"Are you ready?" Charles asked, gazing across the room to his student Garigan. The ferret was cinching the yellow belt about the waistline of his robe, also that same bright hue of yellow. His grey-white face gazed back at the rat, dark eyes anxious, but eager as well.
"Readier then I could ever be," he said heartily, pulling the belt taut about his wiry frame. His whiskers twitched into a grin and he then nodded towards his master. "Are you?"
Charles returned the smile, even as he patted the black of his robe, his paw tracing over the ancient heraldry of their clan. The emblem of red shield, with palm inscribed, and inside that hand the white sword upturned was there upon his breast, declaring his allegiance to the Sondeckis. "Of course I am ready, and delighted."
The two of them were standing in Matthias's quarters that late afternoon. Charles had left the Long Scout party only a short while ago, taking Lady Kimberly down to the Chapel. Father Hough was holding a night long service, one that he intended to attend once his business with Garigan was concluded. Of course, that would be a few hours from now, but he was certain the young priest would not complain about he and his companions arriving late.
The party itself had gone rather smoothly for the most part after Misha had made his feelings known. Rickkter had accosted him once, asking for the Sondeshike's return, but Charles had ignored the raccoon, instead continuing to imbibe more wine then he ought to have. Even Kimberly had been inclined to give him a gentle slap when she smelled the powerful scent of ale coming from his muzzle. After that, he'd partaken no more, letting the buzz he felt wear off for an hour or so.
Yet, even though he claimed he was ready to begin the ritual that would advance Garigan to the rank of a green Sondeckis, he still waited for something that he did not wish to confess. Glancing back around the room, his eyes fell on the oaken door that led to his chambers. It remained unperturbed, and no sound came from beyond, except for the occasional cheer of a merrymaker. Garigan of course noticed his distraction and so asked him what was bothering him.
"Nothing," Charles replied, startled slightly. "Nothing really, just a few stray thoughts, that's all."
"So let's get going then." Garigan jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door at the far end of the rat's room. Matthias called it a closet to all those who asked, but in all reality, it housed a narrow staircase that winded its way up through the Keep until it emptied out into a small alcove of the Sondeckis Shrine. It was how Garigan and he were able to move so freely to that secluded corner of the Keep to practice their clan's art in secret. Even now, it stood slightly ajar, waiting for them to pass through.
"Of course." Matthias nodded and walked across the cold floor to that door, and carrying a lantern, stepped through. Garigan was at his heels of course, but gave the rat plenty of room. It was completely dark except for the lantern that Charles brought with him, but he kept it that way as it would look suspicious for the former scribe to stock up on torches and oil when it was obvious he had no discernable need for them.
The stairs themselves were old and worn, the edges smoothed and slippery, as if in some long ago age, it had been an oft travelled passage. However, both Charles and Garigan did their best to keep them clean and dry, so neither had any fear of slipping and falling back down. With the hem of their robes dangling at their hocks, they scaled the twisting staircase, one paw always on the inner wall of the spiral. Soon, a shaft of light descended the passage from above, and they both could not help but smile as the power of the Sondeckis Shrine began to fill them.
Stepping out into the small alcove, Charles set the lantern on a small hook on the wall, and stretched his legs, examining the bright yellow clay beneath his toe claws. It was slightly damp, and there was a definite chill to the air. Yet, there was something else that the rat could not help but notice immediately, the scent of a human being.
Turning about in delight, he took a few quick steps into the Shrine proper, gazing past the altar with the angel kneeling in front, he glimpsed an old friend. Standing beside the porcelain angel, he was dressed in the same black smock that Charles wore, the Sondeckis heraldry firm upon his breast. His shoulders were broad, and about them, flowing auburn hair lay, crisp in the wintry air. His narrow eyes were set atop a long hooked nose, and thin lips, surrounded by a well-shaped goatee.
Charles burst out in delight, "Jerome! It is so good to see you again. I hadn't realized you would be waiting for me here. I've been expecting you to show up at my quarters the last hour or so."
