It Kicks Like A Sleep Twitch

[Aldridge Moor]

The press of sound and bustle in the mess hall surged heavy in the air as Aldridge scanned for Foxglove Aera in the crowd. The hall was at its busiest halfway through lunchtime, when the final groups of gladiators were queueing for food while the tables were mostly filled with the first groups and all of the slaves who had the questionable luck to be hale and hearty enough to be worth training, in case they were ever needed to bulk out the Arena fighters or serve as fodder for some monster.

There had been no second Culling after the most recent batch of slaves had been brought in; Nire had favoured his mock trials and monster exhibitions at least until the death of the Farmer. This bustle was therefore the full capacity of the Underbelly, following the awful quiet that had come after the first Culling.

Aldridge raked the crowd with his gaze. Mouse ears? Some. One pair with near-white fur, but male and rather older than Foxglove.

No, of course she wouldn?t be out here right now. She had always been afraid of being judged, being hated. Scrutiny repelled her. She would be anywhere other than in public.

He?d have to come back at the end of lunch. There?d be no fish by then, but he could live with that for one afternoon, surely.

Before he turned to leave, he saw Komi looking at him from a fresh laden trencher. Her openness was clouded now, and he found that he likewise could not easily wear happiness when he met her gaze. She would release great thundering beasts on a town full of innocents, just for a chance at freedom.

But that had always been true. Komi had always been the commander. She had always worked on acceptable losses and the destruction of the enemy and the risk of tradelane and civilian casualties. She had always taken loss to be part of war.

So why had she angered him so? Why had Eve made him see red? At what point had he changed? From the beast who built bows for war, to the beast who built them for hunting? From the beast who had whispered into Currathalla?s ear - theatres and buildings in one paw, fresh twisted atrocity in the other - to the beast who would not tolerate even a single preventable death?

What had happened to that older beast?

Ulrich?s gruff nod, as he passed him the white-hot metal. The scent of char, as he carved a simple bow and feather pattern into the wall, contained in a circle of twine. The applause, thin at first but growing in strength as more and more of the beasts around him finally decided he was one of them.

Of course. That beast was long gone, buried now under a bowyer's shack and the love of a family. Madder Barrow was not merely a home, but a refuge for the lost. And that was where Aera would hide. He pulled himself out of the miasma of old memory, pushed through the tangle of woodsmoke and bird-cherry that caught him by the chest, and left the mess hall.

Tunnels flew past as always. Today?s guard was not Tegue and so Aldridge lost him easily enough, ducking through the store rooms that he would usually frequent on the hunt for his bowyer supplies. The guard?s muffled cursing faded away into the background as he wound his way through ever danker, dustier tunnels

A twist through the room of old machinery, through the hidden door and into the dim-lit Mark Chamber, where Aera stood with fresh tears on her cheeks and a knife in her paw, raised in defense against the intruder Aldridge could have been. Even in this state she would fight for the Barrow if needed.

Aldridge smiled as he closed the door behind himself. She dropped the blade at the sound, paws shaking at the sight of him.

She visibly forced herself to speak, ?I didn?t mean to go this far, Uncle. I don?t like her! I admit that! But this? I never??

She lost her words. Aldridge wrapped his arms around her as she broke down, and he stroked her headfur, and he waited for her to be done.

A hundred heartbeats or more passed. Her tears came and went like waves of oceantide. He was reminded of Cape Reman, three leagues west of Hestara, where the greater and more dangerous waves had always crashed. He felt her shuddering as her small body was buffeted by the power of those waves, the worst of which could sweep a beast away never to be seen again. He heard her breath coming short when they were in danger of overwhelming her. Heard her gasping for breath between them. Heard the calm as it finally settled upon her, as the fury of the sea passed away over the horizon.

She stood straight at last. Aldridge shivered as the cool air of the room caught where her tears now soaked his tunic.

?I?m sorry, Uncle. I let this place get to me. I let Jossia get to me. I owe Komi my life.?

