The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter

A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel

(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  marmelmm




Part Twenty-four.



Winterbough:

“YOU GOT SOME ‘SPLAINING TO DO!”

“WAHHHHHHHHH!”

I’ve known, since first meeting her at the Glittering Isle, that Ooo-er can do Gramerye. She and the other otters from that island can take ordinary rocks and turn them into diamonds, and sculpt the gems into various shapes. King Adler’s Otter Guard all have diamond spearheads on their weapons. I also know that she can conjure water.

But I realized, back in Elfhame, that the otteress had been keeping some of her Talents very quiet. For example, I didn’t know until a few days ago that she could speak Standard Elvish. Of course, I know now, and so far I was rationalizing it in an Elfhamian way; i.e., many of the Does speak Standard – they just choose not to.

Watching her electrocute the Wolf Queen, I realized three things.

One, I didn’t know she could do that.

Two, apparently she’d found out, or guessed, that the wolfess had probably not been exactly faithful to their marriage bed. It had been readily apparent to me that Commander Hartoh-Mason – Tali – was no neophyte when it came to venery.

[Note appended to manuscript: “How had it been ‘readily apparent’ to you, love?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “It’s a mel’s Talent, love. The same as the Talent that enables a wife to tell immediately that her husband has been straying.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Hmm.”]

Shades of the events surrounding Aurora Borealis' visit immediately started to haunt me.

Third, the resolve to NEVER get Ooo-er angry at me.

Ooo-er let go of the wolfess, and for a moment the Wolf Queen stood there, swaying, her silvery headfur poofed out like a powder-puff, with wisps of smoke seeping out of the collar and cuffs of her jumpsuit. The same type of jumpsuit, I noted, that Tali and my traveling companions were wearing.

She finally blew a smoke ring from her mouth (and two from her ears) and keeled over at Ooo-er’s feet while the otter femme glared at her.

Tali leaned in toward Tessie and said, “I bet the makeup sex is going to be incredible.”

Tessie, wearing the Wolf Queen’s Regalia, nodded before giving Tali a sidelong look. “But makeup sex with who?” she asked, and her voice had the flat intonation that I immediately recognized as the Regalia itself exerting influence on my maid.

I suppose I should start calling her the Raccoon Queen now, or at least till this is all sorted out.

Tali caught the emphasis. Both her ears perked and she looked at Tessie with a hint of a wild surmise.

Ooo-er had been glaring at the (former?) Wolf Queen, waiting for her to recover, and she obviously overheard Tali’s question. She stamped over to the feline and crested at her. “’Makeup sex,’ huh?” She glowered at Tali, crested again and made a flinging motion with one paw.

A quart of water hit Tali full in the face before she could dodge out of the way, and Ooo-er turned toward Tessie, kissed the astounded raccoon femme on the mouth (I know Tessie’s tastes don’t run in that direction, but she was so gobsmacked that she didn’t visibly object), and said, “Come on, Raccoon Queen. Let’s go see the sights.” She linked arms with my erstwhile maid and the duo walked off.

I thought about intercepting them, but judging from Ooo-er’s temper and the fact that I didn’t know the full extent of her abilities, I thought that discretion would be the better part of valor.

I had no desire to get soaked, or par-boiled, or covered in bees.

“Well, that was a thing that happened,” I said aloud as Matt offered Tali a pawkerchief while Michael and Fred studiously started looking elsewhere. I decided that I was being offered a short straw, so I walked over to the Wolf Queen, who was starting to twitch.

The twitching turned into slightly more controlled movement, and the wolfess sat up clutching her head. She coughed another smoke ring.

“Wolfess?”

She bleared up at me. “Oh, it’s you. Thank the Pantheon you always show up on time to see me humiliated.”

I reached into my Elfintory for my flask of [Three-and-a-Half], and poured a tot for her. She took it without demur or argument, which was more than a little surprising. It required a second cap-full before she finally got to her feet, and I replaced the flask.

“Hey, can I get one of those?” Fred asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said.

Michael remarked, “That’s a matter of opinion.”

“I think I sprained my pancreas?” the canine offered with what he obviously thought was a winning smile. He looked vaguely disappointed, but still hopeful, when I shook my head.


***


Tali:

Well, there was nothing for it.

We all (that is, minus two furs) went back to the tailor shop for lunch – but I’m getting a little ahead of myself. That is, after I got all that water out of my nose. I like swimming, but the otter femme caught me unaware.

No, not ‘underwear,’ ‘unaware.’

Pervs.

“Thanks,” and I tried to give the pawkerchief back to Matt. He raised a paw to stop me, and I gave him a look as I shoved it into the breast pocket of his uniform. “Honestly, Matt, you and I’ve been swapping body fluids for years, and now you balk at a little water?”

