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Chapter 15. OCD ADD

by Antonio

"What exactly do you think of this Sarkleyet?" asked Antonio.

All of the males, with the exception of Dirano – probably gone off to flout his "charm" about the female servants – had grouped together in a large bedroom on the first floor. Over-stuffed armchairs, beds far too under-stuffed to be comfortable and a table in the center of the room, one with a mug stain, served as a pitiful excuse for décor.

Brull shifted his weight at the question, causing Antonio to mentally curse himself for being too direct once again; it was clear that the rat was more than a little opposed to other beasts assuming control over him. The stoat reminded himself to be more careful in the future and let the frustration pass.

"I don't trust him. Don't much like him, either. He broke us out of prison, sure, but he only did it so that we'd help him. He's only going to get everybeast killed, puttin' them on a suicide mission to find something that's probably not even in one piece anymore."

Antonio nodded and turned to face Aras, what he had learned was called a wolverine. Quite a seemingly powerful beast, though there was some restraint buried amidst that muscle if their encounter with Feldoh's Heirs during their escape was any indication. That either meant that he was too stupid to use his full strength or smarter than Antonio first assumed and was concealing his greater power for some reason or another.

"What do you think, Aras?"

That was what you did when you wanted beasts on your side; you asked what they thought. It didn't matter a wink if you actually took it into account, mind, but the mere act of asking would fool most into thinking you actually cared.

"He's got a lot of resources and wealth. He was really powerful before the storm struck and has even managed to keep some of that power, seeing as how he's still got so many allies," he answered after far too much chin-scratching. "It might pay to go along with him."

True; this Sarkleyet – goodness, could not his parents have devised a better name to give their son instead of such a dreadful tongue twister? – did have many resources. And he did have power, as evidenced by his sizable property and staff. Perhaps an alliance would prove –

"Are you…lissen, I don't think you're thinkin' quite straight is all." Brull was obviously holding back, not wanting to anger the giant of a beast who could very well crush him had he so wanted. Antonio made a mental note of this in neat ethereal scrawl, Perhaps befriending Aras would in fact have its advantages. In the least, it puts Brull in check.

Aras continued to voice his thoughts."I'm just saying is all. I know the mission he wants us to do his dangerous, but –"

" No, no, no, sorry, but…well, Sarkleyet's mad, crazy even. Nobeast in their right mind makes something like that Brandy stuff, let alone expects ten strangers to go after it just after their hides were almost boiled in oil or their blocks knocked off or whatever else those woodlanders were planning on doing to us. Why go back into the fire when we just were thrown a rope to get out of the frying pan?"

Brull was right, at least to a degree. Still, Antonio kept watch for the right moment. No doubt it would arrive as scheduled in just a few more sentences…

"It might still be worth it. Think of what that kind of power could mean," said Aras.

"I am. And I don't like it. And I'm also thinking of what it could mean tryin' to get at something that powerful. If somebeast like Sarkleyet's looking for it, who's to say someone even crazier isn't looking for it too?"

"I was only trying to get you to see where it might come in useful."

And he would interrupt… now. "Gentlemen –"

"I'd say having a beating heart is more useful; not willing to die for that stuff."

"Ahem, gen-"

"We won't die!"

"You don't know that."

"…Excuse me…"

"Don't you want to get back at those woodlanders for what they did?"

"Best revenge's outlivin' them, I say, and we'll make better on that if we pack up an-"

"GENTLEMEN!"

Both Brull and Aras shot Antonio wounding looks of alarm. The stoat uttered a few long-winded swears in his mind, took a deep, calculated breath and sighed.

"My apologies." Though it really should be them apologizing, ignoring him as they had. "I did not mean to raise my voice. However, I wanted to say that perhaps this discussion is not at all conducive to reaching a satisfying decision. Sheriff, Aras; both of you have made very good points." Now he waited for their inevitable attention, sweeping over to his armchair with theatrical grace, sitting down and keeping silent for five precise seconds before continuing. "It is a fact that Sarkleyet only released us from prison for his own personal gain. This in and of itself makes him suspect in my mind and I do not think him entirely trustworthy if we may in fact only be as pawns to him. Also of note is the amount of danger his requested task entails. To coin a phrase from you, Sheriff, 'nobeast in his… right mind' would take such a request after having previously been in such danger."

