Volle (4 page)

But they needed a fox, and I’m the only one. And if I’m going to act petty and self-involved, I only have a few more days to do it. Fox knows they never allowed that at the Academy.

“I’m tired,” he announced, and stood up. “I’m going to go lie down.”

“All right. We’ll wait for you for dinner.” Seir spoke quietly. “You’ll feel better after a nap.”

“Hope so.” Volle left the table and walked over to the bartender. The bear, polishing a glass, had been watching him.

“Help you, sir?”

“Could you show me where our room will be tonight?”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The bear led him out of the bar and around to a staircase in the back. Volle took a moment to look at the sunset and savor the slight chill in the air. The river burbled to itself as it moved along behind him, and in the distance he could hear wild beasts howling. Crickets chirped nearby, and he flicked his ear at the drone of a mosquito.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said to the bear as they walked down a short hallway.

“Gord, sir. Gord Stoutheart.”

“Ah. A pleasure, Gord. I’m Yarrin. Yarrin Fletcher.”

“Hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Fletcher. Here’s your room.” He opened the door onto a small room with two bunk beds and a dresser. On the far wall, there were two closed windows. Besides a small rug in the middle of the floor, the room was otherwise featureless. The beds looked comfortable enough, well-stuffed with hay and down, and the sheets were crisply arranged on them.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” He tried to remember what alias Reese was using. “I’m sure Mr. Senom will approve.”

“Thank you, sir. We’ll see you for supper then?”

“Yes, I’ll be down in an hour or so. I just need to rest from the road.”

“If there’s anything else you might need, sir, let me know. Washroom is down the hall. I put the hot water in at sunrise and after dinner.” Gord stepped back into the hallway and prepared to leave.

Volle breathed in, and thought he caught the scent of a female on Gord. “Are you married, Gord?”

“Sir? Yes, five years.”

“Ah. Good for you, Gord.”

“Thank you, sir.” The bear looked faintly puzzled as he walked back down the hallway.

Volle checked for a lock on the door, and was pleased to find a deadbolt. He closed the door and locked it, then walked over to a window and opened it. The room was a bit stuffy and warm from receiving the afternoon sunlight, but the air outside was fresh and cool. He breathed it in, then went to lie down on one of the beds.

Time at the Academy was regimented and packed full of activities, and he had probably not been in a room alone for more than ten minutes at a time in his five years there. Savoring the privacy and the free time, he leaned back and put his arms behind his head. He let Seir and Reese melt away, and brooded again on how he would cope, going to live in a land where the one thing he loved most was denied him.

His tunic felt a little warm, so he took it off to relax. His eyes drifted downward, pulled by the hours of studying and the weariness of sitting in the carriage all day. In his half-dozing state, his paw slid down almost unconsciously to his trousers, trailing claws up and down his sheath. He imagined the highway-wolf crawling through the window and finding him in bed, not even on the pretense of robbery any more. He could feel the wolf’s paws guiding his own up and down the bulge on his trousers, loosening the ties at the front and sliding his paws down inside.

“It is forbidden, you know,” the wolf whispered to him. “But you are too lovely for me not to risk it.” Volle moaned softly, feeling his arousal grow as his erection slid out from his sheath under his paw. “All in black. How exotic,” the wolf said, sliding Volle’s paw along the fox’s deep black length. The coloration didn’t rub off on his paw as the soft pads slid up and down, even when they began to press more firmly. Volle gasped, and though his eyes were closed he could see the wolf leaning over him, dark brown eyes focused intently on his paw above a hungry smile. He could smell the wolf’s musk in the dusty room and hear his soft breathing over Volle’s own panting moans.

“If they catch us,” the wolf whispered in his ear, “we will be in terrible danger.” His paw impelled Volle’s to move faster still, in time with the trembling sensations that were overwhelming him.

“Mustn’t…get…caught…then,” Volle said, his whole body shaking with repressed desire. Only four days or so, but it seemed so long, and he hadn’t had a moment alone since then. His paw worked faster and faster, and his erection was so hard and so hot he could barely touch it. His back arched on the bed and he moaned a series of short, staccato gasps as warmth sprayed over his stomach and chest. His paw kept sliding up and down, getting slicker, until finally he was too sensitive to continue. He fell back onto the bed, panting heavily, keeping his paw curled around himself.

