Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  “Humph,” Vladimir grunted, sitting back down.

  Whilst Claybourne mopped up the mess with a kerchief, the doors leading into the waiting room opened and a big hog clopped in – Werner. The pig’s usually ill-fitting uniform looked well-ironed and tidy for once.

  “You too?” Janoah said to him, ember smouldering between her ruddy fingers.

  However, Werner was distracted by the goings-on at the table. “What happened here?”

  “This incompetent rabbit nearly scalded me to death,” Vladimir replied. “There’s been one assassination attempt already this week, am I THORN’s next target?”

  “My apologies, Grand Howler,” Werner said. He shepherded the rabbit away and admonished him, but didn’t hit him. Directing the mouse with the mop to clean up with just a wave of a finger, Werner returned to the table. “Shan’t happen again, Grand Howler.”

  Vladimir grumbled, “What’ve I told you about hiring rabbits, Werner? They’re too nervous for this line of work.”

  “Making tea, you mean?” Janoah guffawed.

  “A decent Politzi, I mean.”

  “I’ll put young Borce to duties elsewhere, sir,” Werner assured, adding, “but I must say, rabbits are good at rapport with the citizens, Grand Howler, they don’t come across as threatening as some.”

  Werner was just about to ease himself into a spare seat when the doors on the other side of the room opened and a rough, stocky, mottled brown and white Howler in captain’s black stepped in.

  “Elder Amael will see you now, Grand Howlers,” he announced plainly.

  “Thank you, Boris,” Vladimir acknowledged, forgoing his tea with a parting sip, whilst Janoah hurriedly stubbed out her ember. Werner nervously toyed with his hat, rolling it over in his pink fingers. All three stepped through the high doors and walked down a long, straight corridor as opulent as the room that preceded it. Glimmering imperium crystal chandeliers passed overhead, their soft light reflecting in the floor below. The walls were beautified with red and gold and the stained-glass windows were draped with curtains. Portraits of long-dead Howlers – Elders and Den Fathers mostly, but sometimes great Howlers of lesser rank – graced the spaces between the windows, their fine cloaks and intricately embossed armour trumpeting their rank, whatever the period. Fashions and technology had changed, but the underlying message of power and wisdom captured in their finery and faces was ageless. Unlike some, Pack Bloodfang had been around a long time, predating the discovery of imperium, the advent of the rot, even the founding Lupa itself, so there were plenty of portraits, enough to line the walls right up to the double doors at the end of the corridor, where two ancient Bloodfang banners were hung just-so. The banners, like the mantles of the Howlers, were imperium-weave, and thus looked as good as the day they were woven despite being a few centuries old.

  Two fully-dressed Howlers stood guard at the doors. Their mantles were the usual Bloodfang red, only very long, terminating past the knee. This indicated that they were members of the Den Guard; elite Howlers assigned to protect Elders and the Den Father. Saluting they opened the doors, one each, and stood by as Vladimir and company entered the fabulous Elder Chamber, whereupon they shut the doors and stood smart once more.

  The Den’s Elder Chamber was as fine as the preceding rooms; circular in plan, with gold and red walls, much drapery and paintings, and an enormous chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling, its crystals playing in the light from the embedded imperium lamps. A huge Bloodfang crest dominated much of the circular floor space; this is where the guests were expected to stand, and did so, Vladimir in the middle. In front of them was the Elder table, an arc of ancient polished wood that spanned a third of the room, with thirteen high-backed chairs, the middle being the grandest, the rest identical. Silver pens and thick papers were set neatly at each space, enough for everyone to make notes in their files during an inquiry, a meeting, or even a trial.

  Vladimir, Janoah and Werner stood firmly to attention, eyes front.

  “What in Ulf’s name has been going on in my district, Howlers?” someone said, from the far right of the room.

  Using just his eyes, Vladimir spied a wolf peering out the windows at the cityscape of Lupa below. He was wearing a red cloak with a white stripe running around the edges. His fur was a handsome, uniformly steel grey, his armour golden. Tail flicking thoughtfully, he lifted one muscular, scar-flecked arm and smouldered, blowing the vapour at the window, before turning around. Vladimir’s eyes faced front again just in time.

