Sole Wolfess and Kid
© 2022 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-one.


I returned to my seat and saw two men that I recalled seeing on the Council coming down the stairs toward Aedith. I lengthened my stride a little and was standing beside Sunny when they reached her. “May I help you?” I asked while Aedith looked up from her chap-book.

One of them, a feline, nudged the other, a canine, with an elbow. The thickset hound asked, “Well, Ma’am, we were wondering if we could ask the Wild Priestess,” and he bowed to Aedith, who smiled, “to sing the National Anthem to start the game.”

I blinked, and glanced down at Aedith, who looked equally mystified. “She just arrived in Eastness,” I said. “What makes you think she knows your anthem?”

The hound shrugged. “We thought she might just have a go at it.”

“What is the National Anthem?” I asked.

Now it was the feline’s turn to shrug. “We’re working on writing one,” he explained. “We just thought that the Priestess might sing for us.”

“Mommy?” I looked down at Aedith, who was grinning widely.

I recalled something from Estvan Silverbrush: “Some class of a devilment.” It shone in her eyes, and since my daughter is a very Elf-ly and Seelie little girl, but still a little girl, I asked, “Do you want to sing?” She nodded eagerly, and her smile was pure childish mischief now.

Elves Don’t Lie, I had to see this.

I gave my consent, and after the Temple dancers had performed a cheer arose as the two Councilors came out on the field with Aedith in tow. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the hound said after casting an amplification cantrip, “We are honored to have Aedith Winterbough, a Wild Priestess of the Brilliant Light, here to sing for us before the match begins.” With a bow, he stepped back, and Aedith began to sing.

“Oh say can you see
Any bedbugs on me?
If you do, pick a few,
And we'll have bedbug stew-ew.

Oh say can you see
Any leeches on me?
If you do, pick a few,
And we'll serve them up too-oo.

With a cockroach deee-sert
And spider's brain tea
It's a meal for a ghoul
And I'm sure you'll agree

Oh say can you see
Any wor-or-orms on me-ee?
If you do...Pick a few...
And we'll have...SPAGHETTI!”

She finished with a giggle and stepped back to scattered applause as a lot of furs in the audience just stood there gobsmacked.

“PLAY BALL!” the umpire shouted, and a cheer arose as Aedith and the two Councilors left the pitch.

The game was about to start when the twits brought her back to her seat, and a few of the other spectators congratulated her on her singing voice. Not, I noted, for her choice of lyrics, which might be some sort of ditty she learned from the other children in Elfhame. A matter for another time, and my daughter took her chap-book back out as the first batter stepped up.

By the time the game ended, Aedith’s little chap-book held several pages of sketches. She’s learning to write, both Standard Elvish and Elfhamian (the two are very close; it’s the spoken dialect that takes until lunchtime to say “Good morning”), and there were a few words next to the sketches. Mostly ‘high’ or ‘low’ depending on the angle of the batter’s swing, along with a figure showing how far the ball went.

I resolved to punish the Master at some point for getting my daughter addicted to post-ball.

[Note appended to manuscript: “It’s good exercise, wolfess. The game builds character.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “So does Alkali Tor, so I’ve heard.”]

I put an arm around Aedith and asked, “Learning a lot, huh?”

“Uh-huh!” she replied, nodding vigorously with a happy grin on her face.

The game was, I suppose, quite an enjoyable one, apart from the team that Aedith was cheering for lost. She moped a little, but cheered up when I bought her a sweet pastry filled with blueberry jam.

I had one as well. Very tasty.

There was a message for me from the State Council when we returned to our hotel. Councilor Furrow had a very pertinent question about the availability of housing in Elfhame for the delegation.

The [Sheaf of Arrows] public house has rooms, but Elves Don’t Lie, they’re nothing you’d want to lodge your worst enemy in. Well, maybe one or two. Anyway, while the Master’s Lodge and its Annexe are the largest actual dwellings in the Vale, I doubted that there’d be room.

