{"sf1_id":735701,"sf2_id":"0mvGJwqn","title":"\"The Thin Line,\" Part K","author":"EOCostello","words":2983,"posted_at":"2014-07-26T16:36:00.000Z","tags":["Deer","Mare","Mouse","Romance","Squirrel","army","intrigue"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/735701-the-thin-line-part-k","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/0mvGJwqn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/f6/3c/f63c0e43-2c9a-4c77-aedf-ec52f17aa769","description":"#11 of The Thin Line\n\nIn this episode, Private Winterbough gets his eyes opened as to a systemic problem that's plaguing the realm; it's sort of an odd problem, considering that certain natural urges among the Fair Folk seem to have no signs whatsoever of abating...","content":"\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was a long night, and an early morning, but I did get the bungalow looking like it would pass even the most exacting inspection.\u0026nbsp; I didn't take offence when Chitterleigh took out a white cloth and began checking surfaces, even underneath the icebox and behind the W.C.\u0026nbsp; The motive behind this spoke more to him than to me.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Dinner, in the form of a salad with nuts, was prepared, along with some white wine chilling in the icebox.\u0026nbsp; Bagoum's officer Lieutenant Banks made an appearance - I gathered he'd been out on maneuvers, and certainly his otter's fur seemed quite bleached by the sun.\u0026nbsp; In an event, he lent my officer some flatware which, when I polished it, proved to be a mixture of sets liberated from an assortment of regimental messes.\u0026nbsp; I contrived to match as much as I could and pray that Chitterleigh's father was near-sighted.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; As luck would have it, it was a cool, gentle breezy day.\u0026nbsp; They call it \"King's Weather,\" though I think some of that is with an eye toward the old elf's comfort than any testament to his communion with Nature.\u0026nbsp; It's said that His Majesty spends a lot of time in a belvedere in the Royal Palace, watching the Parade Ground through a spyglass.\u0026nbsp; If he had, and if he had cared to, he could have seen a small ant-trap carrying me to Miss Eichelgruber's residence.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The Lieutenant jocularly referred to this as a \"recce,\" though I think the point more was to be helpful. In the event, I suppose the recce was a good idea, since it did give me an idea of who the other guests at the luncheon would be.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Or, rather, guest, singular.\u0026nbsp; Who turned out to be the old femme from the cavalry luncheon.\u0026nbsp; The old mare glanced in my direction when Meadow let me in through the garden gate.\u0026nbsp; For some reason, she smiled, which had me worried a little bit.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My early arrival caused a slight change in plans, as Miss Eichelgruber now saw that the lunch table could be set up in the garden, so with a little effort from me, the table leaves were disassembled and reassembled, with the settings replaced in their proper places by Meadow.\u0026nbsp; She took a great deal of care in placing the glasses, china and truesilver, as she slowly bent over to set them.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Yes, I did notice.\u0026nbsp; And the old femmefur noticed me noticing.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; At the stroke of mid-day, there was a cheerful bell-peal, and the Lieutenant was admitted, bearing a basket of rather succulent-looking acorns.\u0026nbsp; I think I would liked to have known where he got them, and I resolved to keep an eye for any leftovers.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The Lieutenant was formally introduced to Mrs. Truemane, and the frankly appraising look he got from her made him grin sheepishly and fiddle with his cravat, a state of nerves not helped by the fact that she was introduced as the day's chaperone.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was something out of place, though, and I couldn't think of what it was until Meadow and I had served the first of the three courses.\u0026nbsp; I bent down to whisper in my officer's ear.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"The mare, sir, is not using her ear-trumpet.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Chitterleigh's tail gave a violent twitch, and I could see him turn to Mrs. Truemane as I resumed my station elsewhere.\u0026nbsp; He attempted to engage her in a conversation about the day's weather.\u0026nbsp; The response he got was a pleasant smile and a nod.\u0026nbsp; One or more attempts at conversation convinced him, evidently, of the safety of conversation not involving her.\u0026nbsp; I chose that moment to check on how the main course was doing.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow, when she came into the kitchen, smiled, and pointed to the ear-trumpet, which was safely tucked away in its carrying case, the straps on.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Errr, Meadow?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Yes?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"How long do you think we should...ah...give it?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Mrs. Truemane will let us know.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"How will...oh.\"\u0026nbsp; I got the impression, quickly, that it wasn't going to be a matter of words that would allow Mrs. Truemane to know when the main course should be served.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The rather long interval allowed Meadow and I to have our own luncheon.\u0026nbsp; She somewhat cheekily appropriated one of the gifted acorns, and split it between the two of us.