Lions at the Vanishing Point
Lions at the Vanishing Point
by Onyx Tao
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©2007 by Onyx Tao All Other Rights Reserved
Dog-Captain Erik examined himself carefully in the mirrors outside the Governor's office. His blue leather collar bore the insignia of the South Carolina Militia, his own rank of dog-captain, and both the Great Seal of the Commonwealth of South Carolina, and Governor Jolnir's personal seal. His short brown fur was well-groomed, militariat-short, and the militia halter locked in place, as befitting a military canine. His coloring was too light for his breed - almost a blond creamy coffee rather than the dark brown-black synonymous with cachalox. That nonstandard coloring had gotten him a vasectomy rather than the hoped-for stud certificate, but he'd still been purchased into the Militia. Not being show-quality, he hadn't expected anything but practical, working postings - which he'd pretty much gotten, up to the hostage/robbery at Haunted Key. That had brought him to Colonel Trurin's attention.
Colonel Trurin had, after a few short weeks of working as his aide, sponsored him to Officer's Obedience Training, and he'd emerged successfully as junior dog-Lieutenant, ninth in his class. Eighty-seven of his classmates - almost twenty percent of all the applicants, had been put down during over the six months of the course. Dog-Captain Erik was aware - very aware - that most of those had been ahead of him in coursework. The trainers didn't like dogs who were too smart, and he also knew they had wanted to put him down. Colonel Trurin had protected him, but he wasn't supposed to know that.
He was certainly smart enough to know when to play dumb. When he'd returned to Miami, the Colonel simply added him to his own staff, and he'd worked hard, both to repay the Colonel's trust in him, and simply because the work was interesting. His promotions had come not out of the Colonel's good will, but from his own efforts - the Colonel had told him so, and also told him that if Major Lour hadn't recommended him, he'd still be a dog-Lieutenant.
So he'd known something was ... odd when Colonel Trurin had called him into his office, and told him he'd been sold to the South Carolina Civil Volunteer Militia, with his current rank of dog-Captain. Here were his traveling-papers, a traveling-visa for Georgia, an entry-visa for South Carolina, a sealed military pouch for dog-Brigadier Six, militariat permission to ride passenger trains, and ... orders to report to dog-Brigadier General Six at Fort Zachariah in Charleston, at his earliest convenience. The Colonel had thanked him, told him he was very pleased with his service, and he'd miss him.
Oh, and one final point: South Carolina Governor Jolnir was his great-great-uncle. "I know you're smart, Erik, and the Governor will appreciate that about you. Don't disappoint him, Erik."
"Sir, no Sir!"
"I don't believe you will, soldier. Dismissed."
Dog-Brigadier General Six was torkower, a long-haired breed clipped so short that Erik could see the mottled skin hanging off the muscled frame of the dog. He'd looked surprised, but had accepted Erik's papers, and ripped open the pouch. Apparently Erik had couriered his own files along with some other papers, and Six had Erik take a rest position while he looked through them, and then the sealed letter from Colonel Trurin. It had been read, pondered, and then he'd been taken directly to Governor Jolnir as a militariat attache. Dog-Captain Erik served the next year as the Governor's liaison with the militia criminal service, keeping track of any number of of issues for the lion, and the Governor had steadily rewarded him with ... not a promotion, but more and more responsibility. Six months after he'd started, the Governor had called him to his office, and explicitly given him permission to put down any canine in South Carolina, if he felt it was appropriate. The Governor had stared at him for a while, and then given him permission to arrest any feline - even a lion - as well.
And then the Governor had turned him - and full dog-brigade - loose on a corruption issue that had resulted in his eventual arrest of Zimeal Transhin, a old-blood lion who was a good friend of the Governor himself. Friendship hadn't saved Transhin, although the maximum penalty for a lion and landowner was house arrest. His business associates, lesser felines for the most part, found their estates confiscated and themselves either banished or hanged, as appropriate. The three other lions with Zimeal were likewise banished to their houses or estates.
And then the Governor had given him this. It had to be the worst job he'd ever had. He'd rather be back at the Institute going through officer-training again. He'd rather be sold to a municipality and clean sewers. He'd rather do just about anything. But he'd done it. He looked into the mirror again, trying to understand his own heart yet again for the thousandth time since Governor Jolnir had given him this assignment, that somehow he'd just - _done_it. He'd accepted orders that turned his stomach to read, and somehow, somehow carried them out.
He looked at the heavy paneled wood door to the Governor's office, guarded by three torkower warriors, trained and indoctrinated so thoroughly into Jolnir's service that they didn't even have names - just a designation. Torkower were ugly dogs, he thought, covered in a loose usually-shaggy (the Governor's guards, just like dog-brigadier general Six, were close-clipped) fur. Bodyguards Three, Twelve, and Eighteen. Three more inside.
