by Adam Browne
Linus set aside his half-finished tea, “No, thank you. I really have to go.” Adjusting his cloak, because Olivia had indeed pinned it somewhat wrong, he added, “Please express my gratitude to Professor Heath and Miss Sara. It was nice to meet you all, despite the circumstances.”
Olivia smiled broadly, “You know, you’re far too polite for a Howler, especially a Bloodfang.”
Linus snorted humorously.
“You must have good breeding,” Olivia judged, sipping her tea.
“I’m not one for judging wolves by their breeding,” Linus insisted, lightly, if sincerely. Clearing his throat for the umpteenth time, he headed for the door. “I really must go.”
“Your helmet, Howler?” his host suggested.
“Oh!”
Linus whirled round and fetched his sad-looking helmet from the coffee table.
“I’d forget my tail if it wasn’t screwed on,” he laughed, donning his armour.
Olivia chuckled back.
Linus lingered at Professor Heath’s door long enough to say, “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Linus gently closed the door, blocking out Olivia’s intense violet eyes. As he walked along the corridor and down the stairwell, he felt a sudden emptiness, the absence of a presence to which he had grown accustomed.
Linus glanced at Heath’s door one last time before heading on down, through the building’s main doors, and out onto the pristine snow-bound street. The icy breath of winter rolled over him, but Linus was a wolf, and a Howler, hardened in the Bloodfang Howler Academy – the cold had little effect. His eyes watered not from the bitter air, but from the sheer glare of the snow that coated every level surface.
Crossing the street between ash-belching motorised carriages, Linus happened upon a newsstand run by a mottled wolf cub in a dark blue coat and hat – he looked about ten. No doubt he was the very same youth Linus had heard hollering from up in Heath’s flat.
Linus thought no more of it, or the biased Eisbrand rags the cub was peddling, until the boy said, “Rufus Bloodfang is charged with imperium embezzlement and attempted lupicide! Read all about it!”
Heart somersaulting, Linus whirled back to the stand and snatched up a paper. The front page of The Harbinger was plastered with an unflattering mug-shot of Rufus accompanied by a worse headline.
‘THE FALL OF ‘RED MIST’.’
“But, he was only arrested last night,” Linus said.
“Hot off the press, sir,” replied the cub, little paw outstretched. “That’ll be tuppence, please.”
*
Uther rolled out of bed, wincing less from his week-old wounds than a fresh hangover. After cradling his pounding head a moment, the Howler sat on the edge of the bed and nursed his bandaged ribs and upper left arm.
“Schmmmmutz,” he seethed.
Locating his mantle amidst the chaotic mix of clothing strewn about the threadbare carpet, he dug out his wallet and counted a few hundred lupas. Leaving the colourful wad of cash under the imperium lamp on the bedside table, he stood up and drew the curtains back, allowing the snow-enhanced sunlight to flood into the pokey hotel room, momentarily blinding him.
A set of slender golden arms snaked around Uther’s sinewy black and white waist. “Mornin’, Wild-heart,” said their owner.
“Good morning, Lorna,” Uther sniffed, as the lovely wolfess kissed his thick neck. “Money’s on the side.”
“Oh no it ain’t.”
Uther glanced at the bedside table; the cash had magically vanished.
“Puh!” he laughed. “You’re quick.”
“Well, you can’t leave that kind of money lying just around, partner,” Lorna defended, tucking the lupas further down into the neck of her bodice, until they disappeared entirely from view. She purposely felt and squeezed Uther’s muscled arms, and therefore his wound, making him wince. “My poor, brave soldier,” Lorna purred in his left ear. “You should let me and Rosa nurse you back to health for the rest of the week.”
“Think I’m made of money?” the Howler scoffed. “I only get half-pay on sick leave as it is!”
“All the more reason to get better quick then,” Lorna swiftly pointed out. “We’ll do it for half rate, birthday boy.”
Uther laughed the offer off, as if it were a joke, but Lorna looked dead-serious.
The door burst open without so much as a knock and the squat Rosalina waddled in.
“Uther-” she said, but got no further.
In stepped Ivan, armoured and cloaked, with a rolled newspaper in his paw. Looking Uther and Lorna over, he threw the rag at his fellow Howler.