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Any reason you're watching the sun-dial so closely, Westersloe?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After being briefly startled by the use of my first name (which few furs do), I told her about the second act that was set for that night.\u0026nbsp; She wrinkled her small pink nose.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh, ugh.\u0026nbsp; Lord Twelveoaks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You know him?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"He and my mistress' father are old friends.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They go back a long, long way together, back to when they were clerks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What are they now?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She raised an eyebrow, but then nodded.\u0026nbsp; \"I forget that you're a country boy.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, we don't get much attention, and we return the same.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You're not losing much.\u0026nbsp; Lord Twelveoaks - that's the title, not his last name - is the Minister for Health Affairs.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What, he looks out for plague?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"If you want my opinion, he **is** a plague.\u0026nbsp; And what's more, he has atrocious table manners.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Rather odd for a courtier, isn't it?\u0026nbsp; I mean, bad table manners?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You hear stories about what goes on when the ladies leave the table, Westersloe.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Not a country girl, I take, with that knowledge.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A slow smile.\u0026nbsp; \"No, I was born here in Albric Tor.\u0026nbsp; Nobody special, in case you're wondering.\u0026nbsp; But I do all right.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She smiled when she saw me busy myself with my acorn at that comment.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Anyway, Lord Greenleaf - that's Mistress' father - works in the Protocol Office.\u0026nbsp; He gets to plan the parades and ceremonies and the like.\u0026nbsp; Which is rather like playing with toy battle-ants, only his are much bigger and make louder gronking sounds.\u0026nbsp; As I said, they're old cronies, Greenleaf and Twelveoaks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"But you don't like Twelveoaks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Another nose-wrinkle.\u0026nbsp; \"He's a blowhard who got where he is today by essentially repeating the same old nonsense over and over again until furs think he's merely retelling essential truths.\u0026nbsp; His latest thing is The Future of the Elvish Race.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow caught sight of a dropped pawkerchief from Mrs. Truemane, and our conversation was interrupted by the need to serve the main course (a chilled cucumber and cruton soup).\u0026nbsp; The previous course had barely been touched.\u0026nbsp; I also noticed that both Miss Eichelgruber and the Lieutenant had pushed their chairs in somewhat closer to the table and away from Mrs. Truemane, who had happily cleaned her plate.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow and I served the main course, bowed, and bore the plates we'd cleared rather quickly out of the garden.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"The Future of the Elvish Race, you said.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My colleague rolled her eyes.\u0026nbsp; \"It's been something that the Ministers have been Studying, Debating and Considering for years, now.\u0026nbsp; There's probably a whole chamber you could fill with the assorted scrolls of their memoranda and deliberations.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Is all that talk bad?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow paused in the act of cleaning a plate and considered that for a bit.\u0026nbsp; \"I know you're from Elfhame, Westersloe, I can hear it in your accent.\"\u0026nbsp; She looked at me.\u0026nbsp; \"You must have seen what's happened there.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I nodded.\u0026nbsp; \"Well, I mean, it was all the wars we fought in over the years.\u0026nbsp; Elfhame was always loyal to the Crown...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Over a lot of generations?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I could only nod to that.\u0026nbsp; \"And then when you have crop failures, and furs get sick...well...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Do you think there are other places like Elfhame?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I don't know.\u0026nbsp; I mean, Elfhame wasn't all that big to begin with.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What do you think the population of Faerie is doing, Westersloe?\u0026nbsp; Really?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I thought.\u0026nbsp; \"Growing slowly, I'd imagine.\u0026nbsp; I mean, Albric Tor seems pretty busy and all.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Would it surprise you to know that the city is 5,000 elves smaller than it was at the start of His Majesty's reign?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, out of how many?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"A fair amount, but suppose I told you that it was the same in practically every kingdom, principality, barony and bishopric in Faerie?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Do they know why?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"If they knew exactly why, they wouldn't have filled up that chamber with all those studies, would they?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I suppose.