The Wilder Lands
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Impure - Chapter Six
🕑 Added 2024-11-19 01:34:56 +0000 UTC*****
Chapter Six
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Impure. That was what they called it. A form of deviant thought, and behavior, relating to an unnatural attraction to one’s own sex. Left unchecked, impurity was the sort of deep, and abiding sin that spread a taint so dark it could damage even the very soul. For the good of the people, and for the safety of their souls, impure acts were wholly outlawed by The Church of the Divine Weavers. Impure thoughts were harder to police, but not impossible to notice. Those known to suffer from recurring impure thoughts were highly encouraged to seek out help, in order to eliminate them, lest their wicked thoughts turn to carnal misdeeds that endangered their souls.
Rivi had suffered such thoughts for much of his life. The cheetah did not know why he endured such poisoned whispers, only that they would never quite go away. He first battled them in his youth. When the other males his age first turned their eyes towards their female companions, Rivi found his eyes drifting elsewhere. Once, when caught staring at the wrong person, at the wrong time, they sought to cure him. They shamed him, scolded him, even struck him. Until the thoughts were gone. Or so he led them to believe.
His father never used the word ‘impure.’ After all, to use the official term for such deviance, would have made it all to real. No, Rivi’s father preferred to use softer phrases. Father called him gentle, and tender-hearted. While Rivi knew his father loved him dearly, so to did Rivi know his impurity shamed his father. If anything, Rivi was certain his father hoped that the rigors and ardor of the Scholar’s Pilgrimage would toughen Rivi up, as if strength and toughness alone would ward off his soul-threatening thoughts. For all Rivi knew, his Father might have hoped Rivi would end up sharing a room with some attractive female feline. Though pre-marital dalliances were also considered highly improper, such a sin paled in comparison to the iniquity of impurity. Doubly so, should said vice cure him of being impure.
Rivi snorted at the thought, following Argos in silence towards the lifts. As if impurity were something truly curable, like a disease. If it was, all the shame and scorn would have surely cured him of it ages ago. Instead, Rivi just folded everything inwards. He wrapped himself in that very shame, like a wall to keep him safe. So long as he remained keenly aware of how deeply shameful such thoughts were, it was all the easier to keep them to himself. After all, why would he ever speak of something so disgraceful? Let alone something that could get him hurt, should the wrong people discover his impurity.
For years now, Rivi had been mostly successful in bottling up such thoughts. In his adult life, it helped him to keep to his studies and working during the day, and his hobbies in the evenings, and days off. Rivi often listened to radio serials and dramas, along with owning a small collection of musical records. He enjoyed books of all kinds, from fanciful novels, to historical chronicles, to religious texts and analysis. The cheetah also enjoyed all manner of artistic pursuits. His wrote his own tales, though as far as he was concerned, his work scarcely rose above derivative, at best. He roamed the streets and parks of the city, taking countless photographs. Rivi even enjoyed painting, and drawing.
Once in a while, he even went for a drink with some his scholarly colleagues, from the Church archives where he worked. Rivi wasn’t entirely sure they were truly his friends, per se, but they were friendly. They went out of their way to invite him along, and so Rivi felt it only right to go out of his way to join them. Though he never knew whether or not they actually liked him, or merely wished to find themselves in his father’s good graces, Rivi appreciated being included, just the same.
Yet, he tried to keep himself guarded. He never wished to stare at the wrong person, or look at the handsome lion behind the bar the wrong way. And he worked even harder to ensure he never actually referred to him, as the handsome lion behind the bar. He stared into his cup, made small talk, laughed at their jokes, and tried to make a few of his own. More often than not, their laughter sounded forced. Rivi was never quite sure if he was truly annoying and weird as he imagined himself, or if it was just in his head.
In any case, the walls he’d long ago built from his own great shame had kept him safe well into his adulthood. He doubted that few of his colleagues truly realized that Scholar Rivi still suffered from the occasional impure thought. After all, if they did, he’d never have been selected to make the Scholar’s Pilgrimage. Rivi had successfully hidden away that frightening, disgraceful part of himself, and built a life of which to be proud. Rivi could not remember slipping up in front of anyone in years.
At least, not until he met Argos.
Rivi had never met anyone quite like the coyote. Argos was as suave as he was menacing, gentle and ferocious, mysterious and open, all at the same time. Most importantly, despite his playful jests and jibes, Rivi never got the sense that Argos was looking down on him, or judging him. No matter what foolish thing Rivi said, or what oddball mannerism Argos caught him displaying, the coyote just didn’t seem to care. And if he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Argos was almost flirting with him. Then again, Rivi could not recall anyone ever flirting with him before. He wasn’t sure he’d recognize truly flirtatious behavior if it poked him in both eyes.
Perhaps, Rivi thought, that unfamiliarity was what left him reeling, and so very off-guard. He’d known the coyote for a scant few hours, at most, and already he’d blurted out something that inadvertently betrayed his impure thoughts. Not that Argos wasn’t handsome, of course. Humiliated as Rivi was to think such things about another male, he had long accepted that such thoughts would occasionally intrude upon his mind, unwarranted and unwanted. Denying them only ever seemed to make them grow stronger. Rivi found it easier to admit them, and then push them aside until they faded away for a while. Thus, in his heart, to himself, Rivi was willing to admit that yes, Argos was handsome.
