A.N.D. - Wolf Woods

The trick to appearing regal, Wendell reminded himself, is to never let your eyes glaze over.

Having royal audiences with his subjects without passing out from sheer boredom was turning into a task of the same heroic proportions as his famous journey. Still, there had been a noticeable upswing in Fourth Kingdom morale once he’d started. Made the people think he was open and sympathetic to them, blah, blah, blah, etc. So he stifled a yawn behind his white glove and waved for the man ahead of him to continue. Which case was next? Something stultifying, he was sure. Well, they’d tell him when the audience started. Please, just let it not include the word “wolf” anywhere in it!

The footman banged his staff. “Sire! Farmer Giles of Horners Hamlet!”

A rough man in very rural clothing scuttled in and went down on one knee. “Your majesty, I come to ask pardon for my brother, just sent to Snow White Memorial Prison on a false charge!”

“What charge was that?”

“Attacking a wolf, sire!”

Wendell closed his eyes. Oh, to be a gold statue again! “Continue,” he said, trying not to moan the word.

“He killed a wolf, he did, and your law has sent him away for murder-but it wasn’t murder! He was only defending himself!”

“Everyone says that. He did receive a trial?”

“Yes, but it was fixed! Everyone knows that the judge is a secret-” the man made as if to spit, obviously remembered where he was, and swallowed both saliva and expletive, finishing lamely, “wolf-lover.” He looked up, twisting his hat between his hands. “So I came to you to beg for clemency.”

“I see. Tell me what happened.” Bored beyond belief, Wendell paid only the slightest attention to the babbling farmer. Thirty-eight flagstones in the floor against the far wall, thirty-nine, forty. Second row, forty-one, forty two...

“... the wolf came sneaking in at nightfall. It came right through the sheep pasture, then crept past the tables-we had them set up for the village festival but it never even looked at the serving plates, so we knew it was hunting men...”

... sixty-five, sixty-six... now that was just ridiculous! Who ever heard of a wolf-any wolf, even his Wolf-walking right past that amount of easy food? “That doesn’t sound like any wolf I know,” Wendell pointed out. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything?”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Farmer Giles insisted. He went on with his story, but Wendell’s attention had been caught by a flash of light over to one side.

The image in the truth mirror was rippling. It had never done that before! While Wendell watched in fascination, the reflection of the throne room started to fade away.

“As I was telling you, the sneaky old devil came in through the fields under the cover of night. He snarled and snapped at us all...”

In the mirror, a youth hardly old enough to be called a man, trotted down the dusty main street in broad daylight, his tail waving gently behind him. He tipped a dusty hat to the men and leered jovially at the women.

“Like I said, he ran right past the feast table, never even looking at the food...”

The wolf was riveted by the sight of all that food, and Wendell found his own mouth watering in sympathy. Those farmers did put out a good spread!

“He said we had to do what he told us to, or he’d eat one of us...”

Mouths moved, but no sound came from the mirror. Still, the meaning was plain as the wolf mimed hauling water, hoeing weeds, and painting something, always looking back at the feast table. He ended up with his head to one side, his hands out, and a question in every line of his body.

“We were so scared that we did everything. He worked us like dogs!”

The wolf panted in the sun, his charming grin fading as he tried to keep up with the other farmers.

“But nothing was enough for that beast!”

He looked ready to drop and his clothes were covered in paint spatters and bits of weed. But when he tried to join the others settling down at the table, Giles pushed him back. A man who looked like a slightly older Giles got up and left the mirror’s range. The wolf snapped in frustration and Wendell got a chill as his mute mouth framed the words as Giles spoke them.

“We just gave it what it had earned!”

“Hold it right there!” Both Giles and the mirror froze. Wendell stepped down from the throne, grabbing Giles by the shirt and turning him to face the now-still picture of a tired young wolf arguing with Giles, unaware that a hoe was about to come down on the back of his head.

“That is the truth mirror,” Wendell hissed. “Apparently the truth is that your brother is not only guilty of murder, but that you are an accessory to that murder. Yes, I shall rectify this miscarriage of justice. Guards!”

Two members of his personal guard ran in, one of them on four feet. The wolf saw the mirror and turned to Giles, snarling.

“No! King Wendell, King Wendell, you can’t be meaning to feed me to that monster!”

“Of course not.” The wolf looked disappointed. He wasn’t sure it was acting. “These men are here to take you straight to Snow White Memorial Prison on a charge to accessory to murder. Unharmed,” he told the wolf, who had opened its mouth and was stealthily sneaking up on the farmer. It closed its mouth, lowering its head and tail apologetically.

Giles was still babbling as he was hauled out. “No! No, you can’t be... I came for mercy! My brother...”

“I am being merciful,” Wendell snapped, turning his back to look at the mirror, which once again reflected the room. “I’m reuniting you with him, aren’t I?”

The mirror would show little things-he’d seen it expose Wolf as a wolf, for example-but it had never told a story before. This was fascinating! “Footman! Cancel my audiences for today and reschedule them tomorrow.” As the servant bowed and exited, Wendell tried to play with his new royal toy.

“Mirror! Show me... Lady Virginia!”

His reflection blinked back, hopeful expression fading to disappointment.

“Mirror! Tell me the truth-what is happening to Lady Virginia?”

Oh, do I really flush like that when I get frustrated? How ugly.

“Mirror! I’m telling the truth! Show me anything!

His reflection sighed along with him.

It had been very wise of him to give Anthony a castle that was only an hour and a half’s hard riding away. It made it very easy to gallop over and bother-he meant, ask a royal favor of-his friend at any odd time.

