Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Go ahead,” Silvermane urged, paws cupped before him.

  Rufus opened the file. He hadn’t read two sentences when he stopped and looked up at his captor, “This is my proposal to go to the Dead Cities.”

  “Your annually rejected proposal,” Silvermane corrected gently, albeit dripping with intent.

  Rufus closed the file. “Try, try again,” he said, dipping his chin and pushing the offending file away.

  Janoah watched in silence. Silvermane glanced at her, then said to Rufus, “You want it to happen?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You heard,” the Silver sniffed, spreading a paw. “I can make it happen. ALPHA will fund it, give you wolves and supplies, no cabal of ignorant, indolent Elders will stop you.”

  Rufus looked up at him, “I don’t understand.”

  “Your arrest was just a ruse,” Silvermane admitted.

  “Ruse?”

  “Yes. To make THORN believe you when you say you’ve defected and wish to help bring down the Republic. We have to make this convincing if we’re to succeed.”

  Rufus’s green eyes darted to and fro. “Sorry, but… did I miss a page or something?”

  Maintaining outward calm, Silvermane pulled up a chair and sat opposite the cheeky red wolf, “Grand Howler, there is a plot afoot to destroy the Republic-”

  “I’m not surprised!” Rufus woofed.

  “You condone it?” Silvermane said at once.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Silver, you’re not nearly clever enough.”

  “That’s Grand Prefect Silvermane, if you please.”

  “I don’t. So, how’s your glorious leader? Does he let you boys smoulder, or is he still an utter bore?”

  Silvermane snorted and looked to Janoah, “Am I wasting my time here, Prefect?”

  Thus invited, Janoah entered the conversation, “Rufus, THORN are going to murder hundreds, possibly thousands-”

  “As we do them?” Rufus replied instantly.

  “What?”

  Reaching into his cloak, Rufus slammed a dishevelled piece of paper on the desk. It was Sara’s leaflet; the one Tristan had given her, with all its horrific imagery.

  The Prefects exchanged looks.

  “Where did you get this?” Silvermane demanded, taking the leaflet.

  “That’s hardly the issue.”

  “Is this what passes for intellectual discussion at the Wintertide Symposium?” Silvermane scoffed, flicking the paper with his fingers. “Are the great thinkers of Lupa stupid enough to fall for such blatant propaganda?”

  “Hyenas do not make propaganda, sir!” Rufus countered sternly. “When was the last time you saw a hyena photographing or printing anything? How can they when they are denied basic amenities!”

  “Naive do-gooders help spread THORN’s rot, do-gooders like you.”

  “Is it ‘do-gooding’ to sympathise with starving cubs?”

  “Starving? Ridiculous.”

  Janoah leant in, “Rufus, this isn’t even about the hyena tribes, or THORN, not really.”

  “But you just said-”

  “They are being used!” Janoah cut in, before Rufus could go off on one. “They are fools, these… cubs, this Themba and Nurka, and all their followers too! Brainwashed fanatics who are dooming their own people.” She grabbed the leaflet and waved it in Rufus’s blinking face, “I’ve no doubt this nightmare will come true for them if Lupa falls into civil war because of THORN. The Howlers will have no choice but to wipe the hyenas out to quell the outrage of the citizens, little and noble alike!”

  Rufus gulped, “Go on.”

  Janoah threw the leaflet away and stood up straight, arms folded. “That’s the plan, you see. The hyenas will be blamed for causing the next Howler War, whilst their treacherous wolfen puppeteers will reap the reward and rule Lupa as kings, professing to be our saviour in Lupa’s time of need… or something equally tacky.”

  Janoah could see her husband’s astute brain working behind his eyes, piecing things together. It was fun watching him struggle on so little information.

  “Puppeteers, Jan?” he said, fishing for clues.

  “Ah! Now he’s intrigued,” his wife cackled at Silvermane.

  Silvermane reasoned. “Rufus, I know the Republic isn’t perfect,” he said, in his soothing tone, “but it’s all we’ve got, and it’s preferable to a dictatorship which is what we will get if we do not smash this plot before it breaks around our ears.”