Jerome smiled warmly. "Arrived early, so thought I'd see this Shrine you spoke of in one of your letters. Aside from the fact that there's a blizzard going on out the windows, this is exactly like the one we used to train in during our younger days. This Metamor Keep of yours is the most impressive edifice I have ever glimpsed. Your words do not do it justice, my friend."
"Nobody's ever could! So how long have you been here?"
"A few hours, as I said, we arrived early." Jerome stepped past the angel, smiling down at the rodent who was his friend of old.
Charles's eyes narrowed. "We?"
The Sondeckis laughed then, and swept his arm across the altar behind him. "You'll never believe who I ran into last month. When he found out you were here, he insisted on coming with me. I could hardly think of a less fitting time for a reunion than this."
The rat's mouth fell open when a fourth figure rose to a standing position behind the altar. A large smile spread across the lips of the man that was there, his wiry features making it even handsomer than he thought. A small bit of black hair rested upon his head, dangling just below his ears. The rest of him was shrouded in that black garment, enriched by the red shield, palm and white sword. His large hands rested on the altar, even further proof of what he was.
"Krenek!" Charles exclaimed, finding delight easily coming into his heart. Yet, in the same instant that he recognized his friend Krenek Zagrosek, his mind leapt through all that he had heard Phil and others say of this figure in the last eight months. He was partly, if not directly responsible for what Lord Loriod had done last April. Also, the rumours that he had heard in the last month or so indicated that he might even be the one who had killed the Patriarch, though his heart rebelled against such a notion. Even so, he decided in that moment to proceed as if non of it were true, unless his friend gave him cause to believe otherwise.
"It is good to see you again, Charles," Zagrosek said, stepping from behind the altar and joining Jerome. "You've changed." Somehow, the Sondeckis managed to keep a straight face while making such a ridiculously obvious remark.
Still, both Jerome and Charles laughed then, even as they huddled closely together, three Sondeckis of the black. "You haven't, still that same dry sense of humour. Tell me, where have you been these last few years. Jerome told me last June that you'd left Sondeshara about three years ago much like I had. Where did you go?"
Zagrosek shrugged, "I went into Sathmore as soon as I could. I heard shortly thereafter that Brothus died. And so while the Sondeckis were busy reorganizing, they lost my trail, and I've been moving about freely ever since through there and the Midlands. When I ran into Jerome here at a Lothanasi temple a month back, we both were very surprised. He told me that you were here, and training another Sondeckis, so I had to come and see you again, despite the risks this place bears."
Jerome then narrowed his eyes, his gaze straying past the rat to the figure standing alone, and uncertain by the alcove. "Is that your student?"
Charles looked back over his shoulder, and waved for the ferret to approach. "Yes, this is Garigan. Garigan, this is Jerome and Krenek, two of my very best friends from my days at Sondeshara. You can trust them, they are like us, Sondeckis."
Garigan smiled a bit nervously, appearing to be quite unsure of the two of them. Still, he did his best to appear confidant, holding out his paw to the two of them. "It is a pleasure to meet other Sondeckis finally. I have only known Charles here, and even then, only for the last six or seven months."
Zagrosek shook his paw firmly. "The honour is ours, Garigan. I've never heard of a Sondeckis being born this far north. The power had long thought to have been dead in the blood lines north of Pyralis. They'd be debating the significance of this in Sondeshara, if ever they knew."
"Which they won't," Matthias declared, placing his paws on his hips. "I trust Jerome has made that clear to you."
The other man nodded and glanced back at the altar. "He made it very clear, indeed. Where did you get the Sondeshike though? We've both been wondering about that."
Charles stepped over and picked up the long metal staff from the altar, and hefted it in his paws. It was large for him in this form, but he was Sondeckis, and had little difficulty in wielding it. "You remember that Kankoran who is living here at the Keep as well?"
