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  marmelmm


Part Twenty-five.



Tali:

You might have heard the old saying that “plans never survive first contact with the enemy.”

We had a plan. It was a good one.

It didn’t survive getting past the front door of the shop.

“Where do you think you two are going?” I snapped as I saw a certain dog and an even more certain mink strolling off in two different directions.

Matt rolled his eyes and gave me a sheepish grin and a shrug as Fred paused and turned around. He was still moving, walking backward. “I’m headed for the Prostitute’s Union,” he said.

“You’re on the clock, Fred,” Matt said, knowing that I had my eyes on him. “This is official business.”

The Cracked Canine did a creditable counter-march and walked backward again, coming back to us. He spun around to face Matt and said, “Look, you know as well as I do that mels tend to talk, while femmes pretend not to listen.” He leaned slightly to the left to catch my eye. “No offense.”

I planted my paws on my hips as my tail thrashed. “Quite a lot taken,” I said tartly. Honestly, just blurting out trade secrets on a public street? And how in hell did he find that out?

Someone blabbed, must have.

“Have you had your shots?” Michael asked.

“Sure have!” Fred replied. “Want to come with?” he asked, and didn’t look surprised when the mink shook his head.

I gave Michael the fish eye. “And where are you going?”

“To a post-ball game,” he said promptly.

Of course. “For information sources, I take it?” I asked. My suspicions at this point weren’t merely aroused; they were rampant.

The mink nodded so vigorously I thought he would lose his uniform beret. I tried not to roll my eyes, failed, and said, “Okay, both of you listen up. I want reports.” I skewered the dog with a glare. “Daily reports.” He nodded, tail wagging. “Remember, we’re on a mission here. Business before pleasure.”

There was a pause. I nodded, and the mink and the dog took off. Michael paused after a few steps, took off his beret and replaced it with his usual straw boater.

“I’m going to regret this,” I muttered.

Matt said, "Don't worry, luv. They're big boys.” He paused. “Sort of. So, shall we?”

I gave my tail a swish. “Little early in the day for that, isn’t it?”

My teddy bear grinned. “Business before pleasure, my dear.” He gallantly offered me his arm, I took it, and off we went.


***


Wolf Queen:

What?

What the Netherhells . . .

Sure, you couldn’t help but see them – likenesses of me; well, the Wolf Queen – scattered around Eastness. It was irritating that most of the statues conformed more to the artists’ ideas of feminine perfection, but all it served to do was irritate me. I’m NOT built like some low Floozy.

But some Elves here were using MY likeness to sell things.

And to make matters worse, to sell –

“Liquid Sunshine brandy,” the Master said aloud, which immediately made my hackles rise. “I wonder how they make it.”

“I think we can safely assume that it doesn’t include persimmons,” I growled, “but that’s NOT the point. The point is that they’re using the Wolf Queen’s – MY – image for crass commercial purposes! It’s not right! It’s not ethical! It’s NOT ELFLY!”

“But it sells,” a voice pointed out from behind us.

I turned around, very slowly, to face the slim horse. He was dressed pretty well, suit and tie, and he blinked at the look on my face.

“What?” I asked in a very soft tone. You know, the kind of soft noise you hear when you’re drawing a knife from its sheath.

The stallion seemed either incredibly dim or completely oblivious to the danger signs flashing right in his face. “I said, it sells. Lots of the very best people in Eastness drink Liquid Sunshine, and the ads all say that the Wolf Queen drank it when she was up here.”

“I did not!” That’s for the record.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Noted, wolfess.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Thank you?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “No problem. We’ll just gloss over all the wine you drank at those banquets when you were Ambassador.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Grr . . . “]

The horse blinked. “You’re saying that you’re the Wolf Queen?” He started to laugh, and I could feel the fur in my ears curling. “You’re far too skinny, my dear wolfess. But if you want to believe that, who am I to object?” he said, turning away with a flippant wave of his paw. “The Brilliant Light shine on you both.” He started walking away, still chuckling.

For some reason, all I could see was red.

The Master interposed his person before I could do anything drastic. “Excuse me, Sergeant.”

“What?!” It was all I could manage at the time.

“We do have something to do, Sergeant,” he reminded me in Elf-Mind, and for a brief moment I wished that I had his liege-lord’s gift for Elfhamian invective.

But his interruption had an effect. I stood up straight and took a deep breath. “You’re quite right, Corporal. I can always hunt him down and stuff him in a sewer later.”

The Master raised one eyebrow. I huffed at him, “Oh, very well.” I pulled the list of contacts from my Elfintory and we went over them. “I’m fairly sure that most, if not all, of the old nobility are gone by now,” I said.

The roebuck nodded. “I doubt the commons would have tolerated any of them after Alastair was killed.”

I flicked my ears at him. “And what does that say about your own countryfolk after Sartorious died?”

He flicked his ears at me. “From what I’ve read, dissolute and randy as the Winesack had been, wolfess, he still cared about his people. I think that’s a very Elfly and Seelie difference. Well, with the nobility gone, that leaves you without any leads.”

“Maybe not,” I said, pointing at the only mel’s name.

The Corporal nodded. “From what you said earlier, he’s pursuing his own inquiry. Do you think we should talk to him again?”

I nodded. “Maybe follow up on whatever sources he has, yes.” My ears drooped. “And after we get this sorted out, we can try to find out where Ooo-er went. I . . . I need to make amends.”

