Chapter 31. Which They Can Hear Who Meddle Not with Crime

by Vivienne

Twenty-two…

Viv nestled herself into a soft afternoon brood in the orchard. She was not a bird given much to introspection, but the sunlight was warming the scarf around her neck and settling her ever-flitting mind. That, and the meager warmth had begun to loosen winter's hold on the Abbey, softening the frost-locked drifts; autumn-dropped fruit that had frozen began to release old, fermented scents. It was as if the snow had condensed the essence of fall, releasing the soothing scents of cider.

Even the shouts of her brood were soothing. She had relented, allowing those scheduled for kitchen cleaning and scraps duty to join their peers in winter romping. Their screams joined those of the other abbeybabes, whose harmonizing war cries heralded a snow war as the game of the day.

Twenty-two. Not counting Jinck. When did it get to this? To something other than a family?

It started when they decided it was a "better" idea to fling rocks at some trounced-up weasel and his cronies instead of sitting behind a parapet and letting them wear themselves out. The bird's brow-ridge knitted at the internal dialogue.

And another half-dozen babes learn to live with only one set of paws to hold theirs.

Or talons.

Or talons. Or claws. Or digging claws. Any and all, right?

Well, when it's time to push them out…

"I said I'm comin' with ya'."

Vivienne welcomed the unwelcome voice, grateful at the grating intruder to her solitude. You can always tell a bird by their song. Grating on their ear: a grackle. Something too clever for its own beak. That comes in packs. That too often tries to muscle you out of your nest.

A second voice joined in, a softer companion. "But she told me to come alone, miss Vidya."

"I'll deal with 'er, then."

"But wouldn't it be -"

"Ya have t'go find th' doctor's son after, right?" Vidya asked.

"Well..."

"I'll take care of it."

Vivienne kept silent, let the dynamic wash over her - a noisy horn drowning out a fiddle. But she knew which instrument was better-loved.

There. A few wingbeats to the left. Let them get a tree closer and -

"I hope, Mister Kapler, that it was your gentlemanly demeanor that encouraged you to bring the fair gypsy lady along - on the way to check up on her carts for the fifth time today, I imagine."

"Now, wait a -" Vidya began.

The wren opened one eye and caught sight of the crestfallen whiskers on her newest charge. Her tone brightened as she spoke over the sputtering vixen. "Of course it was. Always been nothing but courteous, right?"

"Y- yes, ma'am."

"Now ya wait just a minute." The fox advanced on Viv's tree, eyes narrowed. "'e's on another errand, Miss Viv, so ya're goin' t'ave t'old yar tailfeathers."

"Or you, your brush." Viv smiled wide, swinging her body down to bring her beak feather-widths from the vixen's snout. "I saw him first, Vidya. The abbot can wait; he's probably already forgotten what he was supposed to wait for, after all. Unless it's a fresh scone or an early Loamhedge text that needs examining, he tends to lose focus."

The vixen gritted her teeth.

"Go on. I'll make sure he doesn't get lost. Why, you can even sit outside my nest and make sure he doesn't slip off, if you like. There's a lovely view of a bush and some weeds."

The vixen's eyes lit up at that, and she let her own muzzle break into a smile. She waved away the bird's comment, clearing a space between them for her own retort. "An' 'ere I thought ya were goin' t'show some of that famous 'ospitality ya talked about when I first met ya..."

Viv bobbed a bow. "You're absolutely right, where are my manners? I'll have a snack sent out to you while you wait. Business and all that. I'm sure an, ahem, lady of trade like yourself... understands."

The vixen's paw strayed down towards her skirt and the knives hidden beneath. Her tone suggested a more assertive end to the banter. "Ya're tryin' t'say somethin' snide, bird?"

Viv hopped backwards and brought her wings up shaking her head. "Not at all, not at all. I would never- We'll be as brief as a December afternoon, Miss Vidya, right Mr. Kapler?"

The wren felt herself followed as she ducked into the dugout of the Nest. However, since the angry mutterings remained behind, she felt reasonably confident it was the beast she wanted with her.

Kap's eyes flitted about the room like a wind-swept dust mote. Viv tried to follow along, her heart giving a flutter as the mother-imposed order was fighting a losing battle against the habits of dozens of young, the broken ranks of bedding showing a shattered front. Blankets and bedrolls turned the floor into a hill-valley landscape of rough, wrinkled cloth. The walls, at least, matched the floor. Trinkets and tokens lined them, tacked directly onto the dirt walls - a queen's treasure proudly displayed. A smattering of fire pits were set into alcoves - complete with small chimneys to vent smoke - and a reed mat looked like it pulled double duty as a door, since it lay propped against the inside of the entryway.

Blood rushed to the bird's cheeks as she waved a wing in front of them both. "Oh, no... there's just been so many new ones, you know? I haven't had time to... and with my work for the Abbey..." Her voice trailed off.

"It looks... like a home?" The compliment sounded weak coming from the vole, and the smile that tried to surface floundered.

It does. The blush spread further, along her beak. "It is. Come, let's retire to my little nook."

Viv lead them back to a small recess, where a couple of once-stumps-now-stools waited patiently, in the manner of all a home's trappings. She nodded to one before hopping onto a wicker perch. "I know it's not much, but it's mine... ours."

