5. Claws in the Night
The Tattlerat and Bar-Bar took a while to let go of their embrace. The time had come. The mission was now or never, and they hadn’t found more barbarians willing to put their life on the line for it. Only Solong was eager to join.
They walked through the busy camp, subconsciously delaying the inevitable for a little longer.
“I know I can’t force you to stay safe,” Bar-Bar said. “I also don’t know how I’d live on if something happened to you on this mission.”
Tattlerat pointed at two goats, who jumped on each other and made love, creating a symphony of bar bar bar bar. They did not feel embarrassed and they did not hide. Not so far away, two rabbits did the same thing out in the open, as others walked past carrying logs or fresh water for tonight.
You must realize, dear reader, that you also come from a specific culture. Probably a culture that believes sex should be secret or hidden, behind closed doors, only for adults. But that’s just a rule somebody invented long ago, like the Amori with all their rules about what is and isn’t upstanding behavior.
Tattlerat smiled: “By getting some more children, duh. More than enough sheep walking around here, am I right?”
Bar-Bar could not laugh. Tattlerat was one of the few animals in his life who was there by choice, not because his magic forced him to. The first time the rat left for Amor, Bar-Bar almost forbade it. It took his entire herd to calm him down and allow the rat his freedom, as was the barbarian way. Somehow, over time, the Tattlerat had found the perfect balance between enjoying the city and being a traveling Grapi.
Their relationship worked. Did they really have to put it on the line?
“There are no godchildren anymore to put us in our place,” said Tattlerat. “No Ardex, or Odin, to tell us we should not forget the soul of Asha. To tell us what’s right and what’s wrong. I don’t know, Bar-Bar, but at least we’re trying to do good. A quick, painless death for a mad king who has done much worse.”
Tattlerat had practiced his posh Amori accent. He also wore a white robe now, appearing rich and wine-loving, with golden rings around his tail and a crown of flowers. It made you wonder why the rat kept returning to the Grapi, if selling gossip had made him this rich.
They met Solong at the final tent, who still outshone Tattlerat. The three of them started their journey to Amor, with nothing more than poison in a pouch and a heavy heart.
The library was deserted, night had fallen, and Ginsea had not noticed any of that. His whiskers were stuck in the yellow parchment of a dozen books littered across the marble floor.
“There must be a law,” he mumbled to himself. “One that does not make an exception for the king. One that allows removing the king cleanly and lawfully.”
“Silence!” a giraffe hissed. She ran the library and was the only other animal present.
His paws moved around paper after paper, his eyes sliding over the many rules, but it was useless.
“Only the testimony of an ADULT member of the ROYAL FAMILY counts as hard evidence in all cases.”
As if those wolf brothers would testify against themselves or their father.
“Adultery—mating with a different animal than your own partner—is punishable by death. Only if there is sufficient reason for innocence, or one waits too long with the accusation, it can be reduced to jail time or public shaming.”
So, so many laws. Ginsea knew almost all of them by heart, and none were helping right now. And the lawbook only grew each year: more laws added, none ever removed.
In uncertainty, as usual, he turned to the book of Ardex. During his long life, he’d written down endless wisdom and principles. Unfortunately, since the demise of the gods, all his work had been banned. Ginsea had convinced himself that he never actually read the book of Ardex, so he wasn’t breaking any rules. He merely accidentally dropped the book and glanced at a page, once in a while.
But even the wise God of Death had no words for this case. So yes, he’d done the right thing by urging the Wise Owl to come here. He only hoped she’d arrive in time for Himnib, and all the others.
Frustrated, he threw a book against the wall.
“SILENCE!” the giraffe shrieked.
“There is nobody—” He stopped himself. The giraffe was right. The rule was that you had to be silent in the library, even if it was not really needed. Rules were rules. He’d said so more often than any other creature.
But everyone interpreted the laws differently. People in power received exceptions, but if you sued them … they’d hide behind different laws!
Ginsea ground his teeth and wiggled his nose. A weird draught moved through the cold book shelves.
The law only worked if it was always, completely, fairly applied. Yes, that was the truth.
He had to persevere. Keep repeating all the rules the king broke, until everyone with a working brain saw the king had to leave. But he didn’t want to depend on that. There should have been a law that said: “If the king does this and this, they lose the throne.”
But … while the king is the boss, such a law is obviously never created.
