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 and BG by  marmelmm


Part Twenty-three.



Tali:

“Do you know your way around this place?” I asked after we’d walked a few blocks from the tailor shop. My plan was to let Dorotea and Lisbet run interference for us to give us some time to investigate before Matt’s two buddies started getting in the way.

Don’t get me wrong, here: Fred and Michael are good operatives, but after a few embarrassing incidents (access File TC-43387, “The Sweet Zwieback Affair”) I’d as soon not have those two boat anchors slowing us down.

Missy nodded. “I was briefly an Ambassador,” the wolfess said, “and while I didn’t get too see too much of the place, the Master saw more and reported things accurately for his liege lord. The fool probably thought I hadn’t read his report.” Her smile was briefly nasty. “He was told off to be my squire.”

“Really? I’ll bet he hated that.”

“Oh, he did. Mels have such fragile egos.” She paused and glanced at the buildings to get her bearings. “The Aerie’s – well, was – there, so the Royal Remains Society . . . right. I know where we are now,” she announced. “What did those two Specialists give you?”

“A list – “ My ears pricked up as I heard a familiar klaxon. "Quick," I hissed to the wolfess, "in here." I waved to an alcove between two shop doors.

"What gives?" the wolfess protested. She craned her neck to see, but I waved her back.

"Your mate. My mate. And . . . Fuma's idea of a grand joke." The wolfess looked adorably confused, an expression that morphed into slack-jawed astonishment as the Paragon I’d had in my equipment purred past (hey, I’m feline; you think I’ll pass up a car named for a panther?) with Matt at the wheel and a naked otter femme perched on top of the back seat alongside a ringtailed femme wearing armor.

Her armor.

The Wolf Queen’s, I mean.

My ears flicked at a deep, feral growl as they drove past and out of sight, and I stuck out an arm in time to bar Missy’s attempt to leap out and give chase. Canines and cars, am I right? I turned toward her and asked, “What’s eating you?”

“She’s wearing my armor,” Missy said in a husky whisper. Her tail was hanging down and her ears had gone straight back. “She’s wearing my armor,” she repeated, her words a little slurred because she was at full crest. I waited for it, and sure enough she opened her mouth to scream, “I’LL – “

Something must have prodded her from within her Elfintory, and as she withdrew her doll I took advantage of the interruption to step out and glance up and down the street. Good; they were nowhere to be seen. “Coast is clear,” I said. “We need to keep moving.” There was no reply, and I could see that the Wolf Queen was still fuming. "What's eating you?" I asked.

"That – that ______ ringtailed ______ hussy!" The wolfess' tail had started snapping like a whip and she was waving her little likeness around. "I'll tear MY Regalia off her and - and then I'll KILL HER!"

"Murder's Unseelie, as you call it," I pointed out.

"Then I'll _______ well WOUND her!" She suddenly noticed that the little Wolf Queen doll was waving her small Sun-and-Moon at her in a bid for attention. She raised it to her face and asked, "What?"

The doll swatted her across the face with the small Sun-blade. "Such was the will of Fuma," it intoned, "so shut up you muzzle." Missy’s jaw dropped as the words sank in, and her eyes began to well up. Frustration, I think, not anger or sorrow.

Her little doppleganger swiveled its head in my direction. "And it is no jest. The raccooness has proven herself a worthy bearer of the Regalia."

Missy sniffled. Fragile egos, huh? I asked the doll, “Fuma said that she’d get her armor back?”

The little effigy nodded. “Fight for Justice,” and with that oracular statement it fell silent. Seeing that it had said its piece, Missy tucked the doll away.

It looked like she needed a hug, so I offered one, and the gift was gratefully accepted.

When I stepped back, there was a determined look in her eyes.


***


Wolf Queen:

[Note appended to manuscript: “Not a word out of you, buck.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “As the Vulpitanians would say, ‘LOL,’ Wolfess.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Grr.”]

“The will of Fuma,” huh? Well.

And that little swipe from the doll’s Sun-and-Moon stung.

I resolutely turned away from the sight of her wearing what by right ought to be my armor (would that I could erase my memory as easily) and told Tali, “May I see that paper, please? I may not be the Wolf Queen anymore,” and I really did try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, “but I was Artemisiaford’s Chief Constable. I have a rather particular set of skills.”

“Sure,” and the feline gave me the paper. I unfolded it and read it through quickly. Yes, those two girls were pretty well-trained. Eleven likely contacts, mostly femmes . . . one mel, though, seemed promising – and lived close to where we were standing at the moment.

