If you hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again
	--- “Werewolves of London”,  LeRoy P. Marinell, Waddy Wachtel, & Warren Zevon

The tables in the banquet hall still groaned with food, but no one felt capable of eating another bite. A few resilient children had summoned the energy to go outside to play in the bright afternoon sunshine of Kythorn Day, but somnolence held sway over de’Arnise Keep. Even the guards at the gate were having a tough time staying awake, and they wouldn’t get to gorge their share of the feast until shift change at nightfall.

Anomen let his eyes range down the long ranks of serving dishes once again. The whole Keep and the village could eat leftovers for days. It wasn’t just the quantity of food that had amazed him, but the variety of dishes Patricia and the de’Arnise cook Olma had managed to produce from one kitchen. Even with such a big workspace and a small army of helpers, it was no mean feat of organization. No wonder his sweetheart had curtly told him to get out of the way when he’d tried to snatch a few moments alone with her.

He couldn’t fault the results of her dedication. The somewhat isolated villagers had been astonished to see Kara-Turan, Cormyrean, Mulhorandi, and even Maztican dishes set before them, but bravely sampled everything. A Kara-Turan recipe—“beef chow mein”, that was it—had turned into something of a favorite; the huge bowls that had held it were scraped clean.

Delaine and Winthrop were entertaining a large group of the guests in one corner. Jan had dragged Minsc off to help prepare a batch of fireworks for what the gnome swore would be the greatest pyrotechnic display the Keep had ever seen. The recovered ranger had appeared highly dubious, until Beauregard casually expressed an interest in the proceedings and drifted out after them.

Anomen was glad he hadn’t felt compelled to move. Patricia had emerged from the kitchen and collapsed onto the chair across from him, discreetly propping her swollen feet up on his lap under the cover of the tablecloth. She was discussing recipes with Lady Maria while he and Keldorn tried to keep awake by playing cribbage.

“Oh, no, actually making the grey icing for that dragon cake wasn’t very hard at all,” Patricia said. “The real difficulty is always ensuring that such a tall and odd-shaped dessert will stick together without the weight dragging it down. That’s why we had to make the wings out of spun sugar—it was the only thing light enough.”

Nalia came into the hall. “Patricia, have you seen Aunt Delcia anywhere?”

“I believe she said she had some letters to write,” Anomen told her.

“Oh, then she’s taking her afternoon nap,” Nalia said cheerfully. “Good, I’ll send Chanelle up to tell her that tea will be ready at four. Auntie will have fits if she doesn’t get a tray, though how she’ll manage even a cup of tea I don’t know, after all this.”

Keldorn looked up from his hand. “I hope the young woman is not too upset by Lady Patricia’s decision?”

Nalia looked blank for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, no, I think Chanelle’s glad to have the pressure off her, to be honest.”

Maria looked puzzled. Anomen explained, “Chanelle had two suitors asking Patricia for her hand. The girl’s an orphan, formerly Lord de’Arnise’s ward, so they came to Patricia as Regent for permission.”

“I must say I was startled,” the monk said. “I’d no idea that the girl couldn’t marry without approval, but it turns out she won’t be seventeen for another two months.”

Nalia broke in. “So Patricia was brilliant! She told Chanelle that she wouldn’t let her marry anybody before her birthday. After that she’d be an adult and could do as she liked, but if she would wait another six months, Chanelle could have five hundred gold, not as a dowry to a husband, but all for herself, to use as she saw fit.”

“I’m a little worried about the man Chanelle prefers,” Patricia told Maria. “He has a reputation for drinking a lot. I thought six months would give her fellow a chance to see if he could control his drinking, or else maybe she’d think twice about marrying him. Five hundred gold is a good nest egg for her, whatever she decides. She can set herself up in business with that, if she likes, or build her own house.”

“Miss Mazzy, are you all right?” Keldorn said suddenly.

