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The Gray Tower
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare
______________________________
Part 43.
Duchess Rolna studied the younger buck carefully, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You again accuse your sister and Adept Hringurhali?”
“Yes, I do. Priest Gond saw them in bed together. The Adept was naked.”
The canine sat back. “You contend that she seduced Princess Trasta?”
Meki nodded.
Rolna thought for a few moments, then nodded and stood up. “I shall question Priest Meras. If I find merit to his testimony, I shall reconvene the Nobles’ Court.”
Meki smiled. “That’s all I ask, Your Grace.” She bowed herself out, and when the door closed the elk buck clenched his fists.
***
Halvrika got up from her meditative posture and dusted off her trousers. She’d offered to help weed Master Ast’s herb garden, and the healer had gratefully accepted her assistance. He was spending almost all of his time at the Royal Keep, looking after King Aroki. The raccoon echoed the sentiments of the entire Order that the King would recover.
She took a deep sniff of the nearby clump of tansy before gathering up the plucked weeds. They would be added to the compost heap and used to nourish more herbs, or the vegetables that the Order grew.
A pair of cervine Apprentices walked past, arguing about a spell’s structure and components, and they reminded her of Trasta.
And her buck-friend.
While stuffing the weeds into the compost, she arrived a decision – she’d write a short letter to be taken to the Keep.
***
Her Highness the Princess Trasta, greeting.
I am returned from my training, and wish to confer with you.
29th of Parant, Year 1127
Halvrika Hringurhali, Adept of the Surveillant Eye.
Halvrika carefully folded the piece of parchment before dropping wax on it and impressing the fast-cooling blob with the symbol of the Order, an eye superimposed over a downward-pointing arrow. A messenger would take it to the Keep as part of the Order’s usual correspondence. She wrote the Princess’ name on it before placing it in the wicker basket at the gatehouse and went about her business.
Shortly before noon, a guardsman from the Keep arrived. He signed for the contents of the basket before closing and securing the lid and heading back into the city.
The otter deposited the basket at the Keep’s gatehouse, and two pages started to sort through it. “Sir?” one asked.
“Yes?” their serjeant asked. The goat’s surcoat was blazoned with the High House’s colors, with a silver facsimile of the Crown that marked him as one of Prince Meki’s personal guard.
“One of these messages is addressed to Princess Trasta, Sir.”
“It is, eh?” The officer took it from the young wolf’s paws. “I’ll see to it that this gets to where it needs to go.” He jerked his chin at the basket. “Go on about your business.” He left room and headed into the Keep, taking the stairs to Prince Meki’s office.
“Yes?” a deep voice answered the knock on the tower office’s door.
“Serjeant Beron to see His Highness, please,” and the goat was suddenly confronted by the hulking form of the Prince’s valet. He offered the sealed missive. “This was found in the mail from the Order,” he said. “It is addressed to Princess Trasta.”
There was a clanking sound and Beron bowed as Meki shouldered Sarti aside. “To her, from the Order?” he demanded.
“Yes, Highness.” He offered the sealed parchment to the elk buck, who took it.
“Well done. Stay here for a moment.” Sarti nodded at the serjeant and waited at the doorway as Meki inspected the seal. “Hmm. Too well sealed.” He brooded for a moment, gazing at the huge network of threads and parchment notes that connected the Order to a welter of disasters and incidents. He tapped the note against his palm for another moment before giving it back to the goat. “Make sure it gets delivered to my sister.”
“Highness.” Beron left the room.
“If I can’t open it, at least I can see what the effects are after she reads it, right Sarti?” the buck asked.
“As you say, Highness,” his valet replied.
The serjeant passed the note to a footman, who in turn gave it to Lady Karalla. The weasel brought into her mistress’ chambers as she was sitting down to lunch with Earl Chassi. “A message, Highness.”
