FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Standing amidst the results of an armed clash is rarely the kind of circumstance which inspires conversation. Or even somewhat rational thought. Meadow merely folded her arms and looked at me bemusedly as I checked over our recently defeated opponents for any usable intelligence.

The officer had a copy of orders which specified that he was to be on the lookout for a mouse femme, approximately five-foot-one, white fur, known to be armed and extremely dangerous. A sketch was appended. I handed both of these to Meadow while I continued my search.

"Hrmph. "Kill on sight," eh? Well, well, well. It's always good to know what other furs think of you. This is going to cause a few issues, though, if they're looking for me."

Aethelwulf and I managed to retrieve some more coins (which frankly looked debased), a few flasks of cheap liquor, one of expensive liquor (surprisingly, not the officer), and a number of unused elven arrows, a portion of which were claimed by Meadow and the rest by me.

Once this was finished, I introduced Pte. Aethelwulf to Meadow. If Aethelwulf was surprised by the sudden appearance of a friend of mine on a battlefield, he didn't show it. I briefly explained to Meadow what his role was, and suggested it might be a good idea if we left the immediate vicinity before others showed up. Motion carried.

Meadow, at least, had a fair amount of familiarity with the woods; I had only been on the road to Sainted Oaks, and had seen the city from the distance. It was pretty clear, however, that she knew a lot about what had happened in the United Cities in the last weeks. After a fifteen-minute trek, we called a halt for a ration break.

Before we began, I had Meadow hold still and worked to camouflage her face, feet, paws and tail with a mixture of dark browns. Given that there was a description of her outstanding, she readily accepted the somewhat radical change in her colouration.

I shared my iron ration with Meadow while she told her story. It was not a pleasant one.

Some weeks back, the Imperial and Royal Ambassador had returned to the embassy at Sainted Oaks. Officially, the retinue contained some additional Army personnel, about a half-dozen, and an attaché. The soldiers were hand-picked for training in urban fighting. The attaché was ostensibly there to confer with his United Cities counterpart, but he was also there as a trusted fur. So far, so good (and this confirmed the information that Piers Hollow, the Chief Burgomaster's assistant, had given me when he met me in Lark's Rise).

Meadow herself had not been officially part of the retinue. In fact, she was, to a casual observer, just a personal servant. Within a few hours of arrival at Sainted Oaks, she had slipped out of the Embassy and to a safe house not far away. Her role was deliberately undefined by the Marshal; she was to use her best judgement to do what was necessary, when it was necessary. While her Blood Seal didn't have the force of law in the United Cities, it would be recognized by our allies and friends, at least.

It was now clear (Meadow continued) that the Grand Duchy had been infiltrating troops for weeks into the United Cities. Not at lot, by her estimation, perhaps only a few hundred. But it was enough to raise havoc at any number of points. Somewhat predictably, there had been "incidents" in the areas of the United Cities where there was a significant wolf population, which led to outright rioting.

The collapse of order in those areas had led the Grand Duchy to openly move troops there, to "protect" the citizens. Well, at least some of them, anyway. The ones that mattered to the Grand Duke. The others were given two sunsets to leave or else, the "or else" being unsaid but nevertheless pretty clear.

The massive influx of furs fleeing caused even more chaos in the other areas of the country, and it was likely as not that the Grand Duchy had salted the refugees with more agents. Certainly, things were spreading rapidly.

Meadow did not know what had been happening regarding any discussions between the Chief Burgomaster and the Embassy. She had not been briefed on the details of the treaty - she knew of its existence from the Marshal, but nothing more. While she had respect for the Chief Burgomaster, the other members of the Council were, as she put it, "jellies of indecision."

The end of the line had indeed come the day the Gazers saw the fires from a distance. On the surface, it seemed to be an uprising led by rioters. However, it was awfully convenient that nearly all of the key areas of the city were attacked at once by the mob. One of those key areas being the Imperial and Royal Embassy.

I was about to ask what happened, when I looked at Meadow's grim expression.

"You can't be serious. That would be insane. It'd be war."

"Not if it's done by a mob, instead of a government. Especially in the context of a breakdown of order. Where there is no government."

"So what...?"

"Burned to the ground. I'll say this: those soldiers, the ones picked for their urban fighting skills? They were still shooting arrows until the roof collapsed. They weren't cowards, and neither was the Ambassador."