After that level of training, of course, they were incapable of switching owners. They didn't obey Jolnir because he was Governor, or he had a piece of paper saying they were his property, or even that he was a lion, and they were dogs. They obeyed him because he was their master, and they would do anything - anything he said, without hesitation or fear or reluctance. Anything at all, because Master told them to, and Jolnir was their God.
Sort of like one dog-Captain Erik of the Governor's Own Brigade of South Carolina, he supposed.
He gave a gentle tug on the leash, and the vixen he'd brought with him stepped up from her rest position. She was muzzled, but not for the typical reason a canine was muzzled. The dog-captain had no fear that she would turn on him - she had a sweet disposition and a ready eagerness to serve. Her name was Charm, and she'd been with Mazka, the Governor's grandson, when he had vanished, and she now went with him trustingly, and that wrenched him with guilt, too. She deserved better, from him, certainly she'd deserved better from Mazka. And after Mazka ... oh, thought dog-Captain Erik achingly, she deserved better. So much better that what she was about to get.
His face, after so long in the military, was bland, certainly not reflecting the turbulence of his inner thoughts. "Come," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice not meant to betray anything to the little vixen. He resolved that she wouldn't suffer; that at much he was certain of. Jolnir had none of the sheer cruelty of Mazka, and he couldn't imagine that a plea for mercy from him would go ignored. Certainly not after what dog-captain Erik had just done for Governor Jolnir. He steeled himself, and the two of them walked past the alert guards, into the Governor's office.
Governor Jolnir was an older lion, his mane mostly silver, but still shot through with the red-gold of his youth. He looked up from his desk, where he'd been paging through a file. The Governor closed it, and set it down on a side table. "Four, Six, Twenty - wait outside."
That was a little unusual, but when Jolnir had given Erik this assignment, they'd been sent outside too.
"Dog-Captain. Report. First things first. What happened to my grandson?" His eyes flickered over the vixen, who'd retaken her rest position on the huge bearskin rug. "Why did you bring her?"
_"_Sir," said Erik, since 'Master' was inappropriate coming from a dog-officer no matter how obedient he might be - "Lion Mazka has disappeared. I can't add much to the initial report you gave me, other than to say I carried out as much investigation as I could, consistent with my other tasks." He glanced briefly at the oblivious vixen.
"And your results?"
"I think he was cubnapped, possibly with magic. No possessions were taken, all the horses were accounted for, no tracks were seen leaving the estate ground - nor entering, either, Sir, - in short, everything came up negative. Everything. I don't like calling it magic, Sir, since I have no training" - not that any dog ever had mage-training - "and have no way to test for it. But every conventional explanation ... negative. I went through his papers and belongings, Sir. There was no improper correspondence. None of his guard heard him leave. He vanished right from his bedroom, Sir - and this vixen witnessed it."
Jolnir nodded slowly. "So you brought her here. In defiance of my orders?"
"Sir," said Erik. "I have not defied your orders. I have merely delayed carrying them out. I am no mage, and I thought that you or one of your mage-investigators might want to hear from the only witness to the event. I've had her with me, the entire time." Muzzled, he carefully didn't say, but the Governor would hear it anyway.
Jolnir nodded. "Yes. Your orders are always discretionary, and I can't object when you use that discretion - discretely, and I you have. What's the vixen's name?"
"Charm, Sir."
The lion snorted. "Yes. Charm! Come here."
The vixen walked up to the lion, without, Erik noted, even a hint of reluctance, and dropped to her knees. Let it be quick, he thought, and was surprised when Jolnir used a key to unlock the muzzle. She let him take it off her, and then dropped to the ground to kiss his foot. She did not rise back up, she just rested her head on the ground.
"That is charming," Jolnir observed, and reached down. Charm was small for a vixen, and he picked her up, one hand around her throat, the other arm supporting her body, and he cradled her on his desk. "You're a beautiful fox, Charm."
"Th-thank you Great Sir," she said, rather hoarsely.
"How long have you been muzzled?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Since we left the House, Great Sir, except to eat."
Jolnir set her down, gently, and pulled out a small dish and filled it from the water decanter on his desk. "Are you thirsty?"
"Yes, Great Sir." she said softly, looking at the water with hope.
"Yes, that's for you, drink."
She did, lapping at the water while Jolnir stroked her, and after a moment, when Charm showed no intention of stopping, the lion looked across the desk at Erik. "Pour us some brandy, would you, dog-Captain?"
"Yes Sir," said Erik.
"And have a seat, dog-Captain, no need to be formal at the moment. I think I want to hear what Charm has to say."
Before I take the rest of your report, Erik filled in. "Yes Sir." He filled two small snifters with brandy, and offered them to the Governor, who took one.
He waved Erik back towards one of the stuffed chairs - dogskin stuffed chairs, of course, stuffed with cotton while the lion just watched the fox drink thirstily. He poured in more water when she emptied the shallow dish, and said nothing, just ran a paw down her back every minute or so, as if to reassure her or remind her that the dog-captain and a lion - a Governor at that - were waiting for her to finish; Erik wasn't sure which. It might well be both.
