though all but the largest piles of snow had melted. A few flowers had already blossomed, their delicate fragrances barely distinguishable from the thick scent of trees and rocks, or other Glenners. One scent in particular made them both turn their heads, the sound of his footfalls muffled by padded boots.
“Lord Avery,” James said in surprise as the squirrel appeared out of the shadows and into the light of one of the flambeaux. He was dressed in his usual gray doublet, though it appeared he’d just recently brushed his fur, giving him a more refined look than he usually bore.
“Charles, James,” the squirrel said, nodding to both of them. “I just heard that the Long have arrived, and would like to greet them with you.”
Charles smiled widely. “Then by all means come and join us. Your wife and children are welcome in our home too.”
Brian’s tail danced back and forth behind him. “I’m afraid that I must decline your gracious invitation. I am honoured that you would think to invite me, but in my family there is a tradition of enjoying the night before festivals together. It is a tradition that I have grown up with, and it has never been abandoned. I will only stay to greet them and welcome them to the glen, and then I shall leave.”
“Of course,” Charles said, resuming his pace. James had fallen silent beside him, but he could still feel the presence of the large donkey.
Lord Avery fell into step beside them. There was a new quirk to his voice. “I hope that Jurmas has not tried to make too much money off of your friends this time.”
“Oh no, but he won’t be wanting for any money for a while either I expect.”
It was not a long walk to reach his home, and before Lord Avery could reply, they were on the path winding between the massive roots of the redwood to the rat’s door. Charles smiled as he gripped the handle and pressed inside, greeting a room full of familiar faces. “Welcome!” he called out in delight, anything he had rehearsed early in the day vanished from his mind in that moment. There was a leaping in his heart as he saw them, the Long Scouts, his family at Metamor, a leaping that blotted out his tongue.
The chorus of greetings was boisterous, and at least five or six managed to get in firm hugs before he was more than three steps inside his doorway. Somehow, Charles had become so distracted with seeing his companions, he failed to notice Lord Avery’s greeting and departure. The rat felt too good to care though. Even seeing that the Kankoran Rickkter was lurking in one of the shadows thrown by the lamps did not mar his spirit. He did wonder how Misha had convinced the raccoon to come, but the thought was soon out of his mind as well.
Before much longer, he was sitting down, smiling and laughing, sharing stories with his fellow Longs, even as Kimberly and Baerle brought in tea for everyone to drink. He made sure to tell them about what James and he had done to prepare them rooms, at which point the donkey tried to slink out of sight, but Misha was quick to thank him and direct him to a seat where he couldn’t hide. But mostly they all just talked of what they had been doing, what they had seen, and so forth in the last few weeks.
After his cup of tea had been refilled a second time, Charles noticed that many of the Longs had retired for the evening. Rickkter had been one of the first to leave in fact, something that did not terribly surprise the rat. Nor did he particularly mind. But after a while, as the night began to grow late, even James and Baerle felt inclined to leave. Kimberly made sure that she gave Baerle a firm embrace before she left, something that Charles had seen her do a great deal in the last month. He was not sure how he should feel about it, and so he mostly ignored it. Yet that night, he found himself watching the two of them keenly.
When he realized this and stared down into his cup, watching the golden liquid swirl about over the small leaves. After the door shut and the warmth of the hearth spread through the room once again, he looked up and saw that aside from Misha and Caroline, they were completely alone.
“Well,” Charles said at last, leaning back in his seat, smiling to Kimberly who sat just across from him. “I’m very glad that you made it.”
“As are we,” Misha said, his cup long since set down. Caroline was sitting next to him, her tail curled around his backside, forcing him to sit awkwardly. He looked rather comfortable though. “It’s good to get away from Metamor once in a while. Especially when you take all of your friends with you.”
Matthias nodded, hearing a darker tone implied in those simple words. Knowing that it would be impossible to avoid, he decided to bring the subject up himself. “We heard that the Questioners came to Metamor last week.” Misha nodded, his grey eyes gone very dark. “We have not heard yet about what they did.”
Caroline slipped one of her paws underneath Misha’s, gripping it firmly. The fox had become visibly tense, his ears folding back, eyes narrowing. Even the fur on the back of his neck had lifted, jowls pulling back to reveal far more teeth than either rat was wholly comfortable seeing. “Yes, they came to Metamor. Wanted to know what happened to the Patriarch.”
“And whether Metamor had anything to do with it,” Charles finished the unspoken thought. “I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting any Questioners before, but they are known in the Southlands too. They did not lightly tread within Sondeshara, and never in my lifetime, but they are known.”
Giving a single abrupt nod, the fox found his voice once more. “They treaded lightly within Metamor. I think they knew that they could not be heavy-handed with us. At least not after Raven went to see them. She forced them to sign some document that tied their hands, but that is all I know about that.”