Zagrosek reached inside his cloak in an instant and had withdrawn yet another Sondeshike. "There's a Kankoran here?"
Charles nodded, spinning the staff about in his paws. "Yes, but do not be upset. We have both agreed to leave each other alone, as it is in our mutual best interest to do so. However, as I'm sure you recall, Jerome, he possessed a Sondeshike, this very one I now hold in my paws. Back towards the end of summer, both of us agreed to a temporary truce while we assisted a common friend in a matter of grave importance. In the course of the mission, he was forced to give me the Sondeshike to save both of our lives. He never asked for it back afterwards, and so I never returned it to him."
Jerome laughed then and slapped his knee. "Oh, that was mighty sneaky of you, Charles. The curse chose well in making you a rat it appears."
However, Krenek Zagrosek did not appear to be quite as delighted. "You broke your truce? You should not have done that, even if it meant leaving the Sondeshike in the Kankoran's possession."
Both Charles and Jerome stared open-mouthed at their companion. "How can you say that?" Jerome asked. "It is our most holy weapon. We cannot leave it in the hands of our fiercest enemy!"
Zagrosek shook his head slowly. "We are Sondeckis first; honour and justice are what we cherish. If we cannot practice them ourselves, then we are not fit to enforce it among others."
"I have no intention of returning it, at least not right now," Charles added, the memory of Misha's remarks to him earlier coming back to him.
"I didn't expect you to," Zagrosek added. "I was simply saying that you ought not have kept it in the first place. Return it when or if it suits you. In the meanwhile, I thought that perhaps we might dance with them at some point while we're here. It had been over seven years since last we did so."
The smile crept back of the rat's muzzle. "All right, I would very much like to do that. But after the ceremony of course."
"Of course," Zagrosek nodded, and then he turned to Jerome. "So, have you heard any news of home? Neither Charles nor I have been there of late. You promised you'd tell us when we arrived and were all together again."
Jerome shrugged. "Well, there is not much to tell. I've already told Charles most of it, though when we last met. There si one bit of news that I have heard since then, that you both might find interesting."
"What is it?" The rat asked, even while Garigan watched the three of them, folding his yellow robes between his paws.
"Apparently, the new Patriarch has said that Metamor was not directly responsible for the old Patriarch's death."
Charles breathed a sigh of relief, "That is good news at least. We've been hearing too little of that of late."
Jerome shook his head. "He only said that Metamor was not directly responsible. He has blamed your kingdom for incompetence, and complicity in Patriarch Akabaieth's death. So, while he hasn't declared war against you, he has made your name carry even greater disfavour with the other kingdoms."
Zagrosek grimaced. "And what of Sathmore? Has he laid them to shame as well?"
"From what I've heard, the Ecclesia still has yet to make a decision regarding the western kingdom."
Matthias clenched his fist. "Well, I suppose this was to be expected. Any news from the Southlands? The last I heard was from you."
Jerome shook his head again. "No, not really. From what I've heard, Yoenel is doing his best to stamp out Brothus's cronies. No longer communicating with them openly, it is hard to get reliable information though."
Zagrosek rubbed his chin for a moment. "I am curious about one thing. How did Brothus die? I've never heard anybody say."
The other Sondeckis frowned and scratched at his goatee. "I'm not surprised, as only the blacks were ever told. We were ordered not to share that with any save the other blacks."
Charles cleared his throat. "I don't think you have need worry of either Garigan or I spreading such news about."
"I didn't think you would." Jerome then scanned the three of them for a moment, stopping momentarily to fix the ferret's face in his mind, and then he continued. "Apparently, he was suffering from an illness of the brain. Not madness or psychosis, just his brain started to fail. He began to lose control of his arms and legs, and within a few weeks, he could not move a muscle. His whole body just began to shut down completely. A few days later, he was dead."
Charles let his mouth slowly drop open in surprise. Something about Jerome's description sparked a sullen memory in him, of something he had read, or at least, been told of. "The new character was a white weasel, he said," Matthias murmured softly, so softly in fact that all the others could hear was a blur of sound.
