Imperium Lupi Read online

  The same red-cloaked Howler went to hit Noss, but Vladimir stayed him with a wave of the paw.

  Noss ranted on, “Rivers of death, withering crops and famine… walking ribcages.” The hyena slumped forward and cried, “If you could but see what my people suffer. If it were your kind looking to you and crying out for help, you would not stand by and let their oppressors go unpunished. You would not, Vladimir!”

  “Walking ribcages?” Vladimir snorted. “You expect me to believe THORN’s slander?”

  “It is the truth! Go to the Reservations and see!”

  Vladimir slapped the tabletop; the imperium lamp burning beside him flared up along with the Grand Howler’s mighty voice, “The truth, Chakaa Noss, is that your arrogant people will not join our republic despite countless military defeats and generous concessions and thus you must now be treated like naughty cubs!” Adjusting his mantle he continued in his usual, measured tone, “You are fed, you are watered, we spend millions of lupas building new towns for the cooperative tribes to live in. We educate your cubs and provide medicine for your sick; real medicine like you never had before, not useless witchdoctor magic! All this and how do you repay our kindness? With bombings and murder.” Vladimir flicked his golden pen at Noss, “Just last week a train was de-railed by THORN activists. You probably know, they bombed the tracks and it went into the river. Hundreds drowned, mostly little beasts, innocent in your eyes. And now you try to assassinate the one wolf in all Lupa, who even THORN admits cares about the fate of the tribes, who stifles his own career to exalt your stubborn, arrogant people?” Shaking his head, Vladimir tapped his pen on the tabletop and said to his captive, “I bring you back to my question, sir! Why did THORN try and kill Howler Rufus?”

  Noss rocked back and forth a little and sniggered quietly, yet maniacally, “It was not… not THORN. It was my doing alone. I… did it for the money. I am, no longer a member of THORN. I am weary of the struggle.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “A hyena’s got to eat!” Noss snarled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Nothing to eat out there, Howler, not in the barren wastes you’ve caged my people in, not even for an anointed prince!” Chuckling, he fell back over his chair, his gaze tipped to the ceiling, chest rising and falling. “Rufus’s speeches and articles do not put bread on my table,” he sniffed, calmer now, “a few thousand lupas does. It was a trade I was willing to make, to… survive.” He licked his broad nose, “Do you think I wanted to do it? Do you think I enjoyed it? I… I love that wolf, as a brother, a father; he taught me how to wield imperium like no other. Look at what you’ve reduced me to. I’m but a worm writhing in a rotten mantle!”

  Vladimir frowned, not in anger, but thought; his helmet hid all emotion, such was its simple power.

  The Redcloak went to pull Noss forward and make him face Vladimir and probably give him a slap or two, but again Vladimir mercifully waved a paw to stop him.

  Outside, Janoah watched through the tiny cell door window, contemplating.

  Noss of the Jua-mata was not your average hyena. Not only was he a Chakaa, a hyena able to wield imperium, but a prince too. He had been trained in the Bloodfang Academy a decade ago as part of an early hyena integration programme, a project Rufus himself had championed. It was hoped if Noss of the Jua-mata became a Howler, other Chaka would follow and his tribe would meld peacefully into wolfen society like everyone else. That integration programme had failed when, after some years serving with Rufus and Ivan, Noss had suddenly hung up his mantle and returned to the tribes in protest at the treatment of his people. Even Rufus had not heard from Noss in the last few years.

  Now here he was, back in Lupa and trying to murder the wolf who’d been his friend. Who had paid him, or had someone made him? He would go to his grave with such knowledge unless Vladimir upped the stakes. But of course, Grand Howler Oromov hadn’t got to where he was by being just another Redcloak.

  As Janoah expected, Vladimir opened his file, aimed the all-seeing, all-knowing bureaucracy of the Howlers at his helpless prisoner, and fired.

  “Such a lovely little family you have, Prince Noss,” he said.

  “Family?” Noss sniffed, facing Vladimir. “I have none left, as well you know.”

  The Howler took out a piece of paper. “Not old family, but new. It seems a hyena princess and her two cubs, a boy and a girl, were arrested trying to pass out of the Jua-mata Reservation the other week.” Vladimir looked up from the paper, “The Jua-mata are your tribe, are they not?”