His mind turned in circles, circles, circles, the letters on the pages swimming before his eyes.
Just like three fluid shadows on the wall.
He immediately focused on them. The shadows continued in silence, traversing the upper floor of the library, straight to—the heart of the palace!
Ginsea jumped off of the book shelf. He used every book—long, thin, fragile—to climb to the ceiling, dropping half of them to floor in a clatter.
“SILENCE!” The giraffe frowned and stretched her neck to pluck Ginsea from the ceiling, but he dodged in time.
The shadows were gone. But the door at the end of the hallway was ajar, and he remembered it leading to the bedrooms of the princes.
He became a spectator to the oddest moment.
Below him, Wolfar pulled off his white robes. Oh gods and half gods. He was naked! The prince was near to him and naked!
The prince looked tense, as if this was the most naughty thing he’d ever done. His expression changed into a laugh as he strolled through the corridors. He sipped wine from bowls neatly arranged around him, which Ginsea knew was required by regulation 10.4.3, and admired himself in the fluid’s reflection.
You must realize, dear reader, that the wolves still had their fur. This wolf looked exactly like what you’d expect from a wolf, nothing weird or embarrassing. But if you’re supposed to always wear clothes, if that’s all you’ve known your entire life, this feels like naughty behavior. And precisely that feeling was why Wolfar did it.
Wolfar’s gait become more certain and more prideful. And then he walked straight into the bedroom of his little brother Wodrik.
He forced himself onto his brother’s wife, a female wolf with a sweet face, grey fur and broad tail.
Ginsea’s heart stopped. Unthinkable! The rules broken by the prince were too many to count! Just the adultery would be …
He nearly fainted when Wodrik’s wife smiled and accepted it all happily. How long had this been going on? Did Wodrik know—
Footsteps sounded. He pressed himself against the wall.
Wodrik ran into the bedroom, eyes red and back bent. Wolzam hobbled after him, covered in bandages, but upon seeing the situation, he fled and stayed with Ginsea.
“Get away from her!”
Wolfar pulled her closer, licking her forehead and ears. “The barbarians are doing their mission, I’ve spoken to them just now. In a few minutes, I am king. And you don’t talk to your king like that.”
Wodrik’s face colored bright red. He exploded forward. His brother swatted him aside as if the smaller wolf were just an annoying mosquito. Neither of them were steady on their feet after drinking too much wine, almost ending the fight before it even started.
Ginsea’s breath caught. He was a forgotten spectator, just outside the room. He should arrest Wolfar, sound the alarm, do—
“Why should you be king?” Wodrik visited a dark corner of the room and returned with a two-sided spear between his teeth. “You are even worse than father! You are unlawful on purpose!”
“Oh, Wodrik, you know deep down that you don’t deserve your wife and that you’re too stupid too—”
“AAAR!”
Wodrik attacked in a dizzying flurry of spear thrusts.
Surprised by the speed, Wolfar stepped back and reluctantly let go of Wodrik’s wife. He bit back, but Wodrik was still wearing clothes and caught the teeth safely in his garments.
A thrust met Wolfar’s hind leg. He crumbled, in pain. But Wodrik could not finish it.
He kept his distance and yelled. “Everyone knows that I would be the better king.”
“But the law says …” Wolfar said, getting back to his feet.
“Ginsea!” yelled Wodrik. So he had seen the hamster. “You are witness of this betrayal! You are a man of the law! Support me.”
But Ginsea stayed in the shadows, frozen, unsure what to do. A tiny rodent between carnivore giants.
Wodrik’s wife tried to sneak away, but he blocked the exit. “Let’s split the area then. Half the Amorin empire is yours, the other half mine.”
Wolfar grinned. “Why not three parts? Also one for Wolzam, the weakling? Let him rule an entire empire into the ground? Great idea, little brother.”
His brother looked back. To his surprise, their youngest brother had vanished. He was distracted, joining Ginsea in the search for their little brother. As wounded as he was, he could not be—
Wolfar yelled and jumped. His sharp claws scratched deep wounds into the chest of his brother. Wodrik squirmed and dropped his spear; the spear that stuck into his side a heartbeat later.
His wife ran into the hallway, crying. Wolfar’s claws instantly turned the corner to grab Ginsea by the throat.
The hamster had unfrozen, just in time. He fled down the hallway, deeper into the palace.