Carrot Field: The Distant Land: Carrot Field, #2

By Vincent Asaro

HAPPY ENDINGS DON'T LAST FOREVER . . . .

 

The War of Darkness has ended but Brand Redtail senses a new threat from across the Western Ocean. As peace treaties fall apart in Carrot Field and the Outlands, international and civil wars loom. Sebastian Perriwinkle, Professor Plotonicus and Brand Redtail set sail for Trelaan, the Distant Land in the West, on a quest to confront a powerful enemy with no name . . . .

 

Return to the world of Carrot Field, where mind-bending science-fiction meets epic fantasy adventure! If you love Frank Herbert's DUNE and J.R.R. Tolkien's LORD of the RINGS, you will love Carrot Field!

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: MythoLogos Publishing
• Release date: Dec 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201454180

Vincent Asaro

Vincent Asaro is the author of Carrot Field and Carrot Field: The Distant Land. He produces content about Mythology and Free Software. Look for Mythologos on Odysee.com for more information!

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE:

THE CONSEQUENCES OF ADVENTURE

The spring term was all but ended and the first sweet strains of summer had come to Briarstone University. Sebastian Perriwinkle left the book-lined, cozy rooms where he lived and tutored on campus, and made for the Dining Hall. It was his favorite time of day, when shadows draped and lengthened from the old, ivy covered buildings and quiet settled over the college.

The bell tower was ringing the dinner hour and Sebastian quickened his pace. He wore the robes of a college Fellow and looked every inch a professor of history. None of his colleagues knew anything, or suspected anything, of his adventures in the Outlands and his part in the War of Darkness. Sometimes he was tempted to hint at his travels, but he always resisted the urge. The other professors thought him odd enough already, as he was about to be reminded.

As he walked, a brown Rabbit came up beside him and matched his stride.

Glad to see I’m not the only straggler, Perriwinkle!

Good evening, Foster.

Lovely one, isn’t it?

Certainly! said Sebastian.

Edmund Foster, who taught Mid-Aevum literature, was the first friend Sebastian had made at Briarstone, they had both started there in the same term. He was an easygoing Animal, a confirmed bachelor, and they were of the same generation; Edmund had even lost his father in the Long War, just as Sebastian and so many others. Sebastian had thought more than once of telling Edmund all about his adventures, but even though they had been firm friends for five years, Sebastian was not quite sure if Foster would believe him. Their shoes clip-clapped on the cobblestone walk as they approached the Dining Hall.

There’s talk about your last lecture all around the college, did you know?

Is that right? said Sebastian.

You’re making rather a reputation for yourself.

As the brightest historian to ever lecture at Briarstone, I hope. Foster laughed softly but his voice turned serious, "Some of the faculty have taken to calling you Son of Plotonicus."

Now Sebastian laughed, not at all softly. I rather like that!

Foster held Sebastian’s arm and brought him to a stop.

Look here, Perriwinkle, I like you. You’re the only close friend I really have here. We both have our heresies but your heresies are of another sort. It was very progressive of you to start up a Department of Vulpine Studies. These old stones needed a blast of fresh air, you know I support you in that. But bringing the Mad... bringing Plotonicus into your syllabus....

"The Mad Badger? He happens to be the foremost authority on Foxes."

Well, a lot of people think he’s the foremost authority on nonsense. Did you really quote him on the subject of Humans?

I’m afraid I did. I thought it was relevant.

It very well might be, but that’s not the point.

What is the point, Foster?

You have a promising career ahead of you, if you have the good sense not to rock the boat too hard. You have your Fox studies, funding, even an academic journal! You could lose all of that, Foster snapped his fingers, in the wink of an eye! I know the Badger is, or was, a personal friend of yours, but it just won’t do. In all this time he hasn’t been forgotten. A great scholar going off on his own like that, flouting the orthodoxy; well, the establishment takes it as a betrayal. He hurt them, Sebastian, if you can believe they are capable of feeling; because they believed in him and he was the brightest of them all and... well, he had to go and form his own opinion. They still talk about him, yes and call him the Mad Badger. I’d hate to see the same thing happen to you.

Have you ever read Plotonicus?

Foster grinned. You know I have.

Do you think he’s mad?

Mad or not, he is no longer a part of any recognized academic institution in Carrot Field. What good does it do him to amass knowledge if he can’t lecture or publish?

I can do both, said Sebastian, and I will continue to do so. But please, do stop talking, it was a busy day and I only managed a slice of toast for lunch and now I’m half famished!

Sebastian and Foster walked the rest of the way to the Dining Hall in silence. The ancient wooden doors stood open at the top of the steps, and they passed under the bust of P. Bullworthy, a bear, first Dean of Briarstone, peering down from his place above the entrance.