Everyone turned in the direction the paladin was staring. Anomen was shocked to see Mazzy looking quite pale, clutching one hand to her stomach. The halfling had left the feast early, saying she felt a little queasy and thought she’d overeaten, but no one had thought she was seriously ill.

“Patricia,” was all she got out before she doubled over in pain.

The monk shot out of her seat. “Nalia, Maria, help me get her back to her room.” She hustled Mazzy out of the hall so fast that Anomen didn’t even have a chance to offer to carry the halfling. Concerned, he followed the women upstairs and along the corridors until they came to Mazzy’s room. To his surprise, Patricia’s face hardened when she glimpsed him dithering in the background.

“Anomen, please go away.” Her voice was soft, but carried an edge. “If we need you, I will call you, but I know Mazzy does not want you here right now.”

Completely confused, the Watcher disconsolately returned to Keldorn and his abandoned cribbage game.

“What news?” Keldorn asked. “Not good, by your expression.”

Anomen shrugged. “I don’t know. No one would tell me anything. You’d think if she were ill they’d want me to heal her.”

The paladin looked thoughtful, then grave. “I believe I can guess,” he said in a low voice. “You would not know, but my lady lost three children before we had Leona.”

“Nalia, is there a midwife in the village?” Patricia asked as soon as Anomen was safely out of earshot.

“Granny Bufta’s place is about four miles east,” the girl replied, “but why—Mazzy’s pregnant?”

“If someone doesn’t go get the midwife right now, she may not be much longer,” Patricia told her bluntly. “Did she come to the feast?”

“I don’t know,” Nalia said, “but if she’s not here, she’s bound to be out on a case. Someone will know.”

“Then hurry!” the monk ordered. “But don’t tell anyone why. Mazzy trusted me to keep her secret. If this Bufta’s not here, get Cernick to give you two guards and ride after her yourself.”

Maria had helped the halfling back into bed. Mazzy was pale and sweating, and blood was visible on the sheets. Keldorn’s wife looked at Patricia grimly. “I’ve miscarried more than once myself, Patricia, but this is far worse than anything that happened to me. So much blood!” she whispered.

Blood. The word rang in Tisha’s ears as her nose caught the sweet and coppery scent of fresh fluid. Oh, sweet Ilmater, how much can she lose without it killing her? I promised not to tell anyone, but I’m afraid she’ll die. Images of Khalid rose up in her memory, triggering her gorge to rise as well. With an effort she choked back the bile in her throat. There was one thing she could do to give Mazzy and the child a fighting chance. She rested her hands on the halfling’s abdomen.

“Mazzy,” she said sharply to catch the woman’s attention through her haze of pain. “Show me exactly where the pain is worst.”

The halfling’s eyes fluttered open and her hands moved to a spot on the lower right side of her abdomen. Patricia moved her own hands to the same spot and called upon the power lurking at the base of her brain. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the oily slipperiness made its way down her arms and into Mazzy’s body.

When the dizziness and revulsion faded, she heard Maria saying, “The flow of blood is nearly stanched, Patricia. If the midwife gets here soon, I think she’ll be all right, though I doubt the child can be saved. I think we should call in Anomen anyway.”

Tisha felt hot tears sting her eyes as Maria said the dread words. She couldn’t bear for Mazzy to lose her last link to Patrick this way. Still she protested, “I can’t betray her now, Maria. She was adamant that no one know. I wouldn’t even have told you and Nalia if I could have helped it.”

“Patricia, this is no time for such fiddle-faddle. I’m going to fetch him right now.” Keldorn’s wife swept from the room indignantly.

The monk bowed her head in defeat. She sank wearily onto the lone chair. Mazzy had been lying so still that Patricia thought she was asleep, and the sudden sound of the halfling’s voice startled her.

“It’s all right, Tisha,” she murmured. “Best for everyone, perhaps. The choice has been made for me. Time to stop hiding things. Only regret I hid it from Patrick in the first place. Afraid he wouldn’t let me finish the job, and I was too proud to go back to the Mayor and tell him we quit.” Tears rolled down Mazzy’s face. “Patrick would be alive if I had....”

