Epilogue I - Poko's Pockets

[Poko]

The last remaining survivors of Flax?s original assembly had gathered at a single table within the palace, comforted by the presence of familiar faces. They picked absently at the food brought to them by Tikora?s former slaves now turned servants. Freeing the slaves and offering them wages had been one of the many good-will gestures Zander had offered to help ensure the support and continued service of the palace staff and guard. Testifying to their gratitude, a blazing fire burned brightly at one end of the room, warming the group outwardly, while a fancy, piping hot feast was spread across the table before them to warm them inwardly.

The transition of power had been remarkably smooth and uneventful with Zander being a familiar enough political figure and Noonahootin?s sharp-eyed family overseeing events. The grotesque remains of their patriarch had been removed from the fortress spires and now awaited proper burial alongside his wife in Yew, underneath their tree home where they raised their many children. Before Cleite and Breda departed, however, a memorial would be held to honor all of the group?s fallen comrades.

Zevka, poking at a pigeon drumstick with surprising reluctance, flinched noticeably as Pyracantha Dewhurst retrieved the purple rat?s coat from her satchel. It had a potent, smoky odor to it that caused most utensils to clatter back onto the table, their wielders having lost what remained of their appetites. The one exception was Ruta, the young, walleyed mole, who continued to gorge herself obliviously on walnut and black current scones. Pyracantha cleared her throat and reached into the folds of the garment, drawing out several items.

?I feel that I should consult you all on what to do with the belongings Poko left behind. Aside from the pipe case, these things are largely unfamiliar to me, and I hoped that you could help me to decide what are keepsakes and what are...just acorns.? The fox lifted a single nut with a shrug. ?I know Poko liked to scavenge and fill her pockets with rubbish as a kit, but most of the things I?ve found in this coat seem to have been kept with some purpose??

The fox lifted up two large feathers - one broken and the other scraggly and beat up.

?Those are Noonahootin?s brow feathers,? Zevka explained, remembering the ferret lamenting their removal shortly after his death. ?I think they should be buried at the ceremony. She?d have wanted that.?

?I?d like to keep one of them if it?s alright,? Nyika cut in, then glanced around nervously. ?To remember him by.?

No one objected and Pyracantha handed the wildcat the unbroken feather. Nyika stroked it and sniffed at the familiar scent with some sadness before tucking it away.

?Then there?s Risk?s hat?? the fox had barely extricated the knit cap before Nyika was clawing for it desperately, her eyes filling with moisture. ?Okay, I suppose you can have that too?? Pyracantha checked the faces around the table and once again no objections were forthcoming. Obviously the hat held great sentimental value to the cat.

Next Pyracantha revealed the silver, leaf-shaped broach from Noonahootin?s cape.

?Why, that?s a Yew officer?s pin!? declared Flax.

?I believe it was a gift from Noonahootin sometime around the?surgery.? Zevka cleared her throat, leaving out the bit about using the red-hot metal to cauterize his wounds. ?Perhaps I can pass it on to Vanessa, if ever we find her again. She doesn?t know about him still. Or Poko.? The marteness?s face scrunched slightly at saying the name aloud, disclosing a deep-reaching pain that had been previously masked. Nods of approval confirmed the decision and the fox passed the silver broach to the pine marten.

?These were all in the same pocket,? Pyracantha laid out several scraps of crinkled paper covered in Poko?s simple scribbles of letters and drawings. A piece of charcoal wrapped in tissue and the previously exhibited acorn accompanied them. They passed the notes around, but no one seemed to recognize their meaning until someone found a phrase written and underlined at the top of one piece: ?Mor Lesins for Takis.?

?Ah. These were meant for Takis?? Istvan handed the papers back to Pyracantha, as if the matter were solved.

?And who is Takis, pray tell?? Pyracantha felt an edge of frustration. Istvan, Zevka and Nyika glanced at one another and the fissure of experience that stood between them and Pyracantha, Flax and Mekad seemed to yawn more widely before them all. It didn?t help that they were on opposite sides of the table.

?He?s a young ermine around Poko?s age that we met in the mountains,? Zevka finally explained. ?They were rather fond of each other.? She reached a paw for the papers. ?Here, I?ll hold onto them if you like. Perhaps I can find a way to deliver them.? She gathered the papers, acorn and charcoal into a small pile in front of her.

Pyracantha shook herself, sending a small scattering of auburn sheddings to drift in the air and settle slowly across the leftover food.

?There are two items left yet, and I am undecided what is to be done with each. One, of course, is Poko?s pipe set.? Once again a look of intense yearning came across Nyika?s features and she started chewing a claw, glancing over apprehensively at the otter, Istvan.
?I happen to know that this is a family heirloom, passed down through generations, and gifted this last time to Poko from her grandfather on her mother?s side. It?s worth quite a lot, actually, but it would seem a shame to sell it. It was meant to stay in the family.?