There had always been keen curiosity as to what the P stood for and just where the middle initial had vanished to; the Dean had always been known as ‘The Bull’, as far back as anyone could remember, and the full iteration of ‘P.’ was not to be found on any registry, certificate or document known to Animal-kind, as if it had been scrubbed clean out of history.

Of course, it had been, and it was Bullworthy who had done the scrubbing; the truth was that his parents had a proclivity for unusual names, and the P stood for Perpetual. No one, no matter how successful, admired or loved, could possibly abide the burden of such a name, and Bullworthy had divested himself of it as early in life as he could manage. As for the vacant interregnum mantle, as he phrased it, he had not been granted one, and when asked, Bullworthy had always closed the matter firmly by saying, After concocting such an absurd forename, I suspect my overly imaginative parents ran short of enervation and let the thing stand as it was! This was a favorite anecdote of the present Dean, Wilbur Frith-Osborne, also a Bear, so most of the faculty and students were well familiar with it.

Sebastian and Edmund were the last to arrive at the Dining Hall and they hastily took their places at the High Table. Sebastian turned the subject of conversation to the book Foster was writing, a biography of Cam Farn, an obscure Rabbit poet. But as the long dinner ran its course, Sebastian overheard some of the others talking about him.

There’s young Perriwinkle, Master of the Department of Foxes and Fairytales.

He’ll be teaching Human History next!

Perhaps he’ll teach us all to fly so we can visit the Outlands.

Only if King Plotonicus allows it. I hear the Mad Badger’s been there and back. I fancy he’s set up quite a kingdom for himself among the Humans. Sebastian smiled to himself. They were just making fun, they had no idea that Plotonicus had indeed been there and back and was there now, living among the Feolorn, as far as Sebastian knew.

Have you heard, Perriwinkle? said a Mouse seated across from him as the claret was being poured. It was Kent, who held the Mathematics Chair.

Heard what?

They’ve finally sorted out that confusion about the Government Complex.

Oh, have they?

The commission assigned to investigate has finally published their report. As I recall, you were quite skeptical of all the going theories, when you first arrived here, anyway.

I suppose I was. What’s the verdict?

Unsuitable building materials. Bought for cheap. A freak earth tremor brought the whole place down. Phineas Pharaoh was definitely there, they found his body in the ruins. Nothing sinister or mysterious. I admit, Pharaoh had some curious notions about government, and I wasn’t a great admirer of his ‘Wheel’ concept. But at least he brought some new ideas to the game. You took rather a dim view of Pharaoh, as I recall.

I voted for him, said Sebastian, telling the truth. As for what his reforms would have achieved, I suppose we’ll never know.

But you admit defeat, about the Government Complex?

Everyone around was staring at him, a glass of claret poised halfway to his mouth, watching, waiting on his answer. He smiled. Of course. I’d say the official report sews the whole thing up nicely.

Foster nodded approvingly. Sebastian believed nothing of the sort, but it was futile to try and counter the propaganda poured out by the newspapers. The truth was that Sebastian no longer trusted the government and always assumed they were lying to the public, regardless of the issue.

What’s this I hear about Human folklore in your lectures? said Haw, an enormous Pig who lectured on ancient languages. The possibility that there might be some fact behind the fiction, that’s what I’ve heard.

Only a few small points to highlight what Foxes believe, said Sebastian.

I’d keep such points few and small indeed, Perriwinkle. You wouldn’t want to go the Way of the Badger, Haw drawled.

No, I daresay I wouldn’t, Sebastian replied.

There was a general relaxation of tension after that; yet Sebastian could not help but think of all he knew of the outside world that they did not. He was testing the waters with his students, seeing what the new generation was ready to accept. He hoped he would live long enough to see Carrot Field again have communication with the Outlands. At the moment, he did not think that he would live that long. Carrotonians were, by and large, simply not ready for that reality.

Conversation turned to the case of the Mystery Bomber; several weeks before, an attempt to blow up Parliament had been foiled by an observant night-custodian, who had noticed a door that ought to have been locked left slightly ajar, the door that gave access to a crawlspace under the Parliamentary floor, where the custodian had discovered enough dynamite to kill everyone inside and wreck the building completely. The identity of the culprit was still unknown. There was rampant speculation about a Vorlander plot, even another war, but presently facts were few and all anyone could do was guess as to the motivation behind the attempt. Sebastian chipped in with his own thoughts and observations, relieved that their talk had shifted focus.

As they left the Dining Hall, Foster touched Sebastian’s arm and said, Well done, Perriwinkle. Join me in my rooms for a nightcap and a pipe?

I’m quite exhausted, actually. Tomorrow night. And you can read me some samples from your book.