\u0026nbsp; So how does my officer's father fit into this?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Have you ever heard of a changeling?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"That's an old tale.\u0026nbsp; It's what mothers tell their children when they're naughty, that they'll be traded for a Lowfolk child and sent from Faerie.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Were you told that?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I thought.\u0026nbsp; \"No.\u0026nbsp; I just read it in the storybooks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"It's not a story.\u0026nbsp; It really does happen.\u0026nbsp; It's not law - not now, anyway - but there are a fair number who send their children away, not long after birth, to the Lowfolk country.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What, sent away from Faerie?!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She put a finger to her lips and shushed.\u0026nbsp; \"Yes.\u0026nbsp; Twelveoaks is a big backer of it.\u0026nbsp; Says it brings \"hybrid vigour,\" as if we elves were ants being bred.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Is he right?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow shrugged.\u0026nbsp; \"Who knows?\u0026nbsp; It's only been happening in significant numbers during the last two generations or so.\u0026nbsp; They didn't talk about this in Elfhame?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I was an only child.\u0026nbsp; Literally.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow looked at me, horrified.\u0026nbsp; \"Literally?\u0026nbsp; You're joking.\u0026nbsp; Was it that...?\"\u0026nbsp; She saw my expression, and looked abashed.\u0026nbsp; She apologized.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"No, I think it's about time I heard this, and better from you, Meadow, than from a squaddie.\u0026nbsp; So what's Twelveoaks going to do?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"There's going to be a law proposed...when, I don't know, they're still working on it...that's going to require that all Faerie-born be raised in Lowfolk country.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh, that's absurd.\u0026nbsp; No one will stand for that, Meadow.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You were an only child, you said?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, yes.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"How did you stay home in Elfhame?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"A special exemption...oh.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"And no one in Elfhame fought, even when the last draughts were drained off and sent elsewhere?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I can't believe it.\u0026nbsp; I mean, how can the Lowfolk teach our kin anything?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"They probably can't.\u0026nbsp; Have you seen your comrades?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Look, I'll grant you, a squaddie is a squaddie, but...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, that's the future of Faerie, right there.\"\u0026nbsp; She dried a glass.\u0026nbsp; \"You were on a farm, weren't you?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Orchard.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Did they ever cross-breed trees?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sure.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Did it always work?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, an elf isn't a tree.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow looked out the window, to see the pawkerchief drop again.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"No, Westersloe, an elf isn't.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The main course, which looked delicious to me, hadn't been touched by the two squirrels.\u0026nbsp; The spoons hadn't even moved.\u0026nbsp; Catching sight of us, the two moved apart quickly, their ears turning red, with some sheepish chittering.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Mrs. Truemane didn't bat an eye, but finished her soup with evident pleasure.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We decided to dispense with the third course, and quietly (and quickly) padded back to the kitchen.\u0026nbsp; Meadow again apologized.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"It's a rotten thing to talk politics, Westersloe, and I'm sorry.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"No, no.\u0026nbsp; I'd rather hear it from you.\u0026nbsp; Shall we change the subject?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We were having some difficulty, with fits and starts that stuttered out, when we were joined by Mrs. Truemane, who gently clopped in, unbuckled her trumpet-case, and sat down to a helping of rhubarb tart. She looked up at my puzzled and astonished expression.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You'd think that silly ass of a father of hers, being a politician, would know how to phrase things, wouldn't you?\"\u0026nbsp; She wickered in delight, and gave herself a heaping spoon of cream.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow leaned in to her trumpet.\u0026nbsp; \"Left it open, did he, ma'am?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"As open as that great big acorn-muncher of his below his nose.\u0026nbsp; Said to me, my dear, \"Now Agnes, I want you to be in that house at all times when those two are there - don't leave them in that house alone.\"\u0026nbsp; Twit.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Ma'am?\u0026nbsp; Um...where is...?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"If he's got any common sense, off in that alcove in the garden.\u0026nbsp; Thinks he's putting one over on me, he is.\u0026nbsp; Hah!