When he was ushered into Anthony’s office/laboratory, the first thing he saw was a lone tail waving over the desk.

“Anthony?”

Sebastian popped up, beakers in both hands, and bobbed a sort-of-bow. “Your majesty, sorry, I’m just performing a few experiments.”

“I see. If I might speak to Lord Anthony, please.” The wolf didn’t put the beakers down. “It’s important.”

“I’m sure it is, Sire, it’s just that... well, he’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

The normally composed wolf was wilting before his eyes. “I... I... I don’t know, your highness. He told me that he was leaving for a few weeks, that I should continue the experiments and send the reports to you, and I should send him any supplies he wrote for.” Cringing from Wendell’s expression, he added, “He left a letter that I’m supposed to give you if and only if you asked for him.”

He scampered to get it, then stood by Wendell, wringing his hands. “Does he say where he’s gone? We were expressly ordered not to track him, but everyone in town thinks we ate him!”

Wordlessly, Wendell showed him the page.

Wendell,
I think I know how to make it right with the dwarves. Don’t try to find me. I have to do this alone. Give Sebastian anything he asks for. He can give you everything you need. He’s the real inventor. I’ll keep in touch. Be back soon unless I run into another magical fruitcake.
-- Tony

“What does he mean, you’re the inventor?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I like thinking about things and running experiments.” He was quick to add, “But Lord Anthony has all these great ideas! He knows so much, he’s very valuable to you, I’m not trying to take his place...”

Wendell held up a hand and the wolf shushed. “Lord Anthony is a good man, but I know his inventions are things that already exist in his world. He doesn’t invent, he... remembers. That doesn’t matter to me, because his machines and toys were unknown here and they are useful.” He cocked his head, considering the wolf before him. “However, now I find myself in a situation where someone must look at a specific problem and find a solution.”

The wolf bounced once with eagerness before remembering his manners. Wendell suppressed a smile. “Oh! I’m good at that, your majesty! When the dwarves refused to work with Lord Anthony, I thought of using blacksmiths to build his water-heater parts. And I’ve figured out how to use rubber to make those bouncy castles.”

“Have you worked with magical items?”

“Not yet, sire.”

“You’re about to.”

Sebastian had changed into cleaner clothes and tucked his tail back in, but the mirror showed it hanging behind him anyway. “What did the farmer say, exactly?”

Wendell shrugged. “I’m afraid I wasn’t lis... I mean, I was so started by what was happening that I’m not sure of the exact wording.”

Sebastian was leaning so close to the frame that his breath fogged the glass, running gentle fingertips over the carving. “I don’t see a catch to turn it on and off.” He prodded one or two curlicues, then shrugged. “It’s not something the farmer did, I don’t think.”

“No, he started lying and it showed the truth.”

“Hmmmm.” Sebastian stepped back. “Lord Anthony is secretly a wolf.”

The mirror serenely remained unchanged.

“I tried getting it to show me people, and it wouldn’t.”

“Maybe it needs to see an action? Er... Lord Anthony howls at the moon every night.”

Nothing.

“I howl at the moon when it’s full.”

Nothing.

“But that’s the truth!” Sebastian growled in frustration, literally. “I’m telling the truth, I howl!”

The mirror rippled and changed. Wendell felt his jaw drop as Sebastian’s reflection dropped to a feral crouch, nose pointed upwards, mouth wide in a silent howl. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know... I said I would tell the truth, and it showed-that must be it! It has a verbal trigger to show action-the words ‘I’m Telling The Truth’.”

“Tell a lie.”

“Ummm... I ate Lord Anthony. Uh, I’m telling the truth, I ate Lord Anthony.”

The image dissolved into shining ripples, but nothing else happened. Wendell stamped a foot in frustration, but Sebastian cocked his head. “Your majesty, we’ve discovered how to turn it on. That’s very important.”

“But not useful! This way, it’s not even good as a mirror!” Wendell pointed at the glowing waves. “Stop it!”

Instantly, their reflections winked back in. “What did I do?” Wendell blurted.

The reflection of Sebastian’s tail started tentatively wagging. “You gave it an order, your highness. It is your mirror, made for you. Perhaps it knows that.”

“But why won’t it obey my orders? It didn’t show you eating-or not eating-Lord Anthony, it won’t show me the people I ask for...”

“Magic is a vague, slippery thing. Oh! Maybe I wasn’t specific enough.” Sebastian took a deep breath. “I’m telling the truth, I ate Lord Anthony last Tuesday night.”

The ripples cleared, showing Sebastian hard at work in the laboratory, totally absorbed in measuring things in tubes and beakers. He barely looked up when Lord Anthony came in, silently said something, and left two letters on the table.

“Why are you so focused on eating Anthony, anyway?” Wendell couldn’t help edging away from the wolf.

“To prove I haven’t!”

“All right, all right, calm down...” The reflection’s eyes were glowing yellow, although Sebastian’s weren’t. Yet. Time for a quick distraction, now that he knew how to work it. “Mirror! Show me the truth! Show me what Lord Anthony did on last Tuesday night.”

Two very disappointed looking reflections looked back at them.

“It is a mirror, your majesty. Perhaps it needs to be showing someone before it can tell the truth about them.”

Only one way to check that. “Mirror! Show me the truth! What was Sebastian doing last night?”

“No! Your majest-“

When ordered by its master, the mirror also provided sound effects. After a few seconds, Wendell shouted, “Stop! Clear!” and their blushing reflections reappeared. Wendell cleared his throat. “Your girlfriend-“

“Mate, your majesty.”

“...mate, is, er, very limber.”

“Uh, thank you, your majesty. Your majesty, can I go back to the lab now? Please?”