Of course, said Foster. Sebastian could see that his friend was satisfied, believing he had steered Sebastian back onto the right path. Goodnight, Perriwinkle.

Goodnight, Foster.

In truth, Sebastian wanted to be alone. He tried not to think too much of what he had discovered on his travels, to keep his mind focused on his life as it was now; but that was hard to do when everyone around him kept reminding him that he had seen and experienced things they could scarcely imagine and would be hard pressed to believe, even with their own eyes.

He took the long way back to his rooms, ambling around the grounds, watching the moon and stars emerge from behind a slow-moving veil of clouds. He found himself standing at his own door, lost in thought. Sighing, he let himself inside and was just shutting the door when a voice in the darkened room said, So, you have arrived at last! 

CHAPTER TWO:

TIDINGS FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD

Startled , Sebastian switched on the light. Hamish, Dolm and Traveler had been calmly waiting for him in his front room.

We let ourselves in, said Traveler.

Sebastian greeted them each with a warm embrace. And well that you did, he said, as astonished as he was happy to see them. Two Foxes would be enough to stun anyone here, let alone two Foxes and a Dworrow! Dworrows were the same size as Animals but with wrinkled, leathery skin, long tapered ears and wildly tangled hair; Traveler was actually considered to be quite handsome among his own people. But what in the world has brought you all the way to Briarstone?

We shall certainly discuss all that, said Traveler, "but we have come a long way, keeping out of sight, and are all hungry enough to eat four suppers."

Of course! Sebastian said, and after drawing the curtains, he quickly set about providing them with something to eat and drink. It was a meager meal of tinned meat (which he kept in his larder for guests), canned biscuits, a few scones (quite stale) and whatever spirits he had in his cabinet; he was embarrassed to think of the meal he had just consumed while his friends had waited in the dark for his coming. But his friends seemed pleased with what was offered and left nothing behind but crumbs. As they ate, they reminisced about their adventures together and Sebastian pressed them for news of the Outlands and Plotonicus.

Traveler said, The Professor has received all of your letters and apologizes for not writing back more often. He’s living among the Leonine now, compiling his great history of the Outlands. He is a remarkable Animal, he even mounted an expedition to the ancient Leonine lands in the east, beyond the mountains, and returned with a great many manuscripts and artifacts. He’s very famous in Nirkazad and is treated as a hero and a sage. Of course, he complains that he can’t get any work done with people knocking on his door all day, but I think he enjoys the attention, in his own way.

And how are they getting on, the Leonine and Feolorn and everyone else? Traveler sighed and rubbed his knobby chin. I haven’t much happy news for you, I’m afraid. Since the passing of his mother, Queen Thrit, King Assyr has had a hard time of it. After the war, Malveth disappeared.

"Disappeared?"

"No one knows where he’s gone. He left in the night, forsaking his throne. Without him the Maugilar have fallen back on their ancient traditions, installing one of noble ancestry as Emperor. They selected Korbac, son of Arog, who had been their Warlord but was slain by King Shieldmane in the last battle, if you remember. They held Arog in high esteem and he was apparently of imperial lineage. Niar had left Gorthang in ruins. The Maugilar struggle to harvest anything from the land, the soil is poisoned and polluted and there are no reserves, everything was given to feed Niar’s war machine. Korbac attempted to mend relations with Nirkazad and Melniar, hoping to rebuild the old roads across the wilderness and reopen trade with the Leonine and Feolorn, as well as the Anulorn and Dworrows. But the old wounds are not ready to heal. His attempts have created rifts and divisions everywhere.

Assyr wants to make the peace but his subjects are dead set against it. Most Leonine hoped to invade and conquer Gorthang after the war, to punish the Maugilar, even take them as slaves. There might have been a civil war if Assyr had forced through a new Accord. He had to give it up and he has been beleaguered ever since. He does not have the love of his people, they question his judgment. And he insisted on going away with Plotonicus to the east. They were away for almost a year. In his absence, Assyr’s courtiers started grabbing up power for themselves. Many in Nirkazad still plot wars against the Maugilar. There are many who would take it upon themselves to do what they think Assyr is too weak to do himself. But he maintains the rule of law as best he can. And what of the Feolorn?

They too are divided over this matter. Amlar and Estil were favorable toward Korbac; that stirred much strife against them. So much so that they were removed from office. A different Lord and Lady are seated in the White Palace now. Imris became very popular after the war. Many Feolorn urged him to reinstate the monarchy and take the throne. Amlar and Estil pleaded with him to speak in favor of Korbac and Gorthang. But Imris has no love of politics. I fear he’s fallen out with Amlar and Estil. He resigned as Captain of the Horn-Steed Cavalry and journeyed to Isliadorn to live among the Horukai for a time. There he learned to tame the giant white birds, and he created his own battalion of flying guardsmen: he calls them his Wing Fleet. He’s not often seen in Arborlawn.

