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  tegerio, color by  marmelmm

Part Twenty-three.



Right.

First things first.

As the three thieves were carted off, Aedith and I went straight back to our hotel room. “Mommy?” she asked as we went up the stairs.

“Yes, Sunny?”

“Can’t I come with you?”

How did she know, I hear you ask?

She’s my daughter, that’s how.

I paused on the landing and took a deep breath before replying. “You’re my daughter, and you’re precious to me, Aedith. I will do what I can to keep you out of danger until you’re old enough. Besides, you’re only seven, and you’re too young to go on an Adventure.” I resumed my trek to our room, with Sunny trotting slightly to keep up.

“But, Mommy – “

“Yes?”

“We’re already on an Adventure.”

We were in our room now, and I almost had to laugh, because she was right. I had taken her through Gates, we had faced an ice-kraken (well, Elves Don’t Lie; we’d run from an ice-kraken, and good thing too), and we were now sojourning in a faraway land.

[Note appended to manuscript: “She’s got you there, wolfess.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap. You’re not helping.”]

“Alright,” I said, “yes, we are on an Adventure, darling, but do you remember what you asked me? After I spoke to the Council, and clipped that one fellow’s beard?” She thought back, and nodded. “I will do everything I can to keep you safe, my daughter. So please stay here? I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” I began to turn away . . .

And stopped at the sound of a choked whimper behind me.

I turned to see Aedith – my daughter – standing there looking up at me, paws balled into fists as tears welled up in her eyes. She whimpered again as she blinked and started to sniffle.

I found myself on my knees, holding her tightly to me and stroking her ears as she wrapped her arms around my neck and clung to me, crying piteously while I tried to think of what to do.

I couldn’t leave her alone; that was right out, and there were no friends or family here to look after her.

What if I am worsted, and go to my Embrace? Would Fuma accept me, having abandoned my daughter?

I called myself on that; that was thinking selfishly. I had to think of her.

Could I leave her with Olivia? The Priestess would likely raise her well, and Sunny would be a great Priestess of the Brilliant Light . . . But would she ever smile again, knowing that her mother was gone?

I could take her to Councilor Furrow, with instructions to put her on the cart going to Elfhame with a letter from me explaining what happened . . . no, that wouldn’t work, either; I was supposed to guide them back to Elfhame. Granted, Ooo-er and her adopted father were there, along with all of her friends.

_____.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I murmured, rocking her back and forth until sobs turned into hiccups and my cloak had a very wet spot. I nuzzled her and wiped away her tears, and as she tried to catch her breath I said, “I’ll take you with me, Aedith.”

She blinked, looking at me, tear-filled eyes searching my face. “R-Really?” she managed to choke out.

I blinked back my own tears, and hoped to the Pantheon, The Lady and the Brilliant Light that I was doing the right, Elf-ly, and Seelie thing. “Yes,” I said, and I raised a finger and tapped it against her nose. As she blinked I added, “But this is dangerous, and I want you to be safe.”

“Uh huh?”

“Uh huh. So I’m going to teach you some very useful magic.” That got her attention. I got a damp washcloth, wiped her face and let her blow her nose before I settled her down and taught her exactly one very useful cantrip that she would definitely need for what I had to do tonight.

I had guessed correctly, that Nippy had been teaching her and Stormy (mostly Stormy) useful domestic magics. This one, though, was much better-suited for this purpose.

[Note appended to manuscript: “What did you teach her, wolfess?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Don’t get ahead of the story, Master.”]

I explained what the cantrip was, and showed her; I then had her explain it to me, and coached her through it until she was good at it. Master Kung’s advice regarding teaching had been taken, and I think the aged canine would be pleased with me. Afterwards, I wrote a letter to Councilor Furrow, explaining what I was doing, and giving the various Gate directions that the Master had given me. The Road might have been getting straighter, as that one Councilor had put it, but there was no way of being sure.

When we were finished, the sun had gone down, and we made our way to the Thrown Missile Pub.

Once inside, I went straight to the bar and asked the bartender, “Where’s Moth?”

Before he could reply, one of the unsavory-looking gang by the dart board waved me over. The canine grinned greasily at me and said, “I know where to get it, if you want it.”

While he whined, clutching at his sadly abused nose, I asked his compatriots, “Where’s Moth? One of you must know.”

One looked at the rest and said to me, “Yeah, we’ll tell you,” and he held up a pawful of darts. “Hit the bull’s-eye, you get one answer.”

“And no Gramerye,” another said.

I raised a brow and put my paws on my hips. “Do I look like I need to be told to play fair?”

“Well, Elves Don’t Lie . . . “ he tucked his tail and slinked off while I glared at him.

I took the four darts in my paw. “Where do I stand to throw?”

The canine who’d given me the darts pointed at a well-scuffed, painted strip on the floor. “That’s the oche,” he said. “Not allowed to put a claw over the side closest to the board.”

I nodded, stepped up to the line and readied to throw. I paused when one of them started coughing, shook my head at him and readied.

The shot went so far awry that it ended up stuck into the painted breast of a comely mink femme that was advertising a brand of beer. A few of the onlookers chuckled, and one blushed when I glared at him.

Uh huh.

I cricked my neck, stepped up to the line again, and let fly.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” the one who blushed screamed. “I’VE BEEN HIT IN THE – “

“You’d better not touch,” I declared, “certain areas of your body when there’s a lady present.”

“That was a dirty thing to do to poor Hofstra,” the canine said as the guy I’d hit limped away, whining piteously.

“That’s what he gets for using Gramerye to throw off my aim,” I countered.

With my last two darts stuck in the bull’s-eye, I turned to the group. “Two answers,” I said, holding up two fingers. “One, where’s B.E. Moth?”

“He’s having a slash,” one replied.

“Where?” I demanded, knowing that this used up my answers.

“Eastness,” another piped up, to general hilarity.

My ears went back and I busied myself with gathering up my darts. I also picked up a few more.

And threw.

With the two clever fellows stuck to the wall by their sleeves I bared my teeth and asked, “Where is he? Answer, please, or it will go very badly for you.”

“He’s down by the Blue Onoob,” one replied, “having a slash.”

I knew that the Yellow Onoob was the one usually used for, er, drainage. “Why not the Yellow Onoob?”

“He’s Unseelie, he is,” the other guy said.

Ew.

Note to self: Don’t order the fish tomorrow.

Leaving the pub, I paused by a shadowed bit of masonry to pull my hood up, murmuring, “Let’s go.”

A section of the brickwork moved, resolving itself into my daughter, who also pulled her hood up as we headed uptown toward the rivers.




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