Benlunar - Episode 14
Four legged friends
The Roads of Alicium run through it like veins
From small paths down mountains to city built lanes
They’ll guide you home or take you away
Or make you visit village that begs you to stay
Up through the pass, down through the grass
Stick to your map, veer not from the path
Or perhaps take an unfamiliar bend
After all, the aim of the song is the tune not the end
That night, Lilian slept soundly in a corner of the great circular room. Stephanie had fetched blankets for her and Mr Attorcop and Lilian gladly wrapped herself in the soft wool and lay her head on a sheepskin pillow. As she drifted off to sleep, she remembered the cold silence that had descended on the room when she had mentioned her theory about the painted messages. Zinnia’s face had been a mask of shock. That anyone in her community would want to hurt them was unthinkable, let alone force them out of their homes by use of threats and intimidation. It was clear that Zinnia had a lot to consider and so she quickly summoned blankets and bade them to sleep, they would tackle the matter tomorrow. And so, with the crackling of the fire popping in her mind, Lilian drifted into a deep sleep where she dreamt of home only it was run by dogs who spoke and who only ever wanted to eat carrots.
Seeing Hundsberg in the light of day was a wonderful experience. Lilian had assumed that all the wood and mud would make the town a dull brown but she was surprised to see just how much colour there was. The walls were painted with murals and words inspiring love and a strong sense of community. There were bright orange walls across from purple window frames. Stephanie explained that the dyes and paints were all made from the surrounding plants and insects. She was taking them to the spot where the first message appeared, Mr Attorcop had asked to see it. Fritha was staying close to Lilian and was giving the Hundsberg murals a run for their money with an array of bright blues and gold shimmering on her slick fur. Lilian wondered if she was playing up to the crowd. People stared as they walked past, some were brave and went to try and touch her but each time they did she would slip away from their hands, just as she did whenever Lilian tried. Stephanie guided them through little alleyways and side passages, the houses in Hundsberg clearly made use of all available space so it took some maneuvering to get round the back of the main, circular building they had slept in last night. The journey had made Lilian realise why Zinnia had been so shocked to hear that the culprit might be one of their own citizens. The sense of shared experience and community was very strong. She guessed it had to be if everyone lived so close to one another. Lilian would spot people walking freely in and out of each other’s houses, they would smile and greet each other with the kind of happiness that Benlunar folk might only express after not seeing a close friend for many months. Everyone had their dog with them at all times and Lilian began to realise that they were not merely companions. They would help with hunting, with guarding the town against danger, with tracking lost townsfolk but their uses went beyond the practical. They comforted children when they fell over, they played with their owners and brought a sense of fun and silliness to this strange forest town. Lilian watched as a child, probably no older than 7 or 8, played catch with his yappy brown and black puppy. They seemed to feed off each other’s energy. Lilian looked at Fritha and wondered if she would ever see this serious and sullen creature catch a ball and bring it back.
When they got to the site of the first message, Mr Attorcop began asking about the paint. The words had long been scrubbed clean but faint outlines could still be seen.
“The words were red.” Stephanie was still smiling, despite the gravity of the message, “I think it was meant to look like blood. It could have been blood I suppose, but we use a lot of red paint made from boiled berries and we never found any corpses or dead things lying around.” Mr Attorcop was looking closely at the wall while Lilian was casting an eye on their surroundings. The large building backed onto a small space, probably only the size of Lilian’s kitchen back in Benlunar. The wall stretched across one side while a steep mudbank flanked the other. Lilian saw a lot of various footprints, both human and dog running up and down the bank so it would have been difficult to track anyone. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place where the writing would be clearly visible.
“The message could have been up for quite a while before anyone noticed it.” She said to Mr Attorcop.
“Yes.” He replied, “But I suppose if they didn’t want to be caught in the act it makes sense to put it back here. It would have been found eventually. Who did you say found the message Stephanie?”
“A boy. Gerhart. He was playing back here and he screamed when he saw the message.” Mr Attorcop paused and turned back to look at Stephanie.