That is sad news, indeed, said Sebastian, wishing he had returned to the Outlands sooner. He couldn’t think of anything he might have done to change matters, but at least he could have shown his support of Assyr and Imris.

And what of your own people?

Oh, we’re getting on. Pelaria is still being rebuilt but the city is starting to look its old self once more. And the Roc races have started again! Traveler grinned from ear to ear, beaming. I’ve ridden Ruupaia in three races and won all of them.

Splendid! Sebastian looked at the empty plates and said, If you had written ahead, I could have received you at Lazy Manor. I go back there every summer. A primitive sort of mail-delivery had been set up by Brand, using trained pigeons sent from Tod-Boro and a mail-drop just outside the Great Forest in Melniar; it was mostly a success, but only when anyone remembered to check for new mail. We might have had a grand feast! And we still might do, if you can wait out a few weeks with Uncle Richard, while I finish out the term. Our property is secluded, in the country, no one will see you there.

Very generous, old friend, but I’m afraid we haven’t the time, said Hamish. We have been sent on urgent business.

It’s Brand, said Dolm.

Brand? Sebastian almost stood up. He felt an even deeper guilt. He had not visited Tod-Boro in three years, although he was always meaning to. He did exchange letters with Brand, but it had been more than six months since he had last written his friend. Is he well?

Hamish said, Brand, too, is beleaguered. Now that the War of Darkness is ended, many Foxes wish to leave Tod-Boro and pursue new lives in Carrot Field. Some have taken it upon themselves to visit Thornridge, even taking jobs there or on neighboring farms. The older Foxes do not approve. There is a movement, they call themselves Separationists, and they are led by Shem Longtail. He is pressing the Elders to approve a Separation between Foxes who wish to honor the ways of Mab Redtail and Foxes who seek to break with tradition. Everyone looks to Brand, as Fennes, to say the last word on the matter; but Brand remains silent.

He has changed, said Dolm.

Brand has embraced the old Fox-ways, from before the time of Mab Redtail, those of Redtail himself.

Redtail? said Sebastian.

Hamish said, That is deep Fox lore. Redtail was the first Fox to bear that name, a remote ancestor of Brand’s, although he was later overshadowed by Mab Redtail.

Dolm said, Brand worships the Spirits now, as our kin of old did, in the Vales of the Outlands. He secludes himself with the ancient texts. We who worship Arden are troubled by this, but we honor Brand too much to question his judgment.

If there’s anything I can do to help him– Sebastian started to say.

That is not why we have come, said Hamish. Brand has had a vision. He says you must come to Tod-Boro and hear it.

He summoned Plotonicus as well, said Traveler, but the Badger couldn’t make the journey. I was sent in his stead.

I see, said Sebastian. Then there is nothing for it but for me to answer the call. Please, be my guests here tonight. In the morning, I’ll show you a way out where you can pass unobserved. I have a few weeks more of work to do before I can depart, but I shan’t delay a moment longer than is necessary. Tell Brand I’ll be in Tod-Boro very soon, as soon as I can manage.

He’ll be glad to hear it, said Hamish.

The following weeks passed slowly for Sebastian and he was distracted the whole time, worried about Brand; but the term finally came to an end and Sebastian was released for the summer holiday, at last free to journey north, to Tod-Boro. The intervening weeks had been filled with anxiety and guilt for not keeping better watch over his friends, especially Brand. His mind often turned to what the Fox might need him for; whatever it was, it was not likely to be good news.

Sebastian went first to Lazy Manor to appraise his Uncle Richard of the situation and prepare for his journey to Tod-Boro. Lazy Manor had not changed at all; Sebastian’s collection of family artifacts, his books, the mementos of his great adventure, even the things in his old room were all as he had left them five years before, undisturbed.

On a warm evening, uncle and nephew stood together in the old garden, talking quietly and sipping ginger-beer, the roses already blooming and filling the air with their scent, which forever reminded Sebastian of Avigale.

So, you’re off again, on another adventure? Richard said.

It would seem so. I don’t mind saying that I had always hoped the day would come.

And why not? You’re still young, the whole world is at your feet.

You could come with me this time.

I’m of a different breed than you. I’m not like Alexander. My little garden, afternoon tea, the local pub and the evening paper are enough for me. But you do pick the most inopportune times for your adventures!

Why do you say that?

Perhaps it’s nothing, but the papers have been going on about it. Vorland is rattling its sword again. They say we’ve been spying on them–by balloon, no less! The Prime Minister denies it, of course.

