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The Gray Tower
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare
4.
Princess Seffa looked up from her embroidery, ears perking as someone knocked on the door. One of her ladies opened it a crack, then wider as Princess Trasta stepped in. “Trasta!” the doe exclaimed, laying her sewing aside and standing to embrace her sister-in-law. “It’s good to see you safely back.” She smiled at her after kissing her on both cheeks.
“Thank you, Seffa.” The doe looked a great deal better than she had before she’d taken the thegns north, Trasta thought as she returned the kisses. Her sister-in-law fairly glowed, the sign of her pregnancy visible against her dressing robe. She wasn’t wearing the usual thin veil she normally wore, and her straight black hair hung unbound to the center of her back. “Are you getting ready for dinner?”
“Yes,” came a slightly breathless answer. “I took a nap earlier, and decided to do a bit of sewing before dinner. It helps – relax me.” She held up the embroidery, part of a small gown suitable for an infant fawn.
Trasta ran a gentle paw over the fabric. “It’s very fine work. What’s this flower?” she asked, running a fingertip over the nearly-completed outline.
“It’s called starlight-on-snow,” Seffa replied, “and it’s native to the mountains near my parents’ home. It’s supposed to be a symbol for boys, i-in hope – “
“That you have a son.”
The doe nodded, swallowing hard. “Meki really hopes it is,” and her voice quavered as it sank into its normal shy murmur, “and the Priestesses think so – “
“I hope it is, too,” Trasta said, and she hugged her sister-in-law again. “I have prayed for you, Seffa, and I’ll continue praying for you and Meki.”
“Thank you, Trasta. You’ve always been kind to me.”
“And I always will,” the elk doe declared. “Where is my brother, by the way?”
“He’s upstairs, in his study.”
“Ah. I’ll go and say hello.” She started to turn and Seffa suddenly grabbed her sleeve. Her face suddenly showed terror with a pleading look in her eyes.
“Please, Trasta – please don’t get him angry,” she whispered.
Trasta hugged her again, and she whispered in Seffa’s ear, “I promise, Seffa. I love you like a sister, and I won’t let Meki hurt you.”
Seffa gave a resigned shrug. “He hasn’t – you know – since the Priestess said I was carrying a buck-fawn. It’s all right, Trasta. He loves me, I know he does.”
Mentally, Trasta shook her head. If she’d been Meki’s husband, she would have set him straight the instant he raised a paw to her, probably after his bones set. She gave Seffa another hug and a kiss on her cheek and, as the doe went back to her embroidery, left the room.
One of the ladies-in-waiting, a feline, stepped out with her. “Lady Marana?”
“Your Highness?”
Trasta lowered her voice. “Please let me know how my brother is treating his wife.”
“But – “
“I know.” Tradition dictated that no one had the right to interfere in a prince’s marital relations. “Please, for Azos’ sake.”
The gray tabby looked indecisive before finally nodding. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Now, where’s Meki’s study?”
“Two floors above us, Princess,” the lady replied. Trasta thanked her and started up the stairs.
The room two floors above Meki and Seffa’s apartments was a turret of the main Keep, furnished as a solar to get the sunlight year-round. Trasta privately thought that her older brother was being a bit selfish in claiming the room for himself, but if the King and Queen were fine with it, she would accept it.
Meki’s valet, a tall and well-proportioned bull named Sarti, nodded to her as she walked up to the room. “Hello, Sarti.”
“Your Highness,” the bull rumbled. “Are you here to see the Prince?” At the doe’s nod, he motioned for her to stay where she was, and knocked on the door.
“What?” Meki sounded a bit peevish, as if he’d been interrupted doing something.
“Princess Trasta, Your Highness.”
“Trasta, huh? Let her on in, then go and get some dinner. I can hear your stomach rumbling in here.” Sarti rolled his eyes, then smiled and opened the door for Trasta. She stepped in and stopped as the door closed behind her.
Her brother was sitting at a desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. Several plates with crumbs of uneaten food sat on a nearby table, being picked over by a pair of restless flies. There were also several lamps, so far unlit.
