The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter

A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel

(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  Major Matt Mason



Part Eighteen.

[Note appended to manuscript: “What, is that it, then?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “’Yes, Master.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “You’re just going to leave us hanging there, are you?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “For now, yes, Master. The rest of you need to carry on with your stories, too.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “That’s very reasonable, Tessie.”]


***


Jhonni:

Expense account item two: Thirty stars dead, and that’s a really bad, but appropriate, turn of phrase, for the hire of a room at Pleasant Rest Hostel for four nights over on the Sunset side of town. If I was going to investigate something that had Wulf acting skittish, I figured a change of address might be in order. You never know who might want an investigation stopped dead, along with the investigator.

Once I’d dropped my bundle at the hostel, I started to ask a few furs about what they knew about this ‘Cabal.’

Like I said, a giraffe tends to stick in the mind, but my friends the shadows had my back, and the people I knew on this side of town were pretty well connected. Those connections weren’t likely to get me into the best restaurants in the city, but that’s okeh – I’m not a food critic.

Most times.

A couple cold leads later, and I was down to my final contact in that part of town, a bloodhound named Strangely Brown. Old Strangely and I knew each other, but as soon as I said what I was looking for he tried to shut his door in my face.

Dumb move on his part, and after I kicked the door in I grabbed him by his shirt collar and belt and tossed him into a chair. He was still shaking his head when I closed the door, propped a chair up against it, and then loomed over him. Under the Light, I’ll tell you that giraffes are good at looming.

“Now, Strangely, let’s hear what you know.”

“I-I don’t know nothing about no ‘Cabble,’ Jhonni! I’m – “

“It’s pronounced ‘Cabal,’ and your reaction to me saying it tells me that you Know Something, Strangely old buddy.” I loomed further. “Spill it, and remember – Elves Don’t Lie.”

The hound gulped, glanced from side to side, gulped again, and started whisper so softly that I had to swivel both ears and lean in so close that I could smell what he’d had for lunch the previous day. “Y-you remember . . . him?” He pantomimed flapping wings.

I nodded. Oh yeah, I remembered him, all right; Alastair, sixth of his name and sixty-sixth of his line. I could still feel some of the bruises his goons put on me, may the Brilliant Light sear the flesh off their bones.

Strangely’s voice dropped lower. “Th-There’s some f-folk . . . want t-to bring h-him back.”


***


Winterbough:

The inn nearest the stele-Gate had been called The End of the Road, as I recalled from my and the Wolf Queen’s previous visit to Eastness, and the building had indeed reached the end of the road. The last time I saw it, the windows had gone missing, along with a portion of the roof. Now, the damage was a bit more extensive.

To be brief, it wasn’t going to see any customers for a while.

The ‘car’ had done rather well going across the once-swampy terrain and we were now stopped beside the inn while Michael and I investigated. Parts of two walls remained standing, but the rest . . . “Look here,” I said.

“What?” the mink asked, slipping the device he was waving about into his pocket.

I waved a paw at the ruins. “Notice anything odd?”

“Um . . . “

“There’s no stones scattered about,” I said. “This place was being dismantled.”

“Maybe whoever took them is building something further on,” Fred supplied, loping up with a flask of water. We accepted the drink, as the sun beaming down on us was making things rather warm. “Although rebuilding here would be a good idea.”

“Eh?” I asked.

The canine nodded. “Sure. You’ve got a – Gate, is it? – standing out there. Imagine that you’re a traveler, tired out from your trip, and you want a bed and a meal.”

“You’re making sense, Fred,” Michael said, “and it’s scaring me.”

Fred shrugged. “Someone had the idea previously, so why not now?”

“Well, we’re more than a few decades late for last call,” I said, “but the road looks like it’s been repaired. Shall we head on to the city? I admit that I’m interested in seeing what’s happened.”

“Good idea,” Matt said. “Mount up, and let’s get moving.”


***


Tali:

I released my chokehold on the little guy when the Wolf Queen nodded at me, but I stayed about two arm’s-lengths away and ready. These guys may have been small, but they were in good shape from their trade. They had us heavily outnumbered, as well.

“Loyal and Royal, eh?” the Wolf Queen asked, stressing the word ‘royal.’ “Is there a new Queen or King in Eastness now?”

The old stallion gave a gentle laugh. “The Light bless you, Missy. We were ‘Royal and Loyal,’ we were, till yon House of Sulfrox, bless ‘em, was toppled by them damned ospreys. We switched the words ‘round, an’ them fluttering ponces never caught on,” he said, and several of his fellows chuckled. “We’ve had a few as ask whether to change it back, but until we’ve a ruler we’re content to leave it as is.”