Richard was referring to the present Prime Minister, a Rabbit named Hayden Weir; Weir was very popular and his policies were for the most part sound, but Sebastian could not bring himself to trust him, especially after the way the Pharaoh Affair had been covered up.

Who knows? Richard concluded. But it does look like something might happen, and soon.

I’ve heard, said Sebastian. We’re right on the Channel at Briarstone, you can almost sight the shore of Vorland with binoculars on a clear day. But I can’t believe it will ever come to war again. It’s probably nothing more than posturing and political maneuvering.

I hope you’re right, said Richard, not sounding convinced. There’s also that business about the Mystery Bomber.

Sebastian said, I hadn’t forgotten that. A follower of Phineas Pharaoh, you think, or just an extremist?

I only hope he’s left the country by now, whoever he is, and is never heard from again! Richard sipped his ginger-beer. Any idea what Brand wants?

They had discussed the matter already, of course, but Sebastian had not ventured to guess the purpose behind the summons, and he was reluctant to disclose what he believed the next development would be.

He’s had a vision, apparently. There was nothing for it but to tell all. He had one that included me, five years ago. He said he saw us on a ship, sailing across the Western Ocean.

Imagine that!

I have, said Sebastian, wistfully. "I wonder if the time has at last arrived? But there is something that worries me: according to Traveler, there is one ally of Ouroboros who is unaccounted for, and she is thought to have sailed west."

Ymradel, said Richard. You’ve mentioned her before.

Her cruelty is legend in the Outlands. Traveler called her the Queen of Malice.

I hate to see you put yourself in harm’s way, but I know there’s no restraining you. At least this time I have faith that you are in reliable paws, and you have many strong allies in the Outlands. And I know that you can take care of yourself. Richard put his paw on Sebastian’s shoulder. "But you’ll forgive your old uncle for worrying. Across the sea? Such a journey! How can I know when I will ever see you again? And what of your position at Briarstone?"

I should not like to lose that. But I am a Rabbit of two worlds, now: I hear the call of the other world, the outer world, of adventure and the unknown. And I must answer. I gave my word.

CHAPTER THREE:

THE AGONY OF BRAND REDTAIL

The day after their conversation in the garden, Richard saw Sebastian off at Victory Station. As the train pulled away, Sebastian could not help but think of the start of his first adventure, with Plotonicus, and how little he had known about what was to come. It wasn’t much different now. He wished the Badger was with him.

One shouldn’t have to begin an adventure alone, Sebastian thought.

With the train rocking along its track and the countryside rolling past his window, Sebastian became drowsy and fell asleep. He slipped into a dream. He saw a land of golden field and forest and a gleaming city, almost like Isliadorn. He desired to go there but his movements were sluggish, slow. He heard a voice, a woman’s voice, speaking as if from a distance. Was he seeing Shipaura? Was that Avigale’s voice? He could not tell, it was too far away, both the city and the voice; but it was all so beautiful and enticing, sight and sound, and he strained to make out the words.

The train came shuddering to a stop and Sebastian was shaken awake. He looked at his fob-watch. He’d been asleep almost an hour. The dream lingered a few moments, then dissolved, and Sebastian was left only with a strong impression that he had glimpsed something of great importance but could not recall a single detail about it.

When Sebastian stepped off the train, he was surprised to see that there were, indeed, Foxes in Thornridge. None that he recognized. They had a hard-scrabble look about them and they appeared to be loitering. They were all young, barely adults, the other Animals moving up and down the streets either ignored their presence or stared at them with open disapproval.

Sebastian retrieved his luggage (a backpack) and headed for the Copper Cockerel, where he had arranged to meet Hamish and Dolm. The inn had not changed at all since Sebastian had first been there, and the very same burly Groundhog was still the innkeeper and bartender. Hamish and Dolm were seated in front of the fireplace. A few Animals stood at the bar, watching them.

I came as quickly as possible, Sebastian said, taking a seat beside them.

We’ll be glad to be away from this place, said Hamish.

Yes, the atmosphere does seem a bit chilly, Sebastian said, looking back at the bar, where the other Animals were still staring at them.

Foxes don’t belong here, said Dolm.

I don’t know about that, said Sebastian, but I suppose it will take some getting used to for the locals.

If you’re not working they assume you’re making trouble, said Hamish.

"Not that they like us any better when we are working," said Dolm.

Why? Have Foxes been making trouble? asked Sebastian. He didn’t want to believe it.

Some, said Hamish. Young ones, getting involved with the wrong types, getting drunk, dicing in the streets.

Oh, Sebastian said, disappointed. I guess I can see why some would be better off kept away from here.

There is nothing here for Foxes, said Hamish.

Brand awaits us, said Dolm. Let’s leave this place behind. We could be home by nightfall.

Very well, Sebastian said, eyeing the bar–a cold pint of bitter would have been nice, for the road.