At this he stood and took one, two, three, four steps towards the door. Antonio judged the distance between himself and the door. He didn't quite like that. Five, six steps towards the door, stopped, stared at the floor in a text-book mimic of pondering.

"Yet, the prize promised may just in fact be worth the risk and with Evnakt in ruin, there seems no place more fertile with resources, at least as far as my eye can see, then right here."

To finish the guile, Antonio inserted a paw precisely on the edge of his chin, stroking it reflectively. "Ergo, it would appear that while the Sheriff has made an excellent and astute point, Aras's notable deductions should not entirely be ignored."

"You're saying we should do the beast's dirty work?"

Antonio could hear the red anger in Brull's voice. In exotic countries across the seas and further south, Antonio had heard, it was customary to inhale smoke from a curved instrument known as a pipe while mulling over an important matter. He couldn't help but think it would have made an excellent prop as he took a deep breath and continued.

"I am saying that the decision is each our own. For some, the better solution may indeed be to flee and find one's own modes of transport off of this island. For others, following Sarkleyet's direction may be the better choice."

"And I assume that you fit into the latter category?"

You should never assume anything, Sheriff. Has your profession not taught you that much?

"As yet, I am undecided."

Brull's face remained tight set in an expression that declared he was not at all convinced of Antonio's indecision, but before he could so much as interject with a simple objection, their room's door opened and a servant stood briefly framed in the timbers.

"Mister Ikaras?" asked the servant as her eyes wandered the room in search of the best. As if she needed to ask which one was the giant wolverine. Stupid beast. But what could you expect at that age? The old mouse looked about ready to fall over, weighted down by his lopsided smile. Clearly, this Sarkleyet didn't know when to let his help go. True, good help was always hard to find, but you needed to let go when it begun to rot.

The giant stood, his chair squeaking with relief as the weight finally disappeared. "Aye?"

"Master Sarkleyet wishes to see you in private."

Antonio at first thought he read a bit of uncertainty, almost fear in the wary glance Aras gave the room, but immediately knew better. Never assume; always be sure. The wolverine exited with the servant and Antonio was left alone with Brull.

"That is quite strange," said Antonio as soon as he was positive their bulky friend was out of ear shot.

"What is?" Brull inevitably asked.

"If he is called Ikaras, why go by such a boorish title as Aras?" Ikaras was much more formal. He couldn't imagine why such a big, lumbering brute like the wolverine would have been blessed with such an eloquent title, but it was much better than Aras.

"The name Aras, if you'll forgive me speaking ill of our more than capable friend, sounds like two syllables had a chance collision."

Brull blinked twice very slowly. Antonio mentally cursed. He had to keep speech simpler, otherwise his…cohorts wouldn't be able to keep up. Still, he had let Brull in by way of talking about their name-deficient partner behind his back. Nothing brought two beasts together quite like gossip.

Completely ignoring the stoat's comments, Brull got back on topic. "Tell me you aren't going to side with that old fool."

Antonio's face elongated in an attempt at looking innocent. "Why, Sheriff, I am quite surprised at your lewd behavior! Our dear Aras is neither old nor a fool, despite his awkward choice in names." After a carefully measured chortle, he added. "Fear not, I knew what you meant. And I want you to know, Sheriff, that I will respect whatever your decision in this matter is as it is your own. But know that, while I will respect whatever decision upon which you arrive, I in turn expect you to do likewise for myself."

Neither Brull nor Antonio spoke for five long seconds. The rat was the first to exit, wordlessly, but with a stiff walk that told Antonio all he needed to know. The stoat would have to be more careful in the future if he was to further gain the good Sheriff's trust. This guided his mind to his standing with the others and the choice that was no doubt looming just down the path.

A line had begun to be drawn between the ten. On one side were those concerned with remaining safe and possibly assisting the city; on the other side were those intrigued by this Red Brandy and the power promised by it and Sarkleyet. By claiming neutrality, he would upset neither side, yet he knew that he would have to align himself eventually.