  “What of it?”

  “Only… they found this on the hyeness. She goes by the name of Arjana, Princess Arjana, next in line to the Jua-mata throne. She’s quite the precocious madam I’m told.”

  Vladimir held up what Janoah assumed was a crumpled photo, judging by the thick, shiny texture of the sizeable paper.

  “What a touching portrait,” Vladimir said, turning the photo around and looking for himself. “Most traditional. Very noble.”

  Noss remained unmoved.

  Janoah caught a glimpse of the photo, of a bright-eyed female hyena sitting on a ceremonial throne with countless pillows about her. She was wearing traditional hyeness clothing; boldly-striped robes and necklaces made of bug carapaces. Two cubs sat at her feet, a male and female, twins perhaps; they looked the same tender age. A big male hyena knelt beside them all, somewhat apart, as was tradition in hyena society where males, even princes, were subservient to their spouse. He was wearing traditional male hyena clothing, just a sarong marked with bold black and white dazzle patterns, whilst his muscled body was painted in a similar fashion.

  “Two cubs, you sly dog,” Vladimir chuckled, turning the photo around again and asking, “Twins?”

  Noss stared at the photo for an age, then his eyes flitted to Vladimir. “Who knows?”

  “You, I’d hope.”

  “They’re nothing to do with me.”

  “So that’s not you kneeling down?”

  “I’m much handsomer,” Noss cackled.

  “I see,” his interrogator huffed, closing the file. “Then you won’t mind that they executed Princess Arjana.”

  “Executed?” Noss mouthed, his lips quivering.

  Vladimir spread a paw, “I was unable to stop it. I’m told they took her away and shot her. The cubs are-”

  “Bastaaaards!” Noss cried, lunging from his chair and onto the desk. “I’ll kill you all! Graaaaaagh!”

  Vladimir shot to his feet. “Back to your chair, you treacherous ingrate!” he bellowed, fists clenched by his sides. His white cloak billowed outwards and the imperium lamp on the desk flared up in a bright flash.

  Outside, Janoah ducked just in time as an air-warping pulse of imperious energy tore through the cell, punching out the window she was looking through. Inside, the desk shot forward a few feet, catapulting Noss back into his chair so hard he rolled over backwards. The two Howlers were also knocked off their feet by the near-invisible blast, whilst Vladimir’s file fluttered across the room shedding papers all the way.

  The Grand Howler was the only one left standing, chest heaving audibly in the silent aftermath. He brushed down his cloak and adjusted his brooch.

  “Apologies, Howlers,” he told his subordinates, calm as you like. He pulled the now bare table back into position and set the lamp back upon it, before sitting down. “Restrain him properly, will you?”

  Noss was dragged away from the wrinkled photo lying on the floor amidst the scattered papers, the one Vladimir had shown him, and set back on his chair, to which he was ruthlessly and painfully wired, paw and foot.

  The prince felt nothing of it; he just dipped his chin to his vast chest and wept.

  Vladimir put him out of his misery, “I lied.”

  Noss’s rounded-off ears pricked and he looked up, mouth agape, his rough hyena fur wetted with tears and matted with blood.

  “Arjana still lives,” Vladimir admitted coolly, whilst skilfully, if mindlessly, twirling his golden pen with the
fingers of one paw so that it climbed along his digits and back again. “I apologise for my cheap tactics,” he said, slipping the pen in his cloak pocket. “It was dishonourable of me, but… it was the only way to catch a beast like you out.”

  Noss squirmed in his bonds and ground his teeth at his own stupidity. If he had only kept his composure Vladimir would have had nothing to work with.

  Now he had everything.

  Vladimir set out his stall, paws knitted on the desk, “Help me, Noss, and I’ll protect her.”

  “Protect her?”

  “Yes. Tell me what you know. Tell me who paid you to kill Rufus and why.”

  “You… you w-www-would not believe me,” the tormented prisoner spluttered.

  “Try me.”

  “They will kill Arjana now anyway after what I did!”

  “I’ll see her safe.”

  “You don’t have the power, Vladimir.”