Of course, the wolf was not there when he opened his eyes. The only scent in the room, apart from the strong musk of his activity, was the damp scent from the river wafting in through the open window. He smiled and listened to the quiet sounds of the night, gazing out the still-closed window by the bed. When he did glance down at himself, he blinked and sat up, nearly cracking his skull on the frame of the top bunk.

There were streaks of white on his belly and sheath, and the blackness of his erection was mostly gone. Only a few patches of black remained on what looked like dirty pink skin. It didn’t take long for him to determine what had caused the coloration to lift, and he cursed softly. Fortunately, his paws were black, and as long as he kept his clothes on, nobody would notice the streaks, or his much more odd than exotic member.

In the dresser, he found a couple cloths that were meant for towels. He used one to clean himself up, trying to minimize the area he had to wipe. He was nevertheless left with a large white patch at his groin and several white streaks down his front.

As he put his tunic back on and lay down, yawning, a thought struck him, and he chuckled. “I wonder what
is
in that removal salve,” he mused as he drifted into sleep.

Chapter 3

The three-day trip through the mountains was cold, but otherwise uneventful. Seir insisted that Volle wash off the coloring in a remote mountain stream where he would have no chance of being seen, and as a result he was still shivering and slightly damp when they arrived at the inn on the outskirts of town, late at night.

Volle introduced himself to the innkeeper as “Volle of Vinton,” as though it were no big deal, and the slender, nervous-looking wolf dropped the glass he was drying. He showed Volle to a private room, ushering Seir and Reese to another, and drew a hot water bath when he saw how Volle was shivering. The bath felt wonderful, though it still didn’t clean all of the sticky residue off Volle’s fur.

In the morning, Seir and the driver slipped off to the capital, and Volle awoke to find the governor waiting for him downstairs, a pudgy raccoon by the name of Anton. He took a liking to the raccoon after only half an hour of talking, and agreed to take a walk with him through the town. With obvious pride, Anton pointed out the progress the town had made in the last twenty years—a wall repaired, a new mill—and then stopped, flustered, as he realized he might be bragging that the town didn’t need a lord.

Volle reassured him that he didn’t intend to stay, that the town was in very capable paws, and that he saw no need to change the arrangement the people had become used to. He would represent the town to the king, and he would rely on the governor to keep an eye on things at home. Anton was visibly relieved, and from then on he made a point of introducing Volle to all the citizens of the town. By the end of the day, Volle was more exhausted than he’d been in a long time, and he sank into his bed at the inn gratefully. He’d turned down offers from two different vixens to share the bed with him. There had been a black wolf who’d caught his eye, but he remembered the Church and didn’t dare ask.

He spent one more day walking around the town with Anton, meeting the elders of the village, the craftsmen, and the farmers. The land’s small army assembled and presented arms for him—such arms as they had, which were largely bent or battle-damaged. He tried to remember all the names, as he would be their representative for an indeterminate period of time and would have to act accordingly. By the following morning, though, he was ruefully telling Anton that he would need reminders in the updates.

The role absorbed him so thoroughly that for the first day of the trip to the capital, Volle pored over the papers and names and ignored Reese, who sat across from him in the hired carriage. The hare watched him with amusement at first, then boredom, and finally annoyance. As the sun was sinking, he leaned across the carriage and said quietly, “Don’t forget why you’re here.”

Volle looked up and swiveled his ears backwards. He was sitting below the driver’s seat, and though the carriage was closed, he could still hear the driver humming to himself. The young marmot who’d volunteered to drive them was eager and helpful, but of course had not been taken into their confidence. He gauged the volume he could speak at without being overheard, and said, “I know. But I am their lord now. I need to be able to carry out that function too.”

“I’m just saying, don’t forget the main reason.”

Volle smiled. “I won’t. You just worry about the streets and drops.”

Reese snorted. “I know those cold.”

“Fine. I don’t know this cold yet, so let me study.”

The hare threw up his paws. “Whatever.”

They shared dinner with their driver, who wanted to know everything about Volle’s past—where he’d grown up, how he and Reese had met, how long they’d known each other, if he remembered his father at all, and so on. Volle humored him; it was a good chance to practice his story. Reese chimed in once or twice, but mostly stayed silent until the driver went to bed. Then he and Volle discussed the story quietly between themselves, making minor adjustments and additions.