If I was reading the street directions correctly, that is. Elvish cities can be a bit odd at times; I knew of a neighborhood in Albric Tor that wasn’t on the maps due to a clerical error. If you want to see it, go to the corner of Malebolga and Milliner, and split the difference on the intersection.

You can’t miss it.

You probably won’t be missed either. People tended to disappear in that area, never to be seen again.

“I think we should start with this fellow,” I said, pointing his name out to Tali. I didn’t need to explain why, because Tali’s not a certain thickheaded roebuck who needs every little detail spelled out to him like he was the densest fawn in Faerie.

[Note appended to manuscript: “By the way, that reminds me, wolfess.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Of what?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “I received a letter from Beartoe, in Poke County. About you.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “What do those idiots want?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Well, I’m afraid that you’re overdue.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “For what?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Your shots.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “What!?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “And it appears that I need to renew your license.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “WHAT?!”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Well, what else can I do, wolfess? I’m a law-abiding fur . . . ”]

[Note appended to manuscript: Left deliberately blank, possibly because the response was literally unprintable.]

[Note appended to manuscript: "Wolfess, what's this about shots? Do you like tequila?" written in an unfamiliar paw, possibly Commander Hartoh-Mason’s]

The mel we were looking for was living at #42 Prytanis Street, so we started asking around.

“Number 42?” one street vendor asked, and after thinking about it the weasel said, “The street you’re looking for’s that way,” and he pointed, “to your right. Be careful, though, you don’t wander into Number 41 by mistake.”

“But isn’t that on the opposite side of the road?” Tali asked. She put on her glasses and started looking at the street signs.

The vendor nodded. “Except when it’s somewhere else,” he said, and refused to elaborate. Rather than interrogate him further, Tali and I headed for Prytanis Street.

“Prufock . . . Prydonian . . . Here we are, Prytanis,” Tali said, and we headed down the road, carefully noting the house numbers.

Number 42 was a four-story building of brown stone, with matching buildings nestled up against it. We both glanced across the street, and saw no sign of Number 41. “I guess it’s somewhere else today,” Tali said, and we headed for the steps.

“Who’re you looking for?” We had almost reached the front door when a loud, raspy female voice hailed us. An open window near the door framed an elderly, thickset feline dressed in a tatty housecoat and with a snood stretched over her headfur. “I said, who are you looking for?”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m the concierge,” she said, pronouncing it ‘con-see-OYJ.’ “I’m the con-see-OYJ for this building. No one gets in or out without talkin’ to me.” She leaned against the windowsill. “My husband was the con-see-OYJ, but he died. So now I’m the con-see-OYJ.” She leaned out a bit. “So, who do you want to see?”

Rather than listen to her again, I doffed my beret and smiled as I asked, “Do you know if Jhonni Dinar is in?”

The older cat’s ears swiveled. “Oh, him. Three flights up, Number 4.”

We started to make our way in and I replaced my beret. “Thank you, Madam – “

“I ain’t no Madam!” the feline said. “I’m the con-see-OYJ!”

I hurried inside behind Tali before the concierge could launch into her speech again, and we took the stairs up to the third floor.


***


Tali:

Missy put a paw on my forearm before I could knock on the door. “Wait a moment,” and I think she cast a ‘detect-magicks’ cantrip. The knob glowed briefly and I briefly smelled ozone. “Figures.”

“A ward?” I asked.

“Uh-huh, one that’ll give you a nasty shock if you touch the knob.” The wolfess knelt down and looked through the keyhole from several different angles before standing up. She gave me a grin and hugged me. “Brace yourself,” she whispered in my ear, “and hold on tight.”

She was cuddly, so I did as she asked -

- And everything went black.

There was a suggestion of freezing cold, and a sensation that I was whirling around like a top, and we were suddenly inside the apartment. The place smelled of stale beer, stale smoke, and male musk, and I could hear someone snoring in the next room.

“A pook?” I whispered.

Missy nodded gleefully. “Fool didn’t think to cover the keyhole,” she muttered, and after giving me a little squeeze we separated and started creeping toward the bedroom.

This ‘Jhonni Dinar’ was a giraffe; he was sleeping diagonally across the mattress and snoring like one of the engines off my Catlass when it was idling on a test bench. “Hey,” I said, “wake up, guy. We need to talk.”

His ear twitched, but he didn’t move otherwise.

“Hey,” and I reached out and shook his leg.

“Gwanenfuggedabowdit.”