“Playing?” He said, “What was he playing?” Stephanie looked confused.
“I’m not sure. He just said he was playing. Probably a game with his dog, I think her name is Kiki.” Mr Attorcop shrugged and turned back to the wall. Stephanie’s dog, Leonardo, was by her side and suddenly began to paw at her leg. She turned to him and raised a finger,
“Hold Leonardo.” Lilian was fascinated.
“What does he want?” She asked.
“Oh, we train them to tell us when they need to go to the toilet. He is telling me he needs to go, I am telling him to wait because we are busy.”
“Are all the dogs this well trained?” Said Lilian, looking at Leonardo who had gone back to sitting patiently.
“Oh yes, our lives may depend on it. Everyone relies on their dog and everyone’s dog relies on them. I am the only person who is allowed to feed Leonardo and I trust him with my safety, always.” Lilian caught herself glancing at Fritha again. It was as if she was being haunted by a strange ghost. There was a relationship between them, but not one anyone might call close. Stephanie must have noticed Lilian’s disappointment.
“Do you do any training with Fritha Amelia? Do you play together?” Lilian still wasn’t used to being called a different name. She flushed, she felt embarrassed to admit to such a competent dog owner that her own companion had little to no training and generally did as she pleased. She didn’t even dare call Fritha her dog.
“No. I… I wouldn’t know what to do. She’s amazing but I feel like she could leave at any minute and never come back.” Stephanie smiled broadly.
“No. She will not do this. She will stay with you for the rest of her life, I am sure of this in the same way that I am sure I can see you standing here in front of me.” Lilian smiled a hopeful, all be it disbelieving smile. Stephanie’s posture suddenly changed, her gaze fell to the floor and she seemed ashamed to speak.
“Miss Amelia, I hope I am not being too bold or rude but…” She paused, clearly very uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Asked Lilian,
“Well… If you wouldn’t mind, I could help you to train Fritha? But of course, only with permission. I’m sorry, in my culture training someone else’s dog is something you do with very young children, after that it is considered very rude...”
“Yes…” Lilian interrupted her. “I would love that. I’ve never even had a dog and I wouldn’t even know where to start. Please, would you help us?” Stephanie’s smile was so wide Lilian worried she might pull a muscle.
“It would be my honour.” And to Lilian’s surprise she bowed and then to Lilian’s delight, Leonardo lowered his head and bowed too.
“Once everyone is quite finished with the theatrics I should like to see the other sites.” Mr Attorcop had evidently finished examining the wall and motioned for Stephanie to lead the way.
The other spots that had been vandalised were also in secluded areas, although each new warning was closer to the main street. It appeared that whoever was leaving them was getting bolder with each attempt. Lilian didn’t gain much more information from the other sites and she wondered whether Mr Attorcop might have noticed something she hadn’t. Perhaps she was distracted by the thought of training Fritha. It was an exciting concept but something was worrying her still. Fritha was not a domesticated animal, she was a wild beast, would she even respond to training in the same way? After examining all the sites they sat down to eat in the main hut that they had slept in the night before. Zinnia must have been busy with town business because she did not join them. Lilian happily ate the thick soup that had been cooking on the central fire all morning. It was thick and chunky with soft vegetables and bits of meat floating in it. It might not have been much to look at but when Lilian sipped the broth her taste buds lit up. She knew the taste of the various vegetables, but the unfamiliar herbs and spice made it almost as good as the traditional Benlunar beef stew. She had to pace herself in eating it, lest it disappear before she could enjoy it properly. When she was about half way through her bowl, she looked up to see Stephanie behaving rather strangely. She was carefully extracting various chunks of meat and vegetables from her bowl and placing them on the floor in a little line between Lilian and Fritha. The Feinhound was sitting imperiously looking at this strange behaviour, her sharp eyes quickly darting from Stephanie to the food and back again. Once she had placed about six different morsels down she knelt beside Lilian and whispered.