Kapler kept his eyes respectfully averted and gave a small nod.

"Now, Kapler," Viv began, waiting until the vole brought his gaze up to hers before continuing, "I'm not asking you to be like one of the kids out there. But I'll tell you one thing the same. I'll never ask about the time before if you don't want me to."

Another dumb nod was her reply.

"Some beasts come in seeing worse than I'll ever know, and it's not my place to make them spit it out. Only one of 'em is real kin, you know."

She took out a small tray of acorns from an alcove, the nutty scent sharply contrasting the dull reek of overcramped quarters. "Go on, then. Jinck said he noticed you were interested in our little operation and I told you what I'd tell any young beast. Any questions come to mind?"

"Well... why?"

"Everyone always asks that." Viv chirped a chuckle and settled into the perch. "Well, I've taken care of Jinck since he would've been suckling. And once you've been a mother once, it's not much to take in another mouth or two. After a bit - and if they're old enough to begin with - a gentle wing helps keep them taking care of each other. Did you notice the little molemaid out there?"

Kapler shook his head and replied, "No."

"Well, you just keep an eye out for the mobile potpourri. She's a little flower maiden, I swear. Greenest digging claws in this old pile of red stone. Jinck's as good as I am at keeping everyone in line, most seasons. Murphy sews like a kite soars. Philemon's a cobbler. We've got enough to keep each other taken care of, so we do." She popped an acorn in her beak to hide a grin. "And I've got two eyes to keep a look out on all of 'em."

"I meant... why, you know... us?"

Vivienne's beak ground the nut with a hard, menacing grate. Her eyes narrowed. "Fur or feathers don't matter much if you don't have anybody."

"No!" Kap's reply came out as a bark it was so rushed. "I mean... no, Miss Viv. I didn't mean to..."

A dun wing served as an olive branch. "It's all right, dear. I just hear it plenty, is all."

"Well, Miss Viv, I'm not sure what else..."

The bird nodded to the table. "Well, for one, you can come out and take however many you want. That's why they're out."

"Oh... oh! I didn't... I mean, I did, but..." Kapler stopped himself and took a short breath. "Thank you. I wouldn't want to take all of them, though."

"That's fair enough, dear." The wren tilted her head and peered at Kapler. "You know... if I wasn't used to keeping an eye on a score of little paws, I don't think I'd have seen a thing." When Kapler didn't reply, she continued. "That's as important a talent as making a shoe or planting a seed."

"Talent?" He let the word slither out of his mouth, as if he were as abashed at her assessment as the skill itself. "It's not... it's not something special. Not like them."

Again the bird reached out across the table. "Look. Sometimes things can't be asked for. You keep an eye on those paws and they could serve a beast well."

And there it was, the implication hanging in the air between them.

"You want me to... to borrow things for you?"

"Not usually." The bird relaxed, shifting her weight back. "Look, I've got a son who's wit has taken wing for migration, a dozen more tails to keep an eye on, a horde only a half-dozen wingbeats away, and I'm out of here every few minutes, it feels like, on some daft mission other than the one I need to be - filling our larders."Viv took a breather, nibbling the edge of a nut. "So, if we can keep those paws busy, maybe we can control them."

"Control..." Kapler seemed to drift off for a moment.

"All right, look, I'll get you back outside to Vidya, before she works up the choler to come in after us. You just think about it. I need someone who can help me out. If you need someone, too, that is."

"Back to... oh, the journal! I've got to find Doctor Song's son!" Kapler leapt back, disturbing a pile of bark plates.

Viv started at that, and added flapping wings to the confusion of the room. "Hey, wait a- !" Viv forestalled the avalanche with a talon, standing like a plate-balancer. "What are you talking about?"

Kapler gave a little cough of apology and shifted the detritus for her. He continued only when Viv had moved back to her perch. "I found, well, er... you know..."

Viv nodded at his trailing off. "Found. Yes."

"In Mr. Moonshot's tent. And it was about that big badger."

Viv's eyes went wide. Behind them, flocks of thoughts careened into each other like a crazed cyclone of starlings. Moonshot. The badger.

"That thing's with him? But then, why did it, you know -"

"I don't think it was," Kap replied, shaking his head. "I mean, it didn't look like it. Then again, if he's crazy..."

Viv clacked her beak. "It doesn't matter either way. We need that book and the abbot's room is the last place we want it."

"It is?"

"I'm fairly certain that Cloverleaf had to make room for that overdeveloped sense of compassion somewhere in his mind. Sacrifices were made in the areas of good sense."

"So... you're going to take something. From the abbot."

Viv shrugged. "We'll see. Go on, Kapler. Find David, he usually takes tea in his father's chambers. You let me worry about that book."

And Fates help us if Moonshot finds out it's in the Abbot's chambers.

The wren lead them to the entrance, where the bescarved vixen waited, accompanied by her wagon-load of bad attitude. And a caravan of dibbuns who, in the manner of all children upon finding a sole adult, had mobbed her.

"Run along, lad. Find Jinck, tell him what you told me, then send him my way. I'll settle things with her."

"Are you sure, miss Viv?"

"I'll be fine. Go on. See me after you're done." As Kap picked his way through the mass of hip-high fur, Viv turned her attention back to Vidya. "Now, ma'am, before you start..."