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Pillar of White Flame
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
This is a sequel to The Gray Tower, which is a sequel to The Black Chapel. It’s not really necessary to read the previous two stories, but they provide important plot points and great yiff, so you’re missing out if you don’t. Just saying.
Art by
whitearabmare
_______________________
Part 10.
“Beaver!” The rodent in question, in the livery of the City Guard and a heavy oiled canvas cloak to fend off the rain that was soaking Shuganath, glanced at the ram who called out to him. “Beaver, there’s something wrong with the ward.”
“For the last time, Serjeant, my name’s Starni,” the man grumbled, slapping his broad tail against the backs of his legs in irritation.
“Sorry,” the sheep said insincerely. “I have a rotten head for names.”
“Make the effort,” the beaver muttered. “What do you want?”
“Like I said, there’s something wrong with the ward,” the ram said, pointing at the stone wall. Since the last set of anti-Order protests, a small contingent of guards had been detailed around the Cloister.
“How do you know? You one of those magic-users?” another guard asked, the downpour sluicing off his hood.
“I went to school there, and that’s all,” the ovine huffed, “but that ain’t what’s bothering me. Look at the wall.” The others turned and looked for several moments.
Starni, the beaver, looked back at the serjeant. “So? It’s a wall.”
The ram grimaced. “Look, you flat-tailed idiot – look at what the rain’s doing.”
“It’s hitting the wall, you – wait a Dator-damned moment,” and the others got it almost immediately after the coin dropped.
The Cloister had been warded, a shield of energy that had deflected stones and food thrown at the Order’s complex by Gond’s followers. Since the rain had started, water had simply rolled off the ward, leaving the stones dry.
That wasn’t happening now.
Heads turned and ears swiveled at a creak of metal hinges as the gates of the Cloister slowly swung open and an elderly bear wearing an oiled rain cape poked his head out. “Hello!” he called out cheerfully. “You all look like you’re wet and cold. Care for some hot tea or mulled wine?”
The guards all looked at each other before looking at the serjeant.
The ram considered for a moment. While he thought, a gust of wind pulled back a corner of his hood, sending a stream of chill rainwater down his back.
He shivered, then shrugged.
“All right.”
The bear grinned and waved several acolytes and novices forward. Braziers and steaming kettles were soon wafting fragrant steam through the rain, and each of the guards were sipping at mugs of spiced hot wine.
The tea was sadly neglected, so Marok ladled some into a mug and added honey to it before drinking deeply. He looked over at the guards as more of their fellows came walking up (in the case of one mouse, trotting) to partake of the Order’s largesse.
He chuckled softly. “Some people just don’t appreciate good tea,” he said half to himself.
***
“Thank Valla that’s over.”
Chassi turned to see Trasta slumped against the closed door to the library. “Was it that hard to be civil?” he asked with a slightly teasing smile.
The elk doe grimaced. “I’d rather face down a phalanx alone.” She tucked an errant lock of headfur behind one ear and walked over to a chair by the fireplace. The weather had not yet turned, so there was no fire laid in the hearth. She flopped into the chair and sighed. “I hope Mother doesn’t insist we have dinner together. I don’t think I can hold off for that long without slapping the taste out of Meki’s mouth.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“’Wasn’t that bad?’ You were there! Gods, did you see the smirk on his muzzle while telling Father about the – “
“Trasta.”
“What?”
“If you keep on automatically assuming that your brother is picking on you, you’ll end up just as paranoid as he is,” the red deer buck admonished. “Caution in a soldier is an admirable quality, my dear. Jumping at shadows is not.”
She frowned, ears dipping. “That sounds familiar.”
“Your grandfather wrote it,” and Chassi nodded toward the racks of scrolls and books, “just before he died. Quite a soldier.”
“Yes, he was. He taught me a lot.” Trasta stiffened and sat up straight as the door opened and Seffa walked in, followed by her husband. She forced a smile. “Come sit by me, Seffa. Do you want me to get a servant to make up the fire?”
“Oh no, thank you, Trasta. I’m feeling quite comfortable,” the doe replied as she carefully lowered herself into a seat. “Lady Marana, could you get my basket and some tea, please?” she asked her feline lady-in-waiting. The tabby bowed and let herself out. “Will you sit with me, Trasta, or watch the men play?” Her eyes pleaded with the elk doe.
Trasta smiled. “Karalla, could you give me that copy of the Book of Skulls from the shelf? I’ll sit here and read while Meki and Chassi bash antlers,” she said with a chuckle.
The two bucks looked at each other and Chassi gave a soft snort. “I think she means that we’re supposed to be playing shash now, Your Highness.”