?What happened??

Foxglove Aera looked up at him and she was ten seasons old again, crying over a knee scraped while playing with Cricken on the Tradeway. And then she closed her eyes, took a single breath, and as she released it she regained all those seasons, and she was his Apprentice, and she had been wounded but perhaps she could be better for it.

?There?s a trade hall, out in the town. You didn?t get dragged there before you killed the hare, but it?s where they take the utility slaves who have any material responsibilities. Anybeast who has to requisition supplies for their area, at any rate. So I and others - one of Rinam?s friends from the slave galley, Drake the armourer, a few of the senior carpenters, Muda and a few more - are taken there when we need to be, under guard. We know our inventories, we know what we need, we negotiate and the Quartermaster approves it all at the end of the day.

?So, the suppliers all break for lunch as you?d expect. We slaves can?t be worked through lunchtime when there are no suppliers to negotiate with, so we?re taken to their food hall as well. I know what you?re thinking, and aye, it?s not very secure. But none of us make a break for it because the privilege would be withdrawn.

?And we still interact there. So when Jossia sat down on the other side of my table and started up a conversation, it wasn?t too strange. And then she told me who she was, and that you?d given her that limp outside our village, and that she didn?t understand why you did it because she was only taking away a petty criminal, and slowly she gave me more and more reasons to think that you wanted Komi, that you were willing to risk the whole village just to stab at Jossia. That it was only Komi you cared about. That you were going to leave with her. That Madder Barrow didn?t matter to you any more. And the final? the final lie. That Komi was to blame.?

?When the only beast to blame??

?Was Jossia, aye.? Aera glared at the ground. ?How could I have been so stupid??

?You mustn?t feel bad about this,? Aldridge said. ?Her words tempted old Galleran into breaking his horde on Redwall?s defences. A solitary mousemaid isn?t expected to defend herself from that.?

?I nearly killed your partner.? She drew in a shuddering breath. ?I wanted to kill her. I took a bowstring and wrapped it around her neck and I pulled and I meant it...?

?Ch, ch, ch.? Aldridge pulled her back in, stroked her headfur as she let out a silent scream. ?Jossia acted through you. Just like Adeen acted through Rinam. Words are powerful, more powerful than any of us give them credit for. And Jossia? she had something to sink her claws into, didn?t she??

Foxglove pulled back and he looked directly at her. He poured everything into it. Every piece of understanding, every moment of patience, every piece of forgiveness. And finally she swallowed, and opened her mouth, and admitted, ?Yes.?

?Your pride, when Nire announced you.?

She nodded. ?I? enjoyed it. The beasts in blue attacked us, and I made two of them pay the price. I was applauded for it! And that guard, I made him fear me!?

?And the slaver that Ulrich killed, back in the day.?

?...I was envious. I wish it had been me. I spent whole nights thinking about how I would have done it. I?d have said hello, told him about the nice village further along the trail, then pretended I was off hunting. Hidden in the denser trees closer to the Barrow. Put an arrow through the damn beast?s head, and savoured the look on his-?

The door opened behind them. Aera looked over Aldridge?s shoulder but relaxed immediately. ?Hello, Rinam.?

?Foxglove. Aldridge.? The sound of the door closing, and Rinam moved to Adeen?s bedside.

Aera looked lost for a moment.

?We can still talk,? Aldridge said. ?Rinam knows what it is, to be forced to face your darker side. She won?t judge you, and she may be able to help.?

The stub-tailed mouse flinched and executed three pawsigns, each of which involved meshed claws - an appeal for stability, perhaps, from All That Is.

Aera nodded. ?I watch the fights. All of them. And I train, too. Between the end of dinnertime and the closing of the Drag. They call it remedial training. They don?t check if you?re a utility slave, and they haven?t noticed me yet. It?s not long, but it?s enough to prepare me.?

?Prepare you? Foxglove, you?re safe from the battles. Why would you-?