  “Well?” the wolf snapped, walking round behind the long, bow-shaped table.

  “We’re not sure, Elder Amael,” Vladimir replied. “We’re still ascertaining the facts.”

  “The facts?” Elder Amael repeated.

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “The facts, Oromov, are this: that someone has tried to blow one of my Howlers to the moon! That the one beast who might know something about it is dead, i.e. that treacherous wretch Noss, racked to death by our incompetent doctor. The facts are you three can’t even bring a cub and a rabbit in for questioning and Uther can’t go five minutes in the Common Ground without causing chaos!”

  Amael picked up a file and slammed it on the desk with contempt.

  “That is what your reports amount to,” he said. “Do you want to hear my report?”

  Silence.

  “I’ll tell you! It’s this: that you have embarrassed me in front of my fellow Elders, even Den Father Vito himself, on the very day they came to visit. Not only does Rufus not turn up, but utter chaos reigns in Riddle and beyond. I look like a fool! You could not have planned my downfall better.”

  Janoah could hold her tongue no longer. “With respect, Elder Amael, you exaggerate.”

  “Exaggerate, Valerio?” Elder Amael growled dangerously. “I ‘exaggerate’?” he said again, louder.

  “I believe that you do yourself, and your loyal Howlers an injustice,” Janoah said calmly, but firmly. “A notorious traitor was brought to justice in the morning and a Howler-killer in the evening; our district is the envy of Lupa thanks to wolves like Uther and Ivan… and my husband.”

  “Your ‘husband’ did nothing, except get blown up!”

  “Hardly his fault,” Janoah fearlessly pointed out. “He still salvaged his proposals; I sent them along via Boris.”

  “Yes. They were considered.”

  “What was the Elders’ decision, if I may?”

  Amael leant on the table with both paws, ember wobbling between his lips as he spoke. “Rejected,” he scoffed. “Tell Rufus from me that we do not have the time or resources to mount a pointless expedition to the Dead Cities. With this shortage we do not even have resources enough to sit around discussing a pointless expedition to the Dead Cities! If he didn’t have the ear of the renowned Professor Heath and Den Father Thorvald nobody would take a blind bit of notice, as it is great wolves must be seen to humour him. The rot is an incurable condition, we can but manage it; everyone knows that, except loons like Rufus.”

  Janoah let the matter lie with a nod and the words, “I’ll pass on your message, Elder, though I don’t suppose my husband will take much heed-”

  “Because he is a disrespectful hyena!” Amael barked, slapping the long table with a paw and upsetting the pens. “He should be flogged to within an inch of his life for continuing in this folly and bringing shame on Riddle!”

  “He believes it’s not folly,” Janoah explained. “He feels his time drawing nearer and wishes only to save future lives; he hasn’t a care for himself anymore.”

  “Or you!” Amael blurted.

  Janoah remained outwardly composed, but for a dip of the chin.

  Elder Amael looked down a moment too. Knocking on the tabletop with his knuckles a few times, he walked around it and stood before Janoah, not a tall wolf by any means, but very strong and imposing all the same. His hide was scarred from many a wound, his eyes were like fire, and his blood was loaded with imperium; Janoah could feel his muscular coro
na crackling in her bones like static.

  Amael looked Janoah up and down, but moved on to the taller Vladimir.

  “Noss said nothing?” he grunted.

  “He said that he was paid, but gave no names,” Vladimir replied simply

  “Nothing? You’re sure?”

  “He was too strong. Josef did his best, Elder-”

  “Not good enough! That queer cat is here for one thing and one thing only, to do imperious science for our cause and if he can’t even rack a deranged hyena without cooking him he obviously doesn’t know his stuff, does he?”

  “Chakaa are difficult to rack, Elder, their superior pain-tolerance and purple-imperium psychosis makes them strong, and Noss was the strongest Chakaa I knew.”

  Taking his ember from his mouth, Amael lectured the lofty Grand Howler, “Justice needs to be seen to be done, Vladimir, out in the open, not in a dark corner. Those days are over, this is a new era with ALPHA snapping at our heels, or so they keep telling us. To keep the peace between the packs is to present a united front to our enemies and the little beasts. If Noss had been a wolf from a rival pack, and not a degenerate hyena from some tribe, his death could have sparked a Howler War.”