Charm did finish, lifting her head from the bowl and turning back to Jolnir as if to say she was done.
But the Governor asked her anyway. "Is that enough, Charm?"
"Yes, Great Sir, thank you, Great Sir," she said, and Jolnir picked her back up, embracing her, left hand closing around her throat, his right hand supporting her rear. He cradled the little fox gently against him, taking her weight onto his chest.
"Comfortable?"
"Oh, yes, Great Sir!" she said, with an odd lilt in her voice, and a wriggle that ...
Erik caught himself before he said anything. But Charm was beginning to murr softly, leaving no question in the dog-captain's mind as to what Jolnir was doing to her.
"What a fine fox you are," said Jolnir softly, almost crooning the words. "I'm going to ask you some questions, Charm, and I want you to answer. Don't worry that I won't believe you, or that what you tell me sounds odd, I already know what you told Ionan, and I imagine it's what you told the dog-Captain, too. I just want to hear it for myself, and maybe ask a few questions. You're not in trouble, you've been very good, and both the dog-Captain and Ionan have said so. Do you understand, Charm?"
"Yes, oh, yes! Great Sir!" Charm said, twitching slightly in Jolnir's arms. "Thank you, thank you, Great Sir, thank you!"
"So ... tell me what happened that evening, hmmm?"
Charm moaned softly, and said, "Yes, Great Sir. Master Mazka called me to his room, Great Sir, and he ... he used me for his pleasure, Great Sir. When he was ... was done, he went into the bath, through the, the, oh, Great Sir," and she began bucking a little in Jolnir's grasp. Erik could smell the vixen's heat from his chair, and her tone was becoming faster.
"Stay still," commanded the lion, soothing the vixen, "that's it, breathe slowly ... good girl. He went into the bath, then?"
"Yes, oh, yes, Great Sir," she said, "and then ... he looked like he was falling. Into a tunnel, or into the distance - he just got smaller, and vanished, but it didn't take more than a moment, Great Sir, and then ... then he was gone," she sighed, gently thrusting her rear back against the Governor's hand. "That all I saw Great Sir."
"Did you go to help him, or see what happened?"
"No, Great Sir, Master Mazka tied me to the rest, Great Sir," she panted. "I ... couldn't. And ... I'm sorry, Great Sir! I'm sorry!" she said, in a wail mixed with a scream of pleasure.
"Sorry for ..." prompted the Governor.
"I was bad. On the bed. I'm sorry, Great Sir, it's just that I was tied up for so long and nobody came and I couldn't help it, Great Sir, oh please Great Sir I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, oh, oh, OH!" she gasped, stiffening and convulsing with orgasm.
The scent of vixen, so very close to the scent of bitch in heat, was starting to affect dog-captain Erik. He knew it was fox, not dog, but ... it smelled intoxicating. He tried to hide his own mounting tension, or at least to keep it under control, but he was certain he would be showing red if he looked. He doubted he could fool Governor Jolnir, but perhaps they could both pretend. He glanced at the Governor, who was looking at him with an expression of puzzlement. "She did bad?" the Governor mouthed to him.
"Oh please don't punish me hard, I'm sorry, Great Sir, I'm sorry," and now the vixen was almost quaking with terror in the aftermath of her heat.
"She was found the next day. She'd been tied down for ... about seventeen hours, I think, and she'd fouled the bed."
The vixen began crying. "I'm sorry! I tried, I tried hard, please, Great Sir,"
Jolnir nodded with understanding and closed his eyes with a certain amount of exasperation, but his tone to Charm didn't change. "Well, Charm, you tried hard to be good, didn't you?"
"Oh yes Great Sir, very hard," she breathed quickly. "I didn't mean to, I didn't, I was ... I'm just a fox, Great Sir, oh please don't ... "
"There will be no punishment at all," the Governor said. "You didn't want to do bad."
"Nuh ... None?" she said, disbelievingly. "None? Great Sir? Thank you, oh thank you!" she said, crying again, "I was so ... oh, thank you, Great Sir. Please, Great Sir, what can I do for you?"
"Think back to when you saw Mazka disappear. Fall. It looked like he was falling down at first?"
"Yes, Sir, oh, yes -" she let out a squeal as Jolnir started stoking her now-wet slit, running a finger across the bright red engorged lips.
"Falling ... into the bathroom?"
"Mmmmmmm, oh," she said, "Yes, Great Sir, falling forward and getting smaller, like he was far away. Oh, that feels so _good_Great Sir, thank you!"
Jolnir was quiet for a moment, either thinking or enjoying the pleasured noises that Charm was giving. She was starting to squirm with excitement again, and Erik knew he was showing red, seven inches of hard red flesh, and he was probably starting to drip onto the Governor's chair, as well.