His wandering eyes fell upon the table centerpiece and the stain. Worrying about which side he would pick would be a problem for another day. He crossed over, knelt down and began to rub at the spot with all the strength his arms could muster.

~*~

Eventually, Antonio had to admit defeat from the damned spot. The stain was so long inset into the wood that it would never come out, even if a beast as strong as Aras attempted. There was a thought though. Maybe he could convince the wolverine to try to clean up the mess when he returned. That way, Antonio might not lose sleep over it that night.

It was then that he remembered the wolverine's exit what had to be … he cast an eye to the window, seeing that the sun was nearly set. Aras had been gone for a good while. Curiosity piqued, Antonio decided he had better go find the giant and see what was about. The stoat got to his footpaws, cast the infernal stain another scathing look – Knave, were you a woodlander and had I a sword, I would have destroyed you by now! – and exited the room.

Further down the hall, he could hear somebeast arguing, yelling almost. At first he thought it was perhaps Brull who had no doubt left earlier to convince the others of the dangers following Sarkleyet entailed. But these voices were different and, distorted by the mansion's aging walls as they were, the Sherriff's voice was clearly not among them.

Antonio stole closer, his head cocked to one side, his right ear raised. One of the voices was female and the other was a male. And was that vase off-center?

The stoat averted his eyes, not wanting to look at the cursed object sitting upon a shelf on the opposite wall. It was ugly, the patterns all off, something only a beast of rank low taste would choose and therefore no concern of his. He had more important matters to attend to, chief among them listening in on this argument. Yet the wretched thing called to him, shouted even, little strings in his mind pulling him like a marionette towards the vase until he was already half way across the hall.

Quickly, he nudged the vase back into place. All was right with the world. Now, he could listen back in on the conversation.

But now the vase next to it was out of line.

Great beards of the fates, this was a waste of his time! He should be concentrating on plotting and gathering information, not trying to futilely re-arrange the plebian possessions of a self-proclaimed royal. Antonio's paw shot out again, nudging the second vase back into place.

Soon, he was working his way down the shelves, pushing knick-knacks back into the center of the shelf, then progressing onto cleaning excess dust from them, arranging them from shortest to tallest and was just about to start to color code the blasted things when his hip hit against something small, furry and able to talk, as evidenced by the shallow "Umph!" he heard on impact.

Zula Higgins was sitting on the floor, having been knocked over by a careless Antonio. Upon seeing her prostrate form, his anger softened.

"Gratefully sorry, sir, didn't know ye'd be strollin' around at night as well! Thought I was the only one with insom-isomn…inso…"

"Insomnia?" Antonio supplied.

The fox gave a bright smile. "Hoy, exactly right. Insomnia! I knew it was one of those great big words. Always havin' trouble with them, I am."

The stoat felt a chuckle escape his throat, possibly the only one he hadn't faked that day or that wasn't laced with contempt. He helped her up carefully.

"Quite alright. Some of the finer words of the aristocratic vernacular occasionally escape me as well." Said Antonio. Then, noticing the agape and slightly eschew features of the fox, "I forget words as well, sometimes."

"Well, thank ye' kindly for pickin' me up! G'night, sir!" Zula began to dash down the hall with wild, flopping bounds when Antonio stopped her again.

"Zula?" he called without turning.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do try to be careful, whatever happens."

"Okay, sir!" she said in a voice bright as dawn.

Antonio rolled his eyes. She didn't seem to understand. "Zula."

He heard her feet come to a stutter-stop. "…Yes, sir?"

"If anything should happen, you can always come to me."

"…Alright. G'night, sir!"

She still didn't seem to comprehend, but Antonio would settle for that much. He had seen how the others regarded her. It was quite obvious none among the group, with the possible exception of Ms. Pearl, thought highly of Ms. Higgin's intelligence, and Antonio had to agree; she was a bit of a nit-wit. But with this assumption came another and Antonio could almost sense that the others had thought it, because he himself would have; those of weaker minds made useful tools. No doubt somebeast would try to manipulate her, use Zula to their advantage. But she was a child. You did not manipulate children. That was not how the game was played.

Heavy pawsteps sounded through the hall. The stoat turned to behold Aras lumbering towards him. Damn it all! He'd forgotten his previous mission amongst tending to his habit. Surely that was to be his downfall one day. Best to make the best of the situation as he could.