The door swung open and Anomen walked in. Patricia stood up. “Did Maria tell you what’s happening?” she inquired.

He nodded, eyes focused solely on the patient. His voice was gentle as he asked, “Mazzy, how long have you been bleeding?”

“Only an hour,” she replied. “My side’s been hurting all day, and it got worse during the feast. I thought it would get better if I lay down, but it didn’t, and then when I came to get Patricia, it felt like I’d been stabbed in the stomach, and I started bleeding heavily when they brought me back.”

Anomen’s features knit in concentration. “I only learned a little bit about tending to diseases and non-battlefield emergencies,” he said hesitantly, “but I think I recall one lecture where this was described.” He frowned. “Mazzy, my prayers should be able to finish halting the bleeding, but you need a midwife or physician. If I am right, this is not a simple miscarriage. Your body made a mistake and tried to let the baby grow outside the womb, and you may need more treatment than I can provide, lest infection set in.”

“Nalia’s gone to fetch the midwife,” Patricia told him. “She should be back any minute—she left an hour ago.”

Anomen’s face relaxed. “Then let me help you as best I can until then,” he told Mazzy. “It should be enough to stop the pain, I think.”

Patricia stood apart from them, watching her love tend their ill friend with an intensity that startled her until she remembered the fate of his mother. Of course. Moirala died tragically due to injuries she suffered while pregnant. I’m willing to wager that he studied that part of his coursework very carefully indeed, in spite of his protests to the contrary. If we can save Mazzy, perhaps that will ease his burden of guilt after all these years....

She began to be aware of the inner feelings of each of the others. The wine she’d drunk during the feast had protected her until now, though she’d been so caught up in the urgency of the moment that she hadn’t even realized it. Mazzy’s remorse and Anomen’s reawakened grief threatened to overwhelm her, so she murmured an excuse about looking for Nalia and sidled from the room.

Once outside the door she took a deep breath and wondered what to do next. Perhaps she should go see if Nalia was back before getting another flagon of wine to bring upstairs. Patricia was halfway down the stairs when Captain Cernick came charging up, hot anger flaming in his eyes.

“Lady Patricia! Lady Nalia’s been kidnapped!”

“What?” she said blankly. “When?”

“Just now! I sent two men with her to fetch the midwife. They were returning, actually within sight of the guards on the walls, when a group of men erupted from the bushes. They shot Dervos and Lucmed and battered the midwife around before forcing Lady Nalia into a carriage. I’ve sent the mercenaries to trail them, but they’ll be out of our lands before we can catch them.”

“Roenalls!” Patricia spat. “I slipped out of Isaea’s clutches, so now he’s gone straight after Nalia!” She realized her control had slipped. She closed her eyes and drew on the Eighth Discipline until her mind was calm once more. First things first. “Is the midwife conscious?” she asked.

“Aye,” Cernick said. “Her cousin Olma took her into the kitchen to clean up the cuts.”

“Dervos and Lucmed?”

Cernick shook his head. “A single arrow through each throat. Superb marksmen, I’ll give the dastards that.”

“No more extensive wounds?” she probed.

“No,” he said. A spark of hope leapt into his eyes as he guessed her intent.

“Yes, Sir Anomen will try to raise them, I am sure,” she said. “Their bodies must be brought at once and kept cool overnight, however. Lay them in the chapel downstairs; I know he cannot make the attempt today. I am going to the kitchen to see Bufta.”

Olma dwarfed her cousin, who sat blanket-wrapped in the cook’s rocking chair, a mug of hot tea clutched in her birdlike hands.

“He said I should give you this, Lady Patricia,” Bufta said as she removed something from her pocket. “‘With Lord Isaea’s compliments’, so he did, as he hit me in the face with his riding whip.” A long, shallow cut ran from the tiny woman’s right eye to the corner of her mouth. Olma had already washed it clean and placed aloe salve over the wound. The midwife pressed a sealed note into the monk’s hand.