?Because I want to fight! I want to be in that arena. I want to face one of these beasts and just slaughter them, and make everybeast watch!? Her breath hitched in her throat. ?I know I shouldn?t, but I can?t help it, Uncle.?

Aldridge nodded, and he caught sight of Rinam, eyes closed, doing the same. ?Believe it or not, I know the feeling,? he said. ?The need, right from the core of you, to strike down the evil in the world in the most final way you can imagine. To give the worst of beastkind a taste of their own medicine.?

?And I want that. I want to do what you do, Uncle. Is that so wrong?

Aldridge chuckled, bitter. ?Do you know why I?m called the Lowlander??

Silence. Aera looked to the ground.

?I don?t always have control of this, Foxglove. I?ve already seen good beasts lose themselves to this place. I don?t want that to happen to me.? He squeezed her shoulder. ?And I can?t let that happen to you.?

?You will lose control, sometimes,? Rinam?s voice, ?but your worst acts will linger in your thoughts. If you wish to lead a good life, you will set aside your hatred and anger, and do as you can to repay the beasts around you for the kindness they have shown.?

Aera drew in a final, shuddering breath, pressing her head deeper into Aldridge?s shoulder. "I'm sorry.?

Aldridge held her firm. ?I know. It?s all right.?

?I'll speak with Komi. I owe her my life twice over."

She stepped back, nodded to Aldridge and Rinam in turn, and left the room, cheeks still mussed with tears.

?She will be well,? Rinam said.

Silence fell for some time as Rinam worked through her pawsigns and her quiet prayers.

Aldridge lifted a chair, set it gently beside her. He sat and listened, brow knit tight as her prayers ran into each other.

Aldridge contemplated Jossia. She?d killed a guard not that long ago. Perhaps she?d meant it as a warning. Perhaps she was simply enraged by Nire?s dismissal. And now she was on the edges again, finding routes back in to try to hurt Komi, even kill her.

Jossia had lost Galleran, for sure. But Jossia had cared for her brother no more than any other beast. So even though Galleran had died, even though Komi had abandoned her post for her kit - their kit, he reminded himself - Jossia still clung to her hatred. He wondered if it was all merely an excuse. If the facade of familial love was enough to drive a beast to such lengths.

?Every piece of advice I tried to give Currathalla?every single time I tried to help him, there you were, whispering things into his ears??

There it was. Thrayjen had hated him for having his father?s ear. Jossia had hated Komi for having Galleran?s. No matter that Thrayjen and Jossia would have led their targets to self-destruction. No matter that their violence had been utter, and unsustainable.

But Aera? Aera was something different, and far more precious. All her evidenced furies weighed heavy in his mind and told him, with absolute certainty, that there was someone here who understood Aera?s darkness better than even Jossia. Someone who could help him save the ones he loved.

He glanced at the Book, still unopened on the table beside Adeen?s makeshift bed, and he wondered exactly what it would say about Aera. Whether Adeen had noted the violence in the young mousemaid?s heart; had seen her vulnerabilities and recorded those for possible exploitation; had recorded her ultimately as a threat or an aid in her thirst for vengeance.

Ah, but the vulnerabilities, and how to exploit them. Would he have the stomach to read that, about his own Apprentice?

The others, then. Every other beast in this Crater, cut open and pinned to the pages, every immediate detail and vulnerability preserved for scrutiny.

He stood, stalked over, eyes locked on it, eyes locked on the power that she could give him if he would only read...

She would fill the gaps in his vision with her own, and open every possibility to him. She would give him the words to see every beast in his way pushed aside. She would give him clarity enough to burn the Crater clean.

He placed his paw on the cover. The taste of ink surged in the back of his throat. Rinam stopped praying, but he paid her no heed.

He could pick them off one by one. Tempt them away from their duties with a promise, crush their spirit with a revelation, pierce the back of their skull with a baselard. So many beasts who deserved that and worse.