"Call her to the food." Lilian drained the last of her broth and swallowed nervously. She looked at Fritha's beautiful cat-like eyes, shining in the low light of the hut. She looked like a queen draped across the animal skins in perfectly poised comfort.
"Fritha!" Lilian spoke in her clearest, most commanding voice, but as she predicted, Fritha did not move. She merely stared and then proceeded to lick her paw. Lilian turned to Stephanie, disheartened.
"Don't worry." She said, "you must have patience. This is the only way."
"I fed her an hour ago." said Lilian, "She must not be hungry." Stephanie was not convinced.
"When we find the right food, she will never want to stop! Look at Leonardo, he will do anything for a bit of chicken." At the mere mention of the word Leonardo stood up and cocked his head expectantly. Lilian giggled and looked back at Fritha. She was standing up and cautiously approached the line of food. She sniffed the chunk of meat and picked at it gingerly. Lilian smiled. "There! What kind of meat is that?"
"It is lamb I think. But this is not the right one. She is eating but she is not excited. When we find the right food or toy, we can begin training." Lilian didn't understand why they couldn't use lamb but she put her trust in Stephanie's experience.
Mr Attorcop hadn't been paying any attention to the proceedings. His head was wrapped up in a mystery. It was one of his favourite mental spaces to be. He twisted and turned the morning’s observations in his head like a carpenter examining a box from all angles. Each piece of information represented a lock in his head and every lock could only be opened with one key. The keys of course were the different theories surrounding the motivations and circumstances of the mystery. Some keys opened several locks, but only one would open them all and reveal the boxes contents. Currently, Mr Attorcop was wrestling with a particular lock, the one that represented motive. If his and Lilian’s theory was correct, and the words had indeed been written by someone in the village, he needed to know why. He had considered other locks, like getting everyone in the village to write down a sentence and comparing their handwriting to the graffiti, but this would take far too long and the culprit would easily figure out his intention and purposefully change their pen style. He had considered interviewing every single person in town but again, this would take days and he would rather leave Hundsberg within the week. The mystery was too enticing to simply ignore though, and a few days rest wouldn’t hurt their journey. No, he thought as he gazed at the little animal that obediently followed Stephanie around, the key to this mess lies in motivation. If I can work out why someone would want to relocate the town, I can narrow down the suspects to people who agree with them. This should speed up the process considerably.
“Amelia,” Mr Attorcop drained his bowl and addressed his ward, Lilian looked up, the name sounded even stranger coming from him, “If you don’t mind staying with Stephanie this afternoon I’m going to conduct some interviews.” Lilian was pleased to get the chance to work with Stephanie but felt a pang of worry,
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Lilian asked, they had done everything together for weeks, this sudden desire to work alone struck her as odd.
“I’ll be fine. I have an idea I’d like to test and I believe this might be easier to do alone.” Mr Attorcop saw Lilian’s expression and wondered why she looked so hurt. He tried to address it. “Don’t worry,” He said, “All will be clear by this evening. I leave you in Stephanie’s capable hands.” And with that he drew back the curtain across the hut’s entrance and stepped into the dappled light of the forest village.
The ground was hard and dry and Cromwell Attorcop’s feet carried him silently across Hundsberg’s main street until he found what he was looking for. He walked past people and dogs gathered on corners, sitting on beautifully carved benches. He nodded to a group of young men who were busy tanning a hide in a low pit, the smell of chemicals made him wince but he stopped nonetheless to admire the bags, shoes and various other produce that the tanners had created. It was good work, not as decorative as Freedos leather with its fancy studs and perforations that catered to the taste of nobles who would never need their shoes to walk through muck and puddles. These boots were sturdy and chemically treated to the point of being comfortable as well as waterproof. He spoke with the tanners and purchased a pair of dark boots. They were expensive but they would last him many years if he treated them regularly with the wax provided by the Hundsberg leather workers. He agreed to pay a little extra and bought Lilian a pair as well. Finally, he asked one of the men where he might find Gerhart, the child who had first seen the message written on the wall.
“Why do you wish to speak with Gerhart?” Replied the man, pocketing Cromwell’s gold and turning back to his tools.
“I’m investigating the strange messages that have been found on the walls. I believe he was the first to see one. I just want to ask him a couple of questions.” He tried to sound as non-threatening as possible, always a useful tactic when asking to speak with someone’s infant son.
“If you go to Der Letzte Tropfen at the end of the road there. You should meet Siegfried. That is Gerhart’s uncle.” Mr Attorcop nodded,
“How will I know him?” A couple of the men smile at the question. One replied,
“You won’t miss him. You might even see him with your eyes closed.” This was met with some chuckles and one of the younger lads said something in another language which was met with outright laughter. It seemed as though this Siegfried character was a source of mockery amongst the tanners. Mr Attorcop thanked them once more and made his way in the direction they had pointed out. The house they described turned out to be a small Inn. It had none of the welcoming air of the Inns they had passed on the road. The door was shabby and dark and might only have been recognised as a public house by the faded painting of a near empty beer mug on a board outside. The mug had a faded image of a bleary-eyed dog above it, the animal’s tongue reaching down into it, nearly touching the last of the foamy beer. Mr Attorcop curled his nose at the smell coming from inside. He took a couple of deep breaths, and pushed the door open.
Lilian stepped out of the Hundsberg central hut with Stephanie by her side and Fritha following moments later. She had watched Fritha nibble at the various chunks of stew but none, according to Stephanie, had achieved quite the desired effect.
“I think we walk through town and we watch her now.” Said Stephanie confidently. Lilian still wasn’t sure what they were looking for but couldn’t help but trust Stephanie’s upbeat and smiley attitude. Leonardo trotted up ahead, occasionally turning to check that they were still following. Lilian followed Stepahnie’s advice and kept an eye on Fritha. As they walked, she watched Fritha turn her head nonchalantly from side to side, taking in the various sights and hounds of Hundsberg’s main street. Whenever they walked past someone eating something Stephanie would speak to them quickly in their own language and gesture to Lilian and Fritha. Everyone they met was keen to help and offered a piece of their food for Lilian to take. Each time she did she would set it in front of her and call out to Fritha. Fritha would eventually step forward and sniff at the morsel of chicken or cheese before either nibbling at it or ignoring it completely. Each try was met with sighs and shrugs from Stephanie and the strangers they had asked. Eventually, a small crowd began to follow them as word spread of their mission to find Fritha’s favourite food. It wasn’t until quite some time later that they met with success. Lilian was close to giving up by the time they reached the end of the main street, near to where she and Mr Attorcop had entered Hundsberg last night. She was close to turning around and announcing to the crowd to go back to their homes when a familiar smell appeared from nowhere. She turned and looked around to find its source and her eyes fell upon a short woman with grey hair some distance away. She was standing in front of a pewter cauldron and was holding a large wooden implement with both hands. The sweet smell was clearly coming from her pot and Lilian quickly realised where she had smelt it before. It had been the scent of the sweet drink she and Mr Attorcop had been given when they arrived in the main hut and met with Zinnia. Her mouth began to salivate with the memory of it. That must be what she’s brewing, thought Lilian as her feet carried her instinctively towards her. As she approached, the woman smiled. Her face wrinkled as she did and her small brown eyes almost disappeared from view.
“Greutzi dame, entschuldige, bitte warten.” She said, Lilian turned to Stephanie for a translation.
“You will have to wait a bit, the drink is not quite ready.”
“What is it?” asked Lilian,
“We call it Verbrann suss. It means, burnt and sweet. We make it from the berries and with cows milk.” Stephanie gestured behind the woman where a box of brown berries sat in the shade. She asked the old woman something and then went to get one.
“You must not eat too many, or else your stomach will be upset. Not everyone likes them raw but I do.” Lilian watched as she popped one quickly into her mouth and began to chew. Her expression shrivelled in bitter shock. A few of the onlookers turned away or laughed at her, aware of what she’d done and living the nasty experience again vicariously.