\"\u0026nbsp; A heaping forkful of tart was chewed with relish.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I have to say that my acorn-muncher was open, as well.\u0026nbsp; She looked at me, and shook her head.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I hope that's youth, boy, and not something else.\u0026nbsp; In my day, when I was a young filly (and that was a long time ago, and what of it?), we didn't bother with such things as chaperones.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Another slice of tart, with lots of cream, was demanded.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Heavens, no.\u0026nbsp; Why, let me tell you, when I met my first husband, he didn't shilly-shally.\u0026nbsp; The first chance the two of us got...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Between bites of tart-and-cream, there followed a startling description of what evlish stallions could do when the mood struck them.\u0026nbsp; For that matter, a startling description of what elvish ex-fillies - and they certainly had to be ex-fillies --\u0026nbsp; could do when the mood struck **them**.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"All this assorted nonsense about propriety and rules and observance of norms?\u0026nbsp; Rubbish, my dears, complete rubbish.\u0026nbsp; Well, at least we so-called furs of quality have an excuse.\u0026nbsp; What's your excuse, boy?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Ma'am?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She pointed with a fork at Meadow, who was smiling sweetly.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Now, when I was mistress of a household, I used to have dozens of servants.\u0026nbsp; Had quite a turnover below-stairs, bless them with Fuma's scent.\u0026nbsp; Oh, yes, scullery maids were lucky to last six months, bless 'em again.\u0026nbsp; Never batted an eye, I did.\u0026nbsp; Paid 'em off, set them up in trade, got in a new batch.\u0026nbsp; Made sure one or two of the footfurs were off limits though.\u0026nbsp; Private stock, y'know.\"\u0026nbsp; She winked at me, and then looked me over with the aid of a lorgnette.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Hmmm. Small and tawny was usually brawny, though.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She was looking at my boggled expression with a puzzled air, and then turned to Meadow, and enquired whether I had performed one of a series of four actions with, or preferably at, her.\u0026nbsp; Meadow shrugged her shoulders, and leaned in to the trumpet.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"He's a country boy, ma'am.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh!\u0026nbsp; One of those rustic chivalry types?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I think so, ma'am.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"My third husband was like that.\u0026nbsp; It took forever to break him in, but it was worth it.\u0026nbsp; I can't think why he was so shy at first, he should have been proud of it.\u0026nbsp; If that ghastly ass Twelveoaks wants vigour in our race, he should get a company of grain-wenches, some nice strapping country boys, and a few casks of wine.\u0026nbsp; Mix with moonlight and a few fiddles, and there you are!\u0026nbsp; Used to never fail, you'd always have a nice round of weddings some months later.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Mrs. Truemane dabbed her lips with a napkin.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I'm going upstairs for a nap.\u0026nbsp; Wake me when it's time to send that nice young Lieutenant home.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She paused at the stairs, and wagged a finger at me.\u0026nbsp; \"Now, you be a good little elf, and remember to clear that table, first.\u0026nbsp; If you break anything, hide it under the rug.\u0026nbsp; I won't tell Miss Eichelgruber.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After she left, Meadow was laughing too hard to press her advantage, and the moment passed.\u0026nbsp; We finished the tart together, and after finding a harpsichord tucked away in the corner of the salon, I sang some old, rustic folk melodies.\u0026nbsp; Ones whose lyrics would have disappointed Mrs. Truemane, but were still appreciated by Meadow.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The sun-dial was getting dangerously late in the afternoon when the two of us reluctantly agreed we had to do something.\u0026nbsp; Meadow took me by the paw, and led me outside, to the edge of the garden alcove.\u0026nbsp; She whispered to me, and on the count of three (wait for it, as my drill sergeant would have said), each of us discreetly cleared our throats.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There followed a pair of startled squeaks, followed by some indistinct rustling.\u0026nbsp; It took the better part of five minutes before Miss Eichelgruber and the Lieutenant reappeared. Meadow and I bowed, and I noted to the Lieutenant that we had another appointment.\u0026nbsp; He sighed, and looked unhappy.\u0026nbsp; His companion looked wistful, but asked Meadow to fetch both my hat and the Lieutenant's, and they said good-bye to Mrs. Truemane, who looked cheerful, refreshed, and full of vim.\u0026nbsp; I know that, because she expressed her vigor with a paw when no one was looking.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; On the ride back, I felt something in my hat, and upon investigation, found it was a note that had been placed there.\u0026nbsp; I thought it was very decent of my officer not to ask me what the message was.\u0026nbsp; While flattering, it could hardly be repeated.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"The Thin Line","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/735698-the-thin-line-part-j.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/735703-the-thin-line-part-l.json"}}