  Vladimir couldn’t help but point out, “If Noss were a wolf he would not have been racked, sir. Racking of wolves is prohibited by the Lupan Laws, of course.”

  “Indeed, Oromov! Indeed.”

  Vladimir said nothing more.

  “And you, Schwartz!” Amael snarled, turning on Werner. “What do we pay the Politzi for? You can’t even apprehend a mere rabbit and a wolf cub!”

  “Casimir ain’t no ordinary rabbit, Elder.”

  “Ain’t no ordinary rabbit?” Amael mocked. “Ain’t?”

  “He was a big deal during the war,” Werner Schwartz explained, hoping his grammatical error would be forgotten. “He’s ex-Politzi too. Real tough customer.”

  “So I read in your ill-written report,” the scary Amael sniffed. “Friends are you?”

  “Mildly acquainted, Elder.”

  “I see. Knew his ‘son’ did you?”

  “A little.”

  “Exactly what manner of wolf was he, this… Bruno?”

  Janoah glanced across at the pig; Werner could sense her green-eyed glare without looking. “Just an ordinary lad, sir,” he said, “Kind boy, but not too bright. It’s his father’s fault, what happened I mean. He told Bruno to never trust the Politzi. I tried to bring him in quietly, like, but it just went south for us on account of Casimir’s ways. It’s a tragedy.”

  “Indeed. Still, no great loss. He was but an ordinary wolf after all, not the next Den Father in the making. Rufus just fancied a bit of rough, I wager, eh?”

  Amael looked to Janoah – she remained composed.

  “Very well, get out of my sight all of you,” the Elder grunted, turning away. “Dismissed.”

  The Howlers and the Politzi officer saluted and headed for the doors.

  “Oh, one moment Valerio,” Amael said, beckoning with a finger, “I, uh… need a word.”

  Everyone waited.

  “Just you,” Amael clarified firmly.

  Vladimir and Werner carried on their way, opening just the one door and stepping out. Werner, to his surprise, was allowed to take the lead, whilst Vladimir politely stayed behind to close the door. He did so with painful slowness, lingering as long as possible, trying glean what it was Amael wanted to discuss with Janoah. All he caught through the crack of the door, as he finally and inevitably pulled it shut, was a glimpse of Amael offering Janoah a drink.

  “To the Republic,” he said, pouring Janoah some brandy from a crystal decanter.

  Janoah took the glass and chinked it against Amael’s, “To the Republic.”

  She downed her brandy in one go, which brought a smile to Amael’s grizzled muzzle. Still with half a glass, he walked around the table and picked up a telephone.

  “I’ll receive no one for an hour, Boris,” he said, talking to his adjutant, that stocky, mottled wolf. “No, I’ll be in the Elder Chamber, but do not disturb me. I’ve work to do.”

  Putting the phone down he gulped the rest of his drink and said to Janoah, “You shouldn’t talk to me like that in front of others. Especially Vladimir, he’ll get suspicious.”

  “I’d have spoken my mind even if Den Father Vito himself were here. Anything less would be out of character and therefore suspicious.”

  With a disapproving grunt, Amael tapped the file on the table with a finger, “Do you really believe the Greystones are behind the attack on Rufus?”

  “They made the bomb, at least. Only they know how.”

  “Yet it was delivered by Noss of all creatures. Rufus’s friend… once.”

  Janoah shrugged, “Hence we’re flummoxed, and Noss has gone to his grave with his secrets.”

  “How convenient,” Amael huffed.

  “For someone.”

  Amael grunted and moved on, “Such a remarkable recovery Rufus has undergone, I hear, and all without a single sting.”

  “Yes,” Janoah agreed blandly.

  “You should’ve come to me first.”

  “For what?”

  “You know what.”

  The wolfess sniffed, “I’m sure I do not-”

  “I would’ve arranged it,” Amael said, over-talking her, “for your sake, not his.”

  “As I said, I don’t know what you mean, Elder-”

  “Amael!” the Elder snapped irritably, adding, “We’re alone, Janoah; I’m not testing you! For Ulf’s sake, do you hold me in such contempt?”

  Janoah dipped her chin, “One never knows who might be hiding behind the curtains.”

