Reunions

Amber scribbled her name across the bottom of the decree that lay on her desk. She used a candle to melt a drop of gold wax onto the parchment and stamped it with the King's seal, then placed it in a pile with the others. She sat back with a deep sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.

There was a knock at the door and a moment later it swung open. "Lady Amber?" In the doorway stood a somewhat morose looking frog page boy dressed in a tunic bearing Rabbit Clan livery.

"Guppy, what is it?"

"Pardon ma'am, but there's a pair of visitors for you down in the solar. Say they just arrived from Skytower."

"Skytower?" Amber frowned and began hurriedly putting away her things. "I'll see them at once."

Guppy waited patiently while Amber retrieved her chain of office; lowering it over her ears and neck, and then closed the door to her private chambers behind her as she bustled out into the hallway.

She gave a brief wave of dismissal to the guard posted outside her door as he made to follow her and the hound snapped to attention before returning to his position leaning idly against the wall. Amber was convinced that he was there less for her safety than to keep an eye on her. She had to constantly remind herself to act as if nothing was wrong as she went about her duties. She couldn't afford to raise suspicions.

Guppy quickly trotted ahead of Amber and led the way down the hall. As she walked Amber wondered just who had arrived to meet with her. The pair descended a spiral staircase to the next floor down and Guppy pushed through another pair of doors, smartly stepping aside as he announced Amber. "Lady Amber Valebriar, Farseeker of the Rabbit Clan, Steward to the King of Armello."

Amber entered the room and faltered, surprised by what she saw. Elyssia stood near the round table in the middle of the solar, wearing a neutral expression. In one hand she held the Architect warhammer; a thick oak and gilt staff topped with a large, ornate protractor, a ceremonial weapon and symbol of her station.

Beside the Wardress was a second figure, leaning casually against the table with their back to Amber and gazing around at the old weapons and tapestries that adorned the walls. This second person was only half as tall as Elyssia, and made to look ludicrously broad by the suit of thick, gilded armour they wore. Amber could make out russet fur in places that the armour didn't cover; the legs, left arm, and long, floppy ears that sprouted from the back of the figure's bascinet helm. On the small knight's back was a large pack and bedroll; thrust through the shoulder straps was a crudely carved tree branch, from the end of which swung a lantern. One hand, encased within a huge lobstered gauntlet, clutched the leather wrapped haft of a hammer that was as tall as the figure wielding it, resting lazily on one shoulder. It was topped by a spiked head of wrought iron with two hexagonal faces.

The shorter figure turned as Amber entered and waved to her excitedly. "Hey Amber!" The voice echoed hollowly inside the helmet. He waddled, clattering and clanking, toward her. One finger raised the helmet's visor with a quiet squeak, revealing Barnaby's face, "How've ya been?"

"What are you doing here?" Amber had dismissed Guppy and the three rabbits now sat alone at the table. "Florian would be furious." She glared in Barnaby's direction, her young cousin seeming to shrink into his armour.

"I accept full responsibility, my lady." Elyssia inclined her head in a small bow of humility, "My place is by Lord Barnaby's side. Your lord uncle had commanded me to take him to Deepwarren but I couldn't, in good conscience, leave you here alone. I know I've defied his orders in coming here, but bringing Barnaby with me was all I could do to honour my duty."

"I'd expect better of you Elyssia." Amber said coldly.

Barnaby shook his head, "It's not her fault! I was the one who wanted to see you, I made Elyssia come with me. If you want to blame someone then blame me."

"Be quiet Barnaby!" Amber spat. Barnaby dropped his gaze to the tabletop, looking hurt. Amber continued, "You should have known how dangerous it was to take him out in the kingdom, let alone bring him here of all places."

Barnaby glanced up again with an obstinate scowl, "I'm not a child anymore Amber! Look," He gestured to indicate his armour and the hammer that leaned against his chair, "I made all this myself, I know this stuff better than anyone. I've been trained to fight just like you were, just ask her!" He jerked a thumb at Elyssia who remained motionless, staring at her hands. "Besides, father had already fought in the Rot War by the time he was my age, he should trust me to be able to handle myself."

"He was a squire, not heir to the clan! This isn't the same at all." Amber rested her elbows on the table, rubbing her eyes. "I ought to send you under guard to Deepwarren where you belong. And you," She turned back to Elyssia, "Back to Skytower to report to Florian. I don't imagine that he'll be particularly lenient, but perhaps if you're lucky he isn't yet aware of what you've done."

Elyssia's chair nearly fell backwards as she bolted to her feet, slamming both hands on the table and finally meeting Amber's eyes, "Damn it Amber, you don't have to do this alone! We both came here because we were concerned for your safety. Did you even think about how much danger you're putting yourself in? As Wardress I have a duty to protect you too. How am I supposed to feel if my charge-my friend-was killed and I was powerless to do anything?"