But he damn sure never meant to say as much to Argos himself. Now that he had, Rivi was just glad that Argos hadn’t immediately retracted his offer to share his cabin. While the cheetah could only imagine how much more awkward and uncomfortable his humiliating outburst would make things, at least he still had a place to sleep. Then again, if anything, Argos seemed to take his comment as a compliment. At first, Rivi thought the coyote was only being polite, but the more Rivi thought about it, the more he wasn’t sure. Maybe Argos really had appreciated it. That might have explained some of his more seemingly flirtatious teasing.
For the briefest of moments, Rivi allowed himself to entertain a dangerous question.
Did Argos also suffer impure thoughts?
The cheetah licked his nose, watching the to-and-fro sway of the coyote’s tail as he walked. Argos’s tail was nothing like his own sleek, slender feline tail. It was thickly furred with layers of gray and tan. It towards its tip, as if Argos had dipped the end of his tail in ink. Rivi allowed a second dangerous thought to linger for several heartbeats. He wondered just how soft the coyote’s fur would feel, against his pads. Then Rivi lifted his eyes, and forced himself to banish both thoughts as quickly as they came.
It was just as well. Rivi dragged himself from the murky depths of his own mind just in time to see a long line of people waiting for a lift. They stretched well down the wood-paneled corridors, grumbling and milling about. Many of them had their own piles of luggage, though none carried near as much as Rivi. Far ahead of them, a circular chamber served as a lift bank. A bronze chandelier shone yellowy light around the room. There were three elevators on either side. Crystalline dials above each set of closed doors indicated which floor the lifts were currently on. Several gnolls stood guard while a single human directed people into the lifts.
“Looks like we’re back to waiting, hmm?” Rivi took a place at the end of the line. They hadn’t spoken much in the short time since they’d left the lobby, but Rivi was happy to break the silence. It made it easier to keep his thoughts from drifting. “We’re getting quite good at queuing up, aren’t we Rivi?”
Argos grabbed Rivi’s coat sleeve, tugging him out of the queue. “Nope. No line, Spots.” Argos pulled him forward a few steps, then released him and went back to pulling Rivi’s luggage. “We’re VIPs.”
“We are?” Rivi hurried after the canine. Somehow, Argos walked faster than Rivi even while hauling his heavy cart along. “You mean, because you’re…” He trailed off, realizing Argos wouldn’t want him to blabbing about his special policeman status. “Badged?”
“Badged?” Argos perked one ear, chuckling. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure what else to call it.” Rivi rubbed his hands together as they walked. Some of the people in line shot them dirty looks. A few pointed out that there was, in fact, a line. A few more cursed. Argos pointed ignored them entirely, but Rivi couldn’t quite bring himself to do the same. Instead, he muttered little apologies every few paces. “Sorry. I’m sorry. V-VIPs. Sorry. My apologies.”
Near the front of the line, the human directing traffic walked towards Argos, holding his hand up. This time, rather than flash his badge, Argos gave the human a name and what Rivi thought sounded like some code phrase. The human gestured at one of the gnolls, who brought forward a clipboard with a manifest upon it. The human flipped through it, then nodded, and then directed Argos to the front of the line.
Argos thanked him, then jerked his thumb at Rivi. “The cat’s with me.”
“Yes, hello.” Rivi smiled at the human. “My name is Rivi. It might be under Rivimiralous. That’s spelled-”
“They don’t need your name, Spots.” Argos pulled the cart to the front of the line, ignoring the frustrated sigh from the person he cut in front of. “You’re booked in my room now, anyway.”
“Oh…” Rivi padded up alongside Argos. “Right, of course.” He glanced over his shoulder at the person behind them, an older wolf with a graying muzzle. “Terribly sorry to inconvenience you, Sir. We’re VIPs.”
The wolf glared at him. “I noticed.”
A bell chimed, and the gold-painted doors of one of the lifts opened. The human directed Argos towards it. Argos pulled Rivi’s cart forward, then pushed it back into the lift. Rivi hurried in after him. The inside of the lift was mirrored, and accented with crimson and brass. A single light glowed within a yellow, crystalline fixture. A kobold in a red and silver uniform stood on a step ladder, working as lift operator. When he saw no one else was joining them, the kobold closed the doors.
“Floor, Sirs?” The lizard looked up, waiting.
“VIP Suites.” Argos glanced at Rivi, rubbing his muzzle. “We’re on Deck Thirty, Spots, but this bank takes you right to the suites section.”
“Deck thirty?” Rivi’s eyes widened. “The largest airship I’ve been on before now only had ten decks. And that was some bloated old sky-crawler I was afraid was going to fall right out of the sky!”
The kobold gave them a toothy smile. “Oh, then lemme give you the official thing.” The small lizard cleared his throat. “Black Star Intercontinental proudly welcomes you aboard The Worldstrider, the world’s largest and most technically advanced airship. We hope you enjoy your voyage. Going up!”
Rivi swallowed as the kobold pushed the lever forward, and the lift lurched upwards. Though he’d ridden plenty of lifts at this point, they never failed to leave his stomach tumbling about. As they rose, Rivi could have sworn his belly was sinking into his boots. “Ooh, lifts always make me feel so strange, inside. I can never decide if I find the feeling exhilarating, or vomit-inducing.”