Lash Nire to his own banner and run him through with each and every one of the weapons exhibited in the thrice-damned Hall of Greats.
Carve chunks of meat from the weasel Hargorn?s body and muffle his screams by forcing them down his throat.
Slit Tegue?s patrol-buddy Alf from throat to gut and leave him for the rat guard to find, and whisper words from the book into Tegue's ear. A few to strike him down with grief. A few to rob him of meaning for the rest of his life. And just a few more to have him steal a heavy rope, learn to tie a slipknot, find some sturdy ceiling bea-

?No.? He pulled his paw back from the book, let the snarl on his face die.

The taste of ink subsided, and his heart and breath returned to normal.

After a moment, he smiled. ?You nearly had me.?

Rinam had stood up at some point in his dark study. She sat down now, and Aldridge could not help but note her paw in the corner of his eye, moving to her waist as though sheathing her rondel.

Aldridge stepped away from the table and the book, and let out a long breath. Rinam?s paws moved in prayer.

?Signs for clarity,? Aldridge recognised. ?Thank you.?

She returned to her vigil, paws moving for Adeen once more.

?She can?t be brought back.? Aldridge could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. ?She returns of her own accord, or not at all.?

?Your father. The spirit-walker.? Aldridge noted the reedy quality to her voice. Had she been that frightened? ?Would he agree??

Aethelred Moor. All of his stories ran through Aldridge?s memory, followed closely by his mother?s explanations. Superstition, made to work with belief and self-deception. No more spiritual than a game of cards between vagrants under the foam-flecked bridges of Hestara.

And yet, certain memories brought themselves to bear, crackling with undeniable purpose. Memories that Aldridge had never been able to reason away.

?I? do remember a rite that he performed.? He sighed. ?I never saw it work. It could be nothing more than-?

?Tell me of it.?

Aldridge steepled his paws and knit his brow as he regarded Adeen?s still form. All other attempts, all other comforts and appeals had failed. He considered the memories once more, weighing his father?s assertions against his mother?s logic. Weighing the spirit-walker against the confidence trickster.

?It involved names. Objects. Threes, and sevens.?

?Explain.?

Aldridge mustered, sank deeper into the memory before replying. ?Since beasts learned to speak, names have been important - they?re how we define ourselves. Likewise objects. Anything that ties her to this world, that could impel her not to give up.? He gestured to the table. ?That book is an easy start, as well as her cloak. She wouldn?t have worn it for so long if it wasn?t important to her.? He turned to Rinam. ?Does she have anything else??

Rinam?s whiskers twitched in thought. ?Her bunk. Her station in the mortuary. We may find more there.? She tilted her head to the side. ?And what of the numbers??

?Before written language, symbols reigned. Three became the symbol of the self - the two eyes through which we see the world, together with the mind. Four became the symbol of the body - our footpaws that touched the earth, and our paws with which we shaped the world. Seven, then, the symbol of the whole - body and mind together.?

?We left these beliefs behind long since.?

?These are only my father?s words,? Aldridge reminded, ?He said that these beliefs are the ones that call to every beast on some level. They are the base on which all belief and ceremony is built.?

?And this is all we need? Trinkets and numbers??

?No, not quite. My father would hold a ceremony that spoke of the beliefs of everybeast in the room. I know only a little of the Mice of Dawn. Will you tell me of your funeral ceremonies??

"Life is a debt. In time, it is repaid to All That Is. We remember them in our deeds. No more is needed."

"Ah... that's not quite what I meant. Those who have passed - what do you do with their bodies?"

?If the Dawn does not wake them, we leave them to the Sky. Our leader would see them stripped and quartered for the ferals and scorpions.?

?And if they died out of the sight of the Sky??

?Gold. Desert gold holds the touch of All That Is. It is Dawn?s light made solid.? Her paw moved, and she proffered a dagger. ?The pommel and the pawguard. They are what we need.? She looked down at Adeen?s gaunt, silent muzzle. ?This one?s belief rested in herself and nowhere else. But what of your own??

Aldridge blinked.

??Everybeast in the room,? you said.?