  “It’s not about power, Noss. It’s about favours and bribes and trust, you know how Lupa works. I’ve contacts in the Watchers; it will be no trouble to arrange a… clerical error.”

  Noss took a moment to compose himself, to lick his bloodied lips. “On your honour?”

  “With Ulf as my witness. I will see to it Arjana and her cubs are at least treated well. I have no bone to pick with some hyeness. You know me; I’m a reasonable wolf.”

  The longest time passed.

  Noss stared at Vladimir, scrutinising his eyes, the only part he could see. Satisfied, the hyena dipped his gaze.

  “They c-ccc-came to me,” he said, staring at the floor, “all the way out to the Reservations. They put me in a limo and drove me back in style. Hahaha! I was flattered to be honest.”

  Vladimir took a sharp breath, “Who?”

  Noss didn’t answer, but kept talking, “I told them, one does not simply kill the wolf our people call Red-mist. He is too strong, even for me.” He chuckled a little, “They said it wouldn’t be a problem and furnished me with a… black-imperium bomb, like the one I tricked Ivan with, only this one was no trick, Vladimir, it was real. Not even microbes would’ve gotten out of The Warren alive if I had used that like I was instructed to.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Vladimir said.

  “I’m not so far gone as to use a black-imperium bomb!” Noss spat, adding, “Me, a Chakaa, yet sane compared to them! Hahahaaaaaahahahaaa!”

  Vladimir waited patiently – hyenas were such a chore, especially the Chakaa.

  Composing himself, Noss continued, “Without telling them I disposed of the vile thing in a pit and procured myself a yellow-imperium bomb. I wasn’t proud of that method either, but… this is Rufus, and Ivan. One does not fight such wolves face to face and win. You must use cunning. They offered me a hundred-thousand lupas to do it. It was a mere nothing to those… creatures before me. They pulled it from their cloaks like pocket-change. My people die from hunger, and they have a hundred thousand lupas in their cloak pockets? Is this the Republic you fight for, Howler?”

  Vladimir wasn’t here to discuss politics. “They?” he asked, his patience thinning. “Names, Prince Noss.”

  Noss smiled briefly and simply continued his story, “I demanded half the money up front, you see, so even if I failed I would come away with something. I secretly made arrangements for Arjana and the cubs to get out of the Reservation, that’s what the money was for, to grease the appropriate paws. You’re right; I do know how it works.” The hyena prince looked down, “But I’ve been betrayed, evidently. I’m but a naïve fool when it comes to trust. Arjana has always told me so. She loves me for it; I… I know not why.”

  Vladimir asked again, “Who paid you? I need names.”

  “Ah, now we come to the part you won’t like, Oromov,” Noss cackled in his hair-tingling tenor. “You’ll call me a liar… and rack me... and I’ll be long-since devoured by the ants before you believe me. But one day, when it’s too late to act, you shall remember me.”

  “Noss,” Vladimir growled tiresomely, “if you don’t start making sense I’m going to rack you personally.”

  “Come closer, Howler, I cannot speak it out loud.”

  “You will say it loud and clear!”

  “It is for your ears alone,” Noss sniffed, his eyes straying to the cell door, “It’s... safer for you that way.”

  Janoah withdrew from the window a little; but remained within earshot.

  Giving the cell door a passing glance, Vladimir stood up and walked over to Noss, his fine silver armour rattling. He stooped behind the prisoner, close enough for Noss to whisper in his ear, but not to bite it off if the mood struck; Vladimir was no fool.

  The bound Noss leant his head back and whispered in the Grand Howler’s ear. Try as she might, Janoah could not hear what was said. The whispering went on for nigh on a minute, perhaps more, with Noss cackling halfway through, as he was wont to do. Vladimir’s face was hidden by his helmet and Janoah could not gauge his reaction.

  Until he exploded.

  “Enough!” he barked, smacking Noss across the face, sending blood spattering across the tiled floor. “You dung beetle!” the Grand Howler snarled, pacing around the cell. “I extend my paw and this is how you repay me, with ridiculous slander? Is this a sick hyena joke?”

  “In our culture… dung beetles are noble creatures,” Noss replied, through a crooked, bloody grin. “They help clean up the mess others make. Now you have a mess on your paws, perhaps you can clean it up and earn... nobility.”

