Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel

Thumbnail art by  faust1173

Part Twelve.


Tessie:

“[In day’s infancy, greeting, Goodwife Fletcher,]” I said as I very carefully wiped my feet.

The old doe raised an eyebrow. “[Now that the being of myself possesses the surprise that the lessons pounded into the brain-box of yourself have reached the heart of yourself, I observe that you speak the tongue of our small and sweet Vale in the manner of a fawn of ten years and not above ten years. Heed ye the words of myself that further learning must be imparted before the tongue of myself speaks to the First-of-Eldest that there has been success, and that your own tongue can impart the learned smooth Elfhamian, and that the home you live in is maintained in the proper fashion of our kind and not the slovenly middens dwelt in by the soldiers of the King-Upon-the-Mountain.]”

I bit back what I wanted to say, and I closed my Elf-Mind tightly. Ten years old, huh?

“[It is the sweet and pure truth, Goodwife Fletcher, that I speak in the manner of a fawn of ten years, yet I am possessed of more than ten years, in both body and mind, and I am further disposed to learn at your hooves to master the tongue of the sweet Vale.]”

She nodded, once, and beckoned me in with a paw so I could start my next lesson.


***


Tali:

At some point, we all had to come up for air.

Don’t look at me like that. We do need to rest sometime, and proper hydration is essential.

So Low, Matt and I got cleaned up and we were lying out on the yacht’s fantail, with the Musashi looming over us and providing some shade. All was right with the world, for now, and I was with my wife and husband.

Low expressed a great deal of satisfaction with Professor K.T.’s work. Her transformed body proved to be nicely cuddly in all the right places, and very durable despite the stress test we’d put it through. I had a brief thought that she might keep her skunk-form, or at least save the template for special occasions.

Matt and I also heartily endorsed her current form. Cuddly!

My cowife raised her sunglasses and looked across the deck at me. “I suppose it’s past hoping that you’ve made friends, up in that Elfhame place.”

“I had to,” and I explained a few points that hadn’t been in my report to Temp Corps HQ. When I got to Fuma’s appearance to me and Missy, Low gave me a frankly disbelieving stare before glancing at Matt.

He shrugged. “The only witness was an Elf,” he pointed out, “and while they say that they don’t lie, it supposes that they’re capable of it.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Hmm, well,” Low said, “we’ll discuss this in greater detail, later. For now, I do have a little Corps business to discuss with you,” and she was looking straight at me when she said it.

“Moi?”

Her expression grew stern. “Don’t play innocent with me, Commander. You know what you did.”

Damn, she makes me think I’m a kitten again sometimes. Sometimes. “I beg your pardon, Commodore. What have I done?”

One eyebrow rose.

Slowly.

“You’re currently ten days behind on maintaining your pilot’s certification, Tali.” The skunk shook her head sadly. “I’m very disappointed in you.”

I felt my ears go straight back. “Have – have I lost – “ I looked beseechingly at Matt, who was watching Low.

“Not yet,” Low said, stressing the second word, “but I can’t keep putting Colonel Grey off forever. As you know, he’s not inclined to hold a grudge, but he has a very long memory. Now,” and she sat up, making certain bits of her jiggle in a way that made my tail twitch, “there’s a VF-1 in the Musashi’s launch bay with your name on it, Commander, and I’m ordering you to get into a flight suit and get your flying time in.”

I sat bolt upright and saluted. “Ma’am! Yes, Ma’am!” I got to my feet and headed for the cabin, then paused and said, “I could use someone on my wing.”

My cowife smiled. “I could use some time in a cockpit myself.”

“What about me?” Matt asked. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“Of course not,” Low said. “You’re tastier.”


***


Winterbough:

A few days after Tali and Matt turned up missing, I received a message from Marshal Roland.

The Imperial & Royal Mail had done its usual efficient job, and the report had reached the Royal Skunk’s paws. A small part of me hoped that he had wiped said paws before reading it.

Part of his reply was congratulatory, and expressed thanks to me for showing proper Elvish hospitality. The other part ordered me, in his brother the King’s name, to do two things: One, direct any embassy who came through the Gate to the Great North Road and from there to the Capitals, giving them sufficient escort and guidance to make sure that they got to the King as swiftly as possible. It was a given that I would do that, of course.

I had also been authorized to send advance word to the Marshal by scry-sphere or Vixen’s Brush semaphore system, whichever was more convenient for me. It was a mark of the regard that the Marshal had for me.

In order to make sure that the next embassy from Eastness was welcomed properly, I took a deep breath and called a Muster of the Watch. You see, one of my duties as Master of Elfhame – my only one, since the Doe-moot runs the place – is to make sure that the boundaries of the Vale are secure and that all the able-bodied furs train in the event that the [King-upon-the-Mountain] summons his forces to war.