Uther fumbled to catch it.
“They’ve no right!” Ivan snapped. “The lying bastards haven’t the right!”
Baffled beyond words, Uther turned the paper over until the front page flopped open.
Lorna leant in. “They’ve arrested Rufus?” she gasped.
“ALPHA took him last night,” Ivan said. “I assumed someone was just trying to scare him and his literati friends into behaving, like always.”
Uther looked up from the paper, “They probably are.”
“It’s going to trial, you fool. They want rid of him!” Ivan paced, growled. “ALPHA moved too fast; from arrest to charges to newspaper story. Someone had this all planned out.”
There was a brief quiet, marked only by the sound of Uther folding the paper up and tossing it on the bed. “Well what am I supposed to do about it?” he snorted at Ivan.
“You could at least feign concern!”
“I am concerned.”
“You don’t look it!”
Uther squirmed defensively, “Yeah well, maybe it’s because I ain’t surprised. With the way Rufus carries on this was gonna happen one day and we all knew it.”
Ivan huffed, “You’ve always been eager to forget what he did for you, ‘Wild-heart’. He got Den Father Vito to let you go when anyone else would’ve walked away. Yet I’ve never once seen you speak up for him.”
“Just because I never combed his back like you! I respect him, and I’m grateful for what he did, but I ain’t no beta, never again, not to no wolf. Not even him.”
There was a frosty silence.
“Sir,” Uther tacked on, sarcastic at best. He turned away and hastily rifled through his cloak for an ember. Taking a deep puff he leant on the wall and peered out the window at the snowy streets of Lupa.
“Just get dressed,” Ivan commanded. “You’re wanted back at the Den.”
“But I’m on sick-leave!” Uther protested indignantly.
“You seem well-enough to exert yourself!” his superior growled, glaring at Lorna and Rosa. “This comes from Amael, so unless you want a flogging, be back by midday. There’s to be a meeting in the Elder Chamber about Rufus and you’re to attend, though Ulf knows why.”
With that, the stormy Ivan took his leave.
Glancing at Rosalina, Lorna picked up the paper and read the headlines once more. Creeping up behind Uther and placing a paw on his shoulder, she said, “I’m sure it’ll all come to nothin’.”
“Yeah,” Uther sniffed at length.
*
Elder Amael Balbus stubbed out his ember and picked up the ringing telephone. “They’re here?”
“Yes, sir,” Boris replied. “Uther just arrived.”
“Send them both in,” Amael said, “and yourself,” before setting the phone down and pouring himself a tumbler of Hummel brandy, knocking it back for courage. “You’re sure this is wise?” he asked aloud.
Not getting an immediate reply, Amael looked at Janoah, standing silhouetted by one of the bright, snow-flecked windows that circled the Elder Chamber, arms folded, ember smouldering.
“They have to join you sooner or later,” she said at last, blowing vapour at the frosty window. It condensed into a colourful patch of imperium, before evaporating. “Uther and Ivan are two of the finest Howlers in Lupa. You need them.”
“Either one could betray me.”
/>
Janoah huffed, “Uther’s a gossiping proletarian, a street fighter from the gutter. He despises most Elders and their lack of morals, especially our very own Vito. I assume you’re aware of Uther’s history with him?”
Amael nodded, “What about Ivan?”
“He’ll do anything to save Rufus,” Janoah claimed, blowing a perfect vapour-ring, adding, “As will I.”
Amael felt his pistol hidden beneath the Elder Table. Not even Blade-dancer could dodge a pellet. He attacked me; I shot him, who could say otherwise? Uther would go the same way if need be.
The Elder Chamber doors eased open, allowing two fully-uniformed Howlers to enter, Uther and Ivan in red and black respectively, followed by a third wolf in black and without a helmet – the mottled brown and white Captain Boris. Uther and Ivan stood on the Bloodfang emblem, removed their helms and saluted. Boris, being Amael’s adjutant, stood slightly to one side and saluted only half-heartedly – years of being in Elder Amael’s presence all day every day bred familiarity, as well as a sense of privilege, perhaps. Either way, Amael didn’t pull him up on it.
“Send the Den Guard away,” Amael said to Boris, flicking his grizzled snout at the doors.