Argos chuckled. “Wait till this big girl actually takes off, then.”
“You know,” Rivi said, glancing towards the coyote. “Thus far, I haven’t actually found the motion of airships to be near as jarring to my poor stomach as riding lifts up and down. I think it’s because it’s a smoother ascent.”
Rivi gripped the brass rail as the lift continued its climb. He pressed his other hand to his stomach, his eyes darting around. An uncountable number of other Rivis stared back at him, reflected over and over in the car’s mirrored interior. The disorienting reflections gave Rivi the impression he was lost, and wandering some cheap carnival funhouse. At least when Rivi smiled, his other selves all smiled back at him. If only his own mind was so easily swayed away from darker thoughts and self-pitying sorrow. Rivi looked up, watching the ebony arrow slowly turn within the numbered silver dial. As it neared deck thirty, the kobold pulled back on the control lever, and the lift slowed to a crawl.
The cheetah’s stomach wobbled when the lift came to a stop. He breathed a little sigh of relief as the doors opened. Rivi thanked the operator, and then grasped the cart handle at the opposite end of Argos to help him pull the luggage out of the lift. The effort left his shoulder aching, and his ears flat in pained grimace. Argos pushed it from the other end, and soon the doors closed behind them.
The lift bank spilled into an extravagent lobby area, where the dark, recessed wood paneling was adorned with golden filigree, and decorated with beautiful paintings of exotic landscapes. Life-sized statues of popular historical persona from around the world sat on pedestals in each corner. Each figure was carved from white marble, and ribboned with red and black. Miniature spotlights illuminated each of them with yellowy electric light. Plush, silver-gray carpets adorned the hardwood floors.
To Rivi’s surprise, he found himself in the midst of a work zone. Maintenance staff scurried around, all in drab jumpsuits with Black Star Intercontinental logo embossed upon the bag. They were mostly gnolls and kobolds, working in teams. The gnolls carried the heavier tools, and were busy securing thick straps around the statues. The smaller lizards had a bevy of smaller, finer equipment. Some of them worked on the wiring of the spotlights, while others undid the myriad assortment of bolts affixing the pedestals to the floor. A single sign that simply read CAUTION was displayed near the elevators. Some of the workers spared Rivi and Argos a glance, but most ignored them, focused on their job.
Rivi moved closer to Argos, lowering his voice. “What are they doing?”
“Removing the statues, I think.” Argos carefully turned the cart, positioning it so that he could pull it between the work staff.
Rivi helped the coyote get the cart clear of the workers, holding his tongue despite his burning follow up question. His ears swiveled about, listening to the workers. They all spoke a form of the old gnoll tongue. Rivi knew it, but he would not consider himself especially fluently. It was not at all a commonly spoken language where he was from. The cheetah was a little surprised to hear the kobolds also speaking it, and wondered if perhaps the language’s common name was a misnomer. After all, both peoples came from the same continent, and it was entirely possible they once spoke a shared language. Or perhaps it had become a shared language after countless generations working together to survive, along with the humans, after the great fractures. Whatever the case, he picked up bits and pieces of conversations. Mostly playful insults, instructions, and the urging of both speed, and caution.
Once they were clear of the construction, Argos paused to look back at Rivi. “I got it from here, Spots. You’ve hauled this thing around enough, today.”
“If you insist.” Rivi worked his aching shoulder in a circle, rubbing it until the worst of the pain eased. “I just feel like I’m being spectacularly unhelpful.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Argos said, taking the lead again. “I can’t gonna be your butler all trip. But I figured you could use the break. You’ve been through a lot today.”
“I appreciate it.” Rivi bowed his head, then followed after the coyote.
Argos led the way into a wide, richly appointed corridor. It shared the same dark wood aesthetic as the rest of the ship, but much like the atrium everything here was far more ornate than below. Portraits in gaudy, golden frames dotted both sides of the hallway. Silver chandeliers with elaborate, blue-white lights hung at even intervals. Glass displays showcased pieces of Black Star Intercontinental’s history. There were photographs and name plates taken from one of their first airships, tickets from the maiden voyage of another, ornamental tableware from an especially famous vessel now retired, and so on. Now and then, another statue also decorated the hall. Doors outlined in gold led into countless suites.
When they were alone in the hallway, Rivi glanced over his shoulder. “Why were they taking out those statues? They’re quite beautiful.”
“They’re also quite heavy.” Argos walked at a swift pace, despite the additional effort required to pull the oversized luggage cart. “My guess is, the captain’s decided to do the right thing while he has the chance.”
Rivi scrunched his muzzle, his brow furred. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ship’s got a maximum takeoff weight, right?” Argos gestured at another statue decorating the hallway as they walked. “And these things weigh a shit ton. Now, obviously, they’ve all been accounted for. But think about it, spots. How many people do you think it would take to match that thing’s weight?”