  Elder Amael stubbed out his spent ember in a fancy ashtray and strode around the table to stand with Janoah. He reached down and took one of her red paws in his steel grey fingers.

  “Come to me for a sting next time, not that fool Vladimir,” he chided gently.

  Janoah said nothing.

  “What?” Amael snorted. “I know you’ve started dealing with him to get venom for Rufus. As Riddle’s only wolfess, you can offer something even the crusty Vladimir can’t turn down.”

  “And who says I have?” Janoah spat.

  “That’s neither here nor there. What matters, is that I am not minded to share you with that pompous, weakling of a pen-pusher! I will not have it, do you hear me?”

  Silence.

  Amael tempered his tone, “Besides you could come away with a cub. Then where would you be?”

  “I’m barren,” Janoah stated, matter-of-factly.

  “With Rufus, yes; Vladimir is of a different makeup.”

  “As are you. Every Howler coupling is different. What if we should come away with a cub?”

  Amael rose on his toes a moment, chin high. “As an Elder I have the power and money to hide you for the duration and any cubs you may bear, unlike Vladimir. And if you miscarried... or worse the rot being as it is, I’d have Josef Grau take care of matters discreetly. There’d be no charges brought, no shame.”

  Janoah was sarcastic at best, “Much obliged, I’m sure.”

  “In any case, your foolish dealings with Vladimir could bring ALPHA down on us!” Amael blustered. “This shortage has made them zealous in their pursuit of imperium abuse. If you need a sting just ask me. I have the means.” Cupping a paw over his handsome silver brooch, the Elder whispered, “You know how much I respect you. You’re the rarest of Howlers, Janoah.”

  “A female one, yes. I’m quite used to it-”

  “Yes, female, but a clever one too, a beautiful one! And Rufus does not appreciate you, nor deserve you.”

  “He can’t help his Ulf-given inclinations, Amael.”

  “Then he’s as bad as old Vito!”

  Faced with that outburst, Janoah withdrew from Amael. “Do not compare a brilliant alpha male like Rufus to that drooling degenerate we still mistakenly hail Den Father!”

  Amael grabbed her arm, “I’m sorry. Forgive me.
I’m tired.”

  “May I be excused?”

  “Stay, please!” Amael almost whined. The steel-grey wolf looked around the room, as if checking for those spies hiding in the curtains, then took both Janoah’s paws in his and kissed them together. “I love you, you know that,” he said. “You alone truly know where my ambitions lie, that I will be Den Father, the only Den Father.”

  Janoah clucked tiresomely, “So you’ve said for nigh on a year. I see no movement in that direction.”

  Amael woofed, “Good, then nobody else will have!” Then he chuckled, “See, that’s what I like about you; you doubt me, challenge me. I’ll need a wife like you, a Howler, strong, intelligent, someone who understands my pain, not some simpering nothing.”

  “Again with this ‘wife’ talk? The nuptial arm of the Lupan Laws states two Howlers cannot marry; you won’t get special dispensation.”

  “Forget dispensation, I will change the Lupan Laws! If they were changed before they can be changed again.”

  “When you rule?”

  “When we rule, Janoah.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “Not as long as all that,” Amael claimed. “Lupa cannot limit her potency much longer. The other races will soon overtake us. Do you think the cats will wait for us? Their Valours are free to breed and make strong offspring still. What if they start a war? They’ll have the edge. I know you agree with me.”

  Janoah stared into space and blinked once. “Amael,” she said, quavering a little, “I do agree... and I do love you… but Rufus-”

  “Cares more about crystals and bugs than his duty to me or his wife,” Amael snorted. “Don’t let him waste your talents as he wastes his own. For Ulf’s sake, I beg you to proceed with a divorce and leave him to his toys.”

  “What difference will divorce make when I cannot marry you?”

  “It will mean you don’t belong to him!”

  “We belong to each other!” Janoah snapped, adding calmer. “We married before the Lupan Laws were enacted and that is not something to throw away lightly.”

  “He threw it away years ago.”

  Janoah grimaced. “Amael, if you hate him so much why do you say you’ll help me keep him alive? Why not just cut off his rations and let him die? I know you could arrange it.”