Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel

Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  Major Matt Mason


Part Nineteen.


Anastasia:

Elves live a very long time, and I suppose that I’ll regret basically kicking Westersloe out of our bed that night, but I’ll make it up to him.

Or rather he’ll make it up to me, once I get him to transmogrify into wolf-form for me. He’s easily persuaded to do that, because he’s always eager to please me. Points in his favor.

But here I am, getting ahead of myself. I had given an Eastness ermine named Ernest a challenge to prove to me that he was a chef worthy of gracing the Master’s Lodge. I had heard from [Little Toy] who, while inarticulate, is quite adept at drawing quick sketches that get her point across vividly and, in some cases, graphically, that Mr. Ramesie had spent an hour looking into all the various cabinets and larders before demanding a scrap of papyrus and a pencil.

An hour later, he had presented me with a menu of what was to be served that night.

By the Stars.

Soup, salad, main course and dessert, tailored for the carnivores and herbivores. There was even provision for raw fish for Ooo-er, and I recalled that Westersloe had said that there were otters in Eastness. And all this using ingredients that were already at paw.

Despite the events of that afternoon, dinner was a very enjoyable event. Westersloe and his buck-fawn are usually very greedy for persimmon cake, but the persimmon-filled pastries that constituted dessert seemed to meet with general approval. I’m determined to hire him on.

[Note appended to manuscript: “If he had made a better first impression, he could have helped Red out by taking over grilling meat for the Wolves.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “But then, how would you know of situations where a Roebuck Sears?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap, wolfess.”]

After dinner, Westersloe and I had words. Belladonna would have been the perfect mate for Sixth, and I was sure that my mate and that crazy fox from the Long Ago were conspiring to wreck things. Westersloe was banished to his study, while I spent a long night and most of the next day trying to figure out what young Sawyer’s challenge was about, and how it figured into the law of the Vale.

And if there was any way around it. Elves being Elves, there had to be a loophole somewhere.


***


Tali:

“Well,” I said as I holstered my pistol, “what the hell was that all about?”

Ooo-er, Missy and I were headed to Glenallid when we were suddenly confronted by a trio of short red pandas wearing black pajamas. That would have been cute (not Cute) if not for the various edged weapons in their paws and the murderous intent in their eyes.

Unfortunately for them, they had chosen this moment to attack three women who knew that they were pregnant, and therefore quite interested in protecting themselves. They had also made the mistake of going up against an otter who can generate electric shocks, a wolf who’s very handy with a sword, and me.

And I needed a bit of shooting practice anyway. My pistol wasn’t the little rumble gun that Fred used to banish the Pastel Menace back in Eastness, but a compact version of the Lawgiver smartgun.

To put it succinctly, our three attackers were speedily sent on their way to an uncomfortable interview with their honored ancestors.

“I was afraid of this,” Missy said, and filled us both in on the Ninja Wahs. Cute name, and I insisted on calling the Musashi for a bit of trash disposal, an act that left both Missy and Ooo-er wide-eyed. Granted, they’d seen an entire building vanish as part of a Corps disposal protocol, but this was rather closer to home.

We made it to Glenallid without further incident, and we made our way through the wolves’ village to where my mobile (now back in wagon form) was parked. “Now,” I said as I put my key in the lock, “I want to warn you, it may be a little odd when you first come inside. Just remember that what you do with Gramerye, I and my folks do with technology.” I opened the door and led them inside.

They’ve both been in the Corps station in Eastness, but the wagon is outwardly only four meters long, three high and three wide at the top. You don’t expect a living room / control center more than six meters square, although it can be made a little cozier. “What do you think?” I asked.

Missy patted one of the easy chairs. “Comfortable. Where do you sleep?” Ooo-er was still looking around, her eyes gone wide and the tip of her tail twitching.

“Through there,” and I pointed at a doorway. “And there’s plenty of space,” I smiled invitingly, “for three . . .”


***


Roland:

The Master’s report to me came via the Imperial & Royal Mail, but he had sent word ahead using the Vixen’s Brush signaling network. The notification was merely advising me that a report was en route to GHQ, which made me wonder what he had been up to in Elfhame.