They went around to the front desk and waited for the innkeeper to come through a door connecting the Common Room to the foyer. He flipped through a ledger and pushed it towards the Foxes. Dolm took out his money purse but as he started to empty the coins into his palm, Hamish stopped him.

That’s twice as much as we agreed to pay, he said.

Is that true? Sebastian said to the Groundhog.

Special rates apply for their kind.

Sebastian became cross, What is that supposed to mean?

A crowd had gathered at the door between the rooms.

I lose patrons if I have Redfurs for lodgers, the innkeeper said. There’s no law says I have to put them up, but I do, anyway. But I have to make up for the difference.

That’s outrageous! Sebastian said, now glad he hadn’t given the innkeeper any of his coin or tasted a drop of his beer. These are my friends you’re talking about.

And who might you be? I’ve never seen you about before. Up from one of the big cities, are you? Best keep your mouth shut about how I run my business. And if these two fine friends of yours don’t pay up soon, I’ll be calling a constable to settle the matter.

Sebastian started to reply but Hamish spoke first, Forget it. We didn’t want to come here anyway. Pay the innkeeper what he wants, Dolm. The quicker we’re away from here, the better.

Dolm placed the coins on the ledger and they left. But as they were leaving, several of the guests shouted out: And don’t come back, filthy savages! and Phineas Pharaoh would have settled with your lot! and Does the red come off when you wash?

Outside, Sebastian said, I’m sorry. That was unpleasant. After all you’ve done for Carrot Field. If they only knew!

But they don’t know, Dolm said quietly. I don’t expect to be well treated by outsiders.

Sebastian was struck by those words. He realized just how hard it would be to integrate Foxes into Carrotonian society: for them, everyone outside of Tod-Boro was an ‘outsider’, and for everyone else it was Foxes who were the outsiders. It was a gulf deep and wide.

I don’t blame them, Hamish said. He pointed to a Fox across the street, rather dirty looking, with a cap pulled low over his eyes and his paws in his pockets, standing on a corner. That’s Aiden Dewpaw’s son, Falon.  He’s been away for weeks.

Falon noticed Hamish and seemed startled to see him in Thornridge. He ducked up a side street, pulling his collar up and his cap farther down.

Hamish said, It’s not right, when there’s work to be done at home. These cubs are turning into shiftless layabouts. The city is a bad influence. They’re forgetting who they are and where they come from.

Animals were starting to notice them and to stare.

Shall we get started, then? said Sebastian.

To look at Tod-Boro, it was almost impossible to believe that it had ever been laid to ruin; if Sebastian had not seen it with his own eyes, five years before, he would never have guessed it. But there was something different, something he could not put his finger on. The atmosphere had changed. The Foxes he had known before were unified by a purpose, they had all seemed to move in harmony, enclosed inside their culture. What Sebastian saw now was different. He saw Foxes wearing clothes that were fashionable elsewhere in Carrot Field and it looked out of place. There were some Foxes doing nothing, which he had never seen before, clustered in small groups, engaged in idle conversation.

We have layabouts at home, now, too, said Hamish. My father would have switched me good if he’d ever caught me gadding like that.

Peace has brought both good and bad, said Dolm.

They approached Neithan-Ham as the sun was setting, almost exactly as Sebastian had done on his first visit with Plotonicus. Ana, the silver Vixen, Ald-Amita and Brand’s mate, was waiting for them. She almost ran to Sebastian, giving him a long hug and kissing him on the cheek.

You have been away far too long, she said.

I know and I am sorry. But I am here, at last. It’s good to see you.

Thank you for coming, she said. You must be tired and hungry. The evening meal has just been set out.

Will Brand be there? asked Sebastian.

No, said Ana, looking away, sadness in her voice. You will see him later, alone. But I shall join you for supper, and Traveler as well.

Sebastian tried to conceal his disappointment as they went under the great mound and descended to the Redtail Burrows, where food and drink were laid out for them and Traveler was waiting.

Here at last! the Dworrow said, in his usual high spirits. I wouldn’t have been able to wait much longer. His stomach growled audibly. "And that’s with having two lunches! There’s something about Fox food–the more you eat the hungrier it makes you!"

There was a Vixen at the table, six or seven years younger than Ana had been when Sebastian had first met her; she was holding Thule Redtail on her lap. Thule was two years old and Sebastian felt sudden shame for never having come to see Thule when he was born and to wish the new parents well. Thule sat very quietly in the Vixen’s lap, a preternaturally intelligent expression on his face, and Sebastian thought, Certainly the child of a Fennes and an Ald-Amita!

This is Deirdre, Ana said, She is one of my Acolytes.

Pleased to meet you. I’m Sebastian Perriwinkle, a friend of Brand’s.