?Bury it.? The brawny otter priest suggested tersely.

Nyika gaped at him, a whimper of protest escaping her.

?It is representative of Poko, is it not? It could be laid to rest in her stead.?

Few could argue the close connection the pipe set had to the young ferretmaid. It had always been her greatest treasure, coveted and precious in her eyes.

?What about the coat? We could bury her coat,? Nyika offered hopefully.

?Actually, I was thinking of keeping the coat myself,? Istvan replied. ?If that?s okay with the rest of you. My wardrobe has grown quite sparse of late, and it would seem to suit my calling better than a uniform at least.?

Flax grunted audibly, though it was unclear whether it was in disapproval or hearty agreement.

?Gashrock would appreciate that, I?m sure,? Pyracantha affirmed with a nod. ?So be it. The pipe will go into the ground at the ceremony, in memory of our youngest loss.? She pulled a small pouch from the purple coat and then handed the garment to Istvan who leaned across the table to accept.

?And last?is this.? The fox held up the small pouch for all to see. ?A surprise to be sure.? She tugged at the draw string until it was loosened and then poured part of the contents onto the table.

?Buttons?? Nyika looked confused, as did the others.

?I say!? Flax exclaimed suddenly, ?Are those jewels mixed in there?? The vole leaned forward suddenly, reaching a paw toward the small pile and poking a claw at the mixture.

?That?s right. Buttons and jewels. Gashrock?s personal collection if I?m not mistaken. I can?t imagine Poko would be so especially interested in buttons.? The fox lifted a shiny nickel-plated disc with two holes bored through the middle and squinted through them. ?Of course, whether Poko or Gashrock collected these valuables, the fact is?they were both part of my troupe. It would seem fitting to me to use it to reestablish the Dewhurst players in their honor??

Zevka?s eyes glittered like the diamonds rolling around in the heap. ?Carrigul needs to be rebuilt. It?s we who destroyed it, and it should be us who help it to recover. Winter is here and with Ruark and Goragula gone, who knows what will happen to the economy. We could use this to fund restoration projects.?

?The moral integrity of this city is also in disrepair,? added Istvan seriously. ?We need to retrain or replace those in positions of judgment and lawful authority. While I was imprisoned, I heard a Carrigul soldier talk about how he cut off the paw of a stoat kit ? simply for taking a baker?s pasty. Their punishments are far too harsh.?

?Look,? Zevka tapped a claw at the table, ?what matters now is ensuring Carrigul survives the winter. We can address the religious and moral short-fallings as they arise.?

?Istvan has a point.? Nyika interjected, ?And so does Miss Dewhurst.? The wildcat looked down at the sleeping weasel babe curled in her lap. ?But Zevka?s also right. This city needs help. It is not a healthy place for kits and pups. There are far too many unsettled and violent spirits roving the streets. I?m not sure if it?s wiser to stay and try to repair it or leave before it?s too late.?

Pyracantha had stopped following the debate after Istvan?s story. ?What?what happened to the stoat child?? The high note of apprehension and concern in her voice arrested everyone?s attention. The room grew silent as slowly everyone turned to the otter priest to hear his reply.

?I do not know with certainty, but unless he had the presence of mind to bind the wound, it?s likely he bled to death. I?m sorry. I was unable at the time to assist.?

Pyracantha looked stricken, putting a paw to her mouth, then gasped as a thought struck her. ?We should help them. We should help all of the orphaned kits and street urchins running around Carrigul. What better way to help the city, Miss Blackbriar, than to help nurture and raise the next generation? And what better way to stop the injustice than to remove the victims from oppression?? She looked pointedly at Istvan. ?And what better way to honor the lives of my players ? who were all street vermin at one point or another and orphans themselves??

No one could argue for a better way to spend Poko?s stash than to build an orphanage in her name, taking the first small step to change Carrigul?s corrupt social structure. Orphans would have a place to call home and not be forced to live day-by-day on the streets. They could learn useful crafts or apprenticeships, and, as Zevka insisted, even be educated.

Pyracantha eagerly volunteered to run the establishment. It was, after all, her strongest area of expertise. Ruta would be her first charge, and she had a few other rascals in mind who she?d spotted watching her from side allies with wide, hungry eyes the first time she?d gone searching for the young molemaid.

?Poko would be proud,? Zevka admitted, as Pyracantha swept the last of the buttons and jewels back into the pouch. ?What was it her father said again?? The pine marten thought back. ?Everybeast deserves a chance? Something like that.? The marten lifted her tankard. ?To Poko, Noonahootin, Gashrock, Risk, and all the beasts who perished on that fated route.?

?Hear, hear.? A chorus of voices answered, and they drank to the dead.