"Dead?"

"Probably. He didn't flee."

I lost my appetite for the remainder of my ration, and put it away, thinking.

"So you figured that it was more important that GHQ know exactly what happened, rather than try to take a mob on yourself."

"Right. There was also the fact that the attaché wasn't there. He was in conference with the Council at the Armoury when the trouble started. And I'm pretty sure he was there when the Grand Duke's army "rescued" the Chief Burgomaster from the mob."

"Rescued?"

"Damnedest use of the term I've ever seen, considering the carnival of what happened over the next few days. It's only in the last day or so that they've got enough order that they've started hunting for me."

"How did they know about you?"

She gave a slow, nasty grin. "I introduced myself to certain officers, who found out looks could be quite deceiving. I think one of them may have survived long enough to describe me."

A large pawful of papers was produced from the pocket of her cloak and given to me. I sorted through them with the aid of small blue light conjured on a stick.

"I'll give you the gist. Right now, the Grand Duchy has about 6,000 infantry, and about 500 cavalry and 500 artillery (troops, that is -- about 100 balliastas) in the United Cities. Well, less our little friends back there. Maybe a bit over half are in Sainted Oaks, with most of the rest just north of the city, resting up. There's a scattering elsewhere, keeping an eye on what's not under their control."

I told her about what I'd seen at Lark's Rise, and she guessed it was probably the same near the border at Flourford.

"Once they get the rest rested up and refitted, they're probably going to make a push to finish off what's left. After that, who knows? All I can say is, someone's eager to pick a fight with you guys."

She took one paper back, and using my light, showed me a key passage. There was some indiscreet boasting about a "lightning raid" on the Empire. Two of the places listed for destruction were Mossford and Flourford. What was most interesting to Meadow, and to me, was a discussion as to the likely reactions in Persoc Tor, especially given the "over-caution" of the King. Quite a well-informed source.

She returned the paper to me, and I stashed it away.

"Well, that's your recce, Westersloe. You can go back to Mossford, and raise the warning. You'll probably buy us a few days, and that might be enough time to at least get some reinforcements in."

There was a hint in her voice that indicated that while what she was saying was certainly true, it was not what she was hoping for. I thought for a bit, and then looked up.

"Wait a minute. Hang on. What about the attaché? Where is he? Is he still in the Armoury?"

She nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

"But you can't know for sure on your own."

"Right." Her eyes narrowed in encouragement. I got the picture.

I turned to Aethelwulf, who had said nothing during the entire conversation. He looked up, gave me a brief nod, and turned back to counting and inspecting his bullets.

"All right. We've still got a few hours of dark left, but I don't think we can do much, tonight. We'll try to get as close as we can to get a lay of the land, but if we're going to do anything, we'd better do it tomorrow night."

I sniffed the air and swiveled my ears. "What do you think, more of the same tomorrow night?"

Aethelwulf looked up, and gave a prolonged sniff of his own before nodding. "Arr."

We got up, and Meadow began to lead us toward Sainted Oaks. Luckily, it was not a walled city. Well, I should say that it was lucky for us; perhaps not for the Chief Burgomaster. There may have been a few thousand troops in the city, but they couldn't be everywhere at once, and with a mixture of rain, gloom and camouflaged clothing, we were at least able to sneak into the city, and through some narrow alleyways. Evidently, Meadow was familiar with these, since she led us through them with sure-footedness. Which was a good thing, because there were still a few bodies of citizens lying about.

At the mouth of the alley, we halted. There were three furs, two wolves and a squirrel, walking along the street that crossed the "T" of the alley. The squirrel did not look comfortable with his company, and for their part, the wolves were having a bit of fun shoving him in the shoulders. The squirrel wore some kind of uniform, and toted a lamp and a truncheon. He was probably a member of the night watch.

The taller of the two wolves had just assured him that the new boss that was going to be coming in was just as capable of _______ nut shells as he was, when he paused, and started blinking. So did his comrade. So, frankly, did the squirrel, when three furs dashed out of the alley and caught the two wolves before they crashed to the ground.

Meadow hissed at him. "You didn't see us."

The watchfur, gaping, nodded at us. Luckily, he had the common sense not to drop his lamp and run, but merely walked away at a steady pace to continue his rounds.