“Here,” she said smiling through the taste, “try one.” She threw a berry to Lilian who caught it. It was hard and brown with little white dots covering its skin. She pushed it a little and felt the hard outer surface give a little. She took a deep breath and placed it on her tongue. She felt the hard shell rattle against her teeth, but the taste was not particularly shocking, it was quite sweet in fact. A few of the onlookers leant forward in anticipation. All was fine and Lilian was starting to wonder what the fuss was about until she bit down on it hard and released the juices from the berries centre. Her first instinct was to spit it out, and if there hadn’t been so many people around she might have done just that. Her tongue was drenched in sourness, so much that her eyes instinctively closed as if she had just been hit. She began to chew the berry in the hope that it would ease the eye-watering bitterness but this only released more juices. She began to sweat as the crowd around her laughed and pointed. Her face must have been bright red, and not from embarrassment but from the sheer heat of the sweet sour flavours. At first the berry tasted nothing like the drink from the night before but as the initial burst subsided she began to appreciate the sweet flavour, like burnt sugar or honey behind the sour wall. She brushed water from her eyes and smiled back at the old woman and Stephanie as she swallowed the last of the brown berry. Stephanie’s face caught her attention, she was grinning cheekily, not her usual happy beam, but a knowing wry smile.
“What?” Asked Lilian.
“Look.” She said in almost a whisper as she pointed down to Lilian’s waist. Lilian followed her finger and came face to face with Fritha, her eyes wide with dilated pupils fixed on her. Lilian gasped a little and watched as a large purple tongue came out of Fritha’s mouth to lick her chops. Stephanie crept close and placed another berry in Lilian’s outstretched hand, the crowd had fallen silent.
“Amelia,” whispered Stephanie, “hold it over her head and move it back until she sits down.” Lilian did as she was told and held the berry high over Fritha’s head, she noticed a little drop of saliva creeping out from the side of Fritha’s mouth as she did so. She brought it up high so that Fritha had to crane her neck up to look at it and then Lilian kept going until the only way Fritha could keep an eye on the berry was to sit on her haunches.
“Good,” whispered Stephanie, “Now say ‘sit’ and give her the berry.” Lilian drew in a deep breath and confidently spoke the word.
“Sit!” she then lowered her hand and calmly fed the berry to Fritha. Everyone watched as the Feinhound took the berry quickly, chewed it in half a second, swallowed and then looked up expectantly for another. Her coat shone and shimmered in a rainbow of colour as Lilian heard cheers and applause from the crowd. Stephanie rushed over to hug her.
“Well done Amelia! We found her favourite and you’ve just taught Fritha her first lesson!” Lilian looked down at Fritha who was glowing in a deep golden coat and she could not stop smiling.
On the other side of town, Mr Attorcop, was not smiling. He had just walked into the gloomiest, smelliest and downright dingiest inn he’d ever seen. There was no bar to speak of, just a table near a wall with a few jugs of questionable looking liquid line up on the side. There were chairs and tables scattered around but every inch of furniture was covered in carvings. There was a shabby looking boar's head hung loosely on the far wall under which sat a few men playing a round of cards. Even from this distance Mr Attorcop noticed a card tucked sneakily into the back of one of their boots. A few heads turned as he entered but no one seemed to pay him much mind as he cast a quick eye over the group, hoping to spot someone who might be apparently unmissable. His gaze fell on a man who was sitting alone. He wasn’t the scruffiest of the patrons, his faded red coat might even have been splendid once upon a time, but something about him made him stand out. Mr Attorcop couldn’t quite put his finger on it but headed over to see if his hunch was correct. As he sat beside the man, he guessed that the coat might have been military issued. The man looked up in surprise, his eyes were red and he had a patchy beard. Mr Attorcop breathed in as he was about to introduce himself and immediately regretted the decision. The smell coming off this man was enough to make him wretch, he had to simultaneously suppress his breakfast and his memories of growing up near a sewer.
“Can I help you Fremder?” said the man in a gruff voice.