“Water that’s been up your nose, my dear,” my dear mate pointed out. “But now that your sinuses are clear, how about a kiss?” I obliged, and he was a happy bear. I glanced past him.

“Sweet ride.”

“Thanks. We – “

“Got it out of the stasis block in my wagon, yeah.” I cocked an eye at the Paragon Panther, then at him. “How’s it running?”

Matt grinned. “Ask her yourself. This alternity definitely agrees with her.”

Magic, right. “Maybe a little later,” I said. “Right now, I’m thinking lunch.” I gave him my Serious Face. “There’s something going on here.”

Fred asked, “It’s not about Vronsky and the fillings, is it?”

I managed – somehow – to not roll my eyes. “No.”

“Nertz.” He slouched off to bother Michael. Don’t get me wrong, please; Fred and Michael are pretty good operatives. They never would have made rank if they weren’t. It’s just that they tend to do a better job alone than when they’re a team. Fred, for example, hasn’t really been quite the same after that one mission.

Word of advice: Don’t say “Fluffy” to Fred. He tends to react . . . let’s say poorly, and leave it at that, okay?

I patted Matt on the arm. “Round up your wayward twits. I’ll get the Elves.” Yes, that sounded weird to me, too. Matt outranks me, but he’s both married to me and retired, so like a smart bear he went after the mink and the dog, who were admiring a painted advert on a nearby wall. I think the half-dressed minkess depicted there was selling beer, but it might have been for the Prostitute’s Guild.

Though I’d like to meet the model, sometime.

The Master had apparently learned to keep mum and keep his distance when Missy was in a mood. She gave a start and almost crested when I tapped her on the shoulder. “We’re going back to the shop for lunch,” I said, “and I need you with me. Something’s up, as you know, and we need you.”

Winterbough’s ears swiveled at the last sentence, but before he could open his mouth I said, “Later, away from prying ears.” He gave me a hard look, obviously trying to probe my mind even though it was futile to try. Finally he nodded.

I drove, with Matt riding shotgun, Winterbough and the Twits in the back. Missy was still looking very moody, and said that she’d walk as she had a lot to think about. I didn’t blame her, and I think that the Master recognized that she wasn’t up to talking just yet. The two of them looked at each other for a long moment before the buck sighed, shrugged his shoulders and headed for his seat.

Speaking of talking, the car was a perfect chatterbox.

“And oh, you should have seen me flying, my dear!” Chitty said happily. “Such a treat, and the air here’s so clean!”

“I’m glad you had a good time,” I said. Her good spirits were contagious, at least for me. Matt had a smile on his face, but then he usually does. Michael and Fred were looking around at the passers-by, and the Master was frowning as he made notes in a small notebook.


***


Ooo-er:

We had been walking for a short distance before T – the Raccoon Queen cleared her throat.

“You, um . . . you kissed me.”

Yes, I had. I hadn’t felt like punching my wife in the nose, but I’d had to do something. “Um, yeah.”

“You know, ah, I don't . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” I said quickly. “It won't happen again.”

Tessie gave me a smile, but her ears dipped. “Thanks.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes. The Raccoon Queen broke it by suddenly giggling. “Good throw with that water.” She gestured with an open paw. “Splash! Right in her kisser!”

The look on the cat’s face had been funny, true (Elves Don’t Lie), and I laughed along with her for a moment. A few people passed by us, and oddly they seemed more interested in looking at Tessie than at me. It took me a moment to figure it out; Tessie and I saw some of the worshipers of the Brilliant Light on the way into town, and walking around in your fur’s apparently not a big thing if the weather’s right.

At least no one was getting the vapors, like so many people in Faerie do when they see me.

Tessie, though, was wearing the Wolf Queen’s armor, and I think the Elves who saw her were trying to sort out their memories of when my mate was here.

My mate.

I knew we’d have to talk it out eventually. No telling how much persimmon brandy it would take to get that sorted out, though.

Meanwhile, it was time to look around.


***


Wolf Queen:

I took my time getting back to the tailor shop, and wasted my time figuratively chewing on my liver.

What Ooo-er did to me was . . . well, Elves Don’t Lie. I fully deserved it, along with the added heartache of seeing that fat raccooness wearing the Regalia and cheering my mate on.

I needed advice, and the little effigy of the Wolf Queen in my Elfintory was completely bloody useless unless I wanted to know how various feral animals sounded. So, I was in the deepest of brown studies by the time I got to the shop and asked the two Specialists if the rest of them had returned.

