Volle (43 page)

Seir gave him a quirky smile. “If you’re in such a hurry to see him, I’m sure we can arrange a visit, but not all of us think you’ve failed.” He met her eyes and saw the warmth in them, the softness that she so often disguised beneath her hard manner. “Your failure to gather information did not cause the death of Prince Gennic. It merely failed to prevent it. And you are not the only one at fault.”

“I’m the main one. I had the assassin in my bed.” He spoke the words emptily, so used to the flood of emotions that the statement had little impact on him.

“And who’s to say you could have prevented him from leaving? Perhaps he would have killed you if you’d confronted him, and then we’d have lost you and the Prince. Perhaps the people who sent him had a backup—we know there was at least one other working with him in Caril, who slipped through our paws. The point is, Volle, it was tragic, but holding you solely to blame for it is not only counterproductive, but inaccurate. You didn’t bare your teeth to the Prince, nor did you send the weapon who did.”

Volle blinked, as the import of her words crept over him. “I’m staying?”

“You’re staying.”

He felt a constriction loosen in his chest, and he let out a long breath. “I promise I’ll do better.”

“Under the circumstances,” Seir said drily, “it would be hard for you to do worse.”

Stung, he searched her eyes, and saw the depths of her pity and sympathy there, hidden only slightly by the sarcastic remark. “It would, wouldn’t it?” he said, and then his voice broke and he leaned onto her shoulder, and found that he still had some tears left to be shed.

She got to her knees on the bench and put her arms around him, and for such a small creature, her embrace seemed impossibly large. “They used him, Seir. He was so naïve, all he wanted was to be a hero.”

“I know,” she whispered, and rubbed his back. When he lifted his tear-streaked muzzle some moments later, he saw to his surprise that her eyes were glistening too.

“You didn’t even know him.”

She cleaned his muzzle with a paw, and sniffed. “I know him through you, Volle. You have a tender heart, and I don’t think you could feel that way about someone who wasn’t good at his core. I can’t reconcile that with the assassin who tore out the throat of our prince, but if I view them separately, I can hate the assassin, but cry for your lover.”

“I guess that’s what I’m doing.” He sniffed, too, and wiped his nose. “And Prince Gennic…I never knew him, really, but…well, you know.”

Seir nodded. “He would have been a good king. Young Likrash will be a good king too. He just needs a few more years to grow into it. But losing Gennic is a blow. From what I hear, the kingdom was in an uproar.” Volle remained silent, bowing his head again. Seir touched his arm. “But Volle, without your information, they might very well have attacked the southern kingdoms. He looked like a jaguar, and probably nobody would have taken off his armor to check for a smeared spot if our message hadn’t gotten through. And there wasn’t any other clue to his identity. All he had on him was a bit of Ferrenian currency. Thanks to you, we know where the attack came from. And we also know that it probably did not have the sanction of the king.”

Volle shook his head. “I don’t think it did. This is a separate group. I’m working with Tish—Lord Tistunish—on figuring out who they are.”

“When you find out, let us know. Tella is especially anxious to know.”

Volle nearly gave her Prewitt’s name then, but restrained himself. He didn’t have any direct evidence, just a hunch. He didn’t see immediately how he could get direct evidence other than by asking the bear directly, and he didn’t think that would be very fruitful, but he could try it. For Tella, he wanted to be sure. He knew what she would do once she knew.

Thinking of Prewitt made him remember Dereath. “There’s another problem, too.” Briefly he outlined Dereath’s allegations and his current plight.

Seir nodded thoughtfully. “How much of a risk are you taking being here right now?”

Volle shook his head. “Nobody saw me.”

“All right. We’ve kept Reese in his identity here, so producing him won’t be too much of a problem. He’s become fairly well known in the market. He bought a spice booth and goes by to monitor it every now and then. Do you think we should get the black fox, too?”

“What, you mean me?”

