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jeriendhalNothing clever to say today.
The next afternoon he brought Salli to Softpaw Manor again, allowing Dr. Quan to spirit her away for another private session. Melika raised an eyebrow when he entered her home’s main hall, as he was once again dressed in his House uniform.
“You needn’t dress so formally for me, Rolas,” she said.
“Oh, this isn’t for you. Wait, that didn’t come out right.” He started again. “I have a duty I must perform. I’d been putting it off since I came home, but something came up that reminded me to take care of it. I’d be pleased if you would accompany me.”
“Thank you, Rolas. Give me a moment to change into something more proper.” She went upstairs, returning in a few minutes wearing a dress in her House’s colors. He led her out to his skimmer, looking at him in delight when she spotted the flowerpot holding a spray of azaleas in the back seat. “More flowers for me, Rolas?”
“I’m sorry, they’re for someone else.” He pulled the skimmer away from the manor, following the compnav’s directions as it guided him along a series of back roads. In about a half-hour they pulled up to a public memorial garden. Rolas checked the note he’d written down, stopping the skimmer in front of family plot he’d been looking for. “It’s was quite convenient to find that Ensign Dewclaw’s family was originally from the Brushtail’s domain,” he told, helping her out and taking the flowerpot and a trowel from the back seat. “Not that convenience really matters for this task. I owed him, for what the Red Vixen did.”
“Oh,” Melika said, sounding quite taken aback. “I… I hadn’t realized his family had originally been Brushtail subjects.”
“Not for twenty years or more, but they kept their plot in the same place.” He set the pot down and began digging into the dirt with the trowel. In days past vulpines who had passed on to the Holy Den Mother's arms were buried in fields and gardens, or any natural place that was close to home. With the coming of the Varn Subjugation, bodies had been cremated and recycled as a standard practice. Holding onto the ashes of a loved one was illegal and unhygenic from their Wise Masters' point of view, but often done anyway, in the hopes of eventually returning them to the soil of Vulpine Prime when it was finally taken back from their conquerors. During the worst of the Bloody Plagues, it had been an absolute necessity as the bodies piled up and the risk of spreading disease grew exponentially.
Nowadays cremation was still the norm, the ashes scattered in a family plot of carefully tended flowers, with a memorial wall holding the names of the dead whose flesh consecrated the soil. The dead were also honored by perodically planting flowers, such as Rolas did now, to honor the shipmate lost to the Red Vixen's greed. He dug out a small hole with the trowel, then carefully removed the azalea from the pot and set in the ground, tamping the dug out dirt around the plant and saying a brief prayer in the Holy Den Mother's name for poor Dewclaw's soul.
When he turned around, he was surprised to see Melika openly weeping, her head bowed. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Forgive me," she said, wiping her eyes. "One gets emotional at the oddest times. I didn't even know the poor fellow."
"Neither did I really. He was new to the ship, an engineering mate, working in the drive room. On this voyage I spent most of my time on the bridge. I perhaps exchanged five words with him when I inspected the drives, that was about it."
"How is his family?"
"Getting by. Devastated of course, but they're digging in and concentrating on preparations for the escape to distract themselves."
"I see. I should send them a condolence note or something."
He shook his head. "I shouldn't think so. It's been over a month since his death, and they don't really know you."
"I suppose you're right," she agreed. She bowed her head briefly in a prayer of her own. When Rolas had dusted his breeches off and was driving them both back to Softpaw Manor, she asked, "I've been meaning to ask you a question. What are you going to do if this doesn't work out? What if you can't get the money from your insurance company? What if you can't leave?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "If we're found out, the Countess Highglider will be fully within her authority to strip my family of its title and confiscate the lands granted to us. We'd be impoverished. What she'd then do to our sworn commoners is something I'd rather not think about."
"Someone in your House had better start thinking of one," Melika said sharply. "What if the insurance company actually tries to prosecute you for piracy?"
"I"m a noble, however minor. They couldn't really get a prosecution going unless my liegelady agreed to it." He gave her an ironic smile. "Not that I think she'd voice much objection."