"What was that?" Zagrosek asked, looking down at the rat.
"I was just remembering something I read once. Something I should have guessed long ago, but only now begins to make sense. There is another Southern mage here, and I don't mean the Weathermonger."
"Explain yourself, Charles," Jerome complained, crossing his arms. "You aren't making any sense."
"Do you remember a pedlar, a merchant of rare books by the name of Zhypar Habakkuk?" Charles asked. "He passed through Makor one year while we were there straightening out a small internecine feud. He wouldn't leave us alone if you recall."
Zagrosek nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully again, one hand still gripping his own Sondeshike. "Ah yes, I do remember him, though only vaguely."
"Well, he is here at the Keep, and he's been writing a story for quite some time now. In it, there is a man dressed all in white, who died of a brain sickness exactly like you described after alienating all those around him. That, and many other things that he's said give me reason to believe that he is a Felikaush."
"A Felikaush?" Jerome asked in bewilderment. "But Fellos was destroyed sixteen years ago. The Felikaush were all killed."
"Well, obviously, Habakkuk wasn't. He knows I'm a Sondeckis, and in fact, I think he's known that since the day he arrived. While Rickkter was in the infirmary, Habakkuk told me that if I should kill him, I would doom myself to destruction as well, and that I would no longer be a Sondeckis, but a monster."
"Rickkter?"
"He's the Kankoran," Matthias added. "Anyway, I believe that Habakkuk is a Felikaush, perhaps even the only one left alive in the world. He's been manipulating everybody around him this last year, if not longer. I made him the Head of the Writer's Guild, hoping that he would no longer interfere, but it seems I made a mistake, he's only been able to reach higher in the ranks now."
"But why would a Son of Felix come here?" Zagrosek asked, the bewilderment clear on his face.
"I don't know. Probably because a few think I'm part of the prophecy," Charles regretted that the moment he said it, but it was too late now.
"You?" Jerome laughed slightly.
"It is true, but don't ask me to explain it right now, I do not understand it much myself."
Garigan then spoke up, his voice rather certain for somebody so inexperienced in matters of the Southlands. "Habakkuk may be as you say, but I have never known him to act or suggest somebody do something that would harm them. I think he wants to help, it is just others do not wish to move in the directions that he feels would be best for them. He says you crush diamonds, Matthias."
The rat shrugged. "I may do so, and he may truly believe as you say. But I do not wish to have any interfere in the way I conduct my life. Especially not a meddlesome scribe who may be a Felikaush. Their help is double-edged, I'm afraid."
Zagrosek however, tapping his chin, remarked, "Perhaps it would not hurt to at least hear out what this Felikaush has to say."
"Perhaps, but I have no intention of doing so anytime soon," Matthias replied hotly.
Zagrosek shrugged then and turned back to look at the altar. "Well, I for one am tired of hearing of dark news and times. I came here to renew an old friendship and to witness the rising of a new star in the Sondeckis constellation. Can we not return our thoughts to such merrier things?"
The other three Sondeckis each nodded at that. Jerome even went so far as to say, "And now you know why I was so loathe to tell you of the news! It all seems so bad. At least we have a new friend in Garigan."
The ferret's whiskers twitched a bit at the sudden inclusion and he grew even bolder. "And I am honoured to meet any who are friends of my master. I am honoured to be a Sondeckis."
Charles smiled, and then walked over to the closet on the far side of the Shrine. It was made from balsam wood, much like the ones at Sondeshara had been. Inside though, having arrived under circumstances that the rat did not wish to guess at, was a robe of luxuriant green, sized perfectly for his musteline student. He held it out, and showed it to all. Garigan's expression grew to one of profound joy.
"My friends, let us begin the ritual to make Garigan a Sondeckis of the green!" All four of them could not help but smile as they began to sing the Song of the Sondeck.
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