Deirdre looked down shyly. You don’t have to tell who you are, not here; everyone knows of you and your deeds in the War of Darkness.

Oh... I suppose I should have known that; it’s only that I’ve been away a long time and–

Ana pushed Sebastian down into his chair. It’s all right, you haven’t offended anyone. Now, eat!

Sebastian tried to enjoy the meal, but he was too worried about Brand to take much pleasure in it, delicious as it was. After supper, Traveler went with Deirdre and Thule into an adjoining den, and Sebastian could hear Thule laughing at the Dworrow’s antics, sometimes even Deirdre laughed, but very softly. Sebastian tried to get more information about Brand from Ana, but she danced around his questions, filling him in on every other aspect of life in Tod-Boro. When she finally did speak of Brand, it was in reference to Shem and his Separationist movement.

He won’t let Brand alone, she said, and the Fennes is already under enough pressure. Everyone looks to him for guidance.

What about you? Sebastian said. Isn’t that what the Ald-Amita does?

It’s different when there’s a Fennes present, she said. I see the past, but Brand sees the future. Everyone wants him to tell them what they should do, they want to know what is going to happen. I mostly have Vixens coming to me for guidance, personal problems. But Brand can’t show himself for two minutes before someone comes after him.

Does he tell them what they want to know?

Sometimes, in a roundabout way. But he says it’s something to do with time.

Time?

Yes. He says that foreknowledge might change what is supposed to happen.

But how can that be? The future hasn’t happened yet.

I know. We disagree about that. Brand has been delving deep into the most ancient texts. He has had Plotonicus sending manuscripts from the Feolorn as well. He is not certain that time is all in one straight line. Sebastian sat back and lit his pipe. I see what you mean. He is burdened on every end and in his own mind as well. Let’s just see if I can help to get him thinking along less troubling lines.

I was hoping you’d say that.

And who is this Shem Longtail?

He is not a bad Animal, said Ana. He is a Builder, what Brand had always wanted to be! The Longtails go back to the Great Migration, but they were never one of the leading families. If things were different, I think Shem and Brand would be great friends. As things stand now, Shem has his eyes on the wider world. He wants Foxes to succeed in Carrot Field.

I see, Sebastian said. For a traditionalist like Brand, that must be a sticking point.

I honestly don’t know what Brand thinks about the Separationists, said Ana, he refuses to get involved and will not even speak to me about it.

Perhaps he’ll speak to me, said Sebastian, since I’m not all mixed up in it.

Sebastian did not see Brand that night nor did he sleep well, waking several times from a recurring dream, extraordinarily vivid in detail but difficult to remember upon waking. In the morning, after breakfast, he walked to Warden-Tor, where Brand had told him for the first time about the War of Darkness and the Enemy. The tower-door was open and he climbed to the top.

The morning was warm and quiet, he watched cloud-islands pushed west by a strong breeze, half expecting Brand to appear behind him, but his friend never came and Sebastian returned to Neithan-Ham. Ana was waiting for him, I’m sorry, it’s increasingly difficult to get Brand to leave his refuge. I’ll take you to him.

Refuge? Sebastian asked.

He has sequestered himself inside the Redtail Trove. Together, they descended through the lower tunnels, Ana leading with a lantern swinging in her paw. The great doors to the Redtail Trove had been left open a crack. Ana yanked on the brass handle and pulled one of the doors open enough for she and Sebastian to enter. Apart from two torches positioned on either side of the doors, the only illumination came from a lamp on a table, where Brand sat hunched over a sheaf of ancient documents; bookshelves stood against the walls, an apparently recent addition, alongside pigeonholes stuffed with scrolls.

Ana leaned over Brand. Husband, she said, almost whispering.

It was a few moments before Brand responded. Yes?

Sebastian is here.

Brand looked up very slowly and for a few moments did not seem to recognize his friend. Ana all but pushed Sebastian further into the room and then she left them alone. Sebastian smiled and stepped toward the table, but the Fox turned back to his studies. The Rabbit stood beside the table, which was buried under pages scrawled with Brand’s handwriting and old books spilling with loose notes wedged between their pages.

Who sent for you? said the Fox.

After a pause, Sebastian answered, You did!

Brand stopped writing and dropped his quill. He lifted his paws and rubbed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. That’s right, he said, his voice heavy with weariness. I forget myself in here. Sebastian stood in awkward silence and watched Brand thinking. Then Brand shook his head, pushed his chair away from the table, stood and took Sebastian’s paw, gripping it firmly.

Welcome, old friend.

Well, that’s more like it! Sebastian replied, pulling Brand in for a long hug. Now, tell me what’s troubling you.