The biggest thing in the room was a large wooden table, set on its long edge on top of similar table. The one tipped on its side held a bewildering array of small pieces of parchment secured to it with nails. A spider’s web of red, white and black threads of yarn seemed to connect the slips in various patterns. She leaned in and noted that one read Engery, with a line of red connecting it to another labeled Amb Tokarv.
“Don’t touch anything!” The sudden shout made her whirl, paw going into her sleeve to the knife she habitually hid there, and only relaxed when she saw her brother smirking at her. “Going to stab me, dear sister?”
“You startled me, Meki. What’s all this about?” She indicated the table.
The elk buck gripped the arms of his chair with his heavily muscled arms and hauled himself to an upright position, then balanced on his left leg until he locked his brace into position. The stunted right leg he’d been born with required the metal support, and it clanked and squeaked softly as he limped over to where she stood. “A research project,” he said by way of explanation, and at her expression he chuckled. “These are all of the so-called ‘natural’ disasters and magical events of the past twenty years. I’m looking at each one, and drawing connections between them and your precious Order.”
“It’s not my ‘precious Order,’ Brother.” She looked at the collection. “So, have you found anything?” She freely acknowledged that her brother had more learning than she had, while she’d been leading the armies of Shuga. “Was Tokarv deeply involved in anything other than the attack on Engery?”
Meki looked at her, obviously thinking she was teasing him, before replying, “Is he dead?”
She nodded. “Are you certain?”
“Very certain. I put the torch to him myself.”
The buck grimaced and nodded. “Good. I can only find one connection to him, other than Engery.” He traced the red yarn line from Engery to Amb, then to a larger piece of parchment with The Order written on it. Several dozen more lengths of red yarn led to it. “Red lines are events that I can show had the Order involved in them at one point or the other, black are purely natural or explainable incidents, and white are ones I can’t prove – yet,” he added hastily. He eyed her.
She caught the look. “What?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No, Meki, I don’t think you’re crazy.” She looked at the table. “If there are truly as many connections from these incidents to the Order as you’ve found, then I think they should be watched – at least a bit more closely than we have been.”
He blinked at her. “Really?”
“Of course.”
Meki looked like he’d just received a gift. “Thank you, Trasta.”
“For what? You’re doing the same thing I’m doing – protecting Shuga.” He raised a brow and she added, “If you find a threat, Father will send me to put a stop to it. So we’re working together toward a common goal, aren’t we?”
He nodded slowly, and Trasta relaxed a bit.
Privately, she thought that he was going insane.
****
Halvrika stirred awake and snuggled further into the blankets, not wanting to get up. She squirmed, rolling over and murmuring softly in her sleep.
For some reason, this side of the bed was warmer – and, also for some reason, smelled of bear-musk.
And she became aware that there was a paw on her bare buttock.
Her gray-green eyes opened and looked up to see Marok looking at her, a fond smile on his muzzle. “Good morning,” he whispered.
“Marok?”
“The very same, my dear.”
She squirmed, and her ringed tail batted at his paw. “I’m not safe to be around.”
“Ast will see to that. Don’t you recall what happened last night?”
“No, but I can guess, you old lecher.”
The bear smiled and gave a soft chuckle. “Contrary to your opinion, Halvrika, I do not take advantage of anyone when they’re asleep. You cried on my shoulder and fell asleep as I carried you – “
“You did?”
“Yes. And I put you to bed.”
She nodded, her eyes bright against her darker mask of face-fur. “Marok? Master?”
“Yes?”
“Could you please take your paw off my arse?”
The aforementioned paw swatted her rear – gently. “Goodness, Halvrika, you’ve been around soldiers too long. Such language,” he tsked. His paw squeezed her buttock, then withdrew.
“Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“May I ask you another favor, Master?”
“Of course.”
“Could you please leave? I want to be alone for a while to meditate.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. Leave.”
The bear looked puzzled. “But this is my room.”
The raccoon lifted her head and looked around the room before blushing furiously and burrowing under the covers to hide her embarrassment as Marok chuckled.
© 2014 by Walter Reimer
(This is a sequel to The Black Chapel. Reading the earlier story isn’t really necessary, but you may find it useful. Just saying.)
Art by
whitearabmare4.
