Volle (32 page)

He took a carriage, but sat back the entire journey, immersed in his thoughts. It would be easy enough to pull off the performance tonight, but then he would never see Ilyana again. He found that he felt mildly sorry for that, and for the behavior he was going to assume, and he wondered idly if she would see that it was all an act. To take his mind from that, he focused on Xiller, and what the big cougar would say and do if he were there now. He’d tell me not to worry, he thought with a grin, and then he’d put his paw down my pants.

He barely realized the carriage had stopped, and only got up when the driver rapped gently on the door. Adjusting his pants somewhat self-consciously, he stepped down and was greeted by a diminutive grey wolf, who led him up to the door.

Despite the servant, he could see the financial straits of her family the moment he stepped in the door. The paint on the wall was chipped and peeling, and the floor was dirty and in obvious need of washing. Not only that, but the house was divided into several parts, and it looked as though two other families lived there. The wolf ushered him to a staircase that led him up two flights to a door in similar disrepair, which the wolf opened. “Lord Vinton,” he announced.

Volle stepped forward into a sitting room that, while it did not quite match the Barclaw’s, was still very nicely maintained. The floor was clean and it was clear that the family had made an effort to keep the room brightly lit and tidy. He eyed the decorations with the prejudice of the palace, but decided they were quite nice, given the circumstances.

The family that rose to greet him could be described the same way. Instantly he felt overdressed and mortified, certain that his formal attire was rubbing his wealth in their muzzles. Their clothes were older than his, and as they rose he could see a well-concealed patch in the father’s trousers. His gaze flicked across the father’s eyes to the mother’s, and rested there. He saw her ears flick back, then forward, saw the narrowing of her eyes, and knew that she could see what he’d seen, and resented his pity.

Could he use that? No, he couldn’t flaunt his wealth any more than he already was. In the first place, he just wanted to be rude, not arrogant, and in the second, they wanted their daughter to be well off, so showing off wealth wouldn’t endanger the courtship.

“Thank you so much for coming by, Lord Vinton. I’m Ilyana’s father, Marcel.” Marcel was about fiftyish, with graying fur along the sides of his muzzle and ears, but his paw gripped Volle’s with the firmness of a fox twenty years younger. His clothes were rather bright, Volle thought: sunburst yellow and a bright blue that almost hurt his eyes to look at.

“Please, call me Volle.”

“And this is my wife, Katiana.” Volle lifted her paw to his muzzle and brushed it gently, inhaling her scent. She smelled like Ilyana, but worn down and faded. And yet…as he raised his head to look into her amber eyes again, he could see that there was a strong core that had survived. He released her paw and she bowed her head.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Please,” he said again. “Volle.”

Ilyana stepped forward and embraced him, touching her muzzle to either side of his. Her eyes sparkled as they drew apart. “Good evening, Volle. Thanks for coming.”

He smiled. “Thank you for the invitation, Ilyana.”

“Papa, I’ll let you two talk over drinks.” She guided Volle toward the liquor cabinet and stepped outside with her mother. “We’ll see you at dinner in about ten minutes.”

Marcel smiled fondly after her. “She’s my favorite,” he said. “I’d never tell the others that, but she’s bright and charming…” He laughed. “And what am I telling you this for? You already know that. Can I offer you some wine?”

“Sure. Yes, thank you,” Volle said, remembering his etiquette a moment too late. “Yes, your daughter is very charming.”

“She’ll make a good mother.” Marcel handed him a goblet of wine. Pewter, Volle noted as he lapped briefly from it. The wine was good but not remarkable, and he couldn’t help comparing it to the wine he’d had the previous night, as unfair as that was.

“I’m sure she will.” He couldn’t quite figure out how to start being rude.

“And I understand you’re not really in the market for a wife.”

Volle blinked. “She told you that?”

“Sure.” Marcel sipped his wine. “She tells us everything. Got a boyfriend?”

“Sort of. I mean, not at the moment.” He took a drink of wine to cover his confusion.

“Oh. Had a fight?”

“No, I mean, he’s gone. But he’ll be back,” he added hurriedly, and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I miss him.”

Marcel patted his shoulder. “I know just how you feel. When my boyfriend broke up with me, I was depressed for a month. Katiana tried to comfort me, but she doesn’t really have the right equipment, you know?”

He was grinning. Volle stared blankly at him, and he put down his wine goblet and held his paws about eight inches apart. “Germain was like this, you know? Mmm. I still miss him sometimes.” He sighed and picked up his goblet, taking another drink.

“You…you’re…”

“Did you think you were the only one?” Marcel grinned at him and put a paw on his arm. “Volle, I just wanted to make you feel comfortable about marrying my daughter. I had a very full life with Katiana and it didn’t stop me from visiting Germain. Or the Tattered Sheet, after Germain took up with that slut from Whitemarch.”

“Tattered Sheet?” Volle said, trying to regain his footing in the conversation.
He
was supposed to be the one pining over his departed lover.

“It’s a lovely establishment just down the street here. They have boys and girls and the prices aren’t too bad. Do you go to the Jackal’s Staff?”

“Um. Sometimes.”

“Lucky. They’re supposed to be the best. At the Sheet, it’s about a three in four chance of getting a good boy. Other nights you get someone who thinks that just laying there is the extent of his job. Are the boys at the Jackal good?”

Volle found himself nodding. “I’ve only been with two there, but they were both great.”

“I bet. Well, I think dinner’s ready. Shall we go in?”

Volle recovered quickly from the shock of exchanging brothel recommendations with Ilyana’s father, but he couldn’t quite bring off the effect that he wanted at dinner. They waited politely for him to talk, and when he belched, they pretended they hadn’t heard. It hurt his throat, so he gave that up quickly. He tried talking about Ilyana as though she weren’t there, but she grabbed his paw and joined the conversation, and he couldn’t ignore her after that.