“Sir,” the mottled wolf acknowledged.
Watched discreetly by Ivan, Boris went to the doors, opened one, and told the two Den Guards to take a break. Supposedly sworn to secrecy though they were, and thick though the Chamber doors may be, the snatching, interrogation and torture of Den Guards for information had been the fall of many an ambitious Elder.
Once the guards had departed, Boris returned to the middle of the chamber and cupped his paws behind his back. He nodded at Amael, who nodded back.
Ivan took note of it all.
Why had Amael taken such a precaution, and why was Janoah here.
“How are you, Uther?” Elder Amael began with unusual cordiality. “On the mend, I trust?”
“Aye, sir,” Uther replied, hesitant.
“Well enough to service his regulars over in the Common Ground,” Janoah said, with a sardonic chuckle. “Don’t overdo it, Wild-heart; you’ll bust your stitches.”
Uther said nothing, but cleared his throat a little.
Ivan growled without looking, “Are you aware your husband has been arrested, Prefect Valerio?”
“Who isn’t, Captain Donskoy?”
“Strange. You don’t appear upset. But then I hear you’re the one who seized him.”
Janoah huffed, “Who told you that; your dear cousin?”
“Is it true? Answer me!”
Amael slapped the table and barked, “Ivan!”
“It’s all right,” Janoah said, stepping forward. “I’m not his superior any more, just a Prefect.”
Ivan waited, nostrils flaring a little.
“I had no choice,” Janoah told the lofty white wolf, dipping her chin a little. “ALPHA was testing me. They’ve grown suspicious of my regular visits to Riddle District. If I had refused to take Rufus in, or warned him, I would’ve been sent down as well for acting against the peace.” Janoah chuckled a little, then sighed, “Besides… if it had to be done, at least I would do it gently.”
Ivan erupted, “Gently? In front of the whole world?”
Janoah had her answer immediately to paw, “Better everyone knows about it,” she claimed. “Better that ALPHA is seen to arrest Rufus and go to trial than for him to disappear and wolves wonder whom to blame. The citizens know who to blame – ALPHA.”
Ivan digested that, then looking between Janoah and Amael said, “Then I take it ALPHA’s right to be suspicious of your visits to Riddle. What are you playing at, Janoah?”
She, Amael and Boris exchanged stolen glances, each unsure how to proceed, each looking to the other to set the ball rolling, as if they feared Ivan, the Blade-dancer, could strike them all down in a flash if they said the wrong thing.
“You probably think I’m happy to see Rufus go down the mines,” Amael said.
“Well aren’t you?” Ivan blurted daringly. “Isn’t he an embarrassment to you? That’s all you ever say!”
Amael frowned, but instead of calling Ivan out on his cheek, kept his cool. “If anyone was going to send him down the mines it was going to be me, not those jumped-up bastards at ALPHA! Ulf knows Rufus has given me enough cause, but I did more than spare him, I protected him.”
Ivan spluttered, “Protected him?”
“Yes! And you, and you!” Amael barked, glaring at Ivan and Uther respectively. “I’ve looked the other way when you’ve donated your imperium to him – do not deny it, I know everything that goes on in Riddle!”
Ivan and Uther remained silent.
Amael continued, rumbling away like a distant landslide, “I let you get away with it when I should have referred you to our own Provosts for investigation, let alone ALPHA, because you are good Howlers, my finest, as would Rufus be if he concentrated on his duty as oppose to his idle dreams and desires. As it is, he wastes his talent and brings shame on our whole pack. And now he is finally paying the price.” The Elder knitted his paws on the desk, “I can’t help him. Only a Den Father can possibly intercede on his behalf, and ours is in no fit state to do anything.”
Ivan frowned, “Is Den Father Vito unwell?”
“Unwell? He’s mad!”
“Mad, sir?”
“You didn’t see him when he came to Riddle last, Ivan, on account of Rufus being blown up by Noss, but don’t worry, you didn’t miss out,” Amael derided. “It’s pathetic to see what an embarrassing shambles of a wolf Vito has become. He’s always had his… vices, as well you know, but he’s led Bloodfang effectively until now and so I’ve been forced to tolerate his failings for lack of support. Now the rot’s spread to his brain; he can’t be trusted to remember what happened yesterday let alone make decisions that affect every one of us. All he thinks of is where his next meal is coming from and what street cub next to bed with. It’s disgusting!”