"Good girl," Jolnir said encouragingly. "Was there any light? A flash? A glow? Did Mazka's color change at all?"
"No light," sighed Charm happily, wriggling her ass around the Governor's hand. "Oh, Great Sir! He might have gotten brighter as he fell, I'm not sure, Great Sir. I'm sorry."
"You've done very well," Jolnir said in a tender voice. "I'm very pleased with you, Charm."
The vixen gasped happily, and then gave a high-pitched squeal. "Oh thank you Great Sir." She murred again, louder, and then gave another convulsion as waves of pleasure washed through her.
"You like that, don't you, Charm?"
"Oh yes Great Sir, very much, thank you."
"When Mazka fell ... did you hear anything? Right before? Right after? Anything at all?"
The vixen shook her head. "No Great Sir. But ... I was crying, Great Sir, so, I ..."
"If you missed something," Jolnir said philosophically, "then you missed something. That wasn't very nice of Mazka to make you cry."
Charm stopped moving, and looked fearfully up at Governor. "I ... I was being silly, Great Sir. Stupid, foolish, ugly, stinking, fox-bitch. Master Mazka ..."
"Hush," soothed Jolnir. "I don't think that. I think you're lovely. Very clever. Impeccable manners. You're a fine vixen, Charm, anylion would be proud of you." The Governor smiled. "Now, you're not going to tell me I'm wrong, are you?"
Charm shook her head. "N-no, Great Sir," she whimpered.
"And as far as stinking ... you smell wonderful. Take a look at the dog-captain, there," and the Governor gestured to Erik, who simply locked his jaw. "He must think you smell pretty good, too."
Charm glanced over at the dog-captain timidly, and then back to Jolnir. "You must seem like a desirable vixen to him, Charm."
"Yes, Great Sir," Charm said softly. "Thank you, Great Sir. May ..." she paused.
"I have some more questions, Charm," Jolnir said.
"Yes, Great Sir."
"When Mazca vanished, did you ... feel anything? Heat? Cold? Did your fur stand on end?"
"No Great Sir, I'm sorry, no. Master Mazka decided I needed punishment, Great Sir, so all I felt was ... was the cane, Great Sir. I'm sorry I can't help more, Great Sir, I am, really, but ... it hurt, Great Sir, and, and ... then he just fell away and nobody came, and I cried and screamed and begged and nobody came, Great Sir, nobody until Steward Ionan came in the next day." Charm looked altogether miserable that she couldn't answer any of Jolnir's questions, but Jolnir just smiled at her.
"That's fine," he said. "All I expect of you is for you to answer my questions, as best you can, and you have. That's all I wanted, Charm, and you've answered them very well. If those answers don't help me, well, that's my problem - not yours. You've done exactly what I told you, a very good vixen indeed."
"Great Sir, thank you," she said.
Jolnir rubbed along her belly until she quieted down again, and was moaning happily, and then looked over to Erik. "Seventeen hours?"
"Sir, yes Sir," Erik said, and tried to focus on the investigation and its aftermath as opposed to the hot, close smell of vixen. "Lion Mazka left strict orders not to be disturbed."
"He did, did he," muttered Jolnir. "Well."
The Governor turned his attention back to Charm. "What a good vixen you've been, Charm. I'm very pleased with you. I'm sure you're a little tired, yes?"
"A little, Great Sir, but ..."
"Very tired, in fact," Jolnir said. "Poor little fox. You're having trouble keeping your eyes open."
Charm yawned suddenly. "Great Sir ..."
"Shhhhh," Jolnir said. "You need to sleep, little fox. Sleep deep. You can't stay awake."
The fox yawned again, stretched, and then curled up in the Governor's arms. "Mmmm," she mumbled.
"Sleep, sleep, sleep," murmured Jolnir. "You will not wake until you hear my voice, telling you to wake. Until then, you will sleep, and your dreams will be pleasant. Dream of the dog-captain, handsome, strong."
Charm's eyes had closed about halfway through the Governor's words, and when he mentioned Erik, the fox let out a happy little squeal, and curled up tightly.
"Dream of him, little vixen, until I tell you to wake. Him and only him."
Jolnir set the little fox down on his desk, and rose. "Erik. The window, please?"
"Sir, yes Sir!" the dog-captain jumped to open huge windows looking out onto the garden.
The Governor himself had called in one of the torkower guards - Six, who sniffed knowingly as he entered the room. Erik tried to keep his expression calm, but, that was difficult, very difficult, when he was so embarrassingly erect in front of the Governor and the huge torkower.
"Six, I need you to dispose of this fox for me."
The bodyguard nodded, and advanced toward the desk.
"Gently!" Jolnir added sharply as the torkower reached for Charm.
He nodded, and he did, indeed, pick her up as gently as even dog-captain Erik could wish, and started toward the door.