While the idea of the Master being packed in like the poor, three to a bed, was an amusing mental image, I was reasonably certain that the [First-of-Eldest] would object.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Yes. Strenuously.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “That’s what I thought, Your Highness.”]

I wrote a response to the letter, suggesting that the delegation bring tents to provide temporary lodging for themselves. I didn’t go into too much detail, but did stress that the seven villages that comprised the Vale (maybe eight now, if you count Glenallid) were small in comparison to Eastness City. I made certain that the letter was sent on its way before Aedith and I went upstairs to get some rest before dinner.

I had to do a few cleaning cantrips to get the jam and sugar glaze off of Aedith’s dress, while she soaked in the bath. It seems that one tiny drop of sugar glaze can easily cover every surface it comes in contact with. When she was done with her bath, it was time for mine, as my own fur was feeling a little sticky.

Dinner was a hearty beef stew with steaming hot and fresh biscuits, something that Aedith really liked, and afterward I suggested that we walk around a bit to see what Eastness looks like after the sun goes down. My daughter agreed, so off we went.

The walk would also help our dinner settle, and help little wolfesses fall asleep.

In Faerie, the main thoroughfares in the Capitals and the larger cities are lit with magic-globes or oil lanterns. Eastness has much the same setup, but with reflectors over the lamps to cast more light on the roads and sidewalks. All very nice, and we passed late shoppers and couples who, like us, were out for a stroll. There were a few Guards present, and I guessed that the city was fairly well protected.

While we were walking along, I spotted a sign for a cheese shop. Aedith saw it almost as soon as I did, and looked up at me.

I grinned. You see, I like a good cheese, I do; the more pungent the better, and despite not being a blood relation Aedith likes cheese as well.

[Note appended to manuscript: “’The more pungent the better?’ Do you roll around in it?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]

The proprietor had a wide selection on paw, and after sampling a few pieces of various cheeses, I bought a couple small wheels, one for me and one for Aedith. She seemed to really enjoy the Rogue Cheddar. The purchases were tucked away into Elfintories, and we resumed our walk.

We walked past a rather imposing house with a line of short, close-cropped hedges separating the front garden from the sidewalk, and I barely flicked an ear.

As Chief Constable of Artemisiaford, I was trained to observe, to look for and note discrepancies in a scene that could indicate that a room’s been disturbed or something’s amiss.

What sort of discrepancies? Oh, I don’t know - like a row of short bushes, interrupted by three much taller ones?

And one whispered, “I can’t believe we got it.”

With another whispering, “Shut up.”

“Mommy?” Aedith asked. When I paused and looked down at her she said, “Did those bushes talk?”

I looked at her, and then glanced back the way we came before I started smiling.

“There are many wonders in the Shining Land, my dear,” I said, taking my daughter’s paw in mine as we retraced our steps, “so why not talking bushes?”

We stopped in front of the bushes, who were standing stock-still despite the breeze rustling the leaves of their shorter compatriots. No need to ask them what was going on; the Voice of the Forest wasn’t needed for what I planned on doing.

I ran a paw over Aedith’s headfur as we looked at the bushes for a moment, and I took a few steps back. Sunny moved back as well and looked up at me as I narrowed my eyes and tipped my head. “Hmm. There’s something about these bushes, Aedith.”

“They talked, Mommy. I heard them.”

“And so did I, my dear,” I assured her. “I also like how they’re taller than the others, so you get this lovely two-level effect with the little path running through the middle. The laurels are also very nice. But,” and I gently urged her back a few more steps, “I think they could use a trim.”

“You do?” She clearly knew that I was Up To Something, and from her smile she guessed that it would be very Elf-ly.

“Yes, I do,” smiling as I reached into my Elfintory and drawing the long blade, the katana. “I think that they need to be cut right – about – HERE!”

The blade swept out in a blaze of reflected lamp-light –

And halted, at about neck-height.

The tips of two tiny leaves drifted down to the sidewalk.

Exactly as I had planned.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Sez you.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]




<NEXT>

<PREVIOUS>

<FIRST>