This is a sequel to Mont Rose, which is a sequel to Rajjan Tor. The stories are set in  tegerio's Realm of Faerie universe, as shown in his Zandar's Saga here on FA, and The Ballad of Adler Young.

Also check out  eocostello's Realm of Faerie stories:
The Thin Line
From Whom All Blessings Flow
Personal Diplomacy
The Font of Honour
It's Only Funny Until Someone Loses Their Dignity
. . . Is In Another Castle
The Coin of the Realm
Dance, Ballerina, Dance

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Blunt Objects
© 2014 by Walter Reimer

Part 18.



Isabeau licked her lips and straightened up. “I love you.”

“You know,” Ayyub said as he caught his breath, “if you’re not trying to get pregnant, you’re going about it the wrong way. What if that cantrip your mother taught – “

“Aunt Verity.”

“- your Aunt Verity taught you should fail sometime? There’d be a scandal.”

Isabeau pulled on her dress, making it a point to face away from him and bend over as she wiggled her tail through the skirt’s tail gusset. As she straightened and shook her hair free she said, “If you’re worried about that now, maiteak, you might want to consider putting your trousers back on.” She giggled as she held them out to him, and laughed as he growled and took them.

“I’m serious, Isabeau,” the fennec tod said. “I’m sure you want to come back here after we’re married.”

“Of course.”

“And I’m sure you’ll want to enjoy yourself here, rather than having people whisper about you behind your back all the time.” He finished buttoning up his pants and looked up to see her taking something from a small pouch on her belt. “What’s that?”

“Just some mint leaves,” his betrothed replied. “Sweeten my breath a little.” She smiled as she chewed. “We don’t want people to talk, now do we?”

He shook his head and held up a paw to decline her offer of a small wad of the leaves. “I think you take after your aunt too much.”

“Maybe I do,” she admitted, “but you have learned one thing today.”

“What’s that?”

Isabeau nodded toward the menhir. “Now you know why it’s called a ‘standing stone.’” She laughed as he rolled his eyes, and they headed down the road, paw in paw.

The afternoon was moving toward sunset as the two fennecs walked past the Shaded Repose. Isabeau asked, “Walk me home?”

“Of course,” and they headed up the road that led to the Weatherwright’s house.

“You’re right, of course,” the vixen said after a few moments. “Ever since that first night . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“That first night?” Ayyub prompted, remembering the quiet moments they had spent by the canal.

Isabeau nodded. “Ever since then, I’ve felt like – like I had to make up for lost time, you understand? Like this was the Lady telling me that this was my last chance.” Her voice had a slight hitch to it, as if she was trying to hold back tears. “Mother and F-Father have tried to find me a husband, but – “

He placed a fingertip on her lips and she stopped, blushing. “Isabeau.”

“Yes, Ayyub?”

“You’ve found a husband,” he said softly, closing the distance between them until they shared a gentle kiss. She suddenly yipped in surprise as his tail swatted her rear and he said, “So you need to control yourself. Slow down; we have all our lives ahead of us.”

The vixen blinked at him and nestled close as they continued walking, her paws grasping his arm.

After a moment she leaned her head against his.

When they reached the house they saw that Aelfric was sitting on the front steps, sipping at a mug of tea. “Isabeau.” He raised his mug. “Ayyub.”

“How are things inside, Aelfric?” Isabeau asked.

“A lot calmer now,” the tod said, taking another swallow of his tea. “I think Bertram’s still a bit confused, and Mama’s taking a nap.” He stood up. “Coming in, Ayyub?”

“I’d best get back to the inn. It’ll be dinnertime soon.” He gave Isabeau a kiss and smiled at her before heading back down the hill.

Isabeau stood and waved, watching him go, then turning as Aelfric asked, “So?”

“What?”

“Am I an uncle yet?”

He grinned as she chased him into the house.

The next day the Sharpears sat alongside the Weatherwrights and the Broadleas in the Temple of Fuma, the largest structure in the town. The building had been built in the Long Ago and its thick walls and narrow windows testified to its original purpose as a keep, an outpost of the militant Mephitist Church established by King Irenaeus.

The arrow loopholes had been filled with stained glass and the sunlight cast multicolored beams on the congregation and the Mephitist symbol as the Priest and his acolytes processed to the altar. “That’s him,” Isabeau whispered to Ayyub. “Father Jacobus.” She pointed at the Priest, a wolf about Ayyub’s height with a serene and worldly air about him.