"Aras, my esteemed comrade, good evening to you!" Antonio said, his words dripping with artificial heat.

"Evenin'."

The stoat noted how Aras's features – lowered, furrowed brow, sagging cheeks and lips, lowered ears and all – proclaimed clearly a sense of distress. Antonio stepped in closer, stopping himself from putting an arm about Aras when he realized the wolverine was too large and too filthy to try and physically comfort. "I could not help but notice your more than glum features. Was there something Master Sarkleyet said to you that is distressing you?"

"No," said the wolverine all too quickly.

Antonio nodded, patted the wolverine's arm gingerly. "Well, that is good to hear. Tell me, though, what was the reason for the meeting?"

"Nothing special," was all Aras would reveal.

Antonio probed further. "Not special? Forgive me for contradicting you, my friend, but you are, at least to my knowledge, the only beast with which our esteemed guest has privately conferred. How is that not at all … 'special'?"

"It just wasn't. Besides, I'm not the only beast he's talked to privately; I heard him say something about wanting to talk to Sybil next."

Did he now? Well, that was most illuminating. Antonio apologized for assuming too much, never could tell sometimes, read into things far too much for his own good, he was sure, and walked away from the conversation, heading straight for Sarkleyet's quarters.

Why Sarkleyet would invite two commoners with which to have an audience rather than an equal such as himself was perplexing. He could at least see Sarkleyet speaking with Dirano; although not aristocracy by any means, at least the cat had made an effort. But Aras and Sybil, the two most unkept beasts out of the lot? Antonio couldn't fathom it.

Quite in fact, the thought raised a raw feeling of frustration to the back of his throat. Letting the feeling subside, he crept with slow, measured steps down the hall, up the stair past the study, along the wall to the room he presumed Sarkylet would be in. There was no use letting the feeling overtake him, especially after he'd already sabotaged himself earlier by giving in to his desire to adjust the shelf.

Voices, or at least one voice, resonated down the now widened hallway, telling Antonio that he was near. A door, cracked open slightly, invited his footpaws further. His ears pitched forward to listen.

"…Wasn't funny the first time, let alone the twentieth time. Come on, you left me alone for years, why are you starting up again now."

Antonio's face twisted sideways in confusion. Had he not only met Sybil today? Of course, this was assuming that he was currently in conversation with the female marten, yet Antonio heard no trace of her voice. He didn't hear anything, save Sarkleyet's droning.

Where the stoat expected a response from whomever Sarkleyet was speaking to, there was only silence. Creeping closer to be sure that he wasn't just missing words lost by the semi-thick walls, Antonio heard Sarkleyet as he continued, "Don't encourage him Sulat, you degenerate little vulpine!"

Than an eruption. "Dammit, would you all let me alone! I had almost gotten used to you being around all the time, but then Selene comes back again after Nevyeer dies, and now Twisttail won't leave me alone long enough for me to get any work done!

Banter between Sarkleyet and the quiet continued, the silence remaining un-filled even as Antonio stood not three paces from the door. The stoat listened only a few more moments before vacating the hall.

Now there was no question about it – Sarkleyet was mad. A smile burst across the stoat's face. This meant that he would be more susceptible to trickery once the Red Brandy was secured. After all, as he had reminded himself before, beasts of feeble mind were more susceptible to manipulation and madness did not tend to afflict those with great intellect. Even if Sarkeleyet was smarter than the stoat suspected, no doubt he would be able to use the marten's affliction to his advantage.

It was decided. Antonio Calceterre would go with the team assigned to retrieving the Red Brandy and he would use Sarkleyet's weakness against him to steal it.

First things first, though; he needed to make it back to his room and confer with Brull and Aras, insinuate himself further into their company and become their friend. More friends meant more creatures to watch his back.

More bodies to take the blows.

En route to his room, Antonio's footpaw caught against something, nearly pitching him from the ground. Through careful maneuvering he was able to keep his balance and remain vertical. Adjusting his neckerchief, he stared at the beast that had almost caused his literal downfall.

"Well, I did not at all expect to see you out at such a late hour. To what do I owe the pleasure?"