Our friends the wolves were propped up against a nearby wall, with the cheap liquor splashed on their fur and uniforms. We also took the liberty of rolling them, and pulling down their uniform trousers. Just another night on the town.

We were, thank Fuma, nowhere near the front or rear entrances to the Armoury. I was a little puzzled by the way the city had been laid out...why exactly they allowed buildings to come so close to a major military facility was not clear to me, though when I thought about it, I had heard of some walled cities where the buildings over the decades had encroached on both sides. Looking behind me, I saw that the buildings to the sides of the alleys had long, black streaks of soot where their windows had been. Well, no more worries about the neighbours, there.

The Armoury itself was built of what appeared to be courses of large granite blocks, at least at the foundation, with brick-work above. There were no windows, at least on this side of the building, but comparing the Armoury with nearby buildings, I guessed that it was maybe five storeys high. How deep would have been another matter.

Which was not to say that the wall was featureless. Meadow led Aethelwulf and myself to the area of the granite foundations, and showed what was not readily visible from a distance: namely, that there were half-moons of open windows, with stout vertical iron bars, set into the wall. Without the bars, Meadow would have been a very easy fit, and the same would have applied to me. Aethelwulf would have been a tight fit, but if he sucked in his stomach, he could probably do it.

I moved to the side of one of the windows, and carefully swiveled one of my ears. There was certainly the sound of dripping water, but there were no regular foot- or hoof-steps that could be heard. I took out an arrow and made the arrowhead glow with blue light. It was a risk, but I wanted to have a look at the inside.

There was a drop. By using a pebble and listening carefully, I guessed that the drop was about twenty feet. Not bad, of course, going down, but coming up would be an issue. The wall opposite the window was blank and featureless, and more to the point was without decoration and gloomy. This was not likely to be a meeting-area.

The bars themselves were of thick iron, and while they were streaked with rust, a test of paw-strength showed that they were well and truly socketed into the cement that surrounded the window. I extinguished the light on the arrowhead, and thought some more.

After a few minutes' of thought, while Meadow and Aethelwulf kept a sharp eye out for any more patrols, I placed both of my paws on the cement.

Thou art cement, not rock of ages

Made not by Fuma, but by sages

Become a soft and pliable mess

And allow us ingress and egress

I tested the bars, gently wiggling a few. It was now as easy to remove and replace them as if they had been straws stuck in a loaf of bread. Obviously, removing them now ran the risk of discovery come the day and probably more aggressive patrols. I replaced the bars and gently straightened them.

The three of us had a brief and hushed debate as to how far to retreat. If we left the city, there might be fewer patrols, but there was still the look-out for Meadow. We would also lose some precious minutes of dark coming back, and I wanted every one of them that I could get. While staying in the city ran its own risks, especially if the Grand Duke had furs that were trackers, it might allow us a head start on the night.

Risky as it was, we decided that the abandoned and burned-out buildings facing the Armoury would be our hideout for the next day. So long as we stayed away from the windows, were quiet, and were not near any prevailing winds (thus carrying our scent), we would have a margin of safety. It was agreed that I would set some wards, and that at least one of us would be awake for guard duty throughout the day. Weapons would be strung and ready to paw.

The second building we tried was the one that was ultimately chosen. The first building was still occupied, in a fashion, by its original owners. We decided not to disturb them.

There was one unexpected bonus to our choice of hiding place. It was within earshot of where we had left the wolves, and we had barely settled in when we heard another patrol go by.

There followed a conversation, which was loud and boisterous on the one paw, and pained and defensive on the other paw. The gist of it was that there was a hope that the two lads had gotten their money's worth, and didn't they know of a better brand of whisky? For the other part, there was a hope that the patrol that was sober would perform some functions that required no assistance from the ladies of the town, and what was more, was likely to be free.

Less funny, to the three of us, was speculation as to the prices of various services in Flourford and Mossford, that is, assuming that anyone was willing to pay for it. Of especial interest was the fact that our two friends would be given two nights to think about it in the guardhouse, but would be let out in time for "the fun."

I awoke some hours later for my turn of guard duty. I found that I had shared a space and a cloak with Meadow. Aethelwulf, coming off duty, made no initial comment, but when he saw my ear-dip and embarrassed look, merely patted me on the shoulder and nodded.

"Tha comrades. What of it, then?"

There are times when I am thankful for the broad-mindedness of squaddies.