Meki laughed and hobbled over to a nearby table, where the shash board had already been set up. “I’ll beat you this time.”
Chassi waited until the Prince had seated himself, and then sat down. “Care to wager on that?”
“Hmm. Two silver.” The elk held out a paw, and the red deer took it. They shook paws on the bet, and each lapsed into silence as they pondered their strategy and first moves.
Meki signaled to Sarti for a mug of beer after his third move, his Soldiers moving out to the attack. Chassi was countering with a forward defensive posture, his Soldiers buttressed by his Cavalry, and he nodded as Padzi plunked a mug down by his elbow. “Thank you, Padzi,” the buck said absently. He took a sip and said quietly, “My Lord?”
“Hm?” Meki was studying the board.
“I want to thank you.”
That made the elk look up. “What for?”
“For your display of patience.” The red deer was deliberately keeping his voice low. “Your royal father needed to see that things are normal between you and your sister.”
“Hmm.” A Cavalry piece took one of Chassi’s soldiers. “You’re trying to reconcile us, then?”
“I had thought I’d try. What better bridge between Azos and Luli than Rarmyni?” Chassi smiled at his little joke as his Soldiers trapped and took the Cavalry unit.
“Justice and War, united by Wisdom, eh?” His line starting to break, Meki started hunkering down in his Keep. “You’ve set yourself quite a task, then, my friend. I’ll be interested in seeing how it plays out.” He put his paw to his chin as Chassi started to move his Siege Engines. He took one of the Engines. “You’ll need a lot of luck.”
“That is in Molluta’s paws,” Chassi said piously as he studied the new tactical situation.
***
The sun just past its highest point when Halvrika stepped through the main gate of the ducal Keep. She had chosen to wear a simple dress and a shirt, and had left her guisarme in her rooms. Her initial scrying of the town and the outlying regions had shown her that she had little to fear here, at least on the magical plane. Mundane threats were another matter, but the town appeared fairly orderly.
“Good afternoon!” and the raccoon waved as the ermine femme walked up to her. Chama was dressed in a skirt and blouse, but also wore an apron with embroidery around the edges. Before the raccoon could react, the ermine gave her a hug and gently kissed her on both cheeks. “There! You’re officially welcomed to Karbur,” Chama said happily.
“That’s a local custom?” Halvrika asked, rubbing one cheek.
“No, it’s mine,” the younger woman said with a cheeky grin. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I’ll show you the best places to eat – “
“I thought that was in the Keep.”
Chama sniffed. “The best places that don’t force you to stand there and watch other people stuff themselves. Let’s go!” and she took Halvrika by the paw and started off across the bridge, the raccoon sow following her.
The sound of the river flowing over the rocks in its bed made Halvrika pause midway over the bridge. “It sounds so nice,” she explained. “Reminds me of the creek by my house. What river is this?”
“The Anbur,” Chama replied. “It comes down from the mountains, and it’s fresh and cold, all the time. When the snows melt in Spring people get really nervous about it flooding the town, but that hasn’t happened in years and years.” The two women headed for the main market on the other side of the river.
The market was bustling with merchants and shoppers, but it was the smell of cooked meats that drew the raccoon and the ermine. Stalls and eateries hawked cooked sausages, soups, and grilled meats. “Ooh!” Chama exclaimed. “This is great! Otha’s got his special on offer today!” She practically dragged Halvrika toward one stall.
Open charcoal braziers sent waves of heat wafting over the crowd of customers along with the savory aromas of spiced, cooking meat arranged on skewers over the coals. Arranged in rows from hooks overhead were carcasses of feral animals with wide, squat bodies, long tails and narrow wedge-shaped heads.
“So what’s his special?” Halvrika asked.
“Opossum,” Chama said. “Otha raises them on his farm to the east, but he doesn’t usually offer it. Hello, Otha!” she waved at the owner.
Otha, it turned out, was a burly rabbit. He wore a bloodstained apron over his trousers and no shirt. A band of fabric had been wrapped around his head, trapping his ears down to keep them from brushing against the hanging carcasses. He smiled at the young woman. “Chama, you scamp! How are you? How are your mother and father?”
“They’re fine. Guess what? I got a job at the Keep!”
Otha laughed and reached across the counter to give the ermine a hug. “That’s great news! Who’s your friend?” he asked, finally noticing Halvrika.
“This is Halvrika, she’s a guest of the Duke. Halvrika, my friend Otha.”
“Hello,” the raccoon said. She pouted and gave her best Mama, can I have a cookie? face. “Could we get something to eat?” she asked.