Charles wished that Kimberly were sitting closer so that he could hold her paw as well. “Did they ask to see you?” Misha only nodded at that. “I’m sorry.”
“It was not your fault,” Misha said, though something in his voice told the rat to be very careful. What had happened that the fox did not want to say? And more pertinently, the rat realized, what did the Questioners discover?
“What did they leave with?”
“Not much. They decided that Metamor was innocent at least,” Misha said, his voice a low growl.
“Well, that is good, I think,” Charles said, leaning forward more in his chair. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was a disturbed counterpoint to the careful cadences of their speech. His tongue danced at the back of his teeth, clicking slightly. His chewsticks were off in their bedroom though, as they were not usually left lying about when company would be by. His teeth desperately wished for one though.
After a few moments listening only to the snapping fire and the ticking of the clock upon the mantle, Charles finally found his voice again. “Do you think we have anything to fear from what they will say to Yesulam?”
But the fox only shrugged. “I do not know. But I do not like that they came. There is something to fear, but we know not what.” He fell silent again and tightened his grip on Caroline’s hand. Charles let his eyes glance over to where Lady Kimberly sat, one paw resting upon her belly, as if she were trying to reassure the children within her that there was nothing to be afraid of. She caught his glance, dark eyes shifting to meet his, lighting and warming him slightly. The edges of his muzzle pulled back into a slight smile, and he waved his fingers slightly from where they lay upon his knee. Her own waved back; a slight thing, but one that he cherished.
And then, Caroline’s voice broke through the bitter stillness that lurked in their home. Her voice was crisp, forced slightly, but still welcome. “Oh, have you all heard about what Murikeer discovered in the eastern mountains?”
Charles shook his head, even as Kimberly smiled more broadly. “No, what did he find?” It had been a short while since he’d seen the skunk, and even then, he had been greatly changed from the reclusive young man he’d known and liked. Kimberly was quite rapt by news of Murikeer. Before the siege, the skunk had been teaching Kimberly a few minor magical tricks, ones that she tried to use regularly in fact. Often she would speak a simple word and breathe a flame upon a candle wick, much to Charles’s surprise. No matter how many times he saw her do that, it still impressed him.
Caroline smiled broadly then. “Well, nobody’s really sure yet what he did find, but I heard from somebody who went up there after him that he’s discovered a vein of mithril!” This last she said in a whisper, as if the word itself were too precious for others to hear. Misha’s one ear was cocked to the side in amusement, as if he was no too sure he believed that it was true. Charles’s eyes went wide, even as Kimberly’s whiskers twitched in curious fascination.
“Mithril?” Charles said, his voice exasperated. “How much did he find?”
The otter shook her head, long tail pulling tighter against the fox. “I don’t know. I only heard that it looked like a pretty good sized vein.”
“Well, if its only enough to make a single sword, it’ll still give Murikeer enough money to last him most of the rest of his life!”
“I think it will make more than a sword,” cautioned Caroline, “but I don’t know for sure. But it’s still very exciting to think about! Mithril at Metamor!”
“Very exciting!” agreed Misha with a sudden smile. “And I’m sure it will occupy him for a while.” And then, a strange sort of grin crept across his muzzle. His short red fur shifted subtly, as if several different breezes had passed through it. “Now, there is something that has been occupying me for the last few weeks.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Oh no! Here it comes,” she said resignedly.
Misha’s smile only grew wider at that. “Have you found out yet what Lars’s special brew is? I’ve been eager to know!”
Even as Charles let out a hearty laugh, Kimberly rolled her own eyes much as Caroline had done. As had happened so many times before, the tension had fled the room fully leaving the four friends once more at ease. With a slow shake of his head, the rat said, “I am afraid he has not entrusted me with such knowledge. Would that he had! I am as eager as you to discover what concoction he has prepared for us all. But fear not, for tomorrow his secret shall be revealed and we shall know what deviltry he intends to call a libation!”
“And you have been hanging around with the bards too much!” Misha declared, waggling a finger in the rat’s direction. “You are starting to talk like them too.”
“Ah,” Charles said expansively, feeling the moment fill him. He spread his arms wide, winking once to Kimberly. “What better way to win myself a drink than to woo my lovely lady with sweet words as precious as wine?”
Kimberly returned his gaze, though hers was arched and sceptical, yet still bearing an amused smirk. Speaking as a mother to a beseeching child she said, “This time.”
He gave a quick bow from where he sat, sweeping one arm up behind him, whose fingers waggled playfully. “I thank you, my most kind and generous lady!” At this, Misha let out a loud guffaw, and even Caroline and Kimberly joined in the laugh. Charles sat back up with a smile, his own mirth quiet. It was going to be a wonderful festival, he could tell already.
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