Uther’s muzzle twitched, and Ivan noticed.
“His adjutants and Den Guard are as guilty as him,” Amael claimed, “procuring his every whim and protecting him when they should know better!”
Boris spoke, “Sir, the Den Guard are sworn-”
“If I was an abusive old drooler, I’d expect you to do something about it, Boris, whatever you’d sworn!”
Silence.
Amael growled afresh, “Howlers, our pack is paralysed by lack of sound governance. Every district is plotting their rise, every Elder jostling for votes – myself included. I shan’t deny it; I want to be the next Den Father as much as any wolf and I have been laying the foundations. I have great plans, let me tell you. I’ll lead Pack Bloodfang into a glorious future, and sweep this city clean. I will cut out the festering rot, starting with ALPHA. Setting them bullies up was the biggest mistake the Den Fathers ever made!”
“Odd you say that when there’s a member of ALPHA standing in this very room, Elder,” Ivan observed, not a tad sarcastically.
“Janoah works for me,” Amael snorted, adding, “But you already knew that, Ivan.”
“I work for the Bloodfangs,” Janoah corrected Amael.
“For Lupa,” Boris corrected them both. “We all work for Lupa, not our own ambitions, Howlers.”
Amael raised his glass to his adjutant. “Quite right, loyal Boris, quite right,” he said, downing his drink. “I can always rely on you to bring me down to Erde.”
Nodding, Boris tugged at the neck of his cloak. He looked at Ivan a moment, then down and away.
“Drop of Hummel brandy, Howlers?” Amael said, breaking the awkward moment by pouring some fresh tumblers of the golden liquid.
“No, thank you, sir,” Boris said at length.
Ivan shook his head.
Uther glanced at them and, perhaps only then realising that Amael was including the lowly Trooper in the offer, said a little too eagerly, “Yes please, sir!”
Amael laughed and slid one of the modestly-filled tumblers across th
e polished table. “That’s more like it. Finest Hummel brandy lupas can buy, Howler. Get your lips around that.”
Uther snapped it up and knocked it back. “Cor!” he woofed, thumping his chest.
“Good eh, Trooper?”
“Aye, sir! Hits the spot.”
Chuckling warmly, Amael poured him another.
Ivan glared at Uther – the usually street-wise wolf seemed completely ignorant as to what was transpiring here, or else he was just taking full advantage of the situation to get a free drink; one couldn’t put it past him.
Either way, Ivan turned to Amael and said, “If you’ve got something to say to us, Elder Balbus, then please don’t mince your words. Whatever it is, I swear it won’t leave this chamber, even if we agree to disagree.”
Amael Balbus leant back in his ornate chair. “I appreciate your candidness,” he said sagely, fondling the imperium pistol nestled in his lap. “I’ll be candid also; you deserve nothing less for your years of exceptional service, ‘Blade-dancer’.”
Ivan waited.
“I know you… revere Rufus,” Amael told him, the penultimate word sticking to his tongue. “And believe me, I don’t wish him harm, much as his antics shame our Den.”
Ivan moist nostrils flared just a little.
“Help me become Den Father,” Amael continued, breaking out an ember and smouldering away, “and I’ll get him off the hook. More than that, Boris here will become Riddle District’s Elder and you two his Grand Howlers.”
“Me?” Uther squeaked. “Grand Howler, sir?”
Amael nodded, “That’s right, Uther. I intend to pull my best wolves up with me as I climb Lupa’s slippery pole, and you two are the best Howlers in Riddle District, if not Lupa. Between us we’ll run the Bloodfang Territory as it should be run, and help make Lupa a fairer, cleaner, safer place. Doesn’t that sound worthy of you?”
“Well uh….” Uther hesitated, glancing at Ivan for guidance.
But Ivan had ceased listening long ago, the further delights dangled before him pale before the prospect of keeping Rufus out of the mines and alive.
“How can you help Rufus?” Blade-dancer demanded of his superior. “ALPHA must have enough evidence to convict him or they wouldn’t dare bring him to trial. Even a Den Father’s word can’t save him now.”