?I suppose I did.?

His mind traced the many paths his footpaws had tread. Times long past but not nearly forgotten.

The public spaces along the grand promenade that led up to the Muskroarkan palace, filled with tradesbeasts and performers and preachers. In among that chaos, the quiet of the strange, angular red squirrels who sat to the side of it all in absolute peace and silence. He had learned their meditations, but none of their piety, and in time they had tired of him.

Long before then, Hestara?s port and berths, riddled with seabeasts - not least among them, the Cloudchaser otters. Nomadic tribes of freight workers who spoke in their different groups to different parts of the sea - Storm, Salt and Stone. Devotion to the stability and security of Stone had taken his fancy for a while.

?I?m not sure what I believe,? he choked out, clearing his throat when the words felt tight.

Rinam?s gaze remained firm. ?Then decide. For her sake, as much as your own.?

The abomination?s cage. The terror of that moment left him shuddering as he dug through the memory of that humiliation, immersing himself in every detail as he hunted down the one that mattered.

Bessie?s grey hair and black eyes stuck with him as he spoke.

?I prayed to Stone, back then.? He knelt and brushed a paw across the rough stone floor of the chamber, grounding himself.

Rinam?s brow raised in silent query.

?One of the three aspects of the sea - Storm, Salt and Stone - to which the Cloudchaser otters of the South dedicate themselves.? He patted the floor again. ?I chose Stone, and we already have its attention.?

Rinam regarded him for a moment longer, just long enough for him to see the doubt begin to form words upon her lips.

A bell sounded for the end of the lunchtime break.

?Evening.? Rinam stood up. ?We raid while the fox is away.?

?I?m sorry??

?Your ceremony is prepared, yet we lack five objects.? She gestured sharply. ?Come. We have business to attend in the mortuary.?

Resolve. If he ever saw Rinam without purpose etched across her muzzle, he would only recognise her by her shortened tail. He couldn?t help a smile from crossing his face.

?Aye. Lead the way.?

-----

A diminutive figure approached the entrance to the mortuary. It entered, there was the sound of conversation, low and murmured. And then it, and Mortician Muda, left together.

Aldridge looked at Rinam with some confusion. She responded with a quiet snort of laughter and nothing more, and they peered into the mortuary.

The green fire was gone. Aldridge snatched a torch from a corridor wall-bracket instead, and they picked their way across the room. Two beasts in beds, and thankfully none on the Sleepers? slab. It still bore dried blood from Trema?s ignominious passing at Muda?s claw.

The walls lay a tangle of unearthly silhouettes rendered from not enough torchlight. Bessie loomed in his thoughts. His heart sped up and his breath became shallow - but he did not, would not stop moving. Would not allow that beast of limbs and fangs and eyes to paralyse him again.

They searched, although her bandolier did not require the search. It hung over the back of her little, half-broken chair. A stoppered ink bottle and several quills were holstered in the upper half, and five or more bundled scrolls in the rest.

A hundred heartbeats more, and they found a chisel jutting out of the top of an old, discoloured glass bottle.

A hundred more heartbeats again, and again, and again until he?d lost count, and tucked away behind and between a couple of misshapen jars, Aldridge found the seventh item - a spool of golden thread.

They left the mortuary as quietly as they could, then bolted.

Again, Aldridge felt that strange gratitude. Sprinting to the Mark Chamber from the mortuary took near enough nothing, thanks to Blue?s training regimen. His heartbeat quickened and his breath deepened, and the bruises Thrayjen had left on his face throbbed with every heartbeat, but nothing more. No exhaustion. No panting for breath.

They took the last three tunnels with less speed and less sound. Aldridge gestured for Rinam to stop and listened intently. No interference. Nobeast nearby.

They ducked back into the Chamber and emptied their arms onto the table beside Adeen?s half-gone form. The Mark Wall stood, watching over the three of them.

