Wolf (Notevember 2020, #31)

The lady at the door looked out of place. She even looked like she knew she looked out of place. Not a complete fool, then, though her brightly colored silk suit and nested cravats were rather silly wear in these quarters.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Varley. You are Mrs. Varley, correct?” she asked.

“Yes, I am she,” answered Cossle, perplexed by the unusually fancy visitor.

“Good, good. My name is Anelaine Sorl.”

“As in Templewaine, Sorl & Cartwell?”

“The very same.”

This was bound to be bad news. Why else would one of the foremost lawspeakers of the city come knocking on a Restingday morning?

“Am I in trouble?” asked Cossle.

“Good sky and stars, no.” Sorl waved her hands quickly, as if to dispel the bad impression she had made. “Not at all, Mrs. Varley, I assure you. Rather, I may have a financially lucrative opportunity for you.”

There was a pause as Cossle took in the words. She was not an educated woman, but she did know a thing or two about strangers bearing unexpected good news. Anyone using highfalutin words to spell money was just as likely to spell trouble.

“I’m sorry, Miss Sorl, but I suspect you have the wrong house.”

“No need for apologies, Mrs. Varley, as I am quite certain this is the right abode. I was told to fetch Cossle Gillacre Varley. By day a Singer in the shipyard metalworks, by night – well, some nights – a performer in some of the waterside public houses.”

“Fetch me? What’s that supposed to mean, fetch?”

“Collect. And bring along for a journey. With your permission, of course.”

What had sounded shady mere moments before had now taken on a sinister air. Cossle did not like this one bit, but she was more than a little intrigued. Her curiosity took a measured swing at caution and, as usual, won the fight quickly.

“What exactly is this about?” she asked.

“I was getting to that. Mrs. Varley, I represent a client who is suffering from a wolf problem.”

“Wolf problem? Didn’t know we had wolves in the city, miss.”

“We don’t. This is some three days’ travel to the northwest. Two and a half, weather permitting.”

“Then I don’t care what your price is. I’m not walking three days out and another three back.”

“Of course not. My bureau’s carriage would be at our disposal, naturally.”

“Right. Carry on.”

“As I said, a wolf problem. On behalf of my client, I would like to contract you to dispose of the wolf. He needs it off his property altogether.”

“Don’t see what you’d need a Singer for, then. Just shoot it.”

“Ah, but there’s a snag. The wolf is his family’s heraldic animal. To kill one would be considered very bad luck, perhaps even an invitation for a curse.”

“Heraldic? He’s a puff-boy then, your client? Superstitious lot.”

“I’m inclined to agree. Best to keep that to ourselves, however.” Sorl leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “The gentility has a tendency to be thin-skinned. You would be surprised how many frivolous lawsuits are generated by that tendency.”

Cossle was not surprised at that. What surprised her was this lawspeaker’s willingness to speak ill of noble folk, no matter how true her words.

“Still not sure what a Singer could help with. I know nothing about wolves. But I suppose they might be akin to street dogs, which I know plenty about. If you don’t want to kill them, your best bet is to trap them.”

“And my client’s servants have tried, believe you me. As have hunters, trackers, woodsmen of all sorts – to no avail. This creature is reportedly fast, clever and devious. So someone suggested we recruit a Singer, and here we are. You come highly recommended.”

“By whom? No gentlemen or gentlewomen in my list of acquaintances.” Cossle mentally counted off her friends and family. Had she missed someone? “As far as I can recall,” she added.

“My apologies, Mrs. Varley, but I can’t reveal that information. Such is the nature of my profession. Suffice to say it came from a reputable source.”

“Reputable? I suppose that will have to suffice, then.”

“Will you take on this mission? I will supply you with whatever you need, as well as the details, on our journey. But we should depart post-haste. Like I said, it has already been a tennight, and my client would like this issue speedily dealt with.”

“Well, miss, it sounds interesting. But I would have to take time off work–”

“Your supervisor has already agreed,” the lawspeaker interrupted, as she pulled up a letter from her portfolio. “He has signed permission here, as you can see.” She handed the document over for inspection, which it passed. “I do apologize for going to see him before you, but I prefer to cross my T’s and dot my I’s before the paper is due.”

“That was snappy,” Cossle had to admit. There were additional concerns, however. “I’m not sure my little ones will be happy to be without their mother for six days or more. My husband works nights this coming tennight, you see.”

“Surely you can hire a governess?”

“A what now?”

“Nanny. Just temporarily.”

“With what money?” snarled Cossle. Perhaps this silk-swept lady didn’t know who she was dealing with, after all.

“Oh, forgive me, I almost forgot! You will be well compensated for your time and skills. Twenty thousand full crowns. A quarter of which to be paid now, with the remainder received once the wolf is safely delivered to a neighboring duchy.”

“Twenty… Twenty thousand?!” Cossle could not believe her ears. Her house was worth not even half that.

“Might I suggest you keep it down?” The lawspeaker looked around nervously. “As I said, twenty. And please don’t bother trying to haggle. My client specifically instructed me to offer the entire sum at once, rather than trying to negotiate a sweeter price. This is as high as he is willing to go.”

“Then I am willing to get! A bare sliver of that five thousand should buy a trustworthy bairnkeeper for a tennight. Or a month, if it comes to that.”

“We are agreed, then, Mrs. Varley?”

“Absolutely, Miss Sorl. I’ll just have to wake my man and tell him, and my little ones, and pack a bag, and, and…”

“And I will stay and help. Shall we step inside? I’d rather not hand over the funds in the open.”

“Oh, come right in, of course, where are my manners,” came out of Cossle’s mouth in an uncharacteristic rapid babble. She squeezed past Sorl to shut the door behind them, then turned to the woman with her eyes wide. “Are you mad? You can’t come around this part of the city with five thousand clinkers in your pocket!”

“Not to worry, Mrs. Varley. My bodyguards and my coachman are standing by just around the corner. And besides, the money is in the form of a bank draft. The only metal I carry is this.” She spread open an inside suit pocket to reveal the glint of a pistol.

Cossle raised an eyebrow. “You certainly aren’t the sort of woman I expected,” she offered by way of compliment.

“A state of affairs which has served me well,” Sorl replied with a hint of a smile. “Ah, these are your children?”

The little Varleys had cracked open their bedroom door to sneak a peek at the visitor, and, having been discovered, came out to meet her. First into the hallway was five-year-old Tanny, who walked slowly up to the lady in the colorful clothes. She was trailed by her little brother, still in his nightclothes, who ran forward to hide behind his mother’s skirts.

“This is my Tanny. She’s five. Say hello, Tanny,” Cossle prompted her daughter.

“Good morning, miss,” the girl ventured, along with a clumsy bow.

“And to you as well, young Varley,” came the solemn response.

“Currently sheltering in the shadow of his protector” – the smallest Varley dared to get a glimpse of the guest – “is Botterin. He turned three just last month.” Botterin blushed with pride, but ducked back behind his mother.

“Who are you?” Tanny questioned the stranger.

“Tanny, may I introduce Miss Anelaine Sorl. She’s a famous lawspeaker. But don’t worry, we’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Tanny gave Miss Anelaine Sorl the once over, but was not entirely convinced.

“What do you want with my mumma, then?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose you could say I want her to Sing for a wolf.”

“Must be a special sort of wolf if you need my mumma’s Song.”

“Oh, yes,” Sorl agreed, then added in a strange tone of voice, “a very special sort of wolf indeed.”