“Thank you, Karalla,” and she grinned as she saw the paw-writing. The doe broke the wax seal and opened it. “It’s from Halvrika,” she said happily.
Chassi had looked up from his plate. “I’m impressed.”
“By what?”
“She’s able to make you happy just by sending you a note.” The buck winked before pouring a glass of fruit punch for himself. “Azos knows what might happen if she sent you a book.” He smiled as she stuck her tongue out at him.
Trasta read the brief note before laying it aside and picking up a small loaf of cornbread. She split it open and drizzled melted butter on it as she said, “The note says that she’s completed her training and wishes to confer.”
“’Confer?’ Is that what you two call it?”
The Princess chuckled. “She was designated as my principal aide and bodyguard when we marched into Lem. So she does have an excuse to come here, at least for dinner.”
“And after dinner?” He flicked his ears up alertly.
“I can see the idea of having two women in bed with you appeals to you.”
“Not as much as having you all to myself.”
“Oh, really? Am I to take that as a proposal, my Lord Earl?”
Chassi dipped his ears to mask the fact they just turned red. “Since you’re courting me, Your Highness, isn’t it your prerogative to propose?” They both started to chuckle. “If you wish to, ah, ‘confer’ with Adept Hringurhali, please invite her for dinner.” He went back to his lunch, pausing as his servant approached with a small tray. “Yes, Padzi?”
“A letter, sir.” The donkey smiled. “It’s from your mother.”
Chassi’s ears went down as he accepted the letter and looked at the impression on the wax seal. “Rarmyni, grant me understanding,” he muttered as he broke the seal and started reading. His ears went back and Trasta could hear his tail flagging.
“What’s the matter?”
The red deer buck glanced across the table at her and read aloud, “It pleases me well to extend an invitation to Princess Trasta to come and visit me at Repor. Please let the Princess know that I will extend to her every hospitality. Signed, Vyrana Nokir, Dowager Countess Repor.” He lowered the parchment. “I had wondered if she was going to invite you, rather than simply have me surprise her by returning with you.”
“Well,” Trasta said as Dame Karalla brought her a small tray bearing writing materials, “I think that visiting Repor would be a wonderful idea. If Father weren’t ill – and Meki acting the fool – I’d undertake the journey now.” She scrawled a note, signed it, and gave the tray back to Karalla to seal. “I feel that it would be nice to meet your mother.”
“Thank you. I think you’d like her.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. In her youth she reverenced Valla. I’ve been told that the arguments she had with my father before I was born were . . . interesting,” and he smiled as she began laughing.
***
30 Parant
Adept Hringurhali,
Please come for dinner upon the first day of Shuvda.
Trasta of Issem and Shuga.
***
“Your Highness?”
Everything had been arranged, and the table set for three. Trasta finished running a brush through her headfur, and she stepped out of her bedroom. “Yes, Karalla?”
“You have a, um, a visitor.” The weasel femme stood at the open door, and beyond her Trasta could see a member of the Guard and – a mephit? Yes, a mephit – who bowed a bit nervously. He had a sheathed guisarme in one paw.
“Who’s this?” the elk doe asked.
“He calls himself Tomi Cheger, Highness,” the guardsman said, “man-at-arms in the service of Thegn Ranol. Says you invited him.”
The elk doe looked the slim young skunk over, saw the Hringurhali colors on his surcoat, and a bit of light started to dawn. “Does he have a note from me?”
“Yes, Highness,” and the guardsman passed a piece of parchment to Karalla who in turn gave it to Trasta.
She studied the parchment, looked up at ‘Tomi,’ and nodded. “He was invited. Thank you for escorting him here, Guardsman,” she added, ignoring for the moment Karalla’s mystified look. The skunk stepped into the room as the guard left, and knelt on one knee as he laid his weapon on the floor. “So,” Trasta said, “you’re finally here,” and she glanced again at the note in her paw.
The inked lines in her own paw-writing suddenly writhed and reformed into her original note.