Rivi stopped and looked the statue up and down. It was smaller than some of the others, depicting former vulpine explorer name Riardo Montari. The fox was almost as well known for his infamous love of alcohol and abrasive attitude as he was for being one of the first known people to successfully circumvent the Fractured World. The statue depicted the little fox standing tall and proud, pointing at the sky, and adorned in a old-fashioned, long sleeved captain’s jacket. A barely visible flask peeking out of the jacket pocket hinted at his less than savory side. Like those in the atrium, it was cut from white marble, with crimson and ebony swirls.
“Oh, I’d guess at least four or five people.” Rivi hurried to catch up with Argos. “Why do you ask?”
“Because, assuming you’re right?” Argos waved at another such stone figure ahead of them. “For everyone of these they take out, that’s four or five more refugees who ain’t sleeping out in the cold, tonight.”
Rivi gasped, his ears lifting. “So, they’re making room for more people?”
“That’s my guess,” Argos said. “Black Star’s got facilities here where they can store all their useless, extravagant bullshit over the winter. Assuming it don’t get ransacked if the city falls. But if it does…” The coyote grunted, staring down the hallway. For a moment, Argos’s gaze grew distant, as if he was looking not towards their destination, but all the huddled masses down in the plaza, desperately hoping for a reprieve from the cold, and from their uncertain fates. “Every person he can squeeze aboard the ship might be another life saved.”
The cheetah gave a little whine, quickening his pace to walk alongside Argos. “Is it really that bad, for them?”
Argos shrugged. “Dunno, Spots. A whole lotta bad’s befalling a whole lotta people, all at once. Locals are playing down the volcano’s eruption, and the violence alike, but that ain’t what I’m hearing.” The coyote clenched his jaws. “Whatever the case, this ship’s the last chance for anyone to leave here till spring, probably. Seems like the captain’s decided to take as many people outta here as he can.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Rivi said, smiling. Then his ears fell. “But, I thought they were out of space.”
“Sleeping berths and cabins, yeah.” Argos paused at an intersection to glance at a sign that listed room numbers, then pulled the cart around the corner. “But you’d be shocked to see how many people they can cram into steerage. And as unpleasant as it’s gonna be, still better than freezing in some alley, or…” He trailed off, then made a displeased, growling sound. “Look, Spots, you don’t wanna know the kinda shit that’s gonna happen if this city gets sacked.”
“No…” Rivi wrung his hands, his tail flicking. “I probably don’t.”
“The important thing is, it looks like they’re squeeze in as many people as they can.” Argos glanced at another sign as he walked. “They’ll probably have to keep some of the facilities closed for the duration of the trip, to squeeze people in there, instead. It’s probably gonna mean water rationing, too.” He grinned at the cheetah. “Hope you don’t mind short showers.”
Rivi returned his smile with a casual shrug. “I’d prefer a nice, hot relaxing bath, but given what I imagine conditions will be like in steerage, I’ll be happy to take what I can get.”
“That’s the spirit.” Argos pulled the cart up to a door painted with a stylized golden sun, rising above a series of jagged spires, jutting from a roiling sea. “Here we are, Sunrise Suite Number Three.” Argos produced a key from within his waistcoat, and unlocked the door. “Don’t let the fancy door get your hopes up too high. The fact there’s at least three Sunrise Suites oughta tell you they ain’t that grand.” He pushed the door open. “Can you hold this while I pull the cart in?”
“Certainly.” Rivi squeezed around Argos and into the suite. He pushed the door open as far as it would go, then held it there.
“Thanks, Spots.” Argos pulled through the cart inside, and past the cheetah. “You can close it up after me. Come on in. Don’t mind all my shit strewn everywhere.”
Rivi closed the door, and followed the coyote inside. Just inside the door was a cloakroom, with a tiled floor. Several coats and jackets hung on a rack off to the side, while a few more were visible through the open door of an adjoining closet. A few pairs of shoes and boots sat in mismatched pairs upon the floor. A mirror lined the wall opposite the closet, with a single glowing light fixture on the ceiling.
The cloakroom opened into the suite’s main living area. Rivi made an awed, mewling noise. The living area alone was larger even than the entire first cabin he’d been expecting to stay in. A mahogany dining table occupied the middle of it, inlaid with diamond patterns of lighter ash, and cherry. Four chairs surrounded it, with padded cushions and backs with openings designed for the comfort of tailed people. A vase filled with beautiful flowers in every hue served as centerpiece. Multiple baskets filled with dried and candied fruits, nuts, breads and jams, cured meats, and other welcoming but expensive snacks were arranged all around the vase. Two ceiling fans rested idle above the living area.
A large, overstuffed sofa sat at one of side of the room, along with a trio of equally plush looking recliners. They all shared the same gold and green floral pattern. Throw pillows in darker hues decorated the sofa. A low table sat between the recliners, while a small dresser was located next to the couch. A radiator peeked out from behind the sofa. Currently, a few shirts and waistcoats were tossed the sofa, while several pairs of trousers were draped over the matching chairs. A pair of black and silver pistols rested on the table, along with an assortment of magazines and stacked cartridges.
At the opposite side, a sophisticated desk was stood up against the wall. It had plenty of space for laying out documents and books. Stacks of small drawers rose on either side of it, with a large, oval-shaped mirror at the back. Writing utensils of several kinds jutted upright from ornamental jade containers, designed to look like the mouths of dragons. A reading lamp sat at one side of the mirror, while a brand new typewriter sat at the center of the desk.
