FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The large outdoor mall celebrated the arrival of new spring fruits and vegetables by becoming a virtual farmer's market, with temporary stalls and swiftly erected tents supplementing the shops and buildings long established in this section of town. Color, sound, and scent all vied for supremacy, coaxing customers to sample all the wares that could be found--food, drink, clothing, jewelry, leather, steel, books, toys, amusements, necessities. Minstrels and bards performed, offering recordings of their work and soliciting pittances from listeners. Hawkers and hucksters made claims based more on charming fancy than supportable fact, as buyers and sellers haggled with mostly good humor in the crisp clear light of the spring morning.

Through it all, grinning in delight at the spectacle, a small white arctic wolf all but danced through the crowds to fulfill his list of needed items. The deep blue of his trousers and shirt contrasted sharply with the snowy brilliance of his fur, and he wore a neat, neutral-colored vest emblazoned with the crest of his household - a symbol representing a name that few in this city, perhaps this country, had not heard of. It was the little wolf's cives Romanus, proclaiming to all in the province that he was under the strongest of protections. Over one shoulder, he carried a stout pack that one would have thought unwieldy for a being of his mere one-point-seven meters of height. It surprised many just how strong and sound was his body, and how even more strong was his devotion to his Master.

"Good day, young Fannar!"

The wolf turned toward the voice, waving as he approached the old Italian mastiff at his stall. "Nestore! You're looking well!"

The mastiff laughed, his great hanging jowls fairly rippling as he squinted at his young customer. "At my age, being visible and above ground is a blessing. How may this old verderio help you today?"

Fannar looked over the vegetables and greens carefully. "He wants something special tonight, and I've got an idea to spice up a simple ratatouille to go along with a carefully braised cut of meat."

Nestore nodded, knowing exactly who "He" referred to. Even after these several years, it was difficult for him to bring up the name too casually, more from respect than fear. Nestore had dined with Fannar's Master - or, to use the term more readily accepted in this province, "Lord" - on a few occasions, each a privilege and a warm memory, and just the slightest bit of nervousness. "Then let's find the best. Tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, onions... you need some fresh herbs? Right over here..."

Carefully, the young squire (another polite term) examined cloves of garlic, sprigs of rosemary, sniffed basil leaves and some ground paprika, making sure that his mental list was complete. "Have you some cumin, for the meat? We're almost out."

"Right here; some extra onions, perhaps? Mushrooms to go with the meat?"

A few other customers at the green grocer's stall showed evidence of beginning to drool as they imagined how the meal might be prepared. The little wolf could not be considered vain; however, anyone who had sampled his cooking would be hard put to name someone more talented. Quickly, the goods were packed into a bag, which was hung to one side of the pack, and Fannar was off to find the last of his purchases. Nestore knew where to send the bill.

The marketplace, like the world itself, was blossoming to welcome the short-lived spring. Fannar looked about, remembering that not so long ago this was more an encampment than a small city. His Master had selected this world carefully, no doubt for far more reasons than Fannar was aware of. The little wolf smiled softly, remembering that his Master had brought him into the decision, to make observations about the various choices from the standpoint of maintaining the household. Wherever they were to go, the Master's comfort was uppermost in the slave's mind. Fannar had years of seeing to his Master's needs, and his suggestions and comparisons had given the Master the information needed to make a wise choice. The emotion in the little wolf's heart was not pride so much as a deep welling of love for the great black wolf who owned his heart.

"Excuse me, Sir."

Fannar looked to the voice and smiled. "No need to call me Sir," he chuckled. "I have no titles. How may I help you?"

The young brown spaniel looked both apologetic and shy. "Forgive my forwardness," he said. "It's just that... I noticed your large pack, and I would be happy to shoulder it for you to any destination, in exchange for some food?"

The white wolf took a closer look at the young lad, feeling pangs of sympathy, or perhaps even pity for the pup. His clothes had seen better days, and although the lad's shape was that of someone who took care of himself, the tiny signs of personal deterioration were beginning to tell. With a certain reluctance, Fannar said, "I regret that I can't accept your services. My Lord is somewhat strict about my own service to him."

"Is there some other service I could provide to your Lord, perhaps?"

"I am not aware of any at this time, unless you are skilled in plumbing and heating systems? We've been having some trouble with our water heating system lately."

The spaniel looked down, shame and deep sadness on his face. "I've been told that I have only one skill, or value. And when I dislocated my shoulder, I was broken goods, considered too fragile to be of proper service..." He looked into Fannar's eyes and became frightened. "I'm sorry. I've said too much. I should go."

"Please wait." Fannar reached out a paw toward the young spaniel. "Are you all right? Have you seen the medics?"

"Yes," the spaniel nodded. "I'm very grateful that doctoring on this world is not thought of as a privilege of the rich." He touched the shoulder gently. "I'm still sore, but I'm whole."

Softly, the little arctic wolf asked, "You were indentured?"

The spaniel nodded slowly. "That's what they call it."

"May I ask your name?" Sensing the pup's hesitation, the wolf smiled gently. "I am bound to a good Master; you and I may speak freely as equals."

"Kevin."

"I'm Fannar. I don't know what I can do to help you, Kevin, but I want to try. Do you have no recourse available to you? Perhaps I can help you with the social services that are available in this province. My Master and I have been here for several years now."

"Do you know the people here?"

"I do - many of them, anyway. Is there someone you want to find?"

The spaniel hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I met someone - or rather... let's say that he met me." The pup pointed to Fannar's embroidered crest. "That symbol looks like the one I saw on his ring. It's why I stopped you. This person, he offered a name that I've never heard before. Mitternachtswolf."

Fannar's eyes opened wide. "Describe him."

"A wolf, like yourself. Except very tall. Very strong. His fur is jet black, ebony. He wore a long black leather coat that night. Do you know him?"

Slowly, Fannar nodded. "Yes, Kevin. Yes, I do."

* * * * * * * * * *

The house and grounds belonging to the wolf officially known as Baron Heinrich Alexander von Mittelsachsen might or might not be called "palatial," depending upon what it was compared to. The grounds consisted of just over three-and-a-half hectares, with the large house set well into the center of this forested plot of land. Much was made of the landscaping, which was tended to by a pair of foxes who took their knack for camouflage and blended it into a beautiful and subtly protective surrounding. For practical reasons, much of the exterior of the house was made of prefabricated materials similar to those found in most of the buildings of this area. The size of the house would have made three or four of the average dwellings in the area, and perhaps seven of the more modest abodes. This was no mere display of extravagance; the Baron cared deeply for his privacy, as well as for his and his squire's comfort, and as he was able to afford to see to these desires and needs, he did so with neither pride nor false modesty.

Fannar had contacted his Master from town, describing Kevin accurately and telling of his use of the Master's other name. The Baron asked Fannar if it would be too inconvenient to invite the young pup to the house for dinner. This was the squire's cue to assess what would be needed to make the adjustments to ingredients, preparation time, and so forth, and to offer solutions to whatever difficulty might arise. He did so instantly, saying that there would be no problem, and would his Master care for anything special for the occasion? The Master left the matter in the slave's capable paws, giving carte blanche, knowing that the slave would in no way abuse it. The young squire made one more stop in town, then left for the house, Kevin in tow.

Being new to the land, Kevin was unaware of the various houses, holds, and grounds that were the homes of the more prosperous (or more connected) members of the society. Being away from the center of the city, where he had spent most of his time, Kevin was nervous about accepting an invitation that might strand him several kilometers distant; the settlement was new enough (only several decades) that its sprawl had not yet triggered the clamor for transportation infrastructure. Fannar was too polite to laugh. "My Master is a good host; he will see to your safe return."

Kevin blushed, ears splayed. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to imply..." He gave up trying to explain himself. He was, in a way, responding to a summons made some time ago. He only hoped that he wasn't making another mistake.

At the door to the house, Fannar placed his right forepaw onto a metal plate to one side. To Kevin, he said, "I'm usually the one to answer the door here. We don't have any staff for the inside of the house. The lock will take just a moment."

"Paw prints?"

"Sweat analysis. More accurate." After a moment, the door popped open. "And usually just a little faster than this." Fannar grinned. "Come inside, Kevin. You are our guest. Welcome."

Kevin entered and stood, astonished, gaping open-mouthed at the size of the interior of the house. He stood in a foyer larger than the entirety of the tiny living space that he had been afforded (briefly) at the Ministry of Public Housing facility. The ceiling towered more than three and a half meters above his head. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a gentle light to fall upon a carefully kept garden of bonsai plants in a bed of natural soil that curved in great parentheses just inside the walls on two sides. Hooks for raingear - storms were frequent during much of the year - hung above a trough of carved smooth stone that fed a reservoir that, in its turn, fed the garden.

"My Master will be occupied for much of this afternoon, Kevin," Fannar said, hanging up his vest. "He will be joining us shortly before dinner. He asked that I convey his apologies, and he suggested that I make you comfortable." He turned to his guest and asked, "Forgive me if I'm being indiscreet; have you had any decent sleep recently? You seem to have been sleeping rough for a time."

"That's true." The young spaniel looked down in embarrassment. "I probably stink."

"I wouldn't say so." Fannar wasn't lying; he probably wouldn't have said it out loud, although he did realize that the pup could do with a bath. "Follow me to the guest quarters; you've time to soak for a while in the tub, and then you can nap for a few hours."

Kevin followed the small white wolf through the living room and down a long corridor to the west side of the house. The place felt huge; the ceilings were tall throughout, and even the hallways were wider than those of any other house he'd been in. As they walked down the hall, sensors lit hidden sconces near the ceiling, casting a soft light upon pale amber walls occasionally bearing large, intricately woven tapestries with scenes of countryside, cities, towns, villages, such as Kevin had never seen before. He had the impression that these might be original works, not things created by machine or produced in bulk by unskilled, underpaid sweatshop labor. He wanted to touch them, but he had enough manners (and enough brutal training from his previous owner) to keep his paws to himself.

Fannar opened a door about halfway down the corridor. "In here, please, Kevin."

The young spaniel gaped, pop-eyed. The room seemed as large as an apartment. To one side, a sitting area with two chairs, a love seat, a low table, and a fireplace. A sliding plexi door showed a view of a garden area next to the small patio with two chairs and a table and, a bit further on, an outdoor chaise with its own small table to one side. The bed was huge, canopied, covered in soft quilts, thick pillows to the head, a bolster below, all in muted blues. Nearby, a closet and dressing area, with a large, antique-looking dresser.

Opening another door, Fannar stepped in, lights coming on automatically. "This is the bathroom. Let me run some water for your tub."

"I could just shower, if it's easier." Kevin walked into the large bathroom to find Fannar already filling the tub.

"Our water-heating system has been behaving strangely," the little wolf said, smiling. "Usually, it draws water from the tank, kept at a properly warm temperature. We also have what's called a flash-heating system, which produces a small quantity of very hot water, made from the cooler water already in the pipes. In theory, it allows us to have hot water for a shower almost instantly, starting with that flash-heated water, followed by the water from the tank. Lately, however, it's as if the flash system needs to make itself known randomly. We've had some very hot blasts of water at unexpected moments. We've taken to tub baths for the past few days, so that we can be sure of what temperature we'll be bathing in."

As he spoke, the little wolf had gathered up towels, three varieties of soap, a wash cloth, a water-resistant body brush, and other accoutrements for Kevin's use. The tub itself was far larger than the ones that Kevin was used to; he could almost float in it, he thought.

"If you'd hand me your clothes, I can clean them for you while you rest. And..." He looked down a moment and blushed slightly. "Kevin, I hope you won't take offense. I took the liberty of getting a simple set of garments for you while we were still in town. They are very basic, and I believe that I have estimated your sizes correctly. I thought you might like to wear them when you dine with us tonight." He looked up at the spaniel. "It's not snobbery. I don't know how much other clothing you may have, but you seem... well..."

"These are all I have, right now," the spaniel said softly. Not rags, but hardly new, the clothing had indeed seen better days. "I suppose... well, first of all, thank you. It's very generous of you."

"I think you overestimate my taste," Fannar smiled softly. "New clothes may bring new fortune. I think I saw that in a cookie once. Kevin, you said you'd injured your shoulder; do you need any help with...?"

"I can manage." Suiting action to words, Kevin began removing his clothes, not realizing that he was doing so as he had been trained not so very long ago. Eyes downcast, he performed ritualistic movements, despite the fact that he had no audience for it any longer. This included the little white wolf, who had discreetly turned his back to the spaniel. He removed shirt and pants - he had no undergarments - and folded them, despite their well-used condition, and held them out in Fannar's direction. "Here," he said.

Fannar did not turn, and Kevin put the clothes into the wolf's outstretched forepaw. "I'll leave you alone. Is there anything you need or want? I suspect that you're hungry."

Kevin hesitated. "Why am I here?"

"Because you were invited, Kevin."

"Why?"

"I don't know. My Master did not tell me of you. You met him one night some little time ago, I take it, and he gave you a name by which you could find him. It is not a name that he uses often. I can only think that there must be something special about you."

"Does that upset you?"

"Not at all."

"Then why don't you look at me?"

"Because you are naked, and I respect your privacy. Do you want me to look at you?"

"Yes."

Fannar turned to face the young pup, his eyes clear, a gentle smile on his muzzle. "Is that better, Kevin?"

"Am I here to be some sort of new toy?"

The white wolf frowned. "I doubt it very much. You are a guest, not a rent boy. I don't know why my Master wished for you to find him, but I don't think that it was for sex."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because you are my Master's guest." Fannar's eyes softened. "Do you think... By the Gods, what did they do to you?"

Kevin felt himself rattled to his very core. Part of him was terrified, part was desperate, and all of him was so very, very tired. He grit his teeth together, but it didn't seem to help. He felt himself shaking. He was barely aware that Fannar had tossed the old clothing to the floor and embraced him as he started to sob. He held the little wolf tightly, feeling the hug returned with gentle reassurances, with caresses to the pup's neck and shoulders, with soft whispers that were almost like a lullaby. Reluctantly but firmly, he pulled himself back.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean... I hope you won't get in trouble for that."

"For giving comfort to someone in need?" Fannar smiled. "It's not my place to say, but I believe my Master would be proud of me. I told you that he is a good Master. I don't know what you have experienced, Kevin, but I believe that you'll find none of it here. Above all, you are his guest - our guest. Come, relax in the tub. I'll fix food and drink for you. Bathe, eat a little, and sleep. I'll come wake you shortly before it's time to meet with him." The wolf touched the pup's cheek tenderly. "You're safe here."

One more tear escaped Kevin's eye as he attempted a smile. "Thank you." He chuckled slightly. "I'm afraid I may have made you stinky as well."

"It's okay. I'm washable."

* * * * * * * * * *

Kevin set about bathing himself with an earnest desire to be cleaner than he ever had been in his life. He wasn't certain that he could trust his own nose, so he scrubbed and brushed himself three times over with the soap that he thought smelled the best (the label said "Vetiver and Juniper," which he thought perhaps were the makers of the soap), and certain areas got an extra treatment above that. He brushed his tail to within centimeters of its life, and he found some conditioner that seemed to help it look fluffier. Leaning back and relaxing in the warmth of the spacious tub didn't even occur to him.

He toweled himself off, took several moments figuring out how to drain the filthy water out of the tub, then fretted when he saw that he'd left a noticeable ring along the sides. He used an extra towel to clean it as best he could ("A slave's presence should never be noticed unless it is called for," a voice in his head chastised him), then worried over what to do with the towels. Without instructions, he could do something that could invite punishment. What would he... how could he--

A sound in the bedroom caught his ear. He heard Fannar's voice: "Kevin? I've brought some lunch. Is there anything you need?"

"The towels," he said, "where must I... I made the tub dirty, I didn't want..."

The voice was at the door. "Kevin, may I come in, please?"

"Of course, why--"

Slowly, the door opened, and the white wolf stood looking at him with a careful smile. "I'll take the towels with me, if you like."

The spaniel paused, then handed the towels to Fannar. "I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do," he mumbled.

"Here," said the wolf gently, placing the towels in a hamper near the door, "come with me. I think you need to eat something, and we can talk. Oh," he said, "there is a white robe on the back of the door; you're free to use that here in the room, unless you'd prefer to be naked." Anticipating the question, Fannar said, "Whatever makes you comfortable, Kevin. This is just between us."

Kevin hesitated, then donned the robe and followed the little wolf to the sitting area. A plate held a selection of small sandwiches, another had sliced fresh fruit, and a tall glass stood next to a pitcher of ice water. The spaniel sat in one of the chairs and restrained himself from falling muzzle-first into the food. Fannar poured water from the pitcher, then offered a cloth napkin to the pup, who - unused to such luxuries - placed it haphazardly on his lap.

Fannar sat in another chair and, for a long moment, simply looked at the spaniel as if trying to take some measure. Finally, he said, "Kevin, please eat. Whatever you'd like, and however you'd like."

He hesitated briefly, then took a sandwich, forcing himself to take it slowly to his lips. He was starving, more than he'd realized, and the smells of the meats and spreads and savory bread was almost enough to drive him mad. He finished the first of the small sandwiches much more quickly than he would have thought proper, but Fannar said nothing. "I must look desperate," he said.

"You look hungry," the little wolf said, not unkindly. "I can bring more, if this isn't enough."

"No, I..." He paused. "Thank you," he said, choking back on the word Master that wanted to follow the words as blindly as he himself had done. He took to a second sandwich only a little more slowly than the first, feeling a passing gratitude that there were four such sandwiches on the plate.

Fannar paused, leaned forward. "Kevin, it is not my place to comment about my Master's guests. I will risk that here because I feel that you and I have some bond as equals. You were someone's slave before. You are concerned about what to do and how to act here, in this house, or around my Master. I understand that, and that's what I wish to address. May I?"

"Yes, please," the spaniel sighed heavily. "I don't know the rules. I don't know what to do, or what is expected of me."

"You were free once, weren't you?"

"Yes, when I was younger."

"What ruled your behavior then?"

He considered. "I think I was a reasonably good pup; my parents raised me to be polite, to know good manners, be respectful of my elders and betters, all that." He paused. "It seems so long ago now. The rules seemed simple, and then..."

The spaniel's eyes clouded over; the look struck Fannar directly to the heart. He reached out a paw and placed it on Kevin's knee. "For our guests, the only rule is courtesy, from each to each. My Master is good and kind - I mean that with all my heart, Kevin, not because I'm told to say so. He can discern between an accident and an intentional slight. He is patient with others." The little wolf chuckled. "Do you know Nestore, the _verderio_on the mall? He has been a guest here on several occasions. Once, my Master decided to have a really fancy dinner here for several people, including Nestore. It was a full service, with all of the plates and knives and forks, a complete presentation.

"Well, Nestore had caught a glimpse of the setting in the formal dining room, and came to find me as quickly as he could. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with all of the extra cutlery, how he was to know what to do. I told him what I told you - that my Master's only rule for guests was courtesy from each to each... and that, generally speaking, you use your utensils from the outside of the setting inward, with the knife and fork closest to the plate in front of you for the main course."

The spaniel looked at the slave a little nervously. Between bites of fruit, he asked, "Did it work out all right?"

Fannar grinned. "Even better than expected. Knowing that my Master wants his guests to be at ease, I told him privately of Nestore's concerns. After everyone was seated at the table, my Master first raised a glass in a proper toast, and after, as I was setting the first course for our guests, he spoke of his first attendance at a formal table when he was barely more than a pup. He told the story briefly of how his host had asked quite politely if anyone was uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the settings, and how he had tentatively raised his paw... only to find that two others at the table raised theirs as well. His host carried the meal with wonderful stories about how each course came about, why each bit of cutlery was used, and how to do so."

"And he did the same, didn't he?" Kevin asked.

The little wolf nodded. "And taking the cue, Nestore raised his paw... and, surprisingly, so did one of the other guests, a fairly wealthy and well-appointed zebra. Even now, I'm not certain if he really didn't know, or if he simply wanted to help make Nestore comfortable. Whatever the case, things went very well indeed. And we certainly won't be dining with a full service tonight, so I wouldn't worry."

"It's just so..." Kevin was suddenly taken by an enormous yawn that surprised him. He put his paw to his muzzle, deeply embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I--"

Fannar chuckled. "Don't worry; I was expecting this. You need some rest." He rose and extended a paw. "Let me take you to bed."

The spaniel stared.

"No, not like that." The little wolf grinned.