Princess Seffa looked up from her embroidery, ears perking as someone knocked on the door. One of her ladies opened it a crack, then wider as Princess Trasta stepped in. “Trasta!” the doe exclaimed, laying her sewing aside and standing to embrace her sister-in-law. “It’s good to see you safely back.” She smiled at her after kissing her on both cheeks.
“Thank you, Seffa.” The doe looked a great deal better than she had before she’d taken the thegns north, Trasta thought as she returned the kisses. Her sister-in-law fairly glowed, the sign of her pregnancy visible against her dressing robe. She wasn’t wearing the usual thin veil she normally wore, and her straight black hair hung unbound to the center of her back. “Are you getting ready for dinner?”
“Yes,” came a slightly breathless answer. “I took a nap earlier, and decided to do a bit of sewing before dinner. It helps – relax me.” She held up the embroidery, part of a small gown suitable for an infant fawn.
Trasta ran a gentle paw over the fabric. “It’s very fine work. What’s this flower?” she asked, running a fingertip over the nearly-completed outline.
“It’s called starlight-on-snow,” Seffa replied, “and it’s native to the mountains near my parents’ home. It’s supposed to be a symbol for boys, i-in hope – “
“That you have a son.”
The doe nodded, swallowing hard. “Meki really hopes it is,” and her voice quavered as it sank into its normal shy murmur, “and the Priestesses think so – “
“I hope it is, too,” Trasta said, and she hugged her sister-in-law again. “I have prayed for you, Seffa, and I’ll continue praying for you and Meki.”
“Thank you, Trasta. You’ve always been kind to me.”
“And I always will,” the elk doe declared. “Where is my brother, by the way?”
“He’s upstairs, in his study.”
“Ah. I’ll go and say hello.” She started to turn and Seffa suddenly grabbed her sleeve. Her face suddenly showed terror with a pleading look in her eyes.
“Please, Trasta – please don’t get him angry,” she whispered.
Trasta hugged her again, and she whispered in Seffa’s ear, “I promise, Seffa. I love you like a sister, and I won’t let Meki hurt you.”
Seffa gave a resigned shrug. “He hasn’t – you know – since the Priestess said I was carrying a buck-fawn. It’s all right, Trasta. He loves me, I know he does.”
Mentally, Trasta shook her head. If she’d been Meki’s husband, she would have set him straight the instant he raised a paw to her, probably after his bones set. She gave Seffa another hug and a kiss on her cheek and, as the doe went back to her embroidery, left the room.
One of the ladies-in-waiting, a feline, stepped out with her. “Lady Marana?”
“Your Highness?”
Trasta lowered her voice. “Please let me know how my brother is treating his wife.”
“But – “
“I know.” Tradition dictated that no one had the right to interfere in a prince’s marital relations. “Please, for Azos’ sake.”
The gray tabby looked indecisive before finally nodding. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Thank you. Now, where’s Meki’s study?”
“Two floors above us, Princess,” the lady replied. Trasta thanked her and started up the stairs.
The room two floors above Meki and Seffa’s apartments was a turret of the main Keep, furnished as a solar to get the sunlight year-round. Trasta privately thought that her older brother was being a bit selfish in claiming the room for himself, but if the King and Queen were fine with it, she would accept it.
Meki’s valet, a tall and well-proportioned bull named Sarti, nodded to her as she walked up to the room. “Hello, Sarti.”
“Your Highness,” the bull rumbled. “Are you here to see the Prince?” At the doe’s nod, he motioned for her to stay where she was, and knocked on the door.
“What?” Meki sounded a bit peevish, as if he’d been interrupted doing something.
“Princess Trasta, Your Highness.”
“Trasta, huh? Let her on in, then go and get some dinner. I can hear your stomach rumbling in here.” Sarti rolled his eyes, then smiled and opened the door for Trasta. She stepped in and stopped as the door closed behind her.
Her brother was sitting at a desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. Several plates with crumbs of uneaten food sat on a nearby table, being picked over by a pair of restless flies. There were also several lamps, so far unlit.
The biggest thing in the room was a large wooden table, set on its long edge on top of similar table. The one tipped on its side held a bewildering array of small pieces of parchment secured to it with nails. A spider’s web of red, white and black threads of yarn seemed to connect the slips in various patterns. She leaned in and noted that one read Engery, with a line of red connecting it to another labeled Amb Tokarv.