"No. Do it here."
Six pointed at the dog-captain.
"Yes," said Jolnir.
"Sir?" asked Erik.
"Some torkower have been engineered with, hmmm, unusual capabilities," Jolnir said. He walked over to the counter, poured water from a pitcher into a basin, and proceeded to wash his hands. "Go on," he said to Six. "Let's not be all day about it."
Six opened his mouth, and - gently, thought Erik with a certain dumbfounded amazement - slid Charm's feet in.
Even a small fox had a lot of blood though, and Erik was about to protest just on the basis of the difficulty of cleaning up the Governor's office after slaughtering a fox in it, but the protest died in his throat even as Charm's calves slipped into Six's now gaping mouth. The huge dog was doing something like gulping water, and each time Six gulped, another fourth-inch or so of the fox slipped into him. His throat was distending, his jaw almost surely dislocated. The loose fur around his body stretched easily around the fox.
"That's ..." started Erik, and then he swallowed, not quite sure what it was.
"It's harder to dispose of a body here in Charleston than out on an estate," the Governor said, watching. "Even I can't just take a corpse down to the morgue. There has to be a death certificate, which means the body has to be identified. Certificates are public record, so reporters see them ... it's much easier to do this sort of thing on an estate."
"Oh. But ... he could swallow ... could he swallow a ..."
"He could swallow a lion, if he had to," the Governor said, watching Six guide Charm's tail down into his mouth, and working his way up her legs. "He wouldn't be able to move, of course, for a fortnight or so. But it's an effective way of disappearing someone."
"Sir. Yes, Sir."
"She won't feel a thing, dog-captain," sighed Jolnir. "She's warm, she's comfortable, she's not going to feel anything. Just ... the deeper sleep of death."
"Yes, Sir."
"Did you fuck her on the way up?"
"Sir! Of course not!"
Jolnir looked at the dog-Captain. "Why of course not? I would have hoped you would."
"She belongs to you, Sir! I have no ..." he paused. "Sir? I don't understand, Sir."
The Governor nodded at the fox now half-way into the huge dog. "You must have realized I'd have to put her down," he said.
"Yes, Sir."
"And you must have known most of what she told me," continued the Governor.
"Yes, Sir," said the dog-Captain.
"Then, dog-Captain, why wouldn't you give her a little pleasure on the way up?" Jolnir sounded almost disappointed in him.
Erik opened his mouth to answer, and then shut it again, watching a sweet, charming, innocent little fox who just happened to have seen something she shouldn't have vanish forever down the gullet of one of the Governor's guards - a guard the Governor apparently kept for just such a purpose. "I didn't think of that," he said, ashamed. "I could have, Sir. I could have made her last three days very good for her. But I wasn't thinking of that. I was just thinking it would be wrong for me to take her, because she wasn't mine. I was thinking of me, Sir, not her." Another thought struck him. "That's why - that's why you questioned her like that, wasn't it, Sir!"
"Partly," admitted Jolnir. "The other part is that canines have a terrible time lying when they're aroused. Lying is hard, dog-captain, it takes work and attention to detail. An aroused dog - or fox - simply is a bad liar."
"I'll ... I'll remember that, Sir," said the dog-captain.
"Oh, no doubt there are exceptions," said the Governor, "but I haven't run into many." He watched Six, now inching up Charm's belly. The dog looked - bloated, almost, as it swallowed her. "I suppose this is a conversation I should have had with you earlier. Very few dogs need to think about this, because they simply don't have the responsibility - generally not until they reach the rank of dog-colonel or dog-general, and not many do. As my representative, though, you do."
"Yes, Sir."
"And it was my responsibility to bring it up with you," said the Governor, sighing again. "I'm not upset with you for not seeing to her. I'm a little upset with myself for not having this discussion earlier, and making clear to you that your responsibilities - and your discretion - include things like this. She really liked you, dog-Captain, she wanted you. Could you tell?"
"Sir, I realized she liked me, but ... I thought that was because ..." Erik paused. "Permission to speak frankly, Sir?"
"No," said the Governor, gesturing at the torkower guard. He'd managed to get about half of Charm's torso in, and he was tucking her arms in at the side now.
"Sir, yes Sir." He paused, trying to think of how to say that Mazka had been a monster without committing the verbal sin of insulting a lion. "I thought only that perceived me as gentler than her previous master, Sir."
Governor Jolnir laughed. "Well done," he said. "That's putting it very nicely indeed."
"Thank you, Sir. I didn't realize she was ... desiring me."
"Lusting after you, you mean," corrected Jolnir. "Well, she was. Partly because you were nicer than that shit of a grandson of mine, partly because a vixen who isn't in heat is pregnant, and partly because - well, just the way she looked at you, Erik. You need to be a bit more observant."
"Yes Sir."