The report, when it arrived, caused me, my brother and liege-lord the King, and my nephew the Crown Prince no little bit of consternation. While his report about a Gap and a journey to Eastness, with a summary of his actions and local conditions (news, I may add, that pleased the King greatly) was quite interesting, the added sheets of paper from a person named ‘Commander Tali Hartoh-Mason’ was rather shocking.

Lowfolk, here in Faerie. It was very disturbing news, and the [teashor] had been quite right to alert us to their presence and the potential danger they posed to the Empire. According to the Master, their intentions were benign, an opinion that appeared justified by their actions in Eastness. Still, it was very disquieting and I briefly considered reopening the Office of Lowfolk Affairs. The other Blood Seal Bearers had been notified.

Then came word, in cipher and marked URGENT from one of the towns on the seacoast to the southeast, of flying objects being spotted. I scryed the local Imperial Resident there, who acquainted me with the news that two flying objects had been spotted close to shore. He provided me with sketches of what had been seen.

They were most certainly not dragons, or any creature of the Shining Land that I was aware of. They looked like mechanisms. Keeping my reactions carefully veiled, I informed the Resident that it was probably nothing, and to reassure the inhabitants that the Crowns would deal with the matter. That allayed his concerns somewhat.

An urgent Vixen’s Brush message was sent to Elfhame. In it, I ordered the [teashor] to ask his newfound ‘friends’ what was going on.


***


Missy:

“Um . . . “ Ooo-er and I looked at each other, and I asked Tali, “you want us . . . to move in with you? In here?”

“Well, yes.” The feline made an expansive gesture. “There’s plenty of room for all three of us, and – “ All of our ears swiveled at a harsh knocking on the door.

Tali placed a paw where she had her weapon (a pistol, she called it) and opened the door, revealing a certain pissy roebuck whose expression was even pissier than usual. You might even say he was at maximum pissiness. “Master?” Tali asked.

The Master had his throne-breaking face on, that’s how pissy he was. “Commander, we need to talk. Now.” He had a piece of papyrus in one paw, and he held it out to her.

The mother of my cub put her glasses on and read the paper before startling all three of us by growling something that sounded like someone gargling gravel. “Sorry,” she said, her expression stern. “Master, I need to communicate with my wife.”

“Go ahead.” He still had his “I’m going to beat your head in” expression in place as Tali crossed to a chair in front of a number of colored buttons and one of those magic mirrors I’d seen in Eastness.

Tali’s fingers danced over the buttons and the flat mirror glowed, showing several points around a circle. “Good,” she muttered. “No need to power up the ansible . . . “ She tapped a button and said, “Station TLMH to MSSH. Calling MSSH, over.”

The image on the – screen, she’d called it – changed to a weasel wearing the same gray uniform that Tali wore. “MSSH receiving you, TLMH. Situation?”

Tali took a breath. “I need to speak with Musashi Actual, immediate. Spectrum White.”

The weasel grimaced and glanced down, and after a moment the screen changed to show a skunk-femme with grass-green headfur. Behind her, I could see the bear that Tali had identified as her husband. “Musashi Actual,” the skunk said. “Tali, what’s wrong?”

“Low, the Master’s given me a report from his superiors at the capitol. Two aircraft were sighted offshore.”

Low, the skunk-femme, visibly flinched. “Damn. That was us. Matt and I took our VF-1s a little too close. I expect they want an explanation?”

Tali glanced back at the Master before replying, “Yes.”

The skunk nodded. “Matt and I caused this, so it’s on us to make amends.” She glanced back at Matt before looking at Tali and saying, “Is that the Master, to my left?”

Tali glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”

“Master?” The roebuck’s ears swiveled forward. “I am Low-chan Mason-Hartoh. I am the commander here, and I would appreciate it if you would send a message to your superiors.”

“I’m listening.”

“Please inform your superiors to expect me – what?” She leaned to her right as the bear came forward and whispered in her ear; she nodded and said, “The two of us, at the third hour of the morning tomorrow.” Another whispered conversation. “We will be in uniform, and will appear outside the palace gates. Please add that I will make a personal apology, and will explain matters.”

“I’ll notify the Marshal,” and the Master turned on one hoof and stamped out.

Pissy roebuck.

“I’m sorry, Tali. I knew from you and Matt how the Elves feel about outworlders – “

“It’s okay, Low. I know that between you and Matt, you’ll smooth things over.”

“We’ll see,” Matt said, and the screen went dark.



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