  “All right, all right,” Rufus sighed, “I get it.” He shrugged his ruddy shoulders, “Look, I love Lupa, for all its ills and injustices, and all our… mistakes. Change will come to our fair city, I’ve no doubt; but not by dictatorship. That way madness lies.”

  Silvermane sat back and exhaled a little, perhaps relieved to hear such words.

  “Who is it?” Rufus asked in general. “Hit me.”

  Janoah snorted simply, “Amael Balbus.”

  “Balbus!”

  “Amongst others,” Silvermane added quickly.

  “I don’t believe it!” Rufus blustered.

  “Believe it!” Janoah chirped airily. “He does nothing but talk about how he’s going to rule Lupa… with me.”

  Silence.

  “With you, Jan?”

  “Yes, dear. I lay with him.”

  Rufus nearly went cross-eyed, “What do you mean, you-”

  “It’s strictly for the sake of the Republic!” Janoah interceded, raising a paw. “I did it for you, once, now I do it for Lupa – a worthier cause, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  Rufus took a sharp puff on his ember as he digested the news. “I do,” he said.

  “He loves me, or so he professes,” Janoah huffed.

  To which Silvermane added, “Not enough to reveal who he’s conspiring with, or exactly how it’s going to come about, despite your best efforts, Janoah.”

  “He says he’s keeping me at arm’s length to protect me, in case he falls,” Janoah excused, with a tiny shrug. “I appreciate his concern, but hopefully as the time draws nearer he’ll confide in me. Until then I must continue to help him and not push too hard or he may suspect me.”

  Rufus had to ask, “How’re you helping him, Jan?”

  “I feed him snippets of ALPHA files, give him dirt on his fellow Bloodfang Elders. Illegal dealings, imperium embezzlement, embarrassing liaisons and so forth – you know the kind of thing you’re always brought in for.”

  “How charming. Why?”

  Janoah explained, “So he can blackmail them into voting him Den Father. Amael believes he must be at least that high to strike. Nobody is going to follow a mere nobody Elder, but Den Father of the illustrious Bloodfangs… well maybe.”

  Rufus pointed out, “Perhaps you should remind Amael that we ‘illustrious Bloodfangs’ already have a Den Father.”

  “For now,” Janoah said, “but he might fall down the stairs tomorrow. He’s very old and doddery, isn’t he?”

  “Are you saying Amael’s going to do him in?”

  “It’s the logical step.”

  “Then Vito must be told.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Rufus woofed. “What do you mean no? Are you just going to let it happen?”

  Silvermane interjected, “If we tell the Den Fathers what’s afoot they will initiate their own clumsy investigations all over the shop and Amael’s fellow conspirators will go to ground and destroy all evidence. Even racking Amael for their names will not be enough to incriminate conspiring Elders from other packs; no Den Father would stand for it. They mistrust ALPHA as it is and will defend their own from feeble prosecutions. You Howlers seem to think we’re all-powerful and can bring anyone down on a whim; the truth is very different. We must have evidence.”

  “Clearly,” Rufus huffed, looking at his dwindling ember. “That’s why I’m not down the mines already.”

  Silvermane grunted, “You must admit, Rufus, that you invite scrutiny at every turn. Your actions have not been above
reproach.”

  “I have never committed a crime against the Republic, unless voicing my concerns is a crime?”

  “Concerns?” Silvermane woofed. “You have incited unrest on multiple occasions. You incite it now by even entertaining that vile propaganda leaflet!”

  “Can you prove it untrue? Have you ever been to the Reservations and checked what goes on there?”

  “Wolves do not do such things! We are not barbarians!”

  Rufus burst out laughing, head tipped back.

  Silvermane saw red. “Do you mock me, sir?” he bellowed.

  “I envy you, young Silvermane,” the Howler replied. “I wish I was still so… cute.”

  Silence, pricklier than a cactus.

  “So, other wolves are involved?” Rufus sniffed, as if nothing had transpired.

  Flustered by comparison, the ‘cute’ Silvermane took a moment to compose himself, to clear his throat and adjust his cloak. “The rot runs deep,” he said gravely. “We suspect there are dozens of traitors in every pack. One or two in ALPHA itself, we think.”

  Rufus tutted like a disapproving matron.