The rabbit threw his head back and laughed. “You act just like her,” he said, pointing a thick finger at Chama. “So! What do you want?”
“Two skewers of your opossum. Each,” Chama added hastily.
“That’ll be a silver.”
“A silver?” the ermine fairly squeaked. “Have you had a bad harvest?”
“Yeah. One of my kits left the pen unlocked, and a few of them got out. These are the best I have left, apart from the mothers and babies – “
“I’ll pay,” Halvrika interrupted, holding up a silver coin.
“Thank you, little lady.” He took the coin and tapped it against his cleaver, listening to the metallic sound before squinting at the engravings on the piece. “Shugan make?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, it’s good silver, so here you are,” and he passed over two skewers to each of them. “Come by later, Chama, and we’ll talk some more, all right? I have customers.”
“Sure, Otha. Thanks, Halvrika.”
Halvrika nodded, too busy chewing to talk. The meat was dark and had a trace of a gamy flavor, but was seasoned well and glazed with honey and herbs. “This is good,” she said with her mouth full.
“Uh-huh,” Chama said.
More stalls supplied them with flatbread, cheese, some dried figs and a small pitcher of fruit juice and two cups. The juice vendor had a small shaded area with tables and chairs for diners to idle away their time while they ate, and the two women sat down at one. Before eating, Chama spread her paws out over her food, and bowed her head as her eyes closed. A long moment, and she started eating.
“Who do you pray to?” Halvrika asked.
“Hmm? Oh, Imjasta,” Chama replied. “She’s really loving and kind, and I pray to her to bless my parent’s farm with a good harvest. Who do you worship?”
Halvrika nibbled at some cheese before replying, “The Order was founded by Rarmyni, but we don’t pray to the Pantheon.”
“You don’t?” The ermine gave her a sympathetic, almost pitying look. “You’re missing out on a lot, Halvrika. I think you should come with me to the Temple next worship-day. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
Oh, you’d be very surprised, Halvrika thought to herself. Aloud she said, “I’d like that.”
After lunch they found a stationer’s store, obtained ink, a pen and paper, and headed back to the Keep. “What’s all that for?” Chama asked.
“The Duke has me doing something for him.”
“Work.” The erminess stuck out her tongue and then giggled as the raccoon laughed.
© 2015 by Walter Reimer
This is a sequel to The Gray Tower, which is a sequel to The Black Chapel. It’s not really necessary to read the previous two stories, but they provide important plot points and great yiff, so you’re missing out if you don’t. Just saying.
Art by
whitearabmare_______________________
Part 10.
“Beaver!” The rodent in question, in the livery of the City Guard and a heavy oiled canvas cloak to fend off the rain that was soaking Shuganath, glanced at the ram who called out to him. “Beaver, there’s something wrong with the ward.”
“For the last time, Serjeant, my name’s Starni,” the man grumbled, slapping his broad tail against the backs of his legs in irritation.
“Sorry,” the sheep said insincerely. “I have a rotten head for names.”
“Make the effort,” the beaver muttered. “What do you want?”
“Like I said, there’s something wrong with the ward,” the ram said, pointing at the stone wall. Since the last set of anti-Order protests, a small contingent of guards had been detailed around the Cloister.
“How do you know? You one of those magic-users?” another guard asked, the downpour sluicing off his hood.
“I went to school there, and that’s all,” the ovine huffed, “but that ain’t what’s bothering me. Look at the wall.” The others turned and looked for several moments.
Starni, the beaver, looked back at the serjeant. “So? It’s a wall.”
The ram grimaced. “Look, you flat-tailed idiot – look at what the rain’s doing.”
“It’s hitting the wall, you – wait a Dator-damned moment,” and the others got it almost immediately after the coin dropped.
The Cloister had been warded, a shield of energy that had deflected stones and food thrown at the Order’s complex by Gond’s followers. Since the rain had started, water had simply rolled off the ward, leaving the stones dry.
That wasn’t happening now.
Heads turned and ears swiveled at a creak of metal hinges as the gates of the Cloister slowly swung open and an elderly bear wearing an oiled rain cape poked his head out. “Hello!” he called out cheerfully. “You all look like you’re wet and cold. Care for some hot tea or mulled wine?”
The guards all looked at each other before looking at the serjeant.
The ram considered for a moment. While he thought, a gust of wind pulled back a corner of his hood, sending a stream of chill rainwater down his back.
He shivered, then shrugged.
“All right.”
The bear grinned and waved several acolytes and novices forward. Braziers and steaming kettles were soon wafting fragrant steam through the rain, and each of the guards were sipping at mugs of spiced hot wine.