To his credit, Winterbough nodded. “Yes. I want a few answers to some questions as well.”

We walked along for a few minutes, headed back to Prytanis Street, when a thought occurred to me. “Your scrying device.”

“What about it?”

“You have it connected to my – the Regalia. Can’t you use it to find them?”

The buck’s ears drooped. “I tried that yesterday. Something blocked the spell so hard that it gave me a headache. I’m afraid we’re going to either have to find them the old-fashioned way, or wait till they find us.”

I sighed. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but I had to ask.


***


Winterbough:

I’ve rarely seen the Wolf Queen so crestfallen since after we’d gotten out of Eastness the first time, and I think I know why. Put very simply, I think it’s because she feels that she’s failed if she has to rely on others (particularly me) to help her. I also think she has more issues than the periodical section of the Literary and Historical Society of Faerie, but that’s a personal opinion.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Then keep it to yourself.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

Still, this ‘insurance adjuster’ that she and Hartoh-Mason had found seemed a very likely first start.

“I could scry for him,” I said, “if you’ll describe him for me.”

She actually looked impressed that I’d made the suggestion. “He’s apparently what’s called a giraffe,” Sage said. “He’s taller than I am, so he’s easily taller than you – no great feat, really,” and she grinned as I wearily gestured for her to continue. “Long neck, sort of sandy yellow-brown,” and she trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. “Reminded me of the desert around Artemisiaford, but this Dinar fellow also has squarish darker brown patches on his fur.”

I nodded as I pulled my scrying-sphere from my Elfintory. “Anything else?”

“Yes. He has horns, but they’re sort of short and nubby. You’ve got him beat there.” She dipped an ear as I actually chuckled at that. “What?”

“That’s the nicest thing a sergeant’s ever said to me,” and I faked wiping away a tear.

She gagged and said, “Just get on with it,” and I started to think into the scrying-sphere.

There was the familiar swooping sensation as my sight searched across the city, until it paused at a public-house long enough for me to read the sign before taking me into the bar.

The – excuse me, Sergeant Sage – had described him very accurately. He was seated at a table in the back, drinking a beer. A plate of fried potatoes sat on the table before him.

And he wasn’t that far away.


***


Jhonni:

Expense account addendum: one star, for two beers and dinner at Sunset Grill and Brewers.

I enjoy eating here, and not just because the Hetaira’s Union hall is next door so I can watch the working girls go by. Old Man Sunset’s been here since time out of mind, probably even before there was an Eastness. He lost his sons and grandsons while the Ospreys were in charge, so his great-grandson’s gradually taking over the business.

The Old Man still calls all his regular customers by name. If you can manage to cheat him, he’ll give you a beer on the house.

I’ve never gotten one.

I’m dawdling over what some people would call a late lunch, but I’d call a late breakfast, and while I’m sopping up a bit of gravy with the last piece of fried potato I’m thinking about the two femmes who’d visited me earlier in the day. If they were on the up and up (and Elves Don’t Lie), that meant that there was a third party here in Eastness who might be working against this ‘Cabal.’ Potential allies, but could I trust them?

When you’re used to sitting in the shadows like I am, you tend to see things that people out in the daylight miss. Don’t get me wrong, I reverence the Brilliant Light as much as the next fur, but you need folks to go into the darkness in order to bring things out into the light, know what I mean?

‘Course you do.

Oh ho, look what just came in; it’s the wolfess from this morning. This time she’s accompanied by a short deer in a tweed suit. Yeah, he’s short, but one antler’s a bit askew and he gives me the feeling that he can handle himself in a fight. They pause just inside the main room, and the deer points right at me.

Note to self: Find a magic-user who works cheap.

I sit back as they walk over to me, and I give the wolfess a smile. “Hello, Sergeant, was it? Who’s your friend?”

“I’m glad you recall me,” she says, and she jerks a thumb at the deer. “Corporal Winterbough.” The deer nods at me, but he’s looking all around the room. Clever fawn. “May we sit down?”

“Sure. I’m not buying drinks, though. I’m on a budget.”

“Aren’t we all,” the deer said. Really nasal voice, probably due to that big honker of his. He goes off to the bar while the wolfess takes a chair.

“What now, Sergeant? I already told you you’re not my type.”

“Business, Mr. Dinar. My associate and I are interested in this Cabal of yours.” She kept her voice down, I’ll give her that. This is my local, but there’s always the possibility of a prying ear. An ear flicks and she sits back as her friend comes back with three beers.

“Thanks,” I say, and I choose one at random.

The deer, Winterbough, nods at me. “Just being friendly.” He takes a swallow of his. “Good beer.”

“Sunset’s been making it forever.” I look at the wolfess. “You were saying?”

“You said that someone tried to stop your investigation.”

“That’s right. I don’t take too kindly to a knife in the ribs, so I knocked him cold.”

The deer licks foam off his muzzle. “He have anything on him?”

I smile. “I went through his Elfintory, if that’s what you mean. Found a few things.”

“Can we see them?” Winterbough asks.

I think it over. “Sure.” I fish into my Elfintory and take out just one of the items, the gold disc with the fox engraved on it, and place it on the table.

The wolfess raises an eyebrow.

The deer puts his head in his paws and starts swearing under his breath. I can hear what he’s saying, but can’t understand a word of it.





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