  “Nobody is more disappointed than me,” Silvermane assured him. “Even the pure intentions of ALPHA have been sullied by this… festering decay!” the Prefect snarled, before measuring his tone. “However, fester it must, for now. The game must be allowed to run until Amael plays his cards and reveals his allies, only then can we round them up.”

  Nodding, Rufus sucked his cheek, then said, “Where do I fit into your scheme?”

  “You’ll help us?” Silvermane asked expectantly.

  “I haven’t decided yet. Besides, my price might be too high for you impoverished ALPHA lot.”

  “Your expedition will be funded and-”

  “I’ll set my provisos, not you!” Rufus interrupted, looking between the Prefects. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll let you know if I can even do it.” Stubbing out his ember and breaking open another he said, “And for Ulf’s sake, someone make me a cup of tea.”

  *

  “I shouldn’t worry,” Heath said, anxiously puffing on his pipe in the deserted university hall. “Someone’s denounced him because they don’t like what he says. It’s intimidation that’s all. ALPHA needs hard evidence not hearsay and Rufus is no imperium peddler.”

  “Aye,” Sara agreed, casting her eyes over the sad remnants of the symposium; the dripping ice-sculptures and discarded napkins.

  Rufus’s arrest had spoilt the evening. Den Father Thorvald had excused himself, professing he was going to make a complaint on Rufus’s behalf and taking his Howlers with him, and once they had gone the great and good of Lupa had dispersed also, perhaps afraid they too might be whisked away by ALPHA. One or two stoic individuals had stayed behind awhile, like Penny and Monty, but now only the university faculty remained.

  “We should put this outside, Professor,” Sara suggested, reaching for the ice relief-sculpture of a butterfly resting on a flower. “It’s so beautiful; it’d be a shame tae let it melt straight away. It could last all winter in the grounds.”

  “What? Oh, yes yes! Quite.”

  Sara began sliding the sculpture across the tabletop on its decorative tray. “Och!” she puffed, “It weighs a ton!”

  “I’m not surprised!” Heath laughed. “Here, I’ll take this end, you take that end.”

  Together, the bear and wolf eased the butterfly sculpture off the table. It was a struggle for both parties, since Heath was too tall and Sara too short to comfortably hold the beautified block of ice level between them. Nonetheless they made it out the door and down the empty entrance hall, Heath shuffling backwards all the way.

  “Professor, Ah can’t hold it much longer,” Sara complained, as icy water slopped over the tray and sapped her paws of strength. “Mah fingers are going numb!”

  “Nearly there,” Heath replied, bumping the door open with his behind and letting in some falling snow.

  They started down the stairs.

  “Ah’m gonna drop it!” Sara cried.

  The warning had no sooner left her lips than some blonde wolf in a red cloak swept in out of left field and grabbed Sara’s end of the sculpture from her.

  “I’ve got it,” Howler Linus assured.

  Surprised, but grateful, Sara removed her painfully frozen paws and dried her fingers on her breeches.

  “Thanks,” she said, breathing life back into her paws.

  Linus nodded – his helmet disguised any smile.

  Apparently without effort, the powerfully-built Howler helped Heath guide the sculpture down the marbled stairs and set it in the fresh snow by the bushes.

  “There we are,” Heath said, flicking his paws. “I thought you’d gone home, Howler Mills.”

  “Yes,” he replied, “I started to walk, but… well….”

  “Walk back to Riddle HQ? In this weather? Hah!”

  “Precisely.”

  “What about the mono?” Heath said, flapping a paw at Rufus’s lonely monobike, the last vehicle remaining on the campus, which now sported a hefty white mantle of freshly fallen snow. “Don’t you have the key?”

  “I do, sir, I got it off the valet.”

  “Well then, Rufus won’t mind you borrowing it to get home. It’s just a pack-owned Springtail, isn’t it?”

  “I… can’t ride,” Linus admitted awkwardly.

  “Oh, I see.”

  Linus moved on, “Might I use your phone again to call a friend to come pick me up? I’d stay at a hotel, naturally, anywhere really, but I don’t have any money on me.”

  Listening in, Sara snorted in a confused tone, “But you’re a Howler, you don’t have tae pay.”

  The Howler explained patiently, “This is Eisbrand territory, Miss, not Bloodfang. I can’t abuse my rights.”

  “Some would.”