“Don’t touch anything!” The sudden shout made her whirl, paw going into her sleeve to the knife she habitually hid there, and only relaxed when she saw her brother smirking at her. “Going to stab me, dear sister?”
“You startled me, Meki. What’s all this about?” She indicated the table.
The elk buck gripped the arms of his chair with his heavily muscled arms and hauled himself to an upright position, then balanced on his left leg until he locked his brace into position. The stunted right leg he’d been born with required the metal support, and it clanked and squeaked softly as he limped over to where she stood. “A research project,” he said by way of explanation, and at her expression he chuckled. “These are all of the so-called ‘natural’ disasters and magical events of the past twenty years. I’m looking at each one, and drawing connections between them and your precious Order.”
“It’s not my ‘precious Order,’ Brother.” She looked at the collection. “So, have you found anything?” She freely acknowledged that her brother had more learning than she had, while she’d been leading the armies of Shuga. “Was Tokarv deeply involved in anything other than the attack on Engery?”
Meki looked at her, obviously thinking she was teasing him, before replying, “Is he dead?”
She nodded. “Are you certain?”
“Very certain. I put the torch to him myself.”
The buck grimaced and nodded. “Good. I can only find one connection to him, other than Engery.” He traced the red yarn line from Engery to Amb, then to a larger piece of parchment with The Order written on it. Several dozen more lengths of red yarn led to it. “Red lines are events that I can show had the Order involved in them at one point or the other, black are purely natural or explainable incidents, and white are ones I can’t prove – yet,” he added hastily. He eyed her.
She caught the look. “What?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No, Meki, I don’t think you’re crazy.” She looked at the table. “If there are truly as many connections from these incidents to the Order as you’ve found, then I think they should be watched – at least a bit more closely than we have been.”
He blinked at her. “Really?”
“Of course.”
Meki looked like he’d just received a gift. “Thank you, Trasta.”
“For what? You’re doing the same thing I’m doing – protecting Shuga.” He raised a brow and she added, “If you find a threat, Father will send me to put a stop to it. So we’re working together toward a common goal, aren’t we?”
He nodded slowly, and Trasta relaxed a bit.
Privately, she thought that he was going insane.
****
Halvrika stirred awake and snuggled further into the blankets, not wanting to get up. She squirmed, rolling over and murmuring softly in her sleep.
For some reason, this side of the bed was warmer – and, also for some reason, smelled of bear-musk.
And she became aware that there was a paw on her bare buttock.
Her gray-green eyes opened and looked up to see Marok looking at her, a fond smile on his muzzle. “Good morning,” he whispered.
“Marok?”
“The very same, my dear.”
She squirmed, and her ringed tail batted at his paw. “I’m not safe to be around.”
“Ast will see to that. Don’t you recall what happened last night?”
“No, but I can guess, you old lecher.”
The bear smiled and gave a soft chuckle. “Contrary to your opinion, Halvrika, I do not take advantage of anyone when they’re asleep. You cried on my shoulder and fell asleep as I carried you – “
“You did?”
“Yes. And I put you to bed.”
She nodded, her eyes bright against her darker mask of face-fur. “Marok? Master?”
“Yes?”
“Could you please take your paw off my arse?”
The aforementioned paw swatted her rear – gently. “Goodness, Halvrika, you’ve been around soldiers too long. Such language,” he tsked. His paw squeezed her buttock, then withdrew.
“Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“May I ask you another favor, Master?”
“Of course.”
“Could you please leave? I want to be alone for a while to meditate.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. Leave.”
The bear looked puzzled. “But this is my room.”
The raccoon lifted her head and looked around the room before blushing furiously and burrowing under the covers to hide her embarrassment as Marok chuckled.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 249 x 568px
File Size 21.2 kB
Listed in Folders
Even those with an agenda can stumble upon the truth. I'm sure the Order has had a paw in many things, but for Meki to discover if it has been for good or ill. I'm sure he will push for the ill and hopefully Trasta can follow up and counter with the truth.
Halvrika's statement, "I'm not safe to be around." speaks volumes. I do hope Ast can help her there.
Halvrika's statement, "I'm not safe to be around." speaks volumes. I do hope Ast can help her there.
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