Volle (46 page)

Or perhaps he could think along the lines the king had been talking earlier: All of Ferrenis was one family, his family. He was representing all of them here, not just the royal family. Honoring his family meant doing whatever he had to do to keep them safe, and he hadn’t been doing that. He’d been acceding to his own principles, trying to walk the line between the fox he wanted to be and the job he had to do. And while he felt slightly uncomfortable lying about his hatred of Ferrenis, he found that much easier than potentially ruining the life of a vixen and her cub or cubs just to secure his position as a noble.

Ilyana, he realized, lay at the heart of his problem. If he continued to reject potential mates, there would be talk and it would become a distraction, just as the courtship itself had been a distraction. This would not necessarily endanger his mission, but by sparing her, he was setting a precedent for himself that might ultimately lead him to a bad decision in the future. His ability to make sacrifices, not just of himself, but also of others, was at stake here.

This dovetailed with his thoughts from the previous night, his revelation that he would have to use people. He couldn’t ask others to make sacrifices just for him, nor could he always use them just for his own ends. But he could require those sacrifices to protect his family. He would never be as ruthless as the ones who had sent a gentle cougar to kill and be killed, but where his family was concerned, he would have to be willing to risk not only his own life, but also that of others. His family was his country, and his mission was to keep them safe. That was how he was to honor Fox and Canis.

The more he thought about it, the more right it felt. They’d never told it to him in those terms. His mission had always been given to him in dry, abstract, nationalistic terms. There was a plot against the country, there would be troop movements in the Reysfields, he was just supposed to gather information. If he thought about his mission in those terms, it was hard for him to get passionate about it.

Whatever else would come out of this incident, he would no longer lack passion.

Chapter 21

By the end of the tribunal, he was heartened enough by his new resolve that he flashed Oncit a tight smile when he caught the wolf examining him. Startled, Oncit looked about to say something, but then he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Maybe I got to him,” Volle said to himself as he walked quickly back to his rooms. He would look for Oncit at lunch on Ursiday and try this new tack. At the very least, it seemed to have rekindled the wolf’s interest in him, which had faded since their dinner together.

“Welcis,” he said as he entered his parlor, “will I be allowed to go to services tomorrow with the rest of the palace?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Sir? Lord Ikling requested your company at dinner tonight if you have no other plans.”

“Oh? No, I haven’t. I’ll go see Helfer.”

“Very good, sir. Might I suggest a change of clothes?”

“Of course.” Volle changed into a less formal linen shirt and walked upstairs, reaching Helfer’s chambers just as Caresh and a footservant were returning with trays of food. Caresh showed him into the parlor, where Helfer was sitting with a mug of apricot mead, which Volle could smell from the doorway.

“Come in, sit down.” The weasel waved him to a chair. “Caresh, get him some mead.”

“Thanks for the invitation.” Volle took the chair, sweeping his tail through the back, as Caresh went to fulfill Helfer’s order.

“You missed the run, so I thought I might as well share dinner.” Helfer grinned. “So who was your ‘appointment’ with?”

“King Barris.”

Helfer blinked, the mug halfway to his muzzle. “Really? But it’s not his day.”

“I know. It was informal. He just wanted to ask about Xiller. He’s not very happy about what happened.”

Helfer looked closely at Volle. “He’s not the only one. He thought you knew something?”

Caresh had returned with a mug, which he handed to Volle. Volle sipped the pungent brew from it. “I did live with him for three days. It’s not unreasonable. But I couldn’t tell him anything.”

“Could he tell you anything?” the weasel asked astutely.

Volle licked his lips, getting the apricot taste from them. “No. Except that he didn’t know about it and didn’t order it.”

“That’s good to know. Some appetizer?”

“Sure.” They ate the small fish cakes that were being kept warm under a metal lid, one by one. The cakes were just the right size for Helfer’s muzzle, but Volle found himself eating two at a time. They were salty but otherwise delicious.

“I wanted to thank you for last night, too, Hef.” Volle wiped his paws off on a napkin as he swallowed the last cake.

“Oh, you’re welcome.” The weasel was sniffing at the main course as Caresh lifted the lid from the tureen to reveal a thick beef stew. “Mm. So you didn’t mind me staying? You felt better afterwards?”

“Yes, I felt better, and no, I didn’t mind.” Volle smiled as Caresh ladled some stew into a bowl. “I was glad I finally got to see you in action.”

Helfer chuckled. “Sorry it was one of my less inspired nights. Normally I could’ve gotten at least one more, but, you know, I didn’t want to wear out poor Richy.”

“Very considerate of you.” Volle started on the stew, which was delicious, and the conversation ended there for a while.

After the apricot tarts (“made from Vellenland apricots,” Helfer said), they relaxed, Helfer with more mead and Volle with some wine. They were quiet for a time, until Volle noticed Helfer’s wide grin and said, “What?”

The weasel grinned into his mead. “You’re pretty cute.”

Volle flicked his ears. “Thanks. You are too. Impressive, too.” He grinned back at the weasel.

Helfer lapped his mead and settled back. “That’s another reason I like rabbits. They’re usually really impressed with me.” He winked.

“I bet.” Volle took a sip of wine.

There was a long pause. Helfer looked up and said, “We don’t have to do that again.”

“I know,” Volle said. “But I am glad we did.”

“Me too.” A pause, punctuated by the lapping of mead. “We could do it again. If you wanted. But we don’t have to.”

Volle grinned. “I might want to sometime. But last night was special. I needed both of you. I hope you’re never in that kind of position. Again,” he added hastily, remembering Helfer’s father.

“I do too. It is nice to know there’s someone you can trust…anywhere.”

“Thank Canis for that.”

“Thank Weasel.” Helfer raised his mug and Volle raised his glass, and they emptied them together.

“Services in the morning,” Volle said, getting up. “I should get to bed. Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Same here.” Helfer put his mug aside and stifled a yawn.

“When do you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Volle nodded. “I’ll see you off.”

“Course you will,” the weasel said cheerfully. “And I’ll come find you when I get back.”

Volle grinned and hugged Helfer tightly. “Thanks.”

“Aww, I told you, it was my pleasure. In more ways than one.” Helfer hugged him back.

“For that, and for just being my friend when I really needed it.”

“Well, that’s my pleasure too.” Helfer smiled.

Volle leaned over and nuzzled his ears. “Mine too. Goodnight, Hef.”

“Goodnight, Volle.”

His mood the following morning was lighter than it had been in days, though he was not at all cheerful. He was looking forward to the services and to the interview with Ullik afterwards, and in anticipation of the latter, he slipped one of the southern coins into his purse. His grief and anger were already fading after only a few days, but his resolve remained strong.

The services were the same as they always were. Volle didn’t know if he expected a special prayer for Prince Gennic, but the Gaiavox didn’t lead one, so he said his own during a moment of silence. The Canid Cantor had chosen a responsorial prayer for the Canids called “To The Life Of The Pack,” in which the congregation dedicated various parts of their bodies and lives to the Life of the Pack, and the priest, representing Canis, did the same. In light of his new resolve, Volle took this as a good sign, and he was even more heartened when he looked up at the stained glass window depicting Canis and saw the sun shining through it.

He managed to slip away to the candles. He lit two candles, saying quick prayers for Prince Gennic and Xiller as he did so, and when he placed the candles in their holders, he noticed another pair, burned almost all the way down, in the row just above them. He was examining them curiously when the Felid Cantor passed by and gave him a warm smile, which he returned.

“I hope you have found peace,” the Cantor said quietly.

Volle made sure nobody else was within earshot, and replied in a low voice, “I think I have, brother of my father. Thank you.”

The bobcat’s smile grew. “Thank Canis, and thank Gaia, son of my brother. From them comes all peace and love.” He reached out a paw and plucked the burned-down candles from the rack. “I was just about to light two more.”

“Oh. For whom?”

“For you, son of my brother. For the two souls you pray for. I have lit two candles every day since your visit, when you did not return.”

Volle felt a weakness in his chest and a pressure behind his eyes. “I haven’t been able to…I’ve been restricted to the palace.”

The Cantor nodded and smiled. “It is our duty. The candles should properly be lit every day for a month, and often people are too busy to come every day.”

“Thank you,” Volle whispered. “I promise, as soon as I can…”

“Do not fret, son of my brother. I am happy to do it.” The Cantor dropped the candle ends into a box near the rack, and made a brief sign towards Volle. “Gaia and Canis’s blessings be with you.”

“And with you, brother of my father,” Volle said softly. “Go in peace.”

His eyes were still misty as he hurried out with the last of the congregation, hoping to catch Ullik before he disappeared into the palace. His effort was only half-hearted, as he no longer really felt like confronting the squirrel, but he reminded himself of his duty.