Near the desk was a small countertop bar. It was complete with a collection of wine and liquor bottles, glassware, and even jars of garnishes for making cocktails. Pitchers of drinking water also adorned it. Yet another welcome basket filled with bites to eat sat at one end of the bar, with a pile of rolled cloth napkins at the other. Four stools were set up alongside the bar. From the looks of one of the open bottles, along a single glass sitting by itself, Argos had already been sampling the wares.
Floor to ceiling curtains in dark green hung across the back of the room. Golden fringes and tassels decorated them. Rivi imagined they covered up large windows, or perhaps even a balcony. A few more comfortable looking chairs and another small table sat before the curtains. Several additional doors, currently closed, led to other parts of the sweet.
Away from the crowds, and with his nose long since properly warmed, it was easier for Rivi to detect all the individual scents in the room. The flower bouquet lent the air a pleasant sweetness. Rivi wondered if the ship even had its own greenhouse to grow such things in winter, just to offer them to their highest paying guests. The myriad treats on offer added their own tantalizing aromas, mingling with the flowers and unseen incense. Then there was the acrid smell of gunpowder, and the pleasantly sharp tang of whiskey.
For the first time, Rivi was also able to discern Argos’s unique scent. Earlier, when Argos first saved him, he’d been too worked up to notice it. After that, there were so many other unfamiliar people it was hard to pick out which scent was his. But alone in Argos’ cabin, it was easy to perceive. Canines, he found, often had scents that reminded him of the rich earth, and the deep forests, while felines made him more of vast plains, or humid jungles, depending on the individual. Hints of spicy-sweet fur cologne mingled with Argos’s otherwise mountainous, forested scent.
Argos pulled the cart up near the sofa. “I’ll let you work out where you wanna put everything. I’ll get my shit out of your way, though.” Argos sat down on the couch, pulling out a storage case from beneath the table. “If you don’t mind carrying my clothes to the bedroom, I’ll take the important things.”
“I’d be happy to.” Rivi’s eyes soon lingered on the pitchers of water, and the baskets of snacks. “Do you mind if I have some of your water? I’ve scarcely had a drop since before dawn.”
Argos waved his hand. “Help yourself, Spots. This is your cabin too, now.” He quickly loaded spare cartridges into silvery magazines. “Make yourself at home. You can have whatever you want. You’re welcome to use my stuff, too.” Argos picked the pistols up off the table. “Just not the firearms, obviously. Gotta keep your hands off those, for safety reasons.”
“Certainly.” Rivi walked to the bar, and poured himself a glass of water. He’d been parched so long, he’d almost forgotten there was any other state of being. Rivi downed the water in several long gulps, then sighed in deep satisfaction. It was cool, refreshing, and eased a dryness of his throat he’d grown far too accustomed to. “Oh, that’s so much better.”
The sudden influx of water into his stomach left it rumbling uncomfortably, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since before dawn, either. Tempting as the assorted edible morsels looked, Rivi decided to forgo food a little longer. He didn’t want to get his hands messy right before handling the coyote’s clean clothing. Instead, he made due with a few more glasses of water, each finished as quickly as the last.
Argos waggled an empty magazine at him. “You know, Rivi, you can take your coat off. You know, if you want to.”
Rivi looked himself over. “Yes, I suppose I could. I feel like I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s almost become a part of me.” He set the glass down, and undid the golden buttons on the front of the deep blue overcoat. “Is it alright if I hang it in the cloakroom?”
“What did I just tell you about making yourself at home?” Argos packed things away into the padded, hardened case. “Put your stuff wherever you want.”
“Very well.” Rivi emptied his pockets out onto the bar, stacking his gloves atop his hat, and his documents pouch alongside them. He set his pocket watch next to everything else. “Is there anywhere secure for me to store my travel permits and such?”
Argos pointed towards the cupboards built into the bar counter. “There’s a safe under the bar, but I gotta find the combination for that one. There’s another in the bedroom, but it’s got stuff in it that I ain’t supposed to let civilians see.”
Rivi made an amused, mewling sound. “Yes, let’s not get either of us in trouble. I’ll leave my documents pouch here then, until I’ve learned the safe combination.”
“That’s fine.” Argos snapped his case shut, locking it. “I got a spare key for you somewhere, too.”
“Thank you.” Rivi slowly wriggled out of his overcoat. Even without its warming embrace, the many layers he wore beneath it prevented a sudden rush of cold air from breeching his fur. “I don’t believe I’ve ever worn so many strata of clothing just to stay warm as I have the last few days. Today, in particular.”
“Yeah, winters up here are rough.” Argos looked the cheetah over, grinning. “You cats really like your colors, don’t you. Iosa would love that sweater.”
Rivi peered down at himself. His long-sleeved, padded sweater was a rich, royal purple, with bright golden stripes running diagonally down its sleeves. “We do enjoy presenting ourselves in colorful clothing, it’s true. My winter clothes are actually rather muted compared to some of my wardrobe. Sadly, I was unable to find any insulted trousers available in the sort of colors I might otherwise like.” Rivi folded his coat across his arm, smiling at Argos. “I like your waistcoat, by the way. It’s a lovely sort of, red-wine hue.”