Midway through the fourth day, as Volle was studying his original mission papers again and Reese was napping, the driver rapped on the carriage. Volle put the papers into his leather pouch and opened the door. “Yes, Ben?”

The marmot smiled and pointed. “We can see the palace. Thought you might like to take a look.”

Volle climbed up onto the riding board and looked ahead. They had crested a hill and were starting down its gentle slope, and spread out before them was Sophasol, the great plain of Tephos. The Reysfields were the eastern plains, Volle remembered, rich with maize and wheat. The Lurine River wound its way through the fields, a shimmering snake in the golden expanse. They had crossed the Lurine far to the south, where it was wide, brown, and sluggish. Here it was bright and quick, more narrow and lithe. Volle traced its curves northward until they brought him to Divalia.

The capital city’s most visible feature from this distance was the large stone wall that encircled it. As they were looking down into it, Volle could see the buildings inside the walls. It looked very much like the jumble of buildings that made up Caril, and the sight gave him a pang of homesickness. Although, of course, Caril’s defense was the Carilla River, the wide blue river whose fertile plain had kept settlers near it, and whose accommodating bend had provided the crèche for the city to grow. Caril had no need of walls, and to Volle, they made Divalia seem old and provincial.

In the midst of the jumble of buildings, a large grey structure arose. Glints of gold caught the sun atop the three towers; otherwise it was the same grey as the walls. The palace was more of a fortress; where Caril’s palace was of white marble, low and long and a part of the city, this palace looked like a smaller replica of the city itself. Each of the three towers anchored a section of wall, giving it the appearance of an island in the sea of houses that was Divalia.

“It’s beautiful,” Ben breathed reverently.

“Very impressive,” Volle said, not wanting to openly disagree. “How long until we arrive?”

Ben looked at the road ahead of them. “Probably we could get there late tonight. If your lordship wishes to hurry.”

Volle checked the weather. There were a few clouds in the sky, but there didn’t seem to be any threat of rain that they needed to outpace. “No need for that. Let’s find an inn and arrive at the city in the morning.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open, my lord.”

Volle grinned, still getting used to the honorific, and patted the marmot on the back. “Thank you, Ben.” He caught a glimpse of the youngster’s happy grin as he climbed back into the carriage.

Reese cracked an eye open. “How long?”

“We’ll stop somewhere tonight and then arrive tomorrow morning.” Volle took his papers out and shuffled through them again.

“Kay.” Reese stretched out on the seat.

They pulled up to the south gate just as the sun was reaching its zenith. Three other vehicles were ahead of them, all farmers’ carts. Volle took the opportunity to get out of the carriage and stretch. Reese had just stepped out onto the running board when Ben called, “Hey, there’s a Lord here! Move aside!”

Everyone on the three carts ahead of them turned to look: a family of raccoons, a family of goats, and a solitary antelope. They stared at Ben, then looked down to Volle. None of them moved otherwise.

Volle scrambled quickly up onto the riding board. He held his paws up. “Don’t worry. No need to move. We’ll wait until you’re done.” Their eyes searched him, and then they turned back around and started to murmur amongst themselves.

Ben looked confused, and a little bit hurt. Volle patted his shoulder. “I appreciate it, Ben, but a lord must remember that he owes his people his service, as well as exacting from them their loyalty. We aren’t in a hurry. No need to put out these people just because we could.”

“Okay.” The smile returned to the young marmot’s muzzle. “I’m sorry.” He urged the horses forward as the antelope’s cart went through the gate and the line moved up.

“That’s all right. I know you had good intentions.” Volle looked down and saw Reese smirking at him, so he elected to stay on the cart until they reached the gate, with Reese walking alongside. The day was sunny and pleasantly cool, so he leaned back and let the breeze off the wall ruffle his fur.

“Have you been to the city before, Ben?”

“No, my lord. This is my first time.” Ben looked up at the walls. “It’s huge.”