Aldridge spared another thought for Blue. Standing instructions, Tegue had said, were to leave him to sleep in the Bowyery if he did not report to the Drag. She must know by now that he was abusing her generosity. Must know that he still wasn?t playing by the rules. He dared to hope that he was at least not putting her in danger through his behaviour.

He returned to the task at paw. ?The first three, then. The book behind her head, since it contains so much of her thought and memory. Quill to the right, and inkwell to the left, because she needs both to fulfil her purpose.?

As he placed the stoppered inkwell by Adeen?s head and the white mouse?s motions mirrored him with the quill, he realised he and Rinam moved in much the same way. If anything, she was even more concise than he, moving with a measured quickness that spared time only for her pawsigns to All That Is.

He tucked the book behind the vole?s head, steadfast ignoring the urge to thumb it open.

?And now the other four?? Rinam asked, gesturing to the other items laid upon the table.

Aldridge tapped a claw against his chin. ?Aye. But they must go where they best belong.? A moment more, and he nodded. ?The chisel in her right paw. If she is to wake with purpose, let her main purpose be honouring the dead, not creating them. Scrolls in her off-paw. Not her main purpose but a part of who she is. Fabric and thread beside her right footpaw, to give her something to create as she moves forward. Cloak beside her left footpaw, to give her an even footing on the creations of her past.?

?You have done this before,? Rinam said.

He paused, the cloak heavy in his paws. ?No. I only ever watched my father perform his work.? He set the cloak by Adeen?s footpaw. ?My mother said it was all nothing, said he was tricking beasts into believing that his was the way.?

?And you believed her.?

He chuckled. ?Because she was right, for the most part. It wasn?t just us, your people thought the same of him.?

?And yet we are gathered here, using his methods. Why??

Aldridge stepped back from the bed, and drew in a long breath. ?When I came to see you in the kitchen, I could feel her in the air. Adeen. She was there, as sure as if I could touch her. My father?s ramblings of spirits were the only things that made sense of it - that she was acting through the book, and the book through you. Something I couldn?t see or touch or smell, but? I couldn?t deny it.? A slow, humorless smile crossed his face. ?My father was many things, but in the end I have to concede that he was not common liar. He believed in...? He waved a paw in the air. ?...this. All of it.?

Rinam nodded. ?He was wise.?

He avoided her gaze. ?Not at all.? He sighed, then walked to Ulrich?s toolbench. ?But I suppose I should thank him for leading me to meet you in that hallway.?

?We did not meet. You caught us, and we came within a few words of hurting you.?

?That is also a meeting.?

She huffed, somewhere between amusement and irritation. ?Were it not for your name and your rumours, I would think you incapable of feeling slighted at all, let alone enough to fight over it.?

He couldn?t keep himself from chuckling at this tiny stalwart. ?Talk first,? he said. ?Fight later.?

?Yet the Highlander cut through all of that.?

Aldridge looked up to the ceiling, flickering in lanternlight. ?He did,? he said.

?Anger has it?s place among the righteous. Perhaps I shall see yours, one day.?

Aldridge drew a splint of wood from the toolbench and teased an end into the room?s main lantern. ?I should hope to never reach that point again, Rinam.? He pulled the splint free once the end caught with fire. ?And I am not as impressive in my fury as your Blackwhiskers.?

?Nonetheless.?

He let the word fade, moved to light both censers where they hung - one above her chest, one toward her footpaws. Blew out the splint, and waited for the acridity of burning birch to fade.

Thought of his father, and stood, and sang.

?O you who voyage now on sunless sea,
Where ends the river of the restless dead.
The ferrybeast has lost his sight of thee,
We living state our need of you instead.

Beyond the wall of sleep you rest alone,
Yet now we dare permit ourselves to dream,
We raise our paws and pound and crack the stone,
And to the gap we place our lips and scream!

We bring you everything that gave you life,
But clench your paws and feel their shape within!
But listen out and hear our voice, the fife
That calls to you, come back to us, our kin!

Keep death at bay! Cease now this endless roam.
Come back to us. We need you here at home.?