I frowned. I briefly thought of waking him up the same way I wake up Matt, but I wasn’t (un)dressed appropriately.

And there was no peanut butter near at paw.

Missy looked at me and, partly divining what I was thinking, said, “If you think I’m going to give him a Wet Wilhelm, you’re sadly mistaken.” Nevertheless, she smiled and waved me back, then held up her left paw facing the giraffe, and murmured a cantrip.

A gout of water, about a gallon, erupted from her palm and hit the guy square in the face. I think half of it went straight up his nose judging from the coughing and spluttering that erupted from him. He thrashed about on the bed, before opening his eyes and looking blearily around.

Clearly not a morning fur.

He wiped his face with a still-dry bit of the bed sheet and looked up at us. “You two with the Hetaira’s Guild? I thought I paid my subscription last month.”

Missy sprayed him again. “Now cut that out!” he spluttered. He peered out through his fingers at me and Missy and said, “No, can’t be the Hetaira’s Guild, they know I don’t like meat eaters. What the Darkness are you two doing here?”

“Your name’s Jhonni Dinar?” Missy asked. The giraffe nodded. “The Commander here,” and her tail wagged in my direction, “and I are conducting an investigation, and your name’s on our list.”

His eyes narrowed. “List of what? Suspects? I haven’t left my room since breakfast, you can ask Mrs. Hackle.”

“That the concierge?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Calm down,” I said, “you’re not a suspect. But we’ve been led to believe that you know something about certain rumors going around.”

“That so?” He looked at us with a guarded expression for a moment before shrugging. “If you’re here to do what that guy tried to do to me last night, it won’t hurt to tell you. Same if you’re trying to stop it. There’s been some talking going around,” and he glanced from side to side as his ears swiveled, “about someone, or a group of someones, wanting to bring the Ospreys back.”

Missy raised an eyebrow. “Alastair’s dead. He was the last of his line.”

Dinar shrugged. “That’s what I told Strangely,” and he briefly explained. “Old Strangely got killed after I’d left him, so the City Guard’s got half an eye on me. Maybe the Old Bird had a cousin or nephew somewhere; or maybe this ‘Cabal’ – “

“’Cabal?’” Missy echoed.

“That’s the only name I got for the group,” the giraffe explained. “Late last night someone tried to kill me, but I’ve had furs try to kill me before.” He eyed me. “If you’re going to tell me that it’s too dangerous or warn me to keep my nose out of it, you can forget it. I tend to take attempts to murther me personally.”

I raised a paw. “No one here is going to tell you that, but maybe we can come at this from two directions.”

“I’m listening.”

“You keep up your inquiries,” Missy said, “and the Commander and I will follow our own line.” She glanced at me, and I nodded.

Dinar thought for a moment and agreed; it was a sensible idea, after all. After we’d settled on when and where to meet to compare notes, he showed us the door.

It was getting close to lunchtime, and Missy and I were looking for a diner when my ears perked at engine sounds, followed by a car horn.

“Crap.”

“What?” Missy asked.

“They’ve caught up with us,” I said, and I turned and waved as the car came up the road toward us.


***


Wolf Queen:

Fuma’s Whiskers!

I was so happy to see Ooo-er sitting in that antless carriage that I almost forgot to be irritated at the sight of her wearing the Wolf Queen’s armor. Tessie was whispering something in my beloved wife’s ear, and as the carriage stopped Ooo-er climbed out of it and started toward me.

I smiled and held my arms out for her.

Then I saw the look in her eyes.

Uh oh.

***


Tessie:

I could have told her sooner, sure, but I had finally had a talk via Elf-Mind with the Regalia about it. “Look,” I said to it, “I don’t know if I should tell her – “

Tell her. Elves do not lie.

“Okay, but . . . “

What?

“I don’t know if it’s Seelie for me to feel happy if Ooo-er slaps her or something.”

I could almost feel the armor smile. She is being taught a lesson. Knock yourself out, kid.

Sure enough, Ooo-er marched straight at the wolfess with blood in her eyes. “My beloved,” the wolfess said.

“Don’t ‘my beloved’ me!” Ooo-er said, and she grabbed the wolfess’ arm with both paws.

ZAK!

She’d been wearing a beret like the mink, bear, and dog were wearing, and it flew straight up in the air as every hair of her headfur stood up on end. Tali looked concerned, and the Master and the other three mels just looked surprised.

The canine, though, had put on sunglasses to admire the fireworks.

“YES!” I cheered, throwing my paws up in the air.




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