Volle remembered that he was supposed to be from a small village, and nodded. “It is indeed. And the walls look impressive.” In truth, he wasn’t impressed with the walls, which were pockmarked and cracked near the gate. Along the top, it was crumbling in several places, and the guard posts at the top were not only unmanned, they looked unsafe. Volle filed the information away, with a glance at Reese to see that he was doing the same.

Only two guards stood at the gate. Volle watched one inspect the papers of the raccoon family while the second inspected the cart half-heartedly. As they were waved through, the guards were already eying Volle and his carriage.

Both guards were wolves. The one checking papers had more brown on his muzzle and ears, while the one that opened the carriage door and looked inside was a uniform grey with white on the lower muzzle and throat. He sniffed at the inside of the carriage while the brown one examined the papers Reese handed him.

“Lord Vinton, eh? Welcome to Divalia, sir. And who are these?”

Volle patted Ben on the shoulder. “Ben Woodson, my driver, and Reese Pawfast, my personal assistant.”

Ben only had a certificate of birth from the church in the village, but the guards didn’t seem to care. “Just follow Market Street to the river, and turn right. Cross at the next bridge, not the Market bridge. Shorter and less crowded. Once you’re across, you’ll see the palace on your right.”

“Thank you,” Volle said. The other wolf had taken a cursory sniff inside the carriage and now gave the brown wolf a hand signal that Volle assumed meant ‘all clear,’ because they were waved into the gate.

He watched the city with eyes as eager as Ben’s as they drove slowly down the street. Every city has its own feel, and though the closeness of the houses was similar to the crowded neighborhoods of Caril, the scents and colors were different. Caril seemed brighter to Volle, full of light-colored houses and gaily-dressed people, but maybe he was just in a poor part of Divalia. The paint on the houses was peeling, and many of the people in the street walked with drooping tails. The smells were not worse, just different. He smelled cooking, and washing, and the cooking had different spices and the washing had different soaps. The wood even smelled different, though it was similar to the oak that made up most of the wood in Caril. For Volle, Divalia had just enough familiar sights and scents to make him acutely aware of the absence of others.

He was wearing his traveling clothes, but even those were fine enough to make people look twice as he drove past. They looked away again quickly enough, so Volle guessed that lords and nobles were not an unusual sight in the city, if perhaps not a common one. He had to admit that he liked the attention he was attracting.

The Lurine River in the city was murky where they reached it, in contrast to the bright blue it had been down in the plains. They drove along it for a short way, long enough for Volle to see branches and other debris floating in it. The bridge they crossed was in good repair, though, and fairly empty of people. And on the other side, the grey walls of the palace rose in front of them.

As they turned towards the main gate, Volle saw across from the palace a large stone building surmounted by seven ornate spires, six surrounding a higher central one. The top of the tallest spire was decorated with a golden ornament in the shape of a sunburst: the symbol of the Panbestian Church. Volle was familiar with the Great Cathedral in Caril, a large, open building with three towers and beautiful stained glass windows. This building, by contrast, looked austere and forbidding, covered in ancient reliefs and grey stone. There were stained glass windows, but only in a few narrow strips down the side and in a rosette above the large wooden doors. The rosette was also in the sunburst design, so Volle would have known even if he hadn’t already that the church was of the Orthodox branch.

He already knew that he would not be able to remain celibate for any length of time. On the trip to Davilia, he had twice locked himself in his room to disappear into sticky fantasies, once of the bandit wolf again, and once of Prince Gennic. Fantasies and his paw weren’t enough, though. There had to be some outlet for him here in the city. He’d reasoned that there must be some nobles facing his dilemma, and he had only to find them and discover their solution. Probably there was a very discreet place nearby—a bath house, maybe, where you could be anonymous without royal finery, your scent hidden in the strongly perfumed powders and soaps.

As they went down the streets in front of the palace, which spanned several long blocks, he searched the buildings on the right hand side to see if he could spot such an establishment. He couldn’t, but that relieved him rather than discouraging him. If it were discreet, obviously it wouldn’t be spotted. Imagining the hot water and steamy rooms filled with young, handsome males, he felt his sheath stir, and quickly turned to look at the other side of the street.

The castle walls had windows in them, narrow ones that looked more recent than the wall itself, as they were lined with a darker stone. Volle supposed they’d been added after the city walls were put up, when the palace no longer needed unbreachable walls to maintain its security.