Six was just swallowing her elbows now, and she murred. Dreaming of him, Erik wondered, and then felt very sad. It wasn't fair; Charm was such a sweet little fox. And he'd ...
"Is something wrong, dog-captain?"
"Sir. Yes, Sir. I brought her up here, Sir, and she followed me, trusted me, and ..."
"You feel you let her down," said Jolnir.
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, if you did, it was my fault," said Jolnir. "As it was, she got another couple of days, and I can't believe you treated her poorly, even if you didn't mount her."
"I wish I had," said Erik broodingly.
"Eh, spilled milk," said Jolnir, dismissively.
"Sir, yes Sir," said Erik.
Charm's neck was just vanishing into Six, and Jolnir and Erik watched as Six enveloped the rest of the vixen. Somehow, Erik had expected Six to stop, but he kept gulping, mouth hanging open, as he worked his way up and over Charm - or rather, as he worked her down into his stomach.
"That's ... unnerving, Sir," Erik said, watching the lump slowly, slowly recede into Six's throat. "To say the least."
Jolnir nodded. "Yes."
It took another five minutes before Six's jaw popped back into place, and the fox was now just a huge lump in Six's belly.
"Thank you, Six. That will be all; please wait outside."
The bloated dog nodded - incapable of speech, Erik thought, and crawled off towards the door. Jolnir said nothing until he'd left, and then he turned to Erik.
"Speak frankly, dog-Captain, and finish the report." Jolnir sat back down, and bowed his head.
"Sir. No good news, Sir. Your grandson was - is - a bastard. His pride knew, but fortunately they were in their own building."
"You put the lionesses down?"
"Sir. Yes Sir. As high-dog, I claimed the privilege of serving them, and I gave them deer laden with oryx root. I bled them out that night, put the rest of their slaves down, and told the house-staff they were so upset they did not want to be disturbed. I and Mazka's guard - seven very well-trained and honorable cachalox - put down the household staff. Sir, before I even gave them their orders, they had already requested they be bled out. They knew, Sir, what was coming."
"Did you? Bleed them out?"
"All but the dog-First, Sir. He and I built an honor pyre ..."
Jolnir's head lifted at that. "Really? How did you know to do that?"
"Sir, I was with Colonel Trurin at Broken Key."
"Oh," said Jolnir. "I ... didn't know that. Go on."
"I gave the two lionesses the top of the pyre, of course, Sir."
"And the dog-first? What ..."
"He demanded to go on the pyre alive, Sir."
"You didn't let him, did you?" Jolnir sounded shocked.
"I did, Sir. I ... I don't think I'd let anyone go alive again, Sir. He ... he wasn't able to die honorably, on the pyre, and it was too hot for me to ... to release him. It wasn't like that at Broken Key."
"There's a trick to it, dog-captain. The live ones are placed so that the smoke kills them. And when possible, they're drugged." The Governor sounded disapproving.
"I didn't know that, Sir. And - I wouldn't do it again."
"I should have sent ..." muttered Jolnir, and then stopped. "No. You did well, dog-Captain. I should have explained about an honor pyre, and how to build it, and place a dog or cat on it. I didn't think of it; and I didn't realize you knew about them. Once again, dog-Captain, it's entirely my fault. Please go on."
"I built a separate fire for Mazca's papers, Sir, and all the movable ... equipment. Do you know what he had there? What he was doing? Sir?"
"I did, dog-captain. Unfortunately, this isn't a monarchy, and my powers are not unlimited. Mazka was a lion, and a lion is _supposed_to have a moral compass. There's no legal limits to what a lion can do with his property."
"He had a moral compass," Erik said bitterly. "Nobody could have been that ... foul, if they weren't deliberately trying."
"Yes," sighed Jolnir. "All I could do was put him under house arrest."
"Well, it looks like someone did something more, Sir. But ... I couldn't find a hint of whom, not there, and I assure you, Sir, I looked. I want to know who did it, and I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart, Sir. But I'm certain it was magic; I'd put money on it."
"Oh, I believe you, especially after hearing Charm," the Governor said tiredly. "But ... I can't let the murder or cubnap of a lion go without investigation. Certainly not one of my own family. And absolutely not if there's evidence of magic."
"Well, Sir, it's out of my hands. I have no way to investigate a magical crime. That's ... that's a feline concern."
"It is," agreed Jolnir. The Governor sat back, and tapped a claw idly against his armrest. "You examined the door carefully, I assume?"
"Yes Sir. There were no markings of any kind, nor was the paint new. There was no new paint anywhere in Mazka's suite. According to Ionan, nobody took anything out of that suite except Charm - who was hysterical. The manacles, rope, and even her collar are still there."
"In the sealed house."
"Yes Sir. Since I came to the conclusion it was magic, I wanted to leave any physical evidence for the feline investigation, so I sealed the house."