“Bufta,” Patricia said gently, pocketing the letter, “I know it was a terrible shock, but can you still manage to work? There’s a woman here who’s just had a miscarriage, a bad one, and though we’ve stopped the bleeding we don’t know how to treat her.”

The midwife straightened up at once. “Well, why didn’t Lady Nalia say so? I thought it was a regular labor and hours off yet. How far along’s the girl, milady?”

“I’m not sure. More than a month, less than three, is the best I can tell you.”

The midwife’s face puckered. “Chanelle hasn’t gone and done anything foolish, has she?”

“No, no,” Patricia assured her. “Not that I know of, anyway,” she added. “This is a guest.”

Bufta’s eyebrow lifted. “That halfling lass, then,” she stated. “I thought she might be, but it’s easy to be wrong early on. She’s been bleeding, you say, milady?”

“Heavily. Come, see for yourself. Lord Anomen says he’s not qualified to cope with it beyond halting the hemorrhage.”

The old woman snickered. “He’s prolly like most men, milady, he don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies—or much of anythin’ else about women.”

Tisha smiled politely. It wouldn’t do to take umbrage with the midwife at such a critical moment. “Precisely. Now, not a word about what’s happened to Nalia.”

Bufta nodded. “It’d do the lass no good.”

Anomen was sitting in the chair when they came in. Mazzy had her eyes open and her color was better. She smiled weakly at the newcomers.

Anomen cleared his throat nervously as Bufta matter-of-factly threw back the bedclothes. “Errm, from Mazzy’s description of her pains, I, er, thought she might have had trouble with an out-of-womb implantation,” he began tentatively, only to be shooed out by the midwife.

Tisha went with into the hallway with him to break the news about Nalia, but she was swept into a tight embrace before she could say anything. Anomen held her silently for some seconds, then let her go. “I understand my father’s fury now,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t help thinking that my mother must have looked like that in her last hour. Pale, wracked with pain...even with the healing powers Helm grants me, I felt helpless in there. It must have been far worse for him. Mother was... well, for him I suppose she was what you are to me, the hub of his existence. If that had been you....” He stopped.

Patricia rubbed her aching temples. “And I saw my mother in Mazzy’s face,” she confessed, “putting her life at stake trying to protect a tiny scrap of flesh.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time to put the ghosts of our pasts to rest right now. I have more bad news. Isaea’s made off with Nalia.”

The Watcher went still. In a voice colder than a winter’s night on the Great Glacier he said, “I said I would kill him if he tried to touch a hair on your head. That holds for Nalia as well.”

“Don’t be so hasty,” she cautioned. “I haven’t even read the note he left yet. Let’s find out what he wants first, and then let’s bring our other friends in. Surely we can overcome these rats if we work together.” Hastily she scanned the note. Her lips curved into a dangerous smile as she skimmed past the bombastic threats to the relevant information.

She looked up at Anomen. “We’ve got him, dearest! Listen to his excuse for taking her into so-called custody:

After requesting my fiancee Lady Nalia de’Arnise to return with me to Athkatla and remain under my family’s protection until such time as our contracted marriage could take place, she has refused once more to honor her commitment.

As an officer in the army and official liaison to the nobility, it is my function to see that everyone acts according to their station. Lady Nalia has repeatedly demonstrated that she is under some strange influence, and I must act to protect her. She is a danger to herself and her lands. I have, therefore, little choice but to forcefully show her the error of her ways by placing her under arrest and removing her from the poisonous influence of her base-born companions.

This decision may of course be appealed. Any such petition must be made in person to the officer in charge--- myself....”

Anomen flushed. “Father may have lost much of our fortune, but I resent being called base.”

Tisha felt like a shark scenting blood in the water, and couldn’t feel a shred of regret for what she intended to do to the Roenalls. There were going to be some fireworks, all right. “Exactly. That’s our loophole. Isaea isn’t going to know what hit him by the time we’re through letting skeletons out of closets. Boo’s been plotting again....”