“Thanks.” Argos adjusted it, then glanced away, muttering something about a vest. “Get your coat hung up, and help me make some room for you.”
Rivi returned to the cloakroom. Thanks to the snow that had long since melted upon it, his overcoat remained a little damp on the outside. The cheetah decided to hang it up on a wall hook, to give it time to dry. He didn’t want to risk putting it into the closest and getting any of Argos’s garments wet as well. The cheetah returned to the living room to find Argos folding up the shirts and waistcoats that had been draped across the furniture.
“Let me help with that.” Rivi quickly busied himself gathering up the rest of Argos’s spare clothing. He folded shirts and trousers neatly, draping each across his arm. Then he held his arms out, and Argos passed him the rest. “Where would you like this?”
“We can put it in the bedroom.” Argos picked up the armored crate, carrying it across the suite. “My guns ain’t makin’ you uncomfortable, are they? I can keep things out of sight, if you want.”
Rivi shook his head, padding after the coyote. “No, not in the least. I have seen firearms before, you know.” His eyes shifted towards the faintly visible bulges beneath Argos’s waistcoat. “Can’t say as I’ve ever been menaced by someone with them, though.”
Argos flattened his ears. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t really scare that wolf off without scaring you, too.”
“I understand,” Rivi said. “I am curious, though. Does the ship allow anyone to carry such weaponry, or just people like you?”
“Mostly just security.” Argos carried the case towards a door near the back of the living space. “That wolf probably forged some kinda carry permit, or had connections on board.” He tilted his head towards the deep green curtains. “There’s an enclosed balcony, out there. Pulled the curtains over the windows cause I was trying to have a nap, earlier.” The coyote set the case down next to the closed door. “Bedroom’s through here.” He pointed to another door nearby. “Washroom’s in there.” Argos grasped the doorhandle, then paused. “I hope you ain’t kiddin’ about being okay around guns, cause you’re about to see a lot of ‘em.”
“You’ve got more?” Rivi’s ears rose, and his voice rose with them.
“Sure do.” Argos pushed the door open, then picked up his case again. “Iosa and I are sorta in transit between jobs, right now. So, we got damn near an armory to transport.”
“How exciting,” Rivi said, his belly twisting up in nervous anticipation. “I’ve never seen a secret policeman’s arsenal, before. Are you certain it’s allowable for me to do so?”
Argos only laughed, carrying his crate inside. “Most of it ain’t even getting unpacked. We’re transporting it, not fightin’ a war. Some of it’s out, though. Been doing some maintenance in my free time.”
Rivi followed Argos into the bedroom. It alone was larger than he imagined most of the ship’s cabins to be. An immense, four poster bed occupied one side of it. A spread of fluffy, powder blue blankets covered the bed, along with a host of matching pillows. A few more pillows colored like sunshine mingled with the rest. A wraparound desk was built into the corner of the room. Argos had scattered an assortment of tools and documents across it, with a deconstructed pistol. Nearby was a tall cherrywood radio cabinet with a single, large speaker, and an attached phonograph for playing recorded music. More pistols of various makes and sizes were littered across the bedspread. Mixed in amidst them was a single, extremely large revolver. A repeating rifle rested up against the pillows, its silver-gray metals and richly grained wood shining as if freshly polished.
“Oh, wow…” Rivi stared at the weaponry on display. “You have so many guns.”
Argos barked canine laughter. “You should see what Iosa brought.” He walked into the room, beckoning Rivi after him.
Rivi followed along, finding the display somehow both frightening, and exhilarating. He was quite certain he’d heard at least one radio serial in which the main character laid out his own weaponry on a hotel bed, in much the same way. Now, to think he was staying in the same cabin as an actual secret policeman, who must have been on some kind of equally secret mission to be so well armed. The cheetah clicked his tongue. If only his Father could see him now. Rooming with a gun-collecting canine. A handsome gun-collecting canine, Rivi allowed himself to think. If his father knew that part, he might not have been so eager to see Rivi off onto his pilgrimage.
Argos set the crate down near the foot of his bed, then turned towards Rivi. “Gimme that stuff.”
The cheetah passed Argos his clothing, then moved to the edge of the bed, looking over all of Argos’s assembled firearms. “Do you actually use all these?”
“Not necessarily.” Argos walked into the voluminous closet attached to the bedroom. He quickly put folded clothing onto shelves, and hangers. “But it’s important for people in my line of work to be prepared for any eventuality. You never know what the next assignment is gonna call for.”
“I see.” Rivi studied the immense revolver on the center of the bed. Most of it was silvery-gray, but the grip was black, and inlaid with pearl in the shape of a stylized canine skull. “This one’s huge.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Argos joined Rivi alongside the bed. “You ever held one, before?”
Rivi nodded, his spotted tail swishing. “A few times, believe it or not. My father’s taken me shooting. He even took me hunting once, but I was a terrible, terrible shot.” Rivi waved his hand at the ceiling, as if illustrating an entire flock of birds. “There must have been a dozen ducks in the sky, and somehow I missed them all.” He scrunched his muzzle. “With a scattergun.”