Jolnir shook his head. "If you didn't find any physical evidence, then there won't be anything, dog-Captain. I'm a mage, I know. I'm going to need you to go back and clear everything out. All the records, everything. Burn it. Go to the gaol, get a prison crew, take them down there and rip out everything that even might be bloodstained. Burn it. Everything."
"And I'm to put down the crew afterwards?"
"Yes," sighed Jolnir.
"Sir, yes Sir. I won't pretend to enjoy it, Sir, but I'll do it."
"I wouldn't want someone who did enjoy it, dog-Captain," the Governor said. "And the estate is guarded right now by your soldiers?"
"Sir! Not ..."
"Dog-captain," the Governor interrupted. "Please remember to whom you're speaking."
"Sir, yes Sir."
"Bleed them out." The Governor raised a hand. "I know, dog-Captain, I don't particularly like it, but ... bleed them out. Those are your orders."
"Sir, yes Sir."
"The soldiers can go on a pyre, feel free to tell them. Not alive, bled out first, of course."
"Sir, yes Sir."
"Perhaps, dog-captain, you see an option you think I'm missing?"
"Sir, no Sir."
"Because if you have a better solution, dog-Captain, I'm happy to consider it."
"Sir. No, Sir."
"Those are good soldiers, loyal dogs, and they deserve better, dog-Captain, I admit it."
"Sir. Yes Sir."
The Governor stared at Erik for a moment. "I can't give it to them, dog-Captain. I won't explain lion politics to you - you don't need or want to know, but it would be a disaster for me, my family, and, quite honestly, South Carolina for this to get out. I suspect that the Confederacy would survive it, but ... it would weaken the Confederacy, too, if I lost my office. I will not_allow some political rival to use my grandson against me. That means the evidence - all the evidence - has to vanish. That's my responsibility as a Lion. Are you prepared to carry out your orders, and meet _your responsibilities as a dog-Captain?"
"Sir. Yes, Sir. Sir."
"Yes, dog-Captain?"
"Should I place myself on the pyre, Sir?"
The Governor shook his head. "No. I know you would if I told you to, dog-Captain, but, that ..." Jolnir paused. "You're right, though, in the sense that you know, too. But ... that's going to work for me, dog-Captain. I'm going to promote you to dog-Major, and buy you into my personal service, not just my office. After you put down the - deconstruction crew, shall we say, getting the house into a clean state should take about a couple of weeks, at least, I'll have another crew waiting in Arline, and another troop of soldiers. You'll take command, and get the house rebuilt, fit for a lion, dog-Captain, and post a guard. I want it secure. And if you think about it, I need someone who knows about Mazka, and ... about what he was doing, if only to make sure nolion inadvertently opens that particular subject."
"Sir, yes Sir. May I ask why, Sir?"
"I'm sending some of my pride down there, dog-capt - dog-major," the Governor said. "In particular, Lioness Beatrice, and probably some of my cubs, as well.
"That's ... that's quite a task, Sir," said Erik, thoughtfully.
"Yes and no," said Jolnir. "I imagine the Lioness will come down as soon as the pride quarters are ready - really, you just need one suite finished. She will instruct you on the household."
"Sir, I'm not sure I have the skills."
The Governor huffed. "You do. Running a house is just an exercise in logistics. As to what needs to be done, the Lioness will tell you. She'll also probably help - maybe do - the accounts. She's got quite a head for numbers, really, and ... she has one or two projects that will require more space than she has here."
Erik tried very hard not to show his shock. A Lioness? Projects?
"A lioness is not a vixen, dog-major, or a bitch," the Governor said. "Lionesses run a great deal of the Confederacy. It's just that they have, hmmm, not traditionally been involved in the military, being more on the, hmmm, well, you'll see for yourself. When she arrives, I expect she'll be quite clear about your responsibilities, and hers, and what she'll need.
"But that's the future, dog-" the Governor caught himself just in time, "-Major. Erik." He paused, clearly thinking about what to tell the newly-promoted major. "Welcome to command."
Erik just looked at the Governor. "I think I'd rather just be put down, Sir."
The Governor nodded slowly. "I understand, Erik, and ... I can do that, if I have to. But ... consider this, dog-Major Erik. If I'd had you two years ago, maybe I could have avoided this entire fiasco. Maybe not. But consider the estate under Mazka: over two hundred dogs, and what, fifty foxes?"
"Two-hundred twenty one dogs, sixty-three foxes, and three lions, Sir. That doesn't include the brigade guarding the estate now - twenty-four torkower soldiers." I put them all down. Personally.
"And it will be expanded, dog-Major. The house-staff will have to be ready for me and my guests, and that can't happen without a house-staff of at least a hundred, maybe two. I can't tell you what Beatrice has in mind, but ... that will involve another five or six hundred dogs - cachalox, I might add. Plus at least four brigades - they need someone to look after them," the Governor said, tiredly.
"She's going to set up a breeding station for cachalox," said Erik.