Amber sat back, shocked by Elyssia's sudden outburst. Barnaby gulped, eyes flicking between both women. The room fell silent for a long time.

Elyssia exhaled slowly, "I apologise, Lady Amber...I await your command." She dropped back into her chair.

Amber raised her hand, "Enough." She sighed, "...Thank you. Both of you. I never meant to worry you. But I didn't wish to risk your safety either."

"Amber, what's really going on here?" Barnaby asked nervously, "Something's...wrong out in the kingdom. We keep hearing strange rumours."

"The King is unwell. It's..." Amber looked away, hesitating, "It's the Rot."

Barnaby's eyes went wide and Elyssia thumped a fist against the table, "Damn it all. So our worst fears have come to pass."

Amber nodded gravely. "His body has become twisted; he's constantly wracked by pain and has an aversion to sunlight. It seems he grows weaker by the day. But more than that, it's also warped his mind. He's become paranoid and cruel. The orders and laws he imposes every day..." She shook her head, "It's inexcusable, and it couldn't be further from the man he once was. Worst of all, nobody does anything. He's surrounded by brutes and cowards, and everyone acts like nothing's wrong." She buried her face in her hands with a groan, "And I keep feeling like I'm the worst of them for going along with it all."

Elyssia reached across to place a hand on her friend's shoulder. "There's nothing else you can do Amber. If you defy him then you only put yourself at risk. If you were to die then you cannot help anyone."

Barnaby nodded, "She's right, none of this is your fault."

Amber ran a hand through her fur, breathing deeply as she composed herself. "Right...you're right." She looked between the other two with a weak smile, "Thank you, both of you. This whole ordeal has been rather stressful. I haven't been able to just say what I feel since I arrived in the capital."

"That's why we're here." Barnaby stressed, "We can help you now. So what's the plan? What do you need us to do?"

Amber sighed heavily, "At the moment there's not much we can do...My only plan so far has been to just wait for the King to succumb to his illness. Without an heir to succeed him control of the kingdom would fall to me as his Steward. Once I hold the throne I'll push to place the Rabbit Clan at the head of the royal court."

"So my father will be king..." Barnaby mumbled, scratching behind one ear.

Elyssia crossed her arms, nodding thoughtfully. "And with that political power we could pacify the other clans diplomatically, without sparking a war, and guide Armello into a new golden age under rabbit rule."

"That's the best we can hope for." Amber agreed.

"Then I will do what I can to protect you until that day."

"Me too." Barnaby clasped Amber's hand, grinning widely. "Besides, if my escort's staying here it's not like I can leave the city. Father can't complain about it then."

Amber chuckled softly, "Everything always seems much simpler when you're around, Screwloose." She ruffled the fur between his ears and glanced from him to Elyssia. "I appreciate your offer of assistance. And I accept."

Night had fallen thick and heavy over Briarcrest. The moon was bright in a clear sky, lighting up the rolling blanket of fog that clung close to the ground. Nights like this were common in the humid, marshy lands of the Rat Clan capital. The air was filled with the usual chorus of rat nightlife; boisterous revelry, gambling and whoring in the scattered oases of bright light and vibrant colour, overlaying the sounds of murder and robbery in the city's darker corners.

And high above the streets a different sound, a light patter tracing a snaking path across the rooftops. A formless shadow dashing and dancing unseen from cover to cover, avoiding the city's lights and the prying eyes of its people. It eventually alighted on the roof of its destination; a building in the lower quarter. This building looked much like the ones surrounding it, squat and blocky, overlooking narrow, cramped alleyways. All old smoke stained stone and sun bleached wood. Somewhat larger but otherwise unassuming. And seemingly abandoned from the look of its dark, boarded up windows and barred doors.

The shadow paused for a moment before popping open a small hatch and dropping into the room beneath. The building's interior was pitch black. There was a soft thud as something landed on bare flagstones, followed by silence for several heart beats. Then the slow shuffling of something picking its way carefully through the dark. There was a low whisper, then a clash of steel on steel and a shower of sparks was thrown into the air. For just a split second the flash provided some illumination. Indistinct shapes. Figures circling. A glint of blades.

The room erupted into a cacophony of imperceptible movement. Footsteps raced on all sides across the floor and walls, accompanied by the heavy thuds of sharp impacts, grunts of exertion and pain. All the while the dull whoosh of sweeping blades, intersected by the crash and clatter of them striking. Every clash and splash of light produced a staccato of still images as the combatants danced and whirled in their pitched melee.

Eventually the sounds of battle were punctuated by a tinkling laugh, followed by a loud crash and a shrill cry that was quickly choked off. One last clash of blade against blade, then the whistle of steel slicing air and a sharp gasp.

Silence once more, then a voice cut through the darkness. "I think that's quite enough."

A lamp was uncovered, filling the room with warm, orange light. The room was small, bare stone. Most of the space was taken up by stacks of crates of barrels, with vicious looking bear traps dotted around between them. Zosha stood, grinning, one foot planted firmly on the throat of one assailant. Her twin falchions were locked together at their pommels into a double bladed glaive. The tip of one bladed was aimed at the chest of the floored assassin, the other rested at the neck of her companion.

The two attackers were both rat girls, a little younger than Zosha herself. They were dressed similarly to her but in lightly armoured brigandines and black, hooded masks that showed only their eyes. They each carried a broad bladed, double edged shortsword with a single quillon crossguard.

"Sister." Zosha's standing opponent, who had uncovered the lamp, stepped back and sheathed her sword. Zosha uncoupled her own swords and returned them to her belt, allowing the other rat to stand.

She scrambled to her feet, coughing and rubbing her throat. "The way you were moving around, I thought you'd lost your edge."

"Never let down your guard around an enemy." Zosha said, "Assassins will often try to lull you into a false sense of security."

"Apologies sister. We will try harder in future." Both rats bowed.

Zosha waved dismissively. "Go find your relief and take a break. I must report to mother."

She stalked through the gloomy, decrepit hallways of the old building, passing a few other rats along the way. Most were dressed in the same uniform as the two guards at the entrance, all of them young women. Zosha worked her way downwards until she came to the cellar and a solitary door of thick, black iron. Another guard stood by the door. She glanced Zosha up and down before knocking on the door with an intricate pattern of placement, timing and force. A moment later there was a series of clicks, scrapes and rattles from the other side, and the door swung open.

The room within was wide and long. The walls were lost in darkness, as was the ceiling; two rows of stone pillars vanishing into inky black shadows above. The only light came from four lamps that lined the rear wall. There was another doorway there, concealed behind a black, gauzy curtain, but Zosha's target sat in front of it. On a raised dais, littered with dusty furs, rugs and cushions, was a large chaise sofa; ebony wood decorated with gold and rubies, and upholstered in crushed red velvet. It was so old and worn that any sense of finery it had was lost many years ago. Six Night Sisters knelt motionless before the dais, heads bowed and eyes closed as if in prayer.

Lounging on the chaise, propped up on a pile of pillows, was the oldest rat Zosha had ever laid eyes on. The old woman was stick thin and shrivelled like a raisin, her stringy fur grey and patchy. She was dressed rather plainly in a black dress and as she lay there, statuesque, Zosha could have believed she looked upon a corpse, were it not for the rhythmic rasp of her breath and the slow tapping of long fingernails on an armrest. A veil covered her face but Zosha could sense her eyes, sightless though they were, milky white and piercing.

This was the woman Zosha had dedicated her life and service to. The only thing she loved and source of all the love she ever needed. The only family she had ever known. The Night Mother.

Zosha strode to the dais and knelt at the foot of the chaise. "Mother."

The Night Mother took a slow, shaky breath. "Zosha, my dearest child." Her voice was a dry whisper, like the rustling of pages in an old book. She extended one tremulous hand. Zosha clasped it gently, kissed it and held the fingers to her cheek for a moment. Her skin was cold, her hand bony. It felt fragile, like a bird. "What news do you bring me?"

"I have met with the good baron, as you asked. I've ascertained his intentions and how he plans to go about them."

"Go on, my sweet."

"It's just as you said, mother. The Order of the Thorn dispatched Mercurio at the head of a small group. Their target was apparently some no-name Rot cultist bearing an intriguing relic that had caught the Wolf Clan's attention."

"Though his companions returned to the Order empty handed and without Mercurio."

"I gather they chose to abandon their mission and report back on the King's increasingly erratic behaviour. Mercurio, however, was not so inclined. I believe he's gone rogue and is acting purely in his own self interest."

The Night Mother chuckled softly to herself. "Mercurio turning on the Order and the Council could be just the shake up our clan needs. If nothing else it will certainly be entertaining."

Zosha grimaced slightly, "I'm not sure that's wise, mother. He's given himself over to the Rot. He plans to to use it as a weapon to strike down the King and seize the throne. I feel he's become dangerous and unpredictable. If he were to wield that kind of power and turn it against the clan-"

The Night Mother held up a hand to silence her. "Mercurio can not be allowed to rule. Though his new found strength may prove useful as a route to the throne. That is why you will join with him, for the time being."

Zosha glanced up, "And what of the Rot?"

"I know you will do what you must to fulfill your mission, child. Though the path he walks may be dark and bloody, you will follow him upon it. Deceive, coerce, cajole and seduce. Earn his trust, join his quest, and when the time comes..." Her hand tightened into a fist, "End him."

Zosha bowed her head, "I will do as you command, mother."

"I know you will, Zosha dear." She placed her hand atop Zosha's head and slowly stroked one finger over her ear. "Bring me Ariel's crown and you will rule Armello by my side, my ever loyal child. Go now, before the dawn. The night watches and the night hears all."