Argos only smiled at him, the same, all-too-easy going smile that Rivi was quickly growing to enjoy. “Yeah, well, first times are always a little disappointing.” He reached out, and picked up the grand revolver. “You ever handled a canine’s weapon, before?” The coyote’s tail swished, bumping against Rivi’s.
Scattered goosebumps broke out beneath Rivi’s fur at the touch. He splayed his ears, swallowing. The cheetah was unsure if Argos was intentionally teasing him with a tawdry double meaning, or if it was merely an impure thought creeping in, and twisting the coyote’s words. He shook his head. “I’ve only held feline firearms, before. Are they different?”
“They are from what I hear. Haven’t had much practicing handling feline equipment myself, though.” He snapped the revolver’s cylinder open, displaying the empty chambers. “Now, I ain’t supposed to hand these to no civilian, but as you can see, it’s empty.” Argos flicked his wrist, snapping it closed it again. “Which means you’re welcome to hold it, if you want.” He held a finger up. “However, that’s probably the one rule I gotta lay down between us. No touching my firearms without permission. You ain’t likely to know what’s loaded, and what ain’t.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry.” Rivi held his hands up. “I’d never touch anything of yours without your permission.”
Argos’s smile grew wider still. “That’s good. Consent’s important. Question is…” The coyote’s tail swished, this time bumping against Rivi’s leg. “Do you want to touch something of mine?”
Rivi worked his muzzle, unable to find words. Now, even he was sure the canine was teasing him. He wasn’t entirely sure Argos was flirting, so much as simply applying a double entendre. Or, Rivi thought, was that flirting? His ears heated, surely flushing red inside. If this kept up, Rivi worried steam would somehow erupt from them like in some silly newspaper cartoon. Silence lingered between them, and Rivi screamed at himself to say something. To say anything. We’re letting it happen again, Rivi! Quick, say something! Anything! Just don’t embarrass yourself, this time!
The cheetah forced himself to speak, trying to mimic Argos’s smooth, easy banter. “Why, yes, Mister Secret Policeman, I’d love to touch you.” Rivi blinked when Argos’s ears lifted. The feline made a horrified chirping noise, then desperately struggled to amend himself without giving away his sudden internal panic. “I mean, I’d love to touch yours.” Damn it, Rivi, that’s worse! “Your gun! I meant your gun. I’d love to hold your gun. By which, I mean, your actual firearm, and nothing else!”
“Don’t know what else you’d be referring to.” Argos’s grin remained, his voice smooth and even. He held the revolver out, keeping it pointed away from the two of them. “Before you take it, keep in mind it’s heavy, so don’t drop it. And even though it’s not loaded, always keep it pointed away from people. Safety starts with careful habits.”
Rivi breathed a little sigh of relief that Argos didn’t tease him over his slip of the tongue. After the coyote’s talk of acceptance, Rivi was willing to allow himself to believe Argos wouldn’t think too ill of him for his impure thoughts. But it remained a refreshing and pleasant surprise not to be teased or mocked over his strange mannerisms, or his foolish babbling, either.
The cheetah nodded, his tail flicking. This time, it was Rivi’s tail that bumped Argos, and Rivi did not mind at all. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Not yet.” Argos laid his hands flat, supporting the gun against his palms. “There. Now you can take it by the grip without worrying about touching my pads.”
“Thank you!” Rivi smiled at him, warmed by his thoughtfulness. He carefully wrapped his fingers around the ebony and pearl grip, then lifted the weapon away from Argos’s hands. As promised, it was quite heavy. Just hefting it was enough to leave his sore shoulders aching a little. “You weren’t lying about its weightiness.”
“Canines make sturdy shit.” Argos braced a finger underneath the barrel, raising it. “Hold it up about here. When you look down the sights, you want to line up the one at the end, between the two at the back. Use the little black mark to help you.”
Rivi lifted the gun to eye level. He squinted, staring down the length of the barrel. He tried to do as Argos instructed, but the soreness of his arms left the revolver wobbling. “I’m afraid my poor shoulders may be a bit too worn out for this.”
“That’s alright.” Argos reached towards him, then hesitated. “Can I adjust your hands a little? I gotta touch you to do so.”
“Go ahead,” Rivi said. “Your pads against the back of my hands is alright. Thank you for asking.”
“No problem, Spots.” Argos cradled Rivi’s hands in his. “Shift your fingers up a little, here.” His arm brushed across Rivi’s.
Rivi did as Argos instructed. The coyote’s hands were incredibly warm against his own, and almost shockingly gentle. “Like that?”
“Perfect.” Argos guided Rivi’s other hand further down. “Now, use this hand to brace the other, beneath the grip. Almost like you’re resting it against your palm.”
Once again, Rivi followed the coyote’s guidance. When he adjusted the way he held the gun, Rivi found it a little easier to hold it steady. The sights aligned, and though the barrel still wobbled, it was nowhere near as unsteady. “That’s much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Argos kept his hands against Rivi’s a few moments longer. “You want me to cock the hammer, so you can wanna pull the trigger?”
Rivi glanced at the coyote, then back at the gun. He did, but more so, he didn’t want Argos to remove his hands. “Yes, please.”
