Volle (15 page)

Nor was he behind the other door, which led to an expansive wardrobe. Volle gawked at the assortment of clothes that hung from racks or lay folded on shelves. Helfer must have an outfit for every day of the year, he thought. Green and yellow were the predominant colors, and the family crest adorned fully half the garments Volle could see.

“Luxurious,” he muttered, closing the door as quietly as he could. He padded over to the other curtain and gently drew it aside with a paw.

Behind it was Helfer’s bedroom. There was a fireplace here, and a large canopy bed with pale green silk sheets. The bed was carved of fine mahogany, with weasel totems scampering up the posts, and the headboard had flaking gold leaf on it. A small table stood nearby, and a small wardrobe (
more clothes??
), but like the other rooms, it was empty.

Puzzled, Volle withdrew his muzzle and walked slowly back to the parlor. He was certain Helfer hadn’t gone out his front door. The corridor had been very quiet, and nobody had walked over it in either direction. Either Helfer was much stealthier than Volle had given him credit for, and had snuck out without saying hello or asking how Volle liked the book, or else he was hiding somewhere in his apartments for some reason.

He set the piece of paper down on Helfer’s desk, and stood looking out the window for a moment. It looked out onto a busy street, and from the second story, the window could be opened. Volle did so, and breathed in the night air for a moment. To his right, he could see the Lonely Cock, and just as he was grinning again at the name, he could have sworn he saw Helfer walking down the street towards it.

“Hey…” But he didn’t want to yell, and now he wasn’t sure it was the weasel after all. He’d been wearing the same green tunic, but several people in the street were wearing green. The scents floating up to him all jumbled, and he couldn’t sort them out to pick out Helfer’s.

Behind him, the parlor door opened. He turned and came face to face with Caresh, who looked impassively at him.

“Oh. Good evening, Caresh.”

“Good evening, Lord Vinton.”

“Helfer—Lord Ikling had loaned me these books, and one of them had a personal document in it, so I just wanted to return it.” He couldn’t stop his ears from flicking nervously. “I just set it on the desk there. I hope he won’t mind.”

Caresh shook his head. “I imagine he will not, though I expect he would appreciate being told at your lordship’s earliest convenience.”

“Of course,” Volle nodded. “Er, is Lord Ikling out?”

Caresh looked at him and then glanced at the curtain leading to the sitting room. “Lord Ikling was addressing some matters with me in my quarters,” he said smoothly. “He has only just now left.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you, Caresh.” Volle walked past the other fox as he started clearing the dinner dishes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

He paused in the foyer and closed the parlor door behind him. He lifted his nose and inhaled deeply. There was Helfer’s scent, but it was old, and there was definitely no scent of jasmine. Nor, when he inhaled again outside, was there any in the corridor. He closed the door and walked thoughtfully back to his rooms, holding the books in his paw. He didn’t know why, but Caresh had definitely been lying.

Chapter 6

In the morning, the palace tailor Wexlin came by. The old goat had brought his measuring tape and some fabric swatches, and after taking Volle’s measurements, he let Volle choose some fabrics. Volle liked the feel of the linen, and asked for it in an orange-red.

“That’ll do fine,” Wexlin said. “What do you need, and how many?”

“Well,”Volle said sheepishly, “I don’t really have anything. So I need some casual outfits and a couple formal ones, and whatever else I might need. Oh, and some skirts for running.”

Wexlin nodded again. “I’ll make the formal outfits with the lace and velvet, if that’s okay. It’s traditional for them.” Volle nodded his agreement. “Do you have a family crest to embroider onto your clothes?”

“I do. Hold on.” Volle rummaged through his papers and found a drawing of the Vinton crest, a fox’s head with the Panbestian Canis symbol on a diagonal striped background.

The goat examined it. “Rather simple. I can start right away; we’re not very busy. We can have four or five shirts, some skirts, some formal pants, a couple doublets…” He did the tallies in his head. “I’ll have them sent down as they’re ready. Probably a month for the lot.”

“That’ll be fine, thank you.” Volle smiled, and the goat bowed and left.

Caresh brought down another skirt for him, or perhaps it was the same one. He dressed, and met Helfer in the same spot again. The weasel seemed to be in good spirits. “All ready?”

Volle nodded, and they set off. “Oh, did you find the paper I left on your desk?”

“No, haven’t looked at it. What is it?”

“It was just one of your papers that was stuck in one of the books you loaned me. I brought it back because it looked personal—it had figures on it and your seal, and I figured you’d want it.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks.”

“I had to go back into your parlor to leave it, and you weren’t there. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.”

They continued on through a particularly fragrant patch of flowers while Volle wrestled with his conscience. Staying on good terms with Helfer was important to him, but he realized that the weasel was about the least important contact in terms of his work. Chances are he would never find out what Volle had done, but what if Caresh had told him? With his keen nose, Caresh could have detected Volle’s scent in the sitting room, at least, even though he’d been careful not to touch very much. He’d been in there long enough.

He was also curious about where Helfer had gone and how he’d gotten out. But he couldn’t ask that straight out, so coming clean wouldn’t satisfy that curiosity. But on the other paw, Helfer was the best friend he had so far, and if Caresh
had
told him…

As they rounded the corner of the palace, coming to the edge of the main garden, he said, “You left pretty quickly last night. I…I kinda looked through the curtain to see if you were in there, and I didn’t see you.”

Helfer chuckled. “I was talking to Caresh in his quarters,” he said. “But you’re free to roam through the chambers if you like.”

“Interesting sitting room.”

Helfer laughed. “Laying room, I call it. I don’t do much sitting in there.”

Volle grinned. “Lot of doors off it.” He’d decided to compromise. He’d seen the doors, but there was nothing secret about them, so he hoped Helfer would volunteer to tell him what was behind them, and he did.

“Private bathroom, and the room that used to be mine growing up. I just keep my clothes there now. And of course the bedroom.”

“Private bath? Lucky. My private bath was taken away.”

“Oh, yes, Lady Gervis. Well, my father served for many years and when I was old enough he applied for larger chambers. Those happened to be empty at the time and so we moved in. I’m spoiled now, I admit it, but I’m not going to move.”

“I wouldn’t either.” They paused to climb the wall separating the two rear gardens, and then set off again.

For the rest of the run they remained silent. When they got back to the gates, Helfer patted Volle on the back. “Thanks! See you tomorrow? I’ll probably stay in tonight, but I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Sure. I’ve got a dinner date tonight anyway.”

“Oh? With who?”

“Assistant to the Steward. He’s pretty cute and I think he was flirting with me.”

“Arrin? Oh, he’s a good fox.” Helfer squinted at Volle speculatively. “I think you two might hit it off. You looking for something serious?”

“Not really. Why?”

He shrugged and grinned. “Lot of the functionaries are. But he knows the situation. Have fun. Oh, and go ahead and keep the skirt ’til you get your own.”

“Okay, thanks. I saw Wexlin this morning.” Helfer rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t afford to see your tailor until I get my money straightened out.”

“I guess. See you tomorrow, then.” The weasel jogged away up the stairs.

Volle had decided to take lunch with the other lords, following Tish’s advice, so after a quick bath and some help with his wardrobe from Welcis, he headed for the dining rooms. Perhaps, he thought, he could locate one of the lords that Tish had mentioned. A few tables were set up at which some lords were sitting, while uniformed staff brought them food and carried it away. Volle sat down at a table with four other lords, who turned politely to acknowledge his presence.

The first, a middle-aged wolf, was sitting beside two younger bears. Apart from them, separated by a place from both their group and Volle, sat an older squirrel. He muttered “Shenio” when introductions were being made, but Volle didn’t know if that was his name or a regional curse of some kind. None of the other names were ones Volle knew.

As the staff came and went, bringing bread, honey, and the rich chicken pastries that were the main lunch dish, the lords chatted amiably about the weather, the conditions at the palace, and the price of various foods and liquors and what was to be done about it. This led into a political discussion, to which Volle listened avidly.

“Back when we owned the mango groves, the mead was cheap! One copper for a mug!” This was “Shenio” talking. Mangoes, Volle knew, were grown in southern Ferrenis and in Delford, the country on Tephos’s western border. Tephos’s southern lands were too mountainous for mangoes to grow.

“So what are we going to do, invade them again?”

“That’s what old Blood’n’Guts would like, isn’t it?”

“Well, you’ll never hear him say it out loud, but it’s there all right.”

“Lord Vinton?” A paw on his shoulder interrupted the conversation. Volle turned, fuming inwardly, and met the blue eyes of a young grey fox in a peach-colored silk shirt. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you are Lord Vinton, right?”

Volle nodded, and the fox held out his paw. “I’m Lord Vanadi. I understand I’m to attend a dinner at your chambers tomorrow night.” The others at the table, after looking up briefly, returned to their conversation. Volle listened to them with one ear, but they’d stopped talking politics and started talking about the next Church service.

“Yes, that’s right. I’m new at the palace and I’m trying to meet people.” He smiled broadly. “My personal servant said he would invite a few people, just for a quiet evening, since I don’t know anyone.”

“Oh, I’m glad to join you.” Vanadi smiled. “I just wanted to ask, how familiar are you with the Panbestian Screed? Because I have a couple books that really helped me come to terms with my place in the hierarchy of life, and I’d be delighted to share them if you’re interested.”

“Well. I’m not sure…”

“Oh, they’re really wonderful. Tell you what. I’ll just bring the one.”

Volle forced a smile. “Okay.”

Vanadi’s return smile was obviously not forced. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” His tail was wagging as he headed off.

By the time Volle returned to the conversation, some of the original lords had left and new ones arrived. They were now talking about the ladies of the court. It was the younger ones who drove this conversation; “Shenio” had his head down in his arms. Volle did learn that there was to be a cotillion in a couple weeks’ time, but other than that, he learned nothing of use. Frustrated, he wished he could ask them to go back to talking about politics, but realized that that probably wouldn’t work too well. So when he had finished his food, he bid them good day and left.

That left him the rest of the afternoon to prepare for his dinner with Arrin. He honestly didn’t know what to expect, so he decided not to worry about it. Welcis would no doubt take care of the arrangements. After some time spent examining his papers, Volle curled up in bed with “A Brush With Love.”

…russet fur caught fire in the light of the sunset. Jorehn gasped, a look of stunned surprise on his muzzle. The stranger approaching him was a fox like himself, tall and well-formed, with a confident stride and a cocky tilt to his ears. He drew closer, and closer still, so that Jorehn could see the highlights in his fur, a red the color of the sunset, a yellow as bright as a daffodil, the whole pattern looking like autumn leaves spun into threads and woven to form a perfect tapestry wrapped around the divine image of the vulpine form. As his eyes traveled lower, he saw that the stranger was wearing a simple skirt of yellow cloth, and the shape of the cloth at his waist reminded Jorehn of nothing so much as a plump, hard lemon…

At first, Volle just giggled at the elaborate prose. But as he read on, he found himself more and more engaged with the characters, and more and more aroused by their exploits. He closed the bedroom door and took off his trousers so that he could brush a paw back and forth over his swollen sheath.

Mychal’s muzzle came close to Jorehn’s ear, so that Jorehn could feel his warm breath against the soft fur inside. ‘They may separate us in body, but they can never pry our spirits from our embrace of love. A part of you will always be in me, and a part of me will forever be in you.’ Jorehn sighed at the words and nodded, as his body’s senses sang in an ecstatic harmony with the part of Mychal that was physically in him. His lover’s passion moved as easily into Jorehn as his words had done, and both stirred a fire in him, one in his heart and one in his loins. The two danced together through his blood…

Volle’s own blood had surged to his sheath, bringing him fully erect. He was panting as he read, barely aware that his paw had closed firmly around himself and was stroking quickly. At the climax of the story, he closed his eyes and lay back, paw working until his back arched and he moaned in pleasure. Warm spatters fell on his tunic as he finished himself, and finally he lay back on the bed, panting.

The bedroom door opened, and Volle suddenly found the energy to scramble with his tunic to cover himself. Welcis’s head poked inside. “Sir, is anything wrong? I heard…” He assessed the situation quickly and bowed his head. “Terribly sorry, sir.” He made to shut the door.

“Wait! Welcis…how much longer until dinner?”

“Two hours, sir.”

“Is the table set?”

“Not yet, but I have sent for a cloth and some settings. They should be here within the hour.”

“Excellent.” Volle fingered his tunic. “Would you be able to find me some nice dinner clothes? I don’t think the tailor will be quite done with mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And…I think I will need this laundered.” He grinned sheepishly.

Welcis’s expression didn’t change. “Sir, I will be pleased to take care of that.” He waited expectantly.

“I’ll leave it by the wardrobe here when I change later.” He was still erect, though his legs and tunic were hiding that well enough. His ears flicked a bit self-consciously. “Also, if you can find a scent to put in this room and the sitting room…something subtle, maybe a sage or lavender smell?”

“Very good, sir.” Welcis retreated, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Volle sighed and lay back to finish the book.

A single tear trickled down the fur of Jorehn’s cheek, blurring the image of the harbor and the departing ship. He clutched the railing as the vortex of despair and anguish threatened to engulf him, but then he remembered Mychal’s strong, assured voice telling him to be strong. The sweet baritone would remain forever in his memory even if he never heard it with his ears again, and every word that voice had spoken would remain etched like traceries of frost upon the fragile glass of his soul. Mychal’s arms seemed to lift him, to give him the strength to stand defiantly upright. In the saffron and vermilion of the sunset he saw his love’s fur, and so he lifted his muzzle to the heavens as though his lover dwelt there and said, ‘I love you still, and forever will.’

And although the ship was no more than a black blur on a turquoise canvas, he knew without knowing how that Mychal stood on the deck looking back at him, his golden eyes shining, repeating the same words back to him. And then his sadness was tempered with the joy that is ever-present when two hearts are joined, for he knew that time and distance no longer mattered; as Mychal had said, their bodies were apart, but their spirits were one.

To his surprise, Volle found a tear in his own eye as he set the book aside. He lay back and enjoyed the wash of emotions for a moment. The characters had appealed to him, and as he reflected on them, he wondered if Arrin would be his Jorehn, then chuckled to himself. “Romance,” he said aloud as he stripped off his tunic, “is best left in books.”