The tea was sadly neglected, so Marok ladled some into a mug and added honey to it before drinking deeply. He looked over at the guards as more of their fellows came walking up (in the case of one mouse, trotting) to partake of the Order’s largesse.
He chuckled softly. “Some people just don’t appreciate good tea,” he said half to himself.
***
“Thank Valla that’s over.”
Chassi turned to see Trasta slumped against the closed door to the library. “Was it that hard to be civil?” he asked with a slightly teasing smile.
The elk doe grimaced. “I’d rather face down a phalanx alone.” She tucked an errant lock of headfur behind one ear and walked over to a chair by the fireplace. The weather had not yet turned, so there was no fire laid in the hearth. She flopped into the chair and sighed. “I hope Mother doesn’t insist we have dinner together. I don’t think I can hold off for that long without slapping the taste out of Meki’s mouth.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“’Wasn’t that bad?’ You were there! Gods, did you see the smirk on his muzzle while telling Father about the – “
“Trasta.”
“What?”
“If you keep on automatically assuming that your brother is picking on you, you’ll end up just as paranoid as he is,” the red deer buck admonished. “Caution in a soldier is an admirable quality, my dear. Jumping at shadows is not.”
She frowned, ears dipping. “That sounds familiar.”
“Your grandfather wrote it,” and Chassi nodded toward the racks of scrolls and books, “just before he died. Quite a soldier.”
“Yes, he was. He taught me a lot.” Trasta stiffened and sat up straight as the door opened and Seffa walked in, followed by her husband. She forced a smile. “Come sit by me, Seffa. Do you want me to get a servant to make up the fire?”
“Oh no, thank you, Trasta. I’m feeling quite comfortable,” the doe replied as she carefully lowered herself into a seat. “Lady Marana, could you get my basket and some tea, please?” she asked her feline lady-in-waiting. The tabby bowed and let herself out. “Will you sit with me, Trasta, or watch the men play?” Her eyes pleaded with the elk doe.
Trasta smiled. “Karalla, could you give me that copy of the Book of Skulls from the shelf? I’ll sit here and read while Meki and Chassi bash antlers,” she said with a chuckle.
The two bucks looked at each other and Chassi gave a soft snort. “I think she means that we’re supposed to be playing shash now, Your Highness.”
Meki laughed and hobbled over to a nearby table, where the shash board had already been set up. “I’ll beat you this time.”
Chassi waited until the Prince had seated himself, and then sat down. “Care to wager on that?”
“Hmm. Two silver.” The elk held out a paw, and the red deer took it. They shook paws on the bet, and each lapsed into silence as they pondered their strategy and first moves.
Meki signaled to Sarti for a mug of beer after his third move, his Soldiers moving out to the attack. Chassi was countering with a forward defensive posture, his Soldiers buttressed by his Cavalry, and he nodded as Padzi plunked a mug down by his elbow. “Thank you, Padzi,” the buck said absently. He took a sip and said quietly, “My Lord?”
“Hm?” Meki was studying the board.
“I want to thank you.”
That made the elk look up. “What for?”
“For your display of patience.” The red deer was deliberately keeping his voice low. “Your royal father needed to see that things are normal between you and your sister.”
“Hmm.” A Cavalry piece took one of Chassi’s soldiers. “You’re trying to reconcile us, then?”
“I had thought I’d try. What better bridge between Azos and Luli than Rarmyni?” Chassi smiled at his little joke as his Soldiers trapped and took the Cavalry unit.
“Justice and War, united by Wisdom, eh?” His line starting to break, Meki started hunkering down in his Keep. “You’ve set yourself quite a task, then, my friend. I’ll be interested in seeing how it plays out.” He put his paw to his chin as Chassi started to move his Siege Engines. He took one of the Engines. “You’ll need a lot of luck.”
“That is in Molluta’s paws,” Chassi said piously as he studied the new tactical situation.
***
The sun just past its highest point when Halvrika stepped through the main gate of the ducal Keep. She had chosen to wear a simple dress and a shirt, and had left her guisarme in her rooms. Her initial scrying of the town and the outlying regions had shown her that she had little to fear here, at least on the magical plane. Mundane threats were another matter, but the town appeared fairly orderly.
“Good afternoon!” and the raccoon waved as the ermine femme walked up to her. Chama was dressed in a skirt and blouse, but also wore an apron with embroidery around the edges. Before the raccoon could react, the ermine gave her a hug and gently kissed her on both cheeks. “There! You’re officially welcomed to Karbur,” Chama said happily.
“That’s a local custom?” Halvrika asked, rubbing one cheek.