Argos kept one hand against Rivi’s, and used the other to slowly cock back the hammer. Then he adjusted Rivi’s grasp again, nudging a single finger up towards the trigger. “Put your finger around it. When you’re ready, squeeze it back real slow. It’s gonna take some pressure, but you wanna resist the urge to just pull it hard and fast. All that’ll do is mess with your aim. Slow, and steady. When the hammer strikes, you almost want it to startle you.”
Rivi’s heart thundered in his chest. Argos was close enough now he could feel the warmth of the coyote’s body, even through his layered winter clothing. His arm brushed Rivi. Had the cheetah wished it, he could have leaned his head onto Argo’s shoulder. Queues and the like notwithstanding, it was rare for the cheetah to be so physically close with another person. Rivi’s breathing picked up, slightly. He hoped Argos could not hear the way his heart was hammering against his sternum. Slowly, he squeezed the trigger. At first, it opposed him with a stiffness that practically dared him just to jerk his finger back. But he did as the coyote suggested, and forced himself to maintain a slow, but steadily increasing pressure until-
CLICK!
Rivi jumped when the hammer struck home, his tail fluffing out. “Ahh!” He chittered nervous, feline laughter. “You weren’t kidding.”
Argos laughed with him. “That was great, Spots!” He glanced behind the cheetah, grinning. “I think your tail just doubled in size.”
“It does that, from time to time.” Rivi offered the coyote a sheepish smile, his ears halfway perked.
“Yeah, I bet it does.” Argos kept his hands in place around Rivi’s. “You wanna go again, or is once enough for now?”
“I’ve probably frightened myself enough for one day.” Hesitant as Rivi was to remove himself from the coyote’s steady grasp, and warm touch, he feared to continue, lest all manner of impure thoughts and temptation continue to creep into his fatigue-addled mind. “That was fun, though.”
“Glad to hear it.” Argos carefully took the firearm back, and then returned it to the bed. “You know, Spots, they got a shooting gallery on the ship. I’d be happy to take you shooting sometime, if you’re interested.”
Rivi rubbed the back of a hand, ruffling his spotted fur. His hands felt oddly cold without Argos holding them. “That sounds exciting! Although…” He twisted up his muzzle, forcing himself to stare at Argos’s guns. “You don’t need to babysit me, you know. You’ve already gone so far out of your way, just to share your cabin with me. I don’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me, or watch out for me, or-”
“Someone’s gotta watch out for you, Cat.” Argos held a hand up. “And I don’t want you to take no offense to that. But it’s a cruel world out there, and it’s awful clear to me you ain’t got a cruel bone in your body.” Argos ushered Rivi back out of his bedroom, still talking. “It’s why I was willing to let you stay here. “We talked about it earlier, I know. You got a heart full of goodness, and a mind full of confusion. But you ain’t cut out for the rigors of traveling the world by yourself. You shouldn’t have to doing all this on your own.”
Rivi stared down at the plush, golden carpeting. “But the Scholar’s Pilgrimage is meant to be a mostly solitary sojurn.”
“Ain’t what I’m talking about.” Argos closed the door behind himself, then turned back to Rivi. “You had a guide, right? Till he ditched you?”
The cheetah gave an irritable growl. “Yes. His name was Fafren. And if I ever see him again, I’m liable to give him a smoldering piece of my mind.”
Argos snorted, walking to the bar. “I think he’d be more deserving of a punch in the snout. But that’s what I meant.” The coyote poured himself a measure of whiskey. “You drink, Spots?”
Rivi padded after him. “I’m allowed to consume alcohol, yes.”
Argos gave a single, amused canine yap. “I meant, do you want a drink?”
The cheetah shook his head. “No thank you. Not on an empty stomach.”
“Oh shit, that’s right.” Argos slapped the counter. “Let’s go get you fed.” Then he splayed his ears, and took a sip of whiskey. “First, though, let’s get one thing straight. As long as you’re sharing my room, in my mind, that makes me accountable to you. So, from now on, I’m gonna do what your guide was supposed to, and keep you outta trouble. Maybe I can even teach you a few things…” Argos took another drink, a smirk twitching at his lips. “Like not to trust strangers who only show up when you flash your money around.”
Rivi’s ears drooped. “Certainly not my wisest decision.”
“And I ain’t bringing it up to make you feel bad.” Argos sat the glass down. “Just making the point that right now, on this ship, you need someone watching your back.” He held a hand up. “Ain’t no shame in that, Spots, so don’t you start feeling none. Everyone needs help sometimes, we just need it in different ways. So, I’m starting to figure…” Argos approached him. “That for the duration of this trip, I’m gonna be your new guide. And when it’s over, before we part ways, I’ll help you arrange a qualified replacement. Someone who sure as hell ain’t gonna abandon you in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”
“You…” Rivi swallowed, his tail flicking in nervous agitation. The last thing he wanted to do was prove an inconvenience to Argos. “You don’t need to do that.”
“No, I don’t.” Argos shook his head. “But I’m starting to think I want to. So again, for the rest of the trip. I’m…” He poked his chest. “Gonna watch your back.” He gently jabbed his finger into Rivi’s chest, his voice somehow both firm, and playful all at once. “We have an understanding, Spots?”
“Yes, Argos.” Rivi lifted his eyes, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his muzzle. For the first time since Rivi woke to find himself alone, he felt safe. “We have an understanding.”