  “Do you want your family to die?” Vladimir seethed.

  Noss cringed at the thought, but tipped his head back and said philosophically, “Killing those I love won’t change the truth. What do you want from me, Howler, a lie that is easier on your ears than the truth? Ah, but you’re used to that. You and all your kind. You see and hear only what is convenient, remaining deaf and blind to difficulties. That is how you wolves live with yourselves, how you pollute, rape and enslave. Self-deception. Hahahahaha!”

  Noss laughed, his muscled, spotty shoulders trembling, and turned his face away.

  Vladimir raised a paw to strike the arrogant hyena, but stayed it. “You must think yourself an intellectual,” he said, producing a kerchief from his cloak pocket. He wiped his paw clean of Noss’s blood and contemptuously threw it at the prince’s face. “You forget who provided you your education, ungrateful savage that you are.”

  “Must be the rot,” Noss cackled. “It’ll get round to you too… one day.”

  As Vladimir turned and strode for the cell door, Janoah stole away.

  With one paw resting on the door lever, Vladimir looked back at his subordinates. “Rack him,” he ordered, before stepping out and slamming the door in his furious wake.

  *

  The rain had ceased and the clouds were breaking, allowing hazy sunshine to play across the buildings and streets far below Janoah’s office. Ships chugged along the sparkling river, whilst motor carriages ambled across bridges.

  Brrrring!

  Janoah snatched the phone from her desk.

  “Yes?” she snapped, holding the mouthpiece and stand in one paw and the earpiece in the other. “Who?” she scoffed further, glancing out the window. “I’m busy. Send him away.”

  Janoah waited and listened.

  “Wild-heart as well?” she said, more patiently. “I see. All right let them in.”

  She put the phone aside and sat in her swivelling chair. Spying her library, she grabbed a random book and opened it up on her cross-legged lap. To add to the air of nonchalance she whipped out a silver case from her cloak pocket and popped an ember between her lips, not even noting the flavour until an orange-flavoured cloud erupted from her nostrils.

  Upon hearing the expected knock at her door Janoah said loftily, “Come in.”

  Not looking up from her book, she glimpsed two wolves out the corner of her eyes, one blonde and stocky – some nobody, Linus Mills or something – the other a duotone black and white bit of athletic you
ng talent – Uther Wild-heart.

  Janoah slowly lowered her book and swivelled round to face them. They were out of Howler uniform and into breeches and shirts, Linus a smart, blue, collared top, Uther a sleeveless red tunic. Both had coats slung over an arm. Uniform or not they stood to attention and saluted; fists to chests then out.

  “Howlers,” Janoah said, removing her smouldering ember and blowing orange mist, “where are your uniforms?”

  “You… gave us the day off, Grand Howler,” Uther gently reminded her.

  “I suppose I did. I trust you’ll pamper yourselves down the Common?”

  “Yes, Grand Howler.”

  Janoah spread a paws, ember smouldering between fingers, “Then what more do you boys want from me?”

  The blonde Linus glanced nervously at Uther, who nodded a little. Linus reached into his pocket and produced a small cardboard tube no bigger than a packet of mints. It had been dipped in beeswax to seal it and was banded with a white stripe at one end, along with some bold warning labels.

  Janoah stared awhile, apparently unmoved. Slowly her green eyes strayed to the uneasy Howler Linus.

  “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Linus gulped, “Well… uh… it’s for, uhm… I….”

  “Spit it out, Howler!”

  “Captain Rufus, marm! F-fff-for him, marm. I mean, Grand Howler Janoah. Please give it to him, on my behalf.”

  More staring, then a crackly-toned inquiry, “Vladimir sent you?”

  Uther took that one. “No,” he scoffed, sounding insulted.

  “Pardon?”

  “No, Grand Howler.”

  On that disclosure, Janoah came over far more intrigued. She snapped her book shut and leant forward across the table to pick up the sting. “Do you have the foggiest idea what you’re doing, Howler… Mills, is it?”

  Linus nodded, and nodded again. “Linus Mills, marm.”

  “Possible flogging or banishment to the Gelb mines not off-putting at all, young Mills?”

  Linus shook his head, though he had to think about it.