Seir smiled. “Do you think we just picked black because we had the color lying around? There’s a black fox in Vinton right now who will swear he was picked up in Ferrenis by merchants, but left them in the mountains because they were going too fast and he wanted to live the mountain life.”

Volle nodded, and thought. “I think they’ll find him, then. Prewitt said they were going to send some people there.”

“All right. I’ll tell Reese to be more visible in the market the next few days so they can find him easily. Don’t worry, Volle, this won’t be a problem. We still have confidence in you.”

“Who has confidence in me?” he asked harshly. “You?”

“More than just me. I didn’t make the decision to withhold the full story from Duke Avery alone.”

“Who else? Sherr? I know Tella hates me now, and Reese doesn’t have the authority.”

Seir smiled. “You always were good at figuring things out. That’s what we’re counting on.”

He gave her a long look. “I’m figuring out a lot of things.”

“Good boy.” She patted his knee. “We shouldn’t stay here long. We’ll keep the regular meeting schedule. If you’re still confined to the palace, send word with someone.”

“I’ll tell Helfer to tell Tally,” he said. “I already had to warn him about Dereath.”

“The rat?”

“That’s right. He made a vague threat to Richy—the wolf I see there. I just don’t want him to have the chance to do any damage.”

“Sounds reasonable. Tally will keep him safe. He won’t risk his boys, not for as much gold as that rat could carry.”

“Well, Dereath probably can’t carry all that much, but…” He trailed off, staring at the snow. An idea was taking shape in his head.

Seir didn’t seem to notice. “Good. I’ll see you later, Volle.” She nuzzled him and he nuzzled back distractedly. “What is it?”

“They set him up,” he said softly.

“Who?”

“Xiller. The cougar. They paid him—he got a purse full of gold. And he left it with me.” He left out the reason; he didn’t want his voice to break down again. “I didn’t look at it until last night. It wasn’t Tephossian Royals. It was some other gold coin with a jaguar head on it. I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn’t, was I? Those were southern coins. They paid him in southern coins.”

“I don’t follow you.” Seir had sat back down and was watching him worriedly.

“They paid him in southern coins!” he repeated. “He was Tephossian, from Villutian. He was going to Ferrenis. What did he need with southern coins?”

Seir shook her head, and then her muzzle made a small “o.” Volle saw the expression and nodded. “You said it yourself:
he wasn’t carrying anything but some Ferrenian currency
. What if he’d been carrying a purse full of southern gold? And none of his spots were smeared?”

“There’d have been no doubt.” Seir rubbed her front incisors, staring through the snow rather than at it. “So…”

“So they meant for him to be caught and killed. They never meant for him to come back alive.” Volle focused on the head of the lion statue. The noble warrior was still roaring at an unseen foe, but Volle now thought the foe was not just an enemy, but a betrayer who had previously been a friend. A different kind of roaring filled his head, the angry rush of understanding.

Seir sighed deeply. “This is a filthy business. There’s little room for compassion, and it so often gets crushed. I’m sorry, Volle.”

He felt pain in his paws and realized that his claws were digging into his pads. He unclenched his fists and tried to regulate his breathing. “The gold…that’s it.” Abruptly, he stood up. “Thank you, Seir. I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

“Take care of yourself, Volle.” Her paws slipped off his cloak as he strode away.

He felt like running, but he controlled his pace. The gold wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were the records Ullik kept—meticulous records, he’d been told, about every financial transaction that took place in the palace. Including the person who had changed a sum of Tephossian Royals for a stack of southern gold to plant on an unsuspecting cougar so that when he was caught, the Ferrenians would assume he’d come from the south. Turning their hostile eye to the south, they would…what? Forget about the Reysfields? Perhaps.

The important thing was that Ullik would have a record. And there, at last, would be concrete proof. He could guess pretty well which name he would find in the book. As for how to get Ullik to show that record, well, he had a pretty good idea of how to do that, too, if he had to. His jaw was set grimly as he marched back through the snow to Helfer’s storeroom. Carefully, he locked the door behind him, as well as the door to the tunnel.