The last Muster revealed that I had nearly a hundred furs at my command, all between twenty and forty years. Most were roebucks who had emigrated from Licksburg and were enthusiastic about serving their new homeland, while there was a smattering of wolves, from both the ex-Prisoners and the Gypsies. Between me, a few of younger non-coms among the Ranger veterans, and Sergeant MacGonagall, we were getting all of them proficient in bow, short-staff, and spear. A few were even learning the use of the sword.

To Sergeant MacGonagall’s disappointment, the force would not march into battle to the sound of baglutes, although I agreed with him that the ‘music’ would scare the spraint out of most enemies.

Anyway, after Mustering the Watch, I set up a series of three-mel details to stand vigil at the Greytor to wait for and greet the wagons when (I refused to think “if”) they came through. I also made sure that they were properly equipped for the weather and regularly fed.

Of course, I made sure Bung, down at the [Sheaf of Arrows], knew enough not to fill their bellies with pints of plain or anything stronger. I didn’t want our next set of visitors from Eastness greeted by a trio of drunks.

Oh, the second thing? Well, the Marshal believes (and I, for what it’s worth, agree) that the presence of Lowfolk in the Shining Land is a very serious matter, and I was ordered to observe and report anything that Tali and her cohorts did that could be considered worthy of note. Elves Don’t Lie, but I had planned on doing that anyway.

Three nights after I had set the Watch, I was settling down in my study after dinner when my ears swiveled at the sound of a fist beating on the door.

By the time I reached the doorway, [Little Toy] was giving a withering glare at a young wolf, one of the ex-Prisoners, who was cresting back at her. I’d been to the Grand Duchy of the Gray Horde and recognized it as part of their etiquette.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, Private?”

He’d had his spear at rest, and he came to attention and saluted. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Sah! Three coaches hae coom t’rough yon Gate, an’ there’s Quality askin’ fer ye.”

I glanced at [Little Toy], who was still glowering at the wolf disapprovingly. “Lead on, Private, at the double.” He saluted again, about-turned, and took off at a trot with his spear at port arms. He might be fast, but roebuck speed is faster, so I kept pace with him as I glamored my clothes to resemble my ‘A’ uniform, complete with Valor Medal.

Fortunately, it wasn’t raining. It was actually quite a pleasant early evening, with the distant peak of Mount Humbert almost glowing in the sunset.

The coaches were rather large ones, drawn by eight ants each. The other two members of the Watch, a wolf and a roebuck, were standing beside the middle coach and talking to one of the occupants, and they fell back as I slowed to a walk and approached.

“Good evening,” I said, “and welcome to the Vale of Elfhame, and the Kingdom of Faerie,” I said. “I am the Master of Elfhame, Westersloe Winterbough the Fifth.”

“Ah, good, good!” I stepped back as the coach door opened and I found myself looking up.

And up.

Now, I’m a roebuck, and rather short for my breed. This canine was taller than most whitetails, despite the fact that he was stooping slightly. He was dressed in a suit, and he offered me a paw. “I come from the Governing Council of Eastness to be the Ambassador of Eastness to your King-Emperor.” He smiled as we stopped shaking paws. “My name is Anatole Yawunce.”

I blinked, the reply “But you’ve only told me just now” almost about to leave my muzzle before I caught myself. “Er, very pleased to meet you, sir. How many are in your entourage? I wasn’t expecting – “

Yawunce smiled and interrupted me. “Apart from the ant-drivers and their assistants, it is just me, my mate and my staff. The coaches are set up for beds, enough for all of us.” I tried hard not to let him see the relief on my face as he added, “I must let the Council back home know that we’ve arrived safely.”

“You’re a magic-user, sir?”

“Oh yes! I and all my staff, very carefully chosen by the Council for this important job. I must be able to relay information back and forth rather faster than sending an ant-rider through the Gates,” Yawunce said.

“If you don’t mind my saying, sir, that’s a very sensible decision by the Council.”

Yawunce grinned. “If you don’t my saying, sir, I agree,” and he chuckled. “How far is it to your King’s home, Master?”

“Several days, but the Great North Road is well-paved and traveling is fairly easy. My Steward will be heading down there, and I’ll have him guide you and answer any questions you might have.” That was a spur of the moment decision on my part; I could have Dennis go with a shipment of persimmon jam and [Tears of the Trees] for the Capitals. The shipment was due to leave tomorrow anyway.

Another idea followed, hot on the first one’s heels, that I should give a few small pots of jam to the Ambassadorial party as gifts.

[Note appended to manuscript: “And here you keep saying that you don’t know any Statecraft.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “I don’t, [mate-precious]. I’m just being friendly and welcoming, like you’d expect me to do.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Get a room, you two.”]

“Excellent. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll scry the Council and we’ll set up for a night’s stay. Until tomorrow, Master.”

“Until tomorrow, sir.” I busied myself with having the Watch detail arrange for stabling for the ants and making sure that the furs in the coaches knew where they could obtain fresh water if they needed it before I headed back to the Lodge.

I had some scrying to do as well, and a VB message to send.



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