The Governor jerked, and then settled back down. "Yes." The Governor looked at the dog-major carefully. "You're fast, Erik, and I like that. I know cachalox aren't in favor in the South, but ... I can change that, and I intend to. Do you know why cachalox aren't ... entirely trusted?"
"Sir, no Sir!"
"So you didn't read that book." mused Jolnir. "Trurin left it out on purpose, you know. Or are you just playing dumb - you do that very well, I've noticed. If you are, don't. This isn't the time for it."
"I read it, Sir," admitted Erik, after a brief pause. "Union forces were all led by cachalox."
"And they kicked the shit out of us," said Jolnir. "The Confederacy won because we could field armies ten times as large as Union armies, and even then, it took us fifty years to beat the Union. And that was entirely because of the cachalox. Oh, they had some talented lions on their side, I admit, but ... General Thra? General Sherman? General Cormant? All cachalox, Erik, every one of 'em."
"I didn't know they were cachalox, Sir," said Erik.
Jolnir sighed. "Of course not. The Union had officers, not dog-officers."
Erik was silent for a moment, considering just what Jolnir might be asking of him. The only thing he could think of was - impossible. It was treasonous to even consider it. "You can't do it, Sir. It won't work."
The governor smiled. "I can't do it, not by myself, no. There are ... others, who feel that a Lion's responsibility has been ... misinterpreted."
"This is treason," said Erik flatly. "Sir."
"Nonsense. Everything I've done or asked you to do is legal," countered the Governor. "Perhaps at the edge of discretion ... but I am Governor of South Carolina, an autonomous Confederate State, and that discretion is mine, to use for the benefit _all_South Carolinians. Not just lions, Erik, and not just even felines. Dogs deserve more, Erik, but I can't give it to them. Not yet. But I can imagine a day when I can."
"No, Sir, maybe this isn't treason for you, but it certainly is for a dog-officer."
"Then forget everything I've said, Erik," said the Governor. "Come over here and I'll put you down. I'll bleed you out, if that's your highest aspiration." The governor flexed a finger, and a razor-edged claw came out. "Right down the carotid, very honorable, and a tremendous mess on my floor. Over in a minute, just a little sting. The only persons to remember you will be Trurin, myself, and, of course, the little fox who cleans my office. This is command, Erik, policy, and politics - Lion politics. These are stakes worth playing for, dog-Major. Don't tell me it's impossible, or it can't be done - I don't accept that. It will never happen if nolion tries.
"_I_think it's worth trying, dog-Major Erik. Either come over here and stretch your neck for me, or help me. Choose."
"Sir ... I ..." Erik took a deep breath. "I still don't think it can happen."
Governor Jolnir stood, and extended his paw across the table. "Congratulations, Erik."
"Sir. I ... don't know what to say," he took the offered paw gingerly - lions rarely shook with non-lions, and certainly never with dogs, but Jolnir shook it firmly. "I suppose this is a lot to think about, Sir."
The Governor smiled. "Yes. Here." Jolnir reached into the file he'd been reading, and pulled out a paper. "Here."
"Sir?"
"It's a copy of an official bloodline meritorium, released as of ... an hour ago, stating that coffee-coloured fur is a recognized cachalox recessive variation, tracing the history, notable dogs with that coloring, and so on and and so forth, but what it means, Erik, is that you're going to take that down to the bloodmasters - go see Alex, he's a jaguar, a bit stuffy, but ... that works to our advantage. He'll sign your stud certiorari for South Carolina. With that, you can get your vasectomy reversed."
Governor Jolnir paused. "Preferably tonight, dog-major ... oh," he said, pulling out another sheet. "Promotion notification, your copy, these copies to Bureau of Personnel, this copy to dog-brigadier Six, one for me as originator, and one for me as Governor."
"Me? I'm ..."
Jolnir nodded. "I wasn't going to tell you tonight, but, when you guessed what Beatrice will be doing, I thought I might as well. Get it all out, as it were.
"Now, dog-major, get going."
When dog-major Erik left Governor Jolnir's office, he barely spared a glance at the swollen belly of the torkower laying on the floor to the side. The Governor motioned his three bodyguards back in - including Six, and shook his head tiredly.
Dog-Major Erik would do just fine, although, the Governor thought, at some_point he'd start wondering just who might have the motive to disappear a lion from such a prominent family. Mazka would be far more useful _alive than dead to any of Jolnir's enemies. Oh yes, this was nothing short of good fortune for Jolnir, no matter what the short-term cost was.
His eyes kept falling back to Six, who was slowly - very slowly - digesting the only remaining evidence that wasn't back on his estate. But even the dog-Major wouldn't have proof, no, any corroborating evidence was or soon would go up in flames. And Mazka wasn't even dead, just ... banished, until he learned to love both prey and hunter.
Which meant Mazka wouldn't be back for a long, long time, thought Jolnir.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading!