CHAPTER TWELVE

CONFRONTATION

 

 

AS SOON AS the door to the side-room was closed and the two leaders were alone with the tale-teller and Evelyn War, Saul Bellow turned on Thomas Wolf.

“You shame me before our ally and friend. Why?” he roared, grabbing hold of Wolf by the front of his jacket with his huge hands. He almost looked as if he was going to lift the big Aux off the floor and shake him.

The tale-teller had no time to answer his leader.

“There is no shame,” said Ezra Pound, clasping his friend firmly by the shoulder.

Saul Bellow let Thomas Wolf go. The tale-teller straightened his clothes, pale and clearly distressed.

“Who is Walter Sickert?” asked Evelyn War.

Thomas Wolf opened his mouth to answer, but, once again, was given no opportunity.

“Mad Aux,” spat Saul Bellow. “Deluded pup, him says he can Hear. Him says him is a Hearer. Him mad. Him brings shame on the Warschuaer Pack. Think nothing of him.”

“There is no shame,” said Ezra Pound once more. “The ice, him moans and creaks. The ice, him wet. The Zoo Pack, we have lost sentries, too. We have lost scrappers, tougher and tough. You and I, we are old allies. You and I, we stand together against the whistling foe.”

Ezra Pound and his spiritual brother clasped hands and embraced, their chests smacking together as if that was all that mattered.

“I want to meet your Walter Sickert,” said Evelyn War. “Him claims to be a Hearer. Him might have some answers.” Now she was sure that the tale-teller could help her. Oswald Sickert must be related to the Hearer, and that was why Thomas Wolf had wanted to meet her.

“Him mad. Him a blight on the Warschauer Pack,” said the pack leader. Abruptly, he turned from Ezra Pound and took a long, threatening stride across the room towards Evelyn War. “The useless omega bitch, her is trouble?” he asked Pound, never taking his eyes off her.

“Evelyn War,” growled Ezra Pound. “Her is a Believer. Oberon War, him was her father. Him was a Hearer.”

Evelyn saw spittle fly, bright white, as her Pack leader spoke, although she never took her eyes off Saul Bellow’s face as he loomed over her.

“Tell him about the Aux you killed, deader and dead,” said Evelyn, defiant. She finally broke eye contact with the Warschauer Pack leader and looked over his shoulder at Ezra Pound. “Them was feral. Them was wild... no discipline, no organisation... Them was... desperate.”

Pound slumped visibly.

“We have killed the wild Aux,” said Saul Bellow. “We have always fought for territory. Them were never like the city packs, never like us, but them were tougher and tough, and true.”

“Not them we fought. Them were wild and frantic. Them were deader and dead before we made them dead,” said Ezra Pound. “Them attacked on four feet. Them were dogs, not Aux. Them were ragged. Them had not cleaned their weapons. Them were every scrapper for himself.”

There was a long pause.

“I want to see Walter Sickert,” said Evelyn War. “I want to listen to the Hearer speak.”

“Walter Sickert, him no Hearer,” said Saul Bellow. “Him a mad pup. Him dangerous.”

Evelyn looked to the tale-teller, who still looked pale and frightened.

“Tell them,” she demanded.

All eyes turned on Thomas Wolf, but faced with his Pack leader’s gaze, he had nothing more to say. He was drained, from trying to craft a new fable that would have an impact. It had moved his leader to have this meeting, to talk more freely of what had come to pass in the last days and weeks.

He had done his job as well as he could, with only this low-ranking stranger for an ally. Besides, faced with justifying his claim to his angry Pack leader and to the intimidating figure of Ezra Pound, he was not at all sure that Walter Sickert was a Hearer. The pup had tossed and turned on his bed. He had rocked and sweated.

“Walter Sickert, him sick,” said the tale-teller at last. “Him sad. Him sweats on his bed and him wails. Him does not know what him says.”

“But you believe his words,” said Evelyn, earnestly. “You are friends with Oswald Sickert.”

“Useless omega bitch,” said Ezra Pound. “You heard the tale-teller. Respect your betters. Me, I should have had you whipped. You should have died beside your father.

“Enough of this talk. We are done.” The Alpha dog forced a smile onto his lips. “Entertain us, Saul Bellow. Tomorrow, we make a long Walk Around back to Old Zoo.”

As the two leaders left the room, Evelyn War caught the eye of the tale-teller, who could manage nothing more than a sad shrug in her direction. The hierarchy of an Aux pack did not allow for outright insubordination, particularly not among the senior males, unless one got the bone to challenge a leader. And as powerful as his position was, a tale-teller never got the bone for that.

The party resumed in the chamber. A loud whoop went up from the Warschauer Pack as their leader entered, baring his teeth in a broad grin. He heartily encouraged the celebrations, including his friend and ally in the revelry long into the night.

Evelyn War walked the room, joining in at the periphery of various groups, searching for allies, looking out for Aux who might want to talk to her. They looked her up and down, but they all turned their backs on her, including her own Zoo Pack brothers and sisters, since Pound had demoted her once more.

It was clear from the whispers she overheard that the Warschauer Pack were afraid and that they hoped the alliance with the Zoo Pack was strong and sustainable. They hoped Ezra Pound was doing something about the lost Aux and the whistling monster.

It was a threat to them, a constant, nerve-wracking threat, and no one was addressing it. Fear had closed that door, but the dog soldiers’ unease was evident in the face of every Warschauer scrapper.

No one was facing up to that. Ignorance was bliss, but ignorance was killing a Warschauer Aux a day, and the numbers were mounting.

Evelyn walked the room for an hour or two, moving from group to group, hoping to find a friendly or sympathetic face, hoping to find a way to make contact with Walter Sickert. Hoping to see Oswald Sickert.

The Warschauer Packers shunned her, turning their backs whenever she came close to them. They did not speak to her, not even to hiss at or abuse her. They simply ignored her presence.

They had seen her speak up to her leader when it was not her place to do so, and they did not want to expose themselves to the dangers of associating with her. They had heard her called ‘the useless omega bitch’ by Ezra Pound and they did not want whatever status they had earned within their own pack to be compromised by this stranger from Zoo Pack with her insubordination.

She looked for Reuben Blades, but he was nowhere to be seen, and the tale-teller was kept close by his leader.

There would be more telling of myths before the night was out and the revelries were over. Tales of great legends. Tales of Gene the Hackman. Nothing that Evelyn War wanted to hear.

“Hold out your beaker,” said a voice behind Evelyn’s left shoulder.

She had been clasping her empty beaker in her hand for some time. She did not care to drink. There was no respite from her concerns and she had no desire to drown her sorrows. She did not feel sorry for herself; she felt sorry for the Zoo Pack and the Warschauer Pack, for every dog soldier and scrapper in the grand chamber at Warschauer.

Getting drunk on their half-fermented ale would only muddy her thinking and give her a thick head for the long Walk Around home, when she was sure she’d need a clear one.

Evelyn put her hand over her beaker and began to turn her head.

“Don’t turn,” said the voice. “You, hold out your beaker. I’ll fill it.”

“I don’t –” began Evelyn, but she was cut off.

“You and I, we should talk,” said the voice. “Let me pour you a drink, or I might go back to thinking you’re a useless omega bitch.”

Evelyn had heard enough to identify the speaker, so she took her hand from over the mouth of her beaker slowly. She expected ale to be poured into it, but she got water. She lifted the beaker to her lips, but before she drank, with the vessel in front of her mouth, covering her words, she said, “The room on the left.”

She was grateful for the two or three long gulps of cool water that she drank, and made sure that her beaker was empty once more. It would look bad for her if she was caught drinking anything but the ale laid on especially for the Zoo Pack’s visit.

Evelyn turned; there was no one behind her, as she anticipated. She waited a full minute before she began to make her way to the room furthest from her. It was the same room where she had first spoken to the tale-teller. She prayed that it would not be occupied.

When she entered the room, Evelyn saw a figure leaning with its back against the wall opposite the door, arms crossed, one knee bent, the corresponding foot flat against the wall. Evelyn marvelled at how relaxed the Aux looked.

“Close the door,” said the familiar voice. “You know things. I want to know what you know. Ezra Pound, him not telling us anything.”

Evelyn War closed the door and walked into the room. There was no furniture, nowhere to sit, so she took up a position on the wall opposite the Aux, slid down to her haunches and sat on the floor, her knees apart.

Finally she had found a potential ally among the Zoo Pack scrappers, and, however long it took, she was going to cement that alliance. There was strength in numbers, that was what her father had tried so hard to instill in her, and two was twice as many as one.

“The Aux, why were them wild?” asked Dorothy Barker. “Why did them bleed so much?”

Evelyn remembered how the dam had almost retched after making her kill in Kreuzberg. She remembered the feral Aux’s blood and filth on the dam’s clothes.

“I don’t know,” she said. “There are always wild Aux. Them live outside the city. Them scavenge and attack. Them always have.”

“Not like that,” said Dorothy Barker.

“No,” said Evelyn. “Not like that. I’ve never seen the wild Aux, them not like that.”

“The ice, why is it slick?” asked Dorothy. “Why is it wet? The sun, why is it bright?”

“I don’t know,” said Evelyn. “Everything is changing. Nothing is the same. The Time of Ice, it is dying.”

“The tale-teller, him said that,” said Dorothy. “Why does the ice moan?”

“I don’t know,” said Evelyn. “The ice, it is moaning and dying.”

Dorothy Barker was becoming agitated. She flexed her back away from the wall and stood over Evelyn. Evelyn did not get up, but allowed the dam to loom over her. She looked up at her, meeting her angry gaze.

“I do not know,” she said. “I only know what my father, Oberon War, the Hearer, him told me.”

“And you Believed him?” asked Dorothy, spitting her contempt through the words. The question was rhetorical, but Evelyn answered it anyway.

“Ezra Pound, him gives us no answers. The sentry, him disappeared. The ice, it moans and dies. The wild Aux, them feral. Oberon War was my father. Him believed there was strength in numbers. Him tried to make an alliance with the Kade and him died trying... Him heard the Master’s Voice. Yes, I Believed him.”

“Strength in numbers?” asked Dorothy. “Against what?”

Evelyn War looked unblinking into Dorothy Barker’s eyes.

“Against Them,” she said.