“Courage, brother. You seem to have a spirit of luck on your side. You’ll snatch victory from the carrion jaws of defeat.”
“I’m not afraid of what will happen if we lose,” Clutch said. “I’m afraid of what will happen if we win.”
35
The youths and maidens who made up the Honour Guard were well-fed, beautifully groomed raccoons. Bunched in their company, Bandit decided that maybe he might be attractive too. In fact, a girl with a honey-tinged fur, who turned out to be the Judge’s grand-daughter, touched noses freely with him, and it was only the second time they’d bumped together. Inhaling the lightness and purity of her scent and feeling the ever-so-soft nudge of her body against his flank, he concentrated on the sound of the early morning traffic passing over the river bridge at the top of the park.
From his place at the back of the stage, Bandit could see everything he needed to without turning his muzzle. At the right of the stage was a High Guard squadron. Disturbing and unnatural how they stood still in straight rows waiting to be told what to do. The City Elders, all male raccoons, milled about at the left. Below the open side of the stage to his front was where tonight’s spectators would gather, and where now a few curious citizens, mainly parents of cadets in the Honour Guard, watched the rehearsal in the early dawn light. The shifting, vague moods of people waiting for something to happen. That something was the promised entry of the official party, with Sensibel among them. Would the Protector put in an appearance?
Someone coughed. City Elders whispered their concerns to each other in hushed voices. From the bridge came the whir of cars taking their Primates to work.
Nothing to do but look around for things to notice. The two High Guard cavaliers Sensibel had rebuffed whispered side-of-mouth exchanges. Well, they’d be in for a surprise, watching her enter beside their leader. The Judge was at the front of the stage in the space reserved for the special party. And sure enough, Lockjaw, the escort service owner, and Drooplip, his ladies’ manager, hovered in the wings. If they wanted to this pair could blackmail half the Elders on the platform.
Two quick-moving assistants come onto the stage and wait near where the special party will assemble. The rehearsal for tonight’s Proclamation is about to begin.
Suddenly, the soldiers stiffen; City Elders assume their public demeanors; the crowd presses closer. A party is climbing the steps onto the raised rectangle from the back of the stage. An intake of breath. Sensibella has glided onto the stage out of a dream. Another female follows. She’s middle-aged and lean. Undersized body. Lifeless, calculating eyes. Prominent nose. Disregard her – all eyes and ears are on his Sensibel. Then a sound one hears at Raccoon, not Primate, occasions. The sniffing of dozens of noses.
I know her! he wants to shout. She’s my speech-friend and companion.
Instead, he bites his lips as the two guests of the city are shown their places on the stage. Immediately, the assistants spring to life. One quickly brushes Sensibel’s tail. The other touches up the older woman’s fur. Is this all there is to the official party?
Then, a hush of curiosity and suspense. The Protector has entered the space. He is confident, bursting with virile energy. Not like him to miss his own rehearsal. He’d take centre stage at his own funeral. How massive he is! What an enormous ruff! He touches noses with the Judge who yields the centre of the stage. Spares a wave to the few spectators. He moves briskly with excitement, looking left and right as if responding to adulation, giving the impression of having too many fans to greet all at once. Except there are no fans, only an uncertain staring. The Protector looks around for someone to recognize.
What if he recognizes me? I have his black mask, his body smell.
The mystery female now standing behind Sensibel whispers something into No Name’s ear. It brings a frown. A weight of silence falls upon the square. Overhead, an air machine leaves a white scratch across the sky.
The Judge wheezes forward. Apparently, he is to give a welcoming address. The Protector falls into an attitude of unwilling attentiveness, tilting his head meaningfully to the left.
“Honoured Guest, Associates and Escorts of the Guest, City Elders, Citizens. On behalf of the City, I am most pleased to open this Occasion and introduce …”
Bandit’s mind drifts to the pillar of beauty called Sensibella. She has suddenly grown up and become a woman. She never looked this mature before. When Meatbreath appeared, it seemed as if her heart leaped. She broke into a smile, and for an instant she shared a laugh with him. She has found a place in the world of grown-ups. Pomp and circumstance. But also the intimacies exchanged between a couple, secrets he’d never know. She hadn’t even remembered to look for him among the Honour Guard when she came onto the platform. She didn’t give a whisker toss about him.
“… and I am honoured to introduce his Guest, Sensibel of the River Clan Family at the Pond …”
Scattered applause from several spectators signified by the rubbing together of paws. A High Guard soldier gives a wolf whistle: jocular unanimity in the audience. Sensibel curtseys and appears to blush.
“And now a third person, who is not a guest because she is a leading Administrator of our city …” the Judge paused to find the right words to say next, then finished abruptly. “… about whom I have nothing more to say. At this time.”
The Protector nods his head with approval. The Judge has said the right things. The Judge is obviously Meatbreath’s personal wimp.
The High Guard snapped to attention. They stood like a row of saplings while the official party left the platform. Then everyone relaxed. Conversation broke out. The Honour Guard, sons and daughters of the leading City Families, rushed over to talk to their parents. The two cavaliers in the High Guard unit recognized him and winked.
He had no one to talk to. Except Sensibel. But she was being led away by Meatbreath. Where was he taking her? His father! Would she ever again confide in him? He could keep a secret forever.
Attention! The powerful small Administrator takes centre stage. Two High Guard officers stand behind her and they are high level territorial heads commanding several family hunting grounds. The sons and daughters leave their parents and quickly re-group their line. He hopes the Honour Guard for City Ceremonies and Occasions, as it is formally titled, isn’t going to be ordered to take a side in the city’s political struggle, because he quite likes his fellow cadets. They are spontaneous, free-spirited, and actually quite ordinary youth, without the social superiority that makes Aunt Pawsense a pain in the tail. Athletes, not fighters. The mystery woman clears her throat.
“Alright, you lot. Stand easy and listen. The City’s about to undergo a transition of leadership, and your role is to ease that transition. You know what I’m talking about. We don’t want fighting, do we?”
He kept his eyes straight ahead.
“No, we don’t. Accordingly, you need to be very clear about where you stand in the transition. Right now, you serve the City Fathers. After the Declaration of the Protectorship, you will serve The Protector. He wants to work with the City’s youth to build a better world. Got it?”
His neighbour’s body is no longer pushing against his flank.
“As you know, I serve the City Elders. After tonight, I will serve The Protector as his Director of Security. So think of me as a wire between the two authorities, a very thin wire.”
Got it! Tread carefully. No messing with her.
“Consider me the one reliable principle in the change of power. I am the Transition. You will serve me and no one else. Questions …?”
Funny. No one had a question. Yet he sensed uncertainty and discomfort among his comrades.
“Surely someone has a question.”
She is as taut as a hydro pole cable. If someone doesn’t come up with a question soon, she’ll …
“I have a question.”
Bandit looked left and right for the simpleton idiot who had a question. Then he realized it was himself.
“Yes. You in front.” The Security Director seemed relieved that someone had broken the tension.
“My question is … are you telling us that we’re serving you right now?”
Titters throughout the ranks. The two senior High Guard officers look at each other and make loopy gestures around their heads.
“What’s your name, cadet?”