The whole thing was complicated by the fact that he really did like her, more than Arrin even, and if she’d been male he would’ve been happy to spend time with her and court her. But the fact that he liked her made him even more reluctant to risk ruining her life.

In desperation, he turned to her mother, who had been quietly following the discussions, and tried to praise the dinner in unflattering terms, like “This is a nice little stew. It reminds me of a wonderful dish we had at the palace the other night.” He meant to imply that the food at the palace was much better, but he apparently wasn’t very good at being subtly insulting, because she actually smiled and thanked him. He assumed that she’d made the food herself, and decided to continue along that line.

The problem was that main dish was rather good, he thought as he ate the honey-dressed chicken. The beans served on the side were the only thing about it that he didn’t really like, so he left them carelessly untouched.

“Do you not like beans, Lord Vinton?” Katiana asked partway through the course.

“Oh, I do. Just not these.” He indicated them with a dismissive wave of his paw. Surely she couldn’t help but be offended at the outright rudeness.

“You know, I did think there was something a little off about them.” She took another taste. “Yes. I will definitely have a word with the cook. What a refined palate you have!”

Volle glumly took another bite of chicken.

Ilyana walked him to the front door after dinner. She held his paw and smiled. “I knew they’d like you. What was wrong with your stomach?”

“Stomach?”

“The, um…noises.”

“Oh. Just something I ate at lunch, I guess.”

“Is that why you didn’t like the beans?”

“I guess.” He sighed, and she squeezed his paw.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure everything will be okay anyway. I’ll explain to them that you weren’t feeling all that well.”

“I was worried I offended your mother by being overdressed.”

“Oh, no. I told them what a smart dresser you are.” She smiled and took the lace off of his collar. “There. You don’t need that now.”

He smiled crookedly. “I guess I didn’t mess things up too badly, then.”

Ilyana laughed. “I don’t think you could have messed them up even if you’d tried.”

Well, that was some consolation, though he was sure she didn’t know how true her words were. “I’ll see you next week, I guess.”

“Yes, Tika’s got more planning for me to do. It’s only three weeks away.” Her tail was wagging quickly, and her eyes glinted brightly.

Volle smiled. “It’s going to be lovely,” he said, and kissed her on the nose.

He was going to have to go through with it, he realized. He didn’t have it in him to ruin her cotillion. At least he could let her have that, and let her down afterwards. She’d said her season didn’t start for another couple weeks, so he had plenty of time. He sighed. It was all so complicated. He felt as though Xiller’s presence had given him a vacation from all that, taken him away from courtships and spies and pretense, and no sooner had the cougar gone than here he was plunged back into it all.

She flicked her ears back and smiled shyly. “I know, I’m like a little cub with this. But it’s a year overdue for me. All this time we were waiting to find the right fox, and…well,
I
was waiting. I’m glad I did, though. I think you’ll be a good father.” Hastily, she added, “If you want me, that is.”

Volle smiled. He was touched, but not quite enough to tell her he wanted her, when he knew that was a lie. But he had been impressed with how close her family was, how much her parents cared for her, and how much she still cared for them. “I think you’ll be a good mother,” he said softly, and she seemed contented with that.

After a short silence, he asked, “So what happens now? Do I have to ask your father for permission to court you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“Er. No.”

“I thought that’s what you and Papa were going to talk about when we left you alone.”

He shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t know. He didn’t ask.”

“He was probably waiting for you to bring it up. What did you talk about?”

“Er…just small talk, you know.” He didn’t quite feel that he could tell her what they’d really talked about.

“Oh. Male stuff.”

Volle almost giggled aloud, repressed it, and kept his ears up. “Yes, that’s right.”

She smiled. “I’m glad the two of you got along. You should go out together sometime. I’m sure he’d like that.”

Volle couldn’t stop the giggles this time, so he coughed to cover them. Ilyana patted his back. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he wheezed. His first image had been of him taking her father on a date; the second had been of him taking her father to a brothel. He drove them from his head with some difficulty.

“Do you want a drink or something? I can run back upstairs.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He glanced at the house and changed the subject. “Who else lives here?”

“Oh, my uncle lives on the second floor with his wife. They don’t have any children. And my grandparents used to live on the first floor until a few years ago. Now we have renters there.”

Volle nodded. “It must have been crowded when you were growing up.”

She smiled. “We liked it. Some of us stayed with our aunt and uncle, and my oldest brother moved in with my grandparents when he was old enough.” He could hear a wistful note in her voice.

“You miss your brother and sisters.”

She nodded. “I still see them sometimes, but they all have families now. Mama and Papa are wonderful, but I think sometimes they worry about me, and I know I’m costing them money.”

“I never had much of a family.”

Ilyana took his paw. “There’s another incentive for you to pick me.” She was trying to be coquettish, and it almost worked.

Volle kissed her paw and smiled gently. “As if I didn’t have enough.”

At that, she smiled widely and flicked her ears, and her tail wagged more quickly. “Oh, you flatterer. Go on home, Volle. I’ll see you next week. And thank you.”

He bowed. “Thank you, Ilyana. Good night, and thank your parents for me.”

She stood in the doorway while he walked to the carriage. The driver had been waiting; having seen him at the doorway, he’d prepared the horse and was ready to go. Volle stepped into the carriage and looked back at Ilyana as the driver closed the door. She waved, and then stepped back inside.

He sat back on his seat and sighed. Who could have told him that romance would be his biggest problem as a spy?

When he joined Helfer the next morning, the weasel was practically hopping up and down. “Have I got news!” he said, setting off without asking whether Volle was ready.