I had to ask them several times, because as soon as they caught sight of me they started to squeal and jump up and down (had I been in the mood, I would have appreciated it a lot more). They then hugged me and said how wonderful it was to meet me, and how they were honored to have me in their humble little shop, and could I please give them my autograph and/or have venery with them?

The still slightly frazzled state of my fur argued forcefully and cogently against taking them up on the offer of venery (although the reindeer had some lovely soft curves, and that anteater’s tongue – murr!). They looked disappointed, but cheered up when I offered them my signature, with Dorotea assuring me that she’d treasure it for the rest of her life.

Between them, they managed to cheer me up a little, and directed me to the back of the shop, where the others were having lunch. By ‘others,’ I learned upon further questioning, they meant ‘others’ other than my mate and Tessie Ring.

Good thing, really. I didn’t feel like facing either just right now.

My stomach growled at me as soon as I entered the room. Tali and her mate were there, along with his two hangers-on. Yes, the Master was there as well, and to his credit he didn’t try to Elf-mind me again to ask me how I was doing. They had been waiting for me, so I took the vacant chair and helped myself to some lunch. I later learned that the dish was something called ‘lasagna’ but it was undeniably tasty, as was the local beer. The Master, naturally, had a vegetarian variant.

After everyone had eaten, Tali acquainted her husband and the rest of the mels with what Dorotea and Lisbet had told us; i.e., the rumors that there was a pro-Osprey coup brewing in Eastness.

Winterbough’s ears perked, and despite both of us having tightly-locked Elf-mind, we still exchanged worried glances.

Matt stroked his chin after his mate had finished speaking. "H'mmm. Doubleplus ungood. I've read the reports from the Master and the-"

"Sage," I put in. "Sergeant Missy Sage."

The bear’s eyebrow rose. "So? . . . Interesting." His two inane compatriots stopped whispering to each other and ogled me. I glared at them, and they went back to their conversation.

The Master raised an eyebrow, and I gave him a nasty grin. "Yes, I outrank you."

“Humph. Least I didn't get my rank pins by sending two coppers to Vulpitania.” I crested, and he bared his silver-steel teeth at me. “And what's this 'Missy Sage' business? I thought you were The Wolfess With No Name.”

At this point, for no reason at all, a mysterious whistling filled the air.

“I had to think of something other than ‘Hey You!’" I said defensively. “Your maid is the Raccoon Queen now.”

The indefinite buck put a paw to his chin and gave me a Calculating Look. “What?” I asked.

“Maybe I should call you ‘Tessie,’ since you and she have swapped names,” and he grinned as I crested at him again.

Matt rapped his knuckles against the table to call the meeting back to order. “According to Specialists Fjordsdottir and Duarte, the elections for the ruling council here will be coming up. If there’s a coup brewing, we need to squash it before it can corrupt the results or put the former dynasty back in power.”

“By all accounts,” the Master said, “Alastair was the last of his line.” I nodded agreement.

“False Dmitri Scenario,” the dog said cryptically. The mink looked irritated, as if he had been about to say that. Seeing the looks on my and the Master’s faces, he added, “A country’s ruler died, and at one point there were four different furs all claiming to be his long-dead son and heir.”

“Destabilized the country for decades,” the mink put in.

“We can’t have that,” I said, recalling the faces of the furs I saw then, the desperation and sadness etched in their features.

And I thought of Aedith, and I felt myself sitting up straighter.

Master, I said in Elf-mind.

Yes . . . Missy? he replied.

No matter what, we will not permit this to happen.

His expression was somber. We are in complete agreement.

“Since we have to move quickly,” Tali said, “I propose that we split up. Sergeant Sage,” and she gave me a smile, “you and Corporal Winterbough know about conditions that obtained here under King Alastair, and you are best suited to finding things out.” I nodded; the Master looked a bit put out, but finally nodded. “Colonel Mason and his two subordinates will be with me,” and I almost chuckled as she resisted rolling her eyes.

“What about the others?” the mink asked.

Tali shrugged. “We’ll sort that out later. This takes priority, and I’ll explain things to the Head Office when we’re done.”

With the lists of contacts in paw, and plans made to meet up occasionally to compare notes, we left the tailor’s shop. Halfway down the street the Master gave me a sideways glance and asked, “So, Sarge, any ideas on where to start?”

I glowered at him, knowing the disrespectful respect that the squaddies of the Imperial & Royal Army have for sergeants, and replied, “I was thinking that we could try to hunt down some of the contacts we made the last time we were here. Which probably means that you’ll get drunk with some layabouts – “

“While you try to resurrect some of the decrepit nobility.”

I growled at him, and pointed at his huge nose. “And don’t get distracted by any post-ball games or other useless pursuits. Business before pleasure, Corporal.”





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