Jacobus presided over the Holy Re-Creation and the congregation bowed as the gout of flame and smoke ascended to the high ceiling. After divesting himself of the heavy mask and gauntlets, the wolf took up his position before the altar as the assembly began to leave their pews and line up to be blessed.

Standing beside his father, Ayyub’s ears flicked as he heard a growl. A quick glance around told him that the Blunt family had also attended church. Cheshire looked angry, while his mother and father looked stern and stolid respectively. He bowed his head for the Benedictio Interphalangeal and felt the firm pressure of the priest’s knuckles on his head.

After the service, Isabeau took Ayyub’s paw and led him over to the wolf. “Father Jacobus,” she said, “may I introduce my betrothed, Ayyub Sharpears?” She ignored Cheshire’s disgusted snort from his vantage point nearby.

The wolf smiled and took the fennec’s paw. “You may. Pleased to meet you, young Ayyub. Isabeau here says that she wants me to officiate at your wedding.”

Another snort.

“That’s right, Father.”

“What do you think? I should fancy you’d want your own priest to officiate.”

“Isabeau and I talked it over,” Ayyub said, “and Father Ambrose agreed after I talked to him about it.”

Jacobus nodded. “But what do you think of it?”

“Father – “ Isabeau began.

“Hush, my child,” he said in a gently reproving tone that nevertheless brooked no objection. “Let the young man speak.”

Ayyub’s ears dipped. “If it’s the Lady’s Will, then there it is. But having you preside will make Isabeau happy, and I want her to be happy.”

Judging by the wolf’s broad smile, it was apparently the right answer. He bestowed another blessing on both of them before turning to greet a family of parishioners. He took a small cub in his paws and drew smiles and a bit of laughter as he made funny faces to amuse the child.

Isabeau and Ayyub walked back over to the families, but the tod noticed two members missing. “Where are Mother and Mrs. Weatherwright?” he asked his father.

Farukh shrugged and gestured to where Hannah and Eleanor stood, speaking in low tones to Salome Blunt. As they watched, Cedric muttered, “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”

“I agree,” Farukh murmured back.

“Didn’t Hannah tell you anything?”

“Not a bit of it. You?”

Cedric shook his head. Both tods watched as their wives walked back over to them.

“So,” Eleanor Weatherwright said in a cheerful tone, “who wants lunch before we go to the fair?”

Aunt Verity had gone home immediately after the service, but joined the group for lunch at the Weatherwright’s house. The older vixen looked quite chipper, and Ayyub said so.

“Thank you, Ayyub,” Verity said. “I just wanted to freshen up a bit. Jacobus is a good sort, isn’t he?”

“He certainly struck me as that, yes.” From the look in Verity’s eyes, he guessed that ‘freshening up’ included a glass or two of spring wine. “He asked me why I agreed with Isabeau to have him officiate.”

“And?”

“I told him that it would make her happy.”

Verity patted him on the head. “The weather on your wedding day will be perfect, just you see. Now, there’s a fair down in the village,” and everyone laughed as Jake and Bertram cheered, “and I have some coppers for the kits in my bag.”

There was another cheer and Eleanor said, “You’re spoiling my and Hannah’s sons, Verity.”

“I can’t think of anyone more suitable, dear sister. I need to spend some coppers on someone, so why not my nephew and his friend?” She stood up and picked up her shawl. “Who wants to come with me?”

The fair had been set up in the town’s main plaza, with some of the events taking up a field near the river. Games of chance and booths selling food and beverages dominated the square, along with traveling bards and a troupe of acrobats.

The adjoining field held areas for games like quoits and skittles, a small paddock where children could ride ants (the ants were bred to be smaller than the usual riding standard, the better to haul carts in the local mines), and a mechanical contrivance that Aelfric had helped build.

This was a water wheel suspended in the river’s flow; the axle was connected by a series of gears to a wide, flat turntable that held gaily painted wooden ants and carts. These were connected to various cams and rods that, when set into motion, made the wooden ants and carts rock back and forth or go up and down.

Furs from all over the district were there, already enjoying themselves as the families arrived. Ayyub took Isabeau’s paw. “Care for a game of skittles, love?”

She grinned. “Care to bet on the outcome?”

He thought. “Two coppers?”

“You’re on.”

They grinned and set off across the field, but not before Ayyub spotted Cheshire standing near a group of furs selling beer.