Sole Wolfess and Kid
© 2021 by M. Mitch Marmel and Walter Reimer

(The Sole Wolfess and Aedith ‘Sunny’ Winterbough are courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by  technicolorpie


Part Twelve.


The next morning, Sunny and I had breakfast in the hotel’s common room. We were up early enough to have the place to ourselves. This happy state of affairs meant that we were given personalized service by the staff. The prices were eminently reasonable compared to the Capitals, the oatcakes with fruit preserves were delicious, and I ordered extra bacon after I caught Aedith sneaking a piece from my plate.

She was punished by me nuzzling her until she giggled.

We were finishing up and I was thinking about settling the bill before we left to go to the Council building when there was a sudden explosion of sound from the kitchen, followed by a spate of invective worthy of the Master and delivered at a pace, tone and volume that reminded me of a priestly chant of some kind.

Certainly not the sort of devotions one would hear offered to either Fuma or the Brilliant Light.

So I did what any self-respecting mother would do.

I immediately put my paws over Aedith’s ears.

The screaming died down slightly as an ocelot in a chef’s uniform bolted out of the kitchen, running while looking behind him. From the look of his tail, he might have thought that he was being chased by the demons of the Netherhells. He crashed into an unoccupied table and somersaulted over it, ending up seated on the floor shaking his head dazedly before giving a yelp and dodging a few eggs that flew out of the kitchen and smashed against the now-upturned table.

It seemed that, in Eastness, to scare up an ocelot you had to break a few eggs.

“What’s going on?” I asked, taking my paws from Aedith’s ears when the screaming died down. She continued to munch contentedly on the last of the bacon.

The ocelot suddenly gasped and hid under another table, with just his tail peeking out from under the tablecloth.

“He’s funny,” Aedith observed, very neatly and politely wiping her paws with a napkin. Of course, this example of proper, ladylike behavior occurred after she had licked her fingers clean.

And belched.

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. I reached out and tapped his tail with my foot. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The tail was whisked out from under my foot and a quaking voice from under the table replied, “It – It’s Ch-Chef Ernest!”

My ears flicked at that.

“’Chef Ernest?’”

The table quivered.

“Th-The head chef. S-Someone upstairs,” the ocelot quavered, “ordered . . . “

“’Ordered?’ Ordered what?” I asked. I’m not in any way feline, but this fellow’s behavior had piqued my interest.

An audible gulp. “T-T-Tomato s-s-sauce . . . on th-their Eggs Eastness.”

I considered this. I’ve usually eaten whatever was set before me.

[Note appended to manuscript: "Quickly and messily, to the peril of the fingers of the servers."]

[Note appended to manuscript: “I’ve never bitten you.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Because I know better than to get near you when you’re eating.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

However, I could never either understand or tolerate what I heard one person call ‘picky eaters.’ My ears flattened at another volley of vocal vituperation, and I turned to Sunny.

“Stay here,” I told her. “I’ll be right back.”

Aedith was drinking a glass of milk, and she nodded slightly as I stood up and walked – cautiously – toward the kitchen. There were a number of employees clustered around the door, furtively trying to peek in, but they didn’t resist when I pushed past them.

I looked.

The hotel’s kitchen staff were all very large and well-muscled predators – wolves, bears, and I saw at least one lion – but they were all huddled together on top of a bank of tall cabinets, gazing in abject terror at what could only be Chef Ernest.

He was an ermine, all white fur with a black bit on the end of his tail, dressed in snowy white trousers and coat and with a tall white cylinder of a hat on his head. I think that he might have been as tall as the Master, without the hat. He was pacing back and forth, waving a butcher knife about like a sword and with an expression on his face that promised murther, mayhem, fire and slaughter for anyone who dared interrupt him.

I withdrew and returned to the table, sitting down beside Aedith. “He’s rather short, isn’t he?” I asked the concealed ocelot.

“B-but Madame! He is a GENIUS!”

As if that justified his behavior, or the fear the ermine obviously engendered.

“A-Are y-y-you g-going to d-do s-s-something?” the ocelot stammered.

“Yes, I am,” I said, and I raised a paw and waved to one of the waitresses. “Check, please.”

I’m not the Master. If things are getting too silly, I’m going to let it sort itself out.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Oi!”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “I’ve warned you in the past about getting caught up in the stupid, roebuck.”]

It was still a little early before we had to meet with the Council, so Aedith and I went for a walk to see the sights. The island between the Blue and Yellow Onoob rivers had been scrupulously cleaned up after the recent elections, and people were setting up for a flower show. We were walking past one stall and Aedith pointed.

“They look like you, Mommy.”

Yes, the seller was hawking Wolf Queen dolls; of course, they were somewhat bigger in the bust and hips than I am, and I had to resist rolling my eyes and pulling a sword out of my Elfintory to visit fire and slaughter on racks of children’s toys.

[Note appended to manuscript: “My, my, such restraint.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

The vendor, a feline femme with a curiously bluish-gray coat, smiled at Aedith and gestured at her stock in trade. “All of them paw-made, and they even talk!” I guess my expression was skeptical, so she picked one up and pointed to a small button at the nape of the doll’s neck.

She pressed it and a slightly tinny voice intoned, “The Wolf Queen fights for justice!”

It sounded nothing like me.

But it still hurt, although I tried not to show it.

“It’s set up to speak several words and phrases,” the feline remarked.

I leaned in and looked at the doll. The arms and legs could move, but that was about it, and Sun-and-Moon’s blades were the same size. I looked at Aedith, who looked up at me hopefully, wagging her tail. “How much?” I asked the vendor.

“One star,” the woman said.

I thought it over, sorely tempted to try haggling, but decided that the price was a fair one. Money changed paws, and Aedith smiled and gave me a hug and a kiss in return, which made me feel a little better about it. Being a good little girl, she stowed it in her Elfintory while we resumed our walk.

At least it wasn’t honking in Elfhamian at me, like mine did now. Perhaps mine would start talking to me again if I earn the right to bear the Regalia again.

But, for now at least, I will have to keep my own counsel.




<NEXT>

<PREVIOUS>

<FIRST>