‘Tomi’ looked up at the elk doe, and smiled. “I came as soon as I saw your invitation, Your Highness,” and his voice seemed oddly distorted, as if wavering between male and female.
Trasta glanced at Karalla, who was starting to look concerned. “Drop the disguise, Halvrika, before poor Karalla calls for a surgeon and has you bled.”
The slim skunk gave an odd sort of shrug and his male appearance rippled and faded, leaving a raccoon sow wearing the seal of the Order in his place. She glanced at the weasel femme and said, “I’m very sorry if I distressed you, Lady Karalla.”
The weasel had a paw held to her chest and her nosepad was quite pale in surprise as she recovered from her shock. “My word, Adept! You gave me quite a turn. I had no idea that you could do that.”
“It takes a lot of practice and concentration,” the sow replied, and she smiled as she faded away into invisibility, then reappeared. “And I’m still here; the spell only works for sight and, in some cases, scent.” Her gray-green eyes mirrored her gleeful expression. “We used to play tricks on each other when I was an Apprentice.” She stood up, the guisarme in her paws, and presented the weapon to Trasta.
The Princess studied the heft of the handle, then stripped off the sheath and tested the edge of the blade with her thumb. “Very good,” and Chassi and Padzi came in as she gave it back to Halvrika, “but I would’ve thought you would use a sword.”
“With this, I can glamor myself as a farmer, and no one the wiser,” Halvrika said. “As a soldier, you know the value of this thing in combat.”
“Quite right. Sheathe that thing for now. Chassi, Adept Hringurhali’s joining us for dinner.”
The red deer buck smiled and sketched a bow in response to Halvrika’s bow. “Excellent.”
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare______________________________
Part 43.
Duchess Rolna studied the younger buck carefully, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You again accuse your sister and Adept Hringurhali?”
“Yes, I do. Priest Gond saw them in bed together. The Adept was naked.”
The canine sat back. “You contend that she seduced Princess Trasta?”
Meki nodded.
Rolna thought for a few moments, then nodded and stood up. “I shall question Priest Meras. If I find merit to his testimony, I shall reconvene the Nobles’ Court.”
Meki smiled. “That’s all I ask, Your Grace.” She bowed herself out, and when the door closed the elk buck clenched his fists.
***
Halvrika got up from her meditative posture and dusted off her trousers. She’d offered to help weed Master Ast’s herb garden, and the healer had gratefully accepted her assistance. He was spending almost all of his time at the Royal Keep, looking after King Aroki. The raccoon echoed the sentiments of the entire Order that the King would recover.
She took a deep sniff of the nearby clump of tansy before gathering up the plucked weeds. They would be added to the compost heap and used to nourish more herbs, or the vegetables that the Order grew.
A pair of cervine Apprentices walked past, arguing about a spell’s structure and components, and they reminded her of Trasta.
And her buck-friend.
While stuffing the weeds into the compost, she arrived a decision – she’d write a short letter to be taken to the Keep.
***
Her Highness the Princess Trasta, greeting.
I am returned from my training, and wish to confer with you.
29th of Parant, Year 1127
Halvrika Hringurhali, Adept of the Surveillant Eye.
Halvrika carefully folded the piece of parchment before dropping wax on it and impressing the fast-cooling blob with the symbol of the Order, an eye superimposed over a downward-pointing arrow. A messenger would take it to the Keep as part of the Order’s usual correspondence. She wrote the Princess’ name on it before placing it in the wicker basket at the gatehouse and went about her business.
Shortly before noon, a guardsman from the Keep arrived. He signed for the contents of the basket before closing and securing the lid and heading back into the city.
The otter deposited the basket at the Keep’s gatehouse, and two pages started to sort through it. “Sir?” one asked.
“Yes?” their serjeant asked. The goat’s surcoat was blazoned with the High House’s colors, with a silver facsimile of the Crown that marked him as one of Prince Meki’s personal guard.