"My point exactly. Perhaps you'd better think of a better plan than running away. If she's been presurring your people so terribly, surely there must be some evidence that you can use to de-fang her."
He growled. "You think we haven't thought of that? Everything that she's done so far had been within her legal authority as a countess. She hasn't crossed any boundries that would permit us to go above her to the Council."
"Perhaps you start looking harder. People with evil intent are often arrogant, Rolas. That arrogance and anger on your Countess' part may very well be her downfall. If she hasn't made a mistake yet, you might even persuade her too."
"Persaude her, how?"
"I don't know, Rolas, but there has to be something."
* * *
Later that afternnon, after Rolas had driven his subdued but thoughtful sister home, one of house servants knocked on the door to his suite. "Package for you, milord," he announced. "It came from off-world, it appears."
"A package, from whom?" Rolas asked, surprised.
"It doesn't say, milord. We have scanned it and there doesn't seem to be any explosives or anything else dangerous."
"Very well, thank you." Eyebrows raised in the general vicinity of his ear tips, Rolas examined the package. It was indeed addressed directly to him, and apparently routed through at least four different major shipping carriers. He unsealed it, and to his surprise found the clothes he'd been wearing when he was taken into captivity by the Red Vixen, sealed in a plastic bag. A seperate bag held the controlling ring for his collar, which had been finally cut off from his neck when his escape module had been picked up by the Navy. Finally there was a note, printed, not hand written.
Lord Rolas, I apologize for any inconvenience to you and your family, he read. I return to you the personal goods I had taken from you, though I shall keep what I have managed to hold of your ship's cargo. Please give my regards to your family, your crew, and especially to Lt. Hotclaw, who was so very helpful to me. It wasn't signed, merely marked with a seal of a snarling vixen's head, stamped with red ink. It had to have been sent a bit prior to her ship being destroyed, judging from the dates on the routing notes.
"You were helpful to her, Hotclaw?" he asked aloud to the empty room, feeling a burning anger grow in his heart as the note's true meaning became clear to him. "I think I will deliver the Red Vixen's thanks to you personally."
TBC
The next afternoon he brought Salli to Softpaw Manor again, allowing Dr. Quan to spirit her away for another private session. Melika raised an eyebrow when he entered her home’s main hall, as he was once again dressed in his House uniform.
“You needn’t dress so formally for me, Rolas,” she said.
“Oh, this isn’t for you. Wait, that didn’t come out right.” He started again. “I have a duty I must perform. I’d been putting it off since I came home, but something came up that reminded me to take care of it. I’d be pleased if you would accompany me.”
“Thank you, Rolas. Give me a moment to change into something more proper.” She went upstairs, returning in a few minutes wearing a dress in her House’s colors. He led her out to his skimmer, looking at him in delight when she spotted the flowerpot holding a spray of azaleas in the back seat. “More flowers for me, Rolas?”
“I’m sorry, they’re for someone else.” He pulled the skimmer away from the manor, following the compnav’s directions as it guided him along a series of back roads. In about a half-hour they pulled up to a public memorial garden. Rolas checked the note he’d written down, stopping the skimmer in front of family plot he’d been looking for. “It’s was quite convenient to find that Ensign Dewclaw’s family was originally from the Brushtail’s domain,” he told, helping her out and taking the flowerpot and a trowel from the back seat. “Not that convenience really matters for this task. I owed him, for what the Red Vixen did.”
“Oh,” Melika said, sounding quite taken aback. “I… I hadn’t realized his family had originally been Brushtail subjects.”
“Not for twenty years or more, but they kept their plot in the same place.” He set the pot down and began digging into the dirt with the trowel. In days past vulpines who had passed on to the Holy Den Mother's arms were buried in fields and gardens, or any natural place that was close to home. With the coming of the Varn Subjugation, bodies had been cremated and recycled as a standard practice. Holding onto the ashes of a loved one was illegal and unhygenic from their Wise Masters' point of view, but often done anyway, in the hopes of eventually returning them to the soil of Vulpine Prime when it was finally taken back from their conquerors. During the worst of the Bloody Plagues, it had been an absolute necessity as the bodies piled up and the risk of spreading disease grew exponentially.