  “Maybe.”

  There was a brief silence.

  Linus looked to Heath, “May I use your phone, sir?”

  “Uhm… well, yes yes, of course,” the bear replied, momentarily bowled over by this Howler’s reserve. “Come in and warm yourself up while you wait, uh… Linus.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Been a funny old night, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Smelling the youth’s anxiety a mile away, Heath tried to set him at ease. “Rufus will be all right, you know. He’s used to being mucked about by ALPHA, even if we’re not. Not a year passes without them breathing down his neck over something he’s said or done. It’s all nonsense; a mere game.”

  Linus nodded, but said nothing.

  As the trio walked up the snow-bound stairs, Sara cupped her paws behind her back and asked knowingly, “What happened tae all your money, Howler?”

  “I blew it all on a Buttle Skyways ticket.”

  *

  In the vaporous atmosphere of the ALPHA interrogation room, Rufus sipped his Hummel tea and puffed on his third ember, blueberry this time, not his favourite, but he hardly noticed for the thoughts jostling for position in his head.

  “Who else knows?” he asked, clearing his throat.

  Silvermane took a sharp breath and shuffled on his parsimonious new-materials seat, “Just us three, and the Alpha, of course.”

  “Not Nikita and Horst then?”

  “Nor Duncan; any one of them may be a traitor. I doubt it’s Horst, though he could be hiding his ambitions behind conservatism. But Duncan is a little-beast-loving ex-Hummel and Nikita is a rabidly impartialist ex-Eisbrand; it could be change is not happening fast enough for them.”

  Rufus tutted, “I like them already. Perhaps it’s you who’s the traitor, Silver? Have you checked your own file?”

  Silvermane huffed, “If it were me, Janoah wouldn’t be alive. Amael would’ve taken care of her by now, because I would have told him about her double-crossing.”

  Rufus couldn’t deny it.

  In the silence, Janoah sighed, “Vladimir needs to know what we’re going to d
o.”

  “Vladimir?” Rufus guffawed.

  His wife grimaced, as if the truth pained her. “He’s the one who sussed Amael out in the first place.”

  “The wily Oromov. How?”

  “That doesn’t matter, husband, what matters is that he’s still my partner in Riddle.” Janoah spread a ruddy paw. “How do you think I know half of what I know? Amael didn’t tell me THORN’s plans, it was Vladimir getting it out of Chakaa Madou. Horst complained earlier that I let the Bloodfangs get away with a key suspect, but I knew Vladimir would set to work and tell me anyway.”

  “Yes,” Rufus gruffed, “Vlad’s set to work all right, with rack and iron all week I dare say-”

  “You haven’t obstructed him have you?” Janoah hissed, leaning on the tabletop.

  Rufus removed his blue ember. “Do calm down, Jan. Madou is Vladimir’s catch; I’ve no right to interfere. Besides, hyenas are not covered by the Lupan Laws… are they?”

  “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all day,” Janoah huffed. She stood up again, “Well, in any case, Vladimir needs to be brought aboard. If I betray his trust by holding back information he’ll do the same to me and that could be dangerous.”

  “It could be dangerous if he’s told too much,” Silvermane observed. “How do you know he’s truly on our side? He could be feeding you lies as Amael’s double-agent for all you know.”

  “No, sir,” Janoah dismissed. “I know Vladimir’s secret, and Amael would kill him if I let it be known, as would I be if Vladimir told Amael about me. We have the goods on each other, Vlad and I.”

  Silvermane enquired, “And what is this ‘secret’?”

  “It’s of no matter to ALPHA, sir.”

  “Nonetheless-”

  “I will not betray Oromov, sir, not even to you,” Janoah said firmly. “All will out in good time.”

  Rufus swirled his tea, watching the brown leafy liqueur spin, “Jan, you never cease to amaze me. I bet you’re having fun giving Amael the old run-around, aren’t you?”

  Janoah chuckled, “Amael’s quite the wolf; strong, handsome, ambitious.”

  “Mad?”

  “Clever! It’s a pity he’s abusing his Ulf-given talents. Rather like someone else I know.”

  Silvermane watched the couple bounce off one another, apparently enjoying themselves, forgetting, perhaps, that they were in the presence of a Grand Prefect.