The person he did not expect to see was Sherr. The porcupine was standing along the ropes separating the commoners from the nobles, watching the procession go by as though he were just another gawker. The others were giving him a wide berth, though they huddled against each other in the chilly morning air. He caught Volle’s eye and briefly nodded, making a sign with one paw near the ropes.

The sign was a general “okay” sign. Volle nodded to show he’d gotten it, and immediately broke eye contact. The sign had to mean that Reese’s impersonation of the merchant had taken place and gone well. Otherwise, he assumed, Sherr would have signaled to him to hang behind, and they might have made an attempt to rescue him.

He wasn’t sure he’d want to be rescued in that case, because rescue would mean being sent home, and being sent home meant facing the Duke’s formidable teeth. But he would do whatever they deemed best, and the sign from Sherr gave him a good deal of relief.

Ullik was hard to miss in the crowd, and the fact that Volle couldn’t see him meant that the extravagantly dressed squirrel had already gone into the palace. Volle hurried through the crowd and up the nearest stair, heading towards Ullik’s office in the hope that his chambers were in the same wing.

Luck was with him. He turned a corner and saw Ullik and his wife strolling down the corridor, just about to stop in front of a door that was decorated in gold leaf. The Exchequer’s head came up as he heard Volle’s claws click on the stone floor, and his eyes narrowed.

“Lord Vinton.”

“Exchequer Ullik,” Volle said evenly. “And Madame… I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“My wife, Lady Ullik,” the squirrel said stiffly. His wife extended her paw with a smile.

Volle brushed his muzzle against it cursorily. “Lord Ullik, I have some business to discuss with you.”

“I will be in my office tomorrow.” The squirrel put a paw on his door.

“I would be most obliged if we could discuss it immediately.” Volle spaced his words out just enough to give them weight, he hoped.

“Will it take long?” His wife had a very screechy voice. Volle tried not to fold his ears over.

Volle shook his head. “About five minutes, I should think.”

Ullik’s eyes gleamed as they met Volle’s. He coughed into one paw. “Of course I will be happy to be of service. Dear, have Furtina put on some tea. I will be back shortly.”

“What do you want?” he said as Volle followed him down the corridor to his office.

“Just to look at some records,” Volle said.

The squirrel gave him a look. “The palace financial records are private.” He slowed.

Volle could see his office now, and kept going. “This isn’t anything important,” he said, placing a paw on the office door handle. He reached into his pouch with the other. “I found this strange coin, and I wanted to know who it belonged to so I could return it.”

Ullik waddled up to the door and examined the coin. He looked at Volle. “Give it to me, I’ll return it.” He reached for the coin.

Volle pulled his paw back. “I hope you won’t be offended if I don’t trust you.”

“What makes you think I would know who it belongs to?”

“It’s new. It hasn’t traveled much. I’m guessing it was not dropped by a foreign dignitary—of which there have been none since I’ve arrived here—but was requested through your office.” He dropped the coin into his purse. “Am I right?”

Ullik hesitated, then opened the door. “Inside.”

He waddled through and went immediately to his office, gesturing Volle in and locking the door behind him. “Now,” he said, “even if you are right, what makes you think I’ll just let you go nosing through my books?” His beady eyes glinted.

“I don’t expect you to. I expect you’ll show me exactly which entry I need to see.” Volle wrinkled his nose. The smell in here was as bad as he remembered.

“And why would I do that?”

Volle licked his lips slowly, letting his tongue travel visibly around his muzzle. “Because I have something you want.”

He’d entertained the vague hope that Ullik would let him see the book without him having to do anything unpleasant, but the slow smile that met his remark told him that Ullik had only let him into the office because he expected Volle to make this offer. He walked over to the shelves of dusty books and selected one, then brought it over to Volle so the fox could read the title: “Foreign Currency Transactions under King Barris.”

Volle reached for it, but Ullik held it behind his back. He leaned against the desk. “I think I will require your part of the bargain first.” With his other paw, he unfastened his pants and slid them down.

His sheath, Volle saw, was already engorged, and he was partially erect, getting more so as Volle looked at him. He steeled himself, and knelt in front of the squirrel.

Without preamble, he took the short member into his muzzle and started to bob up and down, reminding himself that he was in control. Ullik moaned at the first touch of his tongue, then coughed wetly and started to breathe heavily.