“So who’s running the place now?” I asked.

One of the other shorties replied, “A sorta, like, Council, Miss. Eleven of ‘em, one from each district.”

“Voted in,” another remarked, and he grinned. “It’s what the Wolf Queen would’ve wanted.”

Queenie’s ears went straight up as her mouth sagged open. To her credit she recovered quickly and asked, “Th-the Wolf Queen?”

“Yup,” the stallion said. “She and her squire killed the last of Ospreys, and most of the Quality – well, they should be quite comfortable in the Netherhells. Until we get some get of the Sulfrox back, we’re happy to let the Council look after things. And it’s all thanks to the Wolf Queen, the Light bless her.”

My companion seemed to preen a little and her tail wagged. “I’m very flattered,” the wolfess said, “but Elves Don’t Lie – I had very little to do with it.”

“What do you mean, Missy?” the older horse asked.

“I’m the Wolf Queen, and – “

Chances are pretty good that you’ve been laughed at, at least once in your lifetime. I know I’ve had my share of people laughing at me.

Ever watched the face of someone who’s being laughed at?

If being laughed at can be soul-destroying at times, watching it happen can be almost as wrenching. My heart went out to the wolfess as the short horses all started laughing at her. Her tail drooped despondently and her ears went straight back, and her muzzle dipped as her shoulders sagged. “But,” she said, “Elves Don’t Lie . . . “

“That’s so,” one of the stallions said, “but they can exaggerate, or maybe be a wee bit tetched in the head.” He tapped his temple for emphasis. “The two of you look like you’ve been through a lot, so it might be.”

“But . . . but . . . but . . . “

“’Sides,” another chimed in, “there’s no way you could be the Wolf Queen.”

That brought her back a bit, and she planted her fists on her hips. “Why?”

“You ain’t got no armor on,” one said.

“And your rear’s too big,” another supplied, “and your tits’re too small.” She gaped at him in shock and indignation, and he added, “All the ballads say she’s supposed to’ve BOUNCED when she fought the last of the Ospreys." He cupped his paws in front his chest for emphasis.

"Distracted him, and that's when she nailed him one,” another said.

I could see where this was going, and from the look of the Wolf Queen she was about to start visiting fire and slaughter on these guys. I stepped forward, hugged the wolfess and said, “You’re right about one thing, and we have been through a lot. Any way we could hitch a lift to Eastness?”

Heads turned toward the oldest fellow, who looked at the pile of stones on the wagon. “We’ve near a full load,” and he squinted up at the sun, “and it’s about that time.” He smiled and gestured. “Have a seat, ladies.”


***


Wolf Queen:

OOOH!

Just . . . OOOH!

I don’t know which was worse – my futile anger, or the tears of impotent rage. I sat on the tail-board of the wagon, watching the ruins receding as those short horses took us to Eastness.

But I didn’t care. I wanted the Regalia back. I wanted Sun-and-Moon.

I – gulp – wanted Ooo-er.

I felt Tali put an arm across my shoulders and give me a little squeeze. “Hey,” she said softly.

“What?” and there was no way I could keep the miserable tone out of my voice.

Another little squeeze, and I looked at her. “Look, do you remember the woods? Fuma?” I nodded, and she said, “Remember what she said about your Regalia? You’ll get it back, in ‘the fullness of time,’ she said.” She smiled at me.

I started to smile back. “At least we’re not walking.”

“That’s the spirit.”


***


Jhonni:

Bring him back?

I managed to stop myself from laughing in Strangely’s face. “Alastair’s been dead for years,” I said. “There’s no way he’s coming back.”

He actually hissed at me and started waving his paws. “Shh! Not so loud, Jhonni!” He glanced hectically from side to side and said, “Maybe not him, but someone like him. They got muscle and they’re gonna use it, too.” He swallowed, hard. “That’s all I know. I don’t know no names, and Elves Don’t Lie.”

I nodded. “Okeh, Strangely.” He flinched when I brought my paws up, and relaxed a tiny bit when I straightened his shirt collar. “You told me enough.” I stood up and walked to the door. “See you around.”

“Uh-uh,” he said. “You ain’t gonna see me again, Jhonni.”

As I left the building, my nose twitched. I could’ve sworn I smelled something sweet. Oh well.

I decided that I’d start submitting expense reports every time I incurred one, rather than in one report at the end of the case.





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