“One of these messages is addressed to Princess Trasta, Sir.”
“It is, eh?” The officer took it from the young wolf’s paws. “I’ll see to it that this gets to where it needs to go.” He jerked his chin at the basket. “Go on about your business.” He left room and headed into the Keep, taking the stairs to Prince Meki’s office.
“Yes?” a deep voice answered the knock on the tower office’s door.
“Serjeant Beron to see His Highness, please,” and the goat was suddenly confronted by the hulking form of the Prince’s valet. He offered the sealed missive. “This was found in the mail from the Order,” he said. “It is addressed to Princess Trasta.”
There was a clanking sound and Beron bowed as Meki shouldered Sarti aside. “To her, from the Order?” he demanded.
“Yes, Highness.” He offered the sealed parchment to the elk buck, who took it.
“Well done. Stay here for a moment.” Sarti nodded at the serjeant and waited at the doorway as Meki inspected the seal. “Hmm. Too well sealed.” He brooded for a moment, gazing at the huge network of threads and parchment notes that connected the Order to a welter of disasters and incidents. He tapped the note against his palm for another moment before giving it back to the goat. “Make sure it gets delivered to my sister.”
“Highness.” Beron left the room.
“If I can’t open it, at least I can see what the effects are after she reads it, right Sarti?” the buck asked.
“As you say, Highness,” his valet replied.
The serjeant passed the note to a footman, who in turn gave it to Lady Karalla. The weasel brought into her mistress’ chambers as she was sitting down to lunch with Earl Chassi. “A message, Highness.”
“Thank you, Karalla,” and she grinned as she saw the paw-writing. The doe broke the wax seal and opened it. “It’s from Halvrika,” she said happily.
Chassi had looked up from his plate. “I’m impressed.”
“By what?”
“She’s able to make you happy just by sending you a note.” The buck winked before pouring a glass of fruit punch for himself. “Azos knows what might happen if she sent you a book.” He smiled as she stuck her tongue out at him.
Trasta read the brief note before laying it aside and picking up a small loaf of cornbread. She split it open and drizzled melted butter on it as she said, “The note says that she’s completed her training and wishes to confer.”
“’Confer?’ Is that what you two call it?”
The Princess chuckled. “She was designated as my principal aide and bodyguard when we marched into Lem. So she does have an excuse to come here, at least for dinner.”
“And after dinner?” He flicked his ears up alertly.
“I can see the idea of having two women in bed with you appeals to you.”
“Not as much as having you all to myself.”
“Oh, really? Am I to take that as a proposal, my Lord Earl?”
Chassi dipped his ears to mask the fact they just turned red. “Since you’re courting me, Your Highness, isn’t it your prerogative to propose?” They both started to chuckle. “If you wish to, ah, ‘confer’ with Adept Hringurhali, please invite her for dinner.” He went back to his lunch, pausing as his servant approached with a small tray. “Yes, Padzi?”
“A letter, sir.” The donkey smiled. “It’s from your mother.”
Chassi’s ears went down as he accepted the letter and looked at the impression on the wax seal. “Rarmyni, grant me understanding,” he muttered as he broke the seal and started reading. His ears went back and Trasta could hear his tail flagging.
“What’s the matter?”
The red deer buck glanced across the table at her and read aloud, “It pleases me well to extend an invitation to Princess Trasta to come and visit me at Repor. Please let the Princess know that I will extend to her every hospitality. Signed, Vyrana Nokir, Dowager Countess Repor.” He lowered the parchment. “I had wondered if she was going to invite you, rather than simply have me surprise her by returning with you.”
“Well,” Trasta said as Dame Karalla brought her a small tray bearing writing materials, “I think that visiting Repor would be a wonderful idea. If Father weren’t ill – and Meki acting the fool – I’d undertake the journey now.” She scrawled a note, signed it, and gave the tray back to Karalla to seal. “I feel that it would be nice to meet your mother.”