“I hope so. I’ve been hearing things about strange messages on walls around town. I’ve agreed to help figure out who’s been writing them.” The man snorted into his large beer mug, flecks of liquid sprayed the etchings on his table.
“And who are you? A travelling detective?” A few of the men nearby overheard the comment and laughed.
“I was just passing through and thought my outside perspective might be helpful. Apparently your nephew was the first person to see one of the messages, with your permission I’d like to speak with him. Between you and me though, I don’t see myself taking the case too seriously.” He let the comment hang in the air while he looked around pretending to soak in the atmosphere. He suddenly realised what it was about this man that felt so strange. It wasn’t that he was smelly or drunk or alone at his table. It was that unlike every single other person in Hundsberg, this man had no dog. After just a moment the fish snapped at the bait.
“And why is that?” said the old soldier.
“Hm? Oh. Well it’s just some writing on some walls isn’t it?” The old man raised his eyebrows.
“Maybe you see it as just a bit of paint, but the message itself is dangerous.” Mr Attorcop summoned his strength to lean in as close as he could get. He spoke in a low whisper, only just loud enough for the bearded man to hear him.
“Not if you agree with it.”
That night Lilian lay comfortably amongst the furs and feathers in her makeshift bed. She was looking at Fritha who was already asleep, her fur almost blending with the dark moose pelt she lay on. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Lilian thought she was sleeping a little closer to her than she had done on previous nights. She was going through the lessons they had done that day. Using a handful of the sour berries and buckets of Stephanie’s help, Lilian had managed to make Fritha sit, stay sat while Lilian backed away, come when called and for just a few seconds, Fritha had even followed her closely by her side while she walked around the square. It was slow going, but each little victory was met with applause and hugs from Stephanie and cheers from anyone looking on. Lilian had spoken with Mr Attorcop over dinner, but he hadn’t said much about his progress with the warnings. Restless and distracted Lilian tossed and turned in her covers, unable to sleep. After some time she gave up and went to go and sit by the fire pit. She realised that she had not practised fighting that day, nor had she done her morning’s attention exercises. Not wanting to fall behind in her practise again, she closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply. She felt her heart rate slow as her breathing got more rhythmic. She focused on the sound of her own breath and was soon able to extend that focus to Mr Attorcop’s breathing and even Fritha’s. She held a state of alertness in her body and found that she could hear the last of the fire’s embers hissing in the ashes. She heard sounds from outside the tent as well. Laughter in the distance from village folk who were enjoying a late evening, the hoot of an owl somewhere in the forest canopy and even the distant shushing of a breeze through leaves. The ability to hear these sounds and witness them without judgement was something Lilian was now quite used to. But, in the darkness of night, unimpaired by the glare of the sun or a groggy morning head she found that her sphere of attention could be pushed even further. With her breath slowed right down her ears could sense the scurrying of tiny feet, perhaps a rat or mouse in the ceiling above her. No, the floorboards next door? Still no. She focused on the small scratching and found it nearly 7 houses away, on a wooden beam in a gap in a wall. And there was more. The setting down of a clay cup, the intimate rustle of bed sheets, the words of a story whispered to a nearly sleeping infant. All this she heard and more, her senses freed by night she explored Hundsberg as if she was a ghost floating unseen through walls and lives. And then, she heard a new sound. Furtive footsteps carefully measured. Each step tested and weighed so that it would not strike the floor with unnecessary noise. A creeping, careful gait of one who went unwishing to be heard. But Lilian heard. She heard the creak of the leather sole, she sensed the vibration of each foot as it fell. And next to it, was another sound. A wet sound like water only thicker. It moved with each new step, sloshing and mixing in a small space. A bucket perhaps? Lilian almost moved her attention away but a question called her back. Who was fetching water at this hour? She thought. And why be so secretive? Unless… Unless it wasn’t water. Her heart quickened and with it her breathing sped up. She felt as though her attention was being sucked back, down the streets, through the door of the main hut and over the fire pit. Lilian opened her eyes as soon as she was back in her own head. Not water, she thought,
Paint!