“No, it’s mine,” the younger woman said with a cheeky grin. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I’ll show you the best places to eat – “
“I thought that was in the Keep.”
Chama sniffed. “The best places that don’t force you to stand there and watch other people stuff themselves. Let’s go!” and she took Halvrika by the paw and started off across the bridge, the raccoon sow following her.
The sound of the river flowing over the rocks in its bed made Halvrika pause midway over the bridge. “It sounds so nice,” she explained. “Reminds me of the creek by my house. What river is this?”
“The Anbur,” Chama replied. “It comes down from the mountains, and it’s fresh and cold, all the time. When the snows melt in Spring people get really nervous about it flooding the town, but that hasn’t happened in years and years.” The two women headed for the main market on the other side of the river.
The market was bustling with merchants and shoppers, but it was the smell of cooked meats that drew the raccoon and the ermine. Stalls and eateries hawked cooked sausages, soups, and grilled meats. “Ooh!” Chama exclaimed. “This is great! Otha’s got his special on offer today!” She practically dragged Halvrika toward one stall.
Open charcoal braziers sent waves of heat wafting over the crowd of customers along with the savory aromas of spiced, cooking meat arranged on skewers over the coals. Arranged in rows from hooks overhead were carcasses of feral animals with wide, squat bodies, long tails and narrow wedge-shaped heads.
“So what’s his special?” Halvrika asked.
“Opossum,” Chama said. “Otha raises them on his farm to the east, but he doesn’t usually offer it. Hello, Otha!” she waved at the owner.
Otha, it turned out, was a burly rabbit. He wore a bloodstained apron over his trousers and no shirt. A band of fabric had been wrapped around his head, trapping his ears down to keep them from brushing against the hanging carcasses. He smiled at the young woman. “Chama, you scamp! How are you? How are your mother and father?”
“They’re fine. Guess what? I got a job at the Keep!”
Otha laughed and reached across the counter to give the ermine a hug. “That’s great news! Who’s your friend?” he asked, finally noticing Halvrika.
“This is Halvrika, she’s a guest of the Duke. Halvrika, my friend Otha.”
“Hello,” the raccoon said. She pouted and gave her best Mama, can I have a cookie? face. “Could we get something to eat?” she asked.
The rabbit threw his head back and laughed. “You act just like her,” he said, pointing a thick finger at Chama. “So! What do you want?”
“Two skewers of your opossum. Each,” Chama added hastily.
“That’ll be a silver.”
“A silver?” the ermine fairly squeaked. “Have you had a bad harvest?”
“Yeah. One of my kits left the pen unlocked, and a few of them got out. These are the best I have left, apart from the mothers and babies – “
“I’ll pay,” Halvrika interrupted, holding up a silver coin.
“Thank you, little lady.” He took the coin and tapped it against his cleaver, listening to the metallic sound before squinting at the engravings on the piece. “Shugan make?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, it’s good silver, so here you are,” and he passed over two skewers to each of them. “Come by later, Chama, and we’ll talk some more, all right? I have customers.”
“Sure, Otha. Thanks, Halvrika.”
Halvrika nodded, too busy chewing to talk. The meat was dark and had a trace of a gamy flavor, but was seasoned well and glazed with honey and herbs. “This is good,” she said with her mouth full.
“Uh-huh,” Chama said.
More stalls supplied them with flatbread, cheese, some dried figs and a small pitcher of fruit juice and two cups. The juice vendor had a small shaded area with tables and chairs for diners to idle away their time while they ate, and the two women sat down at one. Before eating, Chama spread her paws out over her food, and bowed her head as her eyes closed. A long moment, and she started eating.
“Who do you pray to?” Halvrika asked.
“Hmm? Oh, Imjasta,” Chama replied. “She’s really loving and kind, and I pray to her to bless my parent’s farm with a good harvest. Who do you worship?”
Halvrika nibbled at some cheese before replying, “The Order was founded by Rarmyni, but we don’t pray to the Pantheon.”
“You don’t?” The ermine gave her a sympathetic, almost pitying look. “You’re missing out on a lot, Halvrika. I think you should come with me to the Temple next worship-day. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
Oh, you’d be very surprised, Halvrika thought to herself. Aloud she said, “I’d like that.”
After lunch they found a stationer’s store, obtained ink, a pen and paper, and headed back to the Keep. “What’s all that for?” Chama asked.
“The Duke has me doing something for him.”
“Work.” The erminess stuck out her tongue and then giggled as the raccoon laughed.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Raccoon
Gender Female
Size 594 x 876px
File Size 91.6 kB
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