“Thank you. I think you’d like her.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. In her youth she reverenced Valla. I’ve been told that the arguments she had with my father before I was born were . . . interesting,” and he smiled as she began laughing.
***
30 Parant
Adept Hringurhali,
Please come for dinner upon the first day of Shuvda.
Trasta of Issem and Shuga.
***
“Your Highness?”
Everything had been arranged, and the table set for three. Trasta finished running a brush through her headfur, and she stepped out of her bedroom. “Yes, Karalla?”
“You have a, um, a visitor.” The weasel femme stood at the open door, and beyond her Trasta could see a member of the Guard and – a mephit? Yes, a mephit – who bowed a bit nervously. He had a sheathed guisarme in one paw.
“Who’s this?” the elk doe asked.
“He calls himself Tomi Cheger, Highness,” the guardsman said, “man-at-arms in the service of Thegn Ranol. Says you invited him.”
The elk doe looked the slim young skunk over, saw the Hringurhali colors on his surcoat, and a bit of light started to dawn. “Does he have a note from me?”
“Yes, Highness,” and the guardsman passed a piece of parchment to Karalla who in turn gave it to Trasta.
She studied the parchment, looked up at ‘Tomi,’ and nodded. “He was invited. Thank you for escorting him here, Guardsman,” she added, ignoring for the moment Karalla’s mystified look. The skunk stepped into the room as the guard left, and knelt on one knee as he laid his weapon on the floor. “So,” Trasta said, “you’re finally here,” and she glanced again at the note in her paw.
The inked lines in her own paw-writing suddenly writhed and reformed into her original note.
‘Tomi’ looked up at the elk doe, and smiled. “I came as soon as I saw your invitation, Your Highness,” and his voice seemed oddly distorted, as if wavering between male and female.
Trasta glanced at Karalla, who was starting to look concerned. “Drop the disguise, Halvrika, before poor Karalla calls for a surgeon and has you bled.”
The slim skunk gave an odd sort of shrug and his male appearance rippled and faded, leaving a raccoon sow wearing the seal of the Order in his place. She glanced at the weasel femme and said, “I’m very sorry if I distressed you, Lady Karalla.”
The weasel had a paw held to her chest and her nosepad was quite pale in surprise as she recovered from her shock. “My word, Adept! You gave me quite a turn. I had no idea that you could do that.”
“It takes a lot of practice and concentration,” the sow replied, and she smiled as she faded away into invisibility, then reappeared. “And I’m still here; the spell only works for sight and, in some cases, scent.” Her gray-green eyes mirrored her gleeful expression. “We used to play tricks on each other when I was an Apprentice.” She stood up, the guisarme in her paws, and presented the weapon to Trasta.
The Princess studied the heft of the handle, then stripped off the sheath and tested the edge of the blade with her thumb. “Very good,” and Chassi and Padzi came in as she gave it back to Halvrika, “but I would’ve thought you would use a sword.”
“With this, I can glamor myself as a farmer, and no one the wiser,” Halvrika said. “As a soldier, you know the value of this thing in combat.”
“Quite right. Sheathe that thing for now. Chassi, Adept Hringurhali’s joining us for dinner.”
The red deer buck smiled and sketched a bow in response to Halvrika’s bow. “Excellent.”
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Raccoon
Size 594 x 876px
File Size 91.6 kB
Listed in Folders
(Tali finishes fitting a silencer to a Heckler and Koch .45 USP)
(She loads a magazine of subsonic hollowpoints, slides back the jacket and chambers a round.)
*PHUT*
(At the end of the range, the remains of a shattered canteloupe start sliding down the backstop)
"I HATE bullies."
(She loads a magazine of subsonic hollowpoints, slides back the jacket and chambers a round.)
*PHUT*
(At the end of the range, the remains of a shattered canteloupe start sliding down the backstop)
"I HATE bullies."
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