Nowadays cremation was still the norm, the ashes scattered in a family plot of carefully tended flowers, with a memorial wall holding the names of the dead whose flesh consecrated the soil. The dead were also honored by perodically planting flowers, such as Rolas did now, to honor the shipmate lost to the Red Vixen's greed. He dug out a small hole with the trowel, then carefully removed the azalea from the pot and set in the ground, tamping the dug out dirt around the plant and saying a brief prayer in the Holy Den Mother's name for poor Dewclaw's soul.
When he turned around, he was surprised to see Melika openly weeping, her head bowed. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Forgive me," she said, wiping her eyes. "One gets emotional at the oddest times. I didn't even know the poor fellow."
"Neither did I really. He was new to the ship, an engineering mate, working in the drive room. On this voyage I spent most of my time on the bridge. I perhaps exchanged five words with him when I inspected the drives, that was about it."
"How is his family?"
"Getting by. Devastated of course, but they're digging in and concentrating on preparations for the escape to distract themselves."
"I see. I should send them a condolence note or something."
He shook his head. "I shouldn't think so. It's been over a month since his death, and they don't really know you."
"I suppose you're right," she agreed. She bowed her head briefly in a prayer of her own. When Rolas had dusted his breeches off and was driving them both back to Softpaw Manor, she asked, "I've been meaning to ask you a question. What are you going to do if this doesn't work out? What if you can't get the money from your insurance company? What if you can't leave?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "If we're found out, the Countess Highglider will be fully within her authority to strip my family of its title and confiscate the lands granted to us. We'd be impoverished. What she'd then do to our sworn commoners is something I'd rather not think about."
"Someone in your House had better start thinking of one," Melika said sharply. "What if the insurance company actually tries to prosecute you for piracy?"
"I"m a noble, however minor. They couldn't really get a prosecution going unless my liegelady agreed to it." He gave her an ironic smile. "Not that I think she'd voice much objection."
"My point exactly. Perhaps you'd better think of a better plan than running away. If she's been presurring your people so terribly, surely there must be some evidence that you can use to de-fang her."
He growled. "You think we haven't thought of that? Everything that she's done so far had been within her legal authority as a countess. She hasn't crossed any boundries that would permit us to go above her to the Council."
"Perhaps you start looking harder. People with evil intent are often arrogant, Rolas. That arrogance and anger on your Countess' part may very well be her downfall. If she hasn't made a mistake yet, you might even persuade her too."
"Persaude her, how?"
"I don't know, Rolas, but there has to be something."
* * *
Later that afternnon, after Rolas had driven his subdued but thoughtful sister home, one of house servants knocked on the door to his suite. "Package for you, milord," he announced. "It came from off-world, it appears."
"A package, from whom?" Rolas asked, surprised.
"It doesn't say, milord. We have scanned it and there doesn't seem to be any explosives or anything else dangerous."
"Very well, thank you." Eyebrows raised in the general vicinity of his ear tips, Rolas examined the package. It was indeed addressed directly to him, and apparently routed through at least four different major shipping carriers. He unsealed it, and to his surprise found the clothes he'd been wearing when he was taken into captivity by the Red Vixen, sealed in a plastic bag. A seperate bag held the controlling ring for his collar, which had been finally cut off from his neck when his escape module had been picked up by the Navy. Finally there was a note, printed, not hand written.
Lord Rolas, I apologize for any inconvenience to you and your family, he read. I return to you the personal goods I had taken from you, though I shall keep what I have managed to hold of your ship's cargo. Please give my regards to your family, your crew, and especially to Lt. Hotclaw, who was so very helpful to me. It wasn't signed, merely marked with a seal of a snarling vixen's head, stamped with red ink. It had to have been sent a bit prior to her ship being destroyed, judging from the dates on the routing notes.
"You were helpful to her, Hotclaw?" he asked aloud to the empty room, feeling a burning anger grow in his heart as the note's true meaning became clear to him. "I think I will deliver the Red Vixen's thanks to you personally."
TBC