Brand ignored the question. I have been learning so much, he said, gesturing to the overladen table and bookshelves. About our beginnings. The origins of Fox tradition. Brand went to the doorway, where the two torches were burning. He took one down and then went all the way ‘round the Redtail Trove, lighting every ensconced torch along the curving wall. The ceiling was illuminated, and Sebastian beheld frescoes, like the ones he had glimpsed in the Cave of Memory, but in a cruder style. Brand pointed. Look. There.

Away, in a far corner, was painted a wild-looking Fox wearing a green cape and wielding two swords. He stood beside a Vixen whose head was framed by a golden halo. Two identical kits, boy and girl, with unusual markings–white fur and red faces–stood near them, also depicted with halos.

My most remote ancestor, Brand said. "Almost. Beyond his mother and father, history records nothing of the Redtails. But he was the first to carry our family name. Redtail himself! That is Calea, his mate; and their children, Clarion and Avantha."

I have never heard of them before, said Sebastian.

Redtail was overlooked after Mab, even Leaf Redtail is better known. But I have discovered much about him, and the Foxes of old, that was forgotten or lost over time.

Sebastian decided to keep Brand talking, the heart of the matter was sure to come out eventually. Such as?

We had a different way, Sebastian, before Arden, before the War of Darkness. Foxes worshiped the Spirit of Life itself, in all things. I have adopted their philosophy.

Has that brought you peace?

Brand stood staring at Redtail. I saw Him die. Arden. I saw His end. And every day my folk look to me to uphold the tradition of His worship. I have shared my discoveries with a few, but the greater number are not ready to know. Hamish simply refuses to believe it, he thinks I must be mistaken!

I cannot begin to imagine the burden of that responsibility, said the Rabbit. Carrotonians do not believe with the same fervor as Foxes. But I do sometimes tire of keeping my knowledge a secret. I suppose you’re right, many are not ready to know the truth.

There is more. Once, only Vixens had the powers of a Fennes. It’s true. The records are incomplete but that much is clear. Clarion Redtail was the first male Fox to possess this power, what they called the Gift. Something changed when he was born. Brand finally turned to face Sebastian. A mystery.

"Yes. That is a mystery. Do you think Arden might have–?"

No. Arden sought to contain Animal-kind, especially Foxes, because He did not create our powers. But only Foxes possess it and at one time only Vixens. I must know why. It is important.

Why is it important?

My visions, Sebastian, they grow more powerful by the day. I can summon a vision of the future almost at will. I try not to see, but I see anyway. There is a crux before me, a fork in the road, as it were. I do not know what it represents or where either path will take me. I only know that it is important and that when I reach it, I must choose a direction.

"Ana mentioned something about time."

I have been studying philosophies of time. Feolorn, Nythna, even ancient Anulorn. They all believe that time is not a straight line, but a circle, a circle that appeared at the beginning of creation.

But how could that possibly be?

If today is yesterday’s tomorrow, then is it not logical to assume that today is also tomorrow’s yesterday?

If you put it that way, merely as a matter of description, then yes, I suppose one might say it is a logical assumption.

Even at this moment, then, we are in tomorrow’s yesterday.

But tomorrow hasn’t happened yet!

Yet it will.

Are you suggesting that tomorrow is already there? Has been there? Since the beginning of time?

That is what some folk believe.

Sebastian shook his head. Even if it’s true, what does it mean?

Sebastian, what would have happened if you had not come with Plotonicus and me into the Outlands?

"I... I suppose... I don’t know! It’s hard to imagine. That is what happened, after all."

Each of us played a pivotal role in ending the War of Darkness. What if... I see cracks and fissures in my visions... imagine a mirror positioned beside a window. If you looked out the window, you would see the landscape. But from a certain angle, you might see your own reflection in the window, reflected into the mirror, endlessly. What if each of those reflections had its own will? What if there were multiple reflections of your life, but each one a little different than the last, or vastly different, depending on the choices you make, or events that happen in a split second? The difference between life and death, victory or defeat.

It’s a fascinating notion but I should require some evidence before I gave it any credence, Sebastian said. In truth, the thought makes me a little queasy. What are you saying? That somewhere there’s another me, a reflection, who never left Lazy Manor, who never met you?

That is not my concern, said Brand, not yet, at least. My fear is, that by glancing at the reflections I might see, not my own or an other’s future, but the events of a parallel existence. If that is so, and if time moves in a circle and not a straight line, might I not unwittingly break the circle?

What would happen then?

I do not know. The whole fabric of our existence might unravel.

Sebastian scratched his ears, as he always did when he was uncertain or confused. I think I understand. But couldn’t you just stop looking forward?

I have tried, said the Fox. The visions come anyway. In my sleep, whenever I look at anyone, when I think about the future– He covered his face again, for a moment.