Kevin passed a paw over his face, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry, I..." He accepted the paw and stood, letting Fannar lead him to the bed. The wolf turned down the covers and fluffed the pillows, telling the pup to get comfortable. Shyly, Kevin took off his robe and settled himself between the covers. The sheets were deliciously cool, the pillows softer than anything he could remember, even from his childhood. He looked into the wolf's eyes. "Thank you," he said.

"Fannar."

"What?"

"I don't think you've once said my name, Kevin. It's Fannar."

The spaniel hesitated. "Thank you, Fannar."

"You're very welcome." The young squire smiled softly. "In our privacy, you and I are equals. In this house, before my Master, you are our guest, and it will be my pleasure to serve you as well as any of our guests."

Surprising the spaniel, the little wolf leaned over to kiss his forehead gently.

"You are not a slave here."

Kevin felt sleep trying to take him, and he resisted, wanting to say something, wanting to return the kiss, just a chaste kiss of gratitude as the little wolf gently stroked the spaniel's headfur so affectionately.

"Rest a while. I'll be back later."

A tear escaped his eye as Kevin fell into the first secure sleep that he'd had since being on this world.

* * * * * * * * * *

"You rang for me, Master?"

"Yes, Fannar, my pup." Smiling, the great black wolf pivoted in his chair, leaving the array of information on the various datapads to tend themselves briefly. "Please sit with me for a moment."

The little white wolf smiled and sat properly on the chair near his Master's desk, his forepaws on his knees, his tail curled around his hind paws. Fannar had always loved the Master's study, and he was happy to linger in the richly furnished room. It was from this place - walls of dark mahogany, bookshelves filled with precisely ordered volumes, and a discreetly concealed, very powerful, supremely secure computing system - that his Master performed the various activities that sustained them. He had no idea what they could be, and he satisfied himself that his Master would only be involved in proper activities of which he, Fannar, probably had no real hope of understanding fully.

"You have seen to our guest?"

"Yes, Master."

"I have no doubt you have made him quite comfortable."

"I hope that I have, Master. He is sleeping now; I said I would come wake him shortly before I'm to start preparing dinner, so that You and he might talk for a while."

The black wolf nodded. "Very good, Fannar." He paused, then smiled a little. "You're allowed to be curious, my pup; it is a sign of intelligence, and I chose you for your mind, along with many other satisfactory things."

Fannar blushed and smiled. "Thank you, my Master. Kevin told me only that you had met, some little time ago. I know nothing else of him, other than that he was indentured, and has been... released from that contract."

The Baron nodded slowly, then explained the circumstances of Kevin's plight that night at the bar. The young squire's face expressed astonishment and horror at the tale; he kept himself still, asking no questions until his Master had completed the story. The black wolf paused, looking closely at his slave. "This tale is very upsetting, my little one," he said. "I have no wish for it to hurt you. Please express yourself freely."

The white wolf put a paw to his muzzle and fought back tears. "I have loved you from our first day together, my Master, and if it were possible, I love you still more now." He drew a ragged breath and spoke in a small voice. "I can't imagine how... could someone truly call himself a Master and behave so... by the Gods, that poor pup..." He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, recovering. "It does explain his behavior with me, Master." Fannar recounted the details of his brief time with Kevin, the Baron listening carefully to all that was said. "Please, my Master, may I hope that you somehow can help him?"

"I do not know, pup." The great black wolf's face became somber. "I could do nothing for him so long as he defended the actions of his then-Master. He could not talk then; I took his response as a cry for some sort of hope. I gave him my Name and could do no more. Now, however..." His look softened as he gazed upon Fannar's concerned expression. "We shall learn from him, and perhaps we will find a way to help."

"Thank you, Master," the little white wolf sighed in gratitude, smiling.

"I think you might have too much faith in me, my little one."

"That is not possible, my Master."

Smiling, the Baron leaned forward and kissed his faithful slave warmly. "I will need about another hour or so here, Fannar, and then a little time to rest before greeting our guest. If you need to start dinner before I arrive, show him the kitchen and talk with him while you work. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Of course, my Master. Thank you."

The squire saw himself out of the library as the Baron turned back to his work.

_ ...to be continued... _