Helfer was in the wardrobe pacing when he came back. He looked up at the click of the door, and his shoulders sagged in relief. “Weasel’s teeth, but you were gone a long time. Welcis came looking for you and I had to have Caresh get rid of him.” He chuckled. “I could only think of one thing to tell them we’d been doing, I’m afraid.”

Volle nodded curtly. “It’s okay. I need to go see Ullik.”

Helfer stopped him as he made for the door. “It’s almost dinnertime. Ullik won’t be in his office.”

“Then I’ll find him in his chambers.”

Helfer eyed him. “It’s that urgent?”

Volle sighed. “Yes. And no. I need to get something from him, Hef. Something to prove…” He stopped. “Sorry. Politics.”

Helfer grinned. “And if you get it, can you use it tonight?”

“I…guess not.”

“So why not stay here for a while? I don’t think you should go out again, but I can go and maybe bring back some entertainment to relax you a bit.” Volle hesitated. “Oh, come on. Have dinner with me, at least.”

“Hef…”

“Please?” The weasel smiled entreatingly.

“Oh, all right.”

Volle didn’t taste much of the meal. He had the vague impression of vegetables, but it all tasted the same in his muzzle. Helfer chattered throughout most of the meal about his upcoming trip to Vellenland, and by the end of it, with the help of a little wine, Volle was able to relax a bit.

That still left him rather wound up. Helfer caught him drumming his fingers on the table and poured him another glass of wine.

“I’ll go to sleep,” Volle objected, lapping at the wine anyway.

“So take a nap while I’m gone.” Helfer shrugged. “Just stick around. You really do need to relax. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“All right.” Volle stretched out on the couch and watched the weasel slip through the wardrobe door.

His paws twitched with the need to check the gold in the pouch. He was sure his vision of them hadn’t been a dream, but he wanted to hold the coins in his paws, to see them again, to be absolutely certain. Part of him just wanted to do something, anything, and part of him wanted to see the coins because they would feed his rage, made mellow by the wine.

He actually got up and made his way to the door, but was stopped by Caresh. “Sir,” the valet said smoothly, “Of course his lordship may do as he pleases, but Lord Ikling’s desires were that his lordship remain here.”

“I know, Caresh. I just need to check something and then I’ll come right back.”

“His lordship may wish to consider that such a course of action might be detrimental to his lordship’s relaxation.”

“I can relax just fine,” he snapped. “I just want to check something.”

Caresh’s expression softened and he laid a paw on Volle’s shoulder. “Would his lordship please reconsider?”

Volle stared into his eyes. He knew that if he insisted, the servant would step aside and let him pass, but he also knew that Caresh was trying to help. Part of him resisted the help, the part that had gotten used to being a lord. But underneath, he was still a young fox, and the words of the older Caresh had a soothing quality to them. He trusted the servant in a way he never could have if he’d been brought up a lord; that is, he trusted him to make judgments. The bond of their species also lay between them, and he found the scent of the older fox to be reassuring and calming. Slowly, he lowered his muzzle.

“All right,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t need to go right now.”

“Thank you, sir,” Caresh said slowly, bowing.

Volle waved a paw. “Thank you.”

“There is one message for his lordship. His lordship’s valet requested that his lordship be informed that the king requested a brief informal audience tomorrow morning.”

“The king?” Volle’s ears shot up. “What about?”

Caresh shook his head. “That information was not, unfortunately, included as part of the message.”

“Now I have to go ask him.” Caresh looked at him without speaking for several seconds, until Volle nodded. “Ah. You didn’t tell me until I’d promised to stay.”

“His Majesty’s request was an informal one,” Caresh said with an apologetic tilt to his ears. “His lordship is not likely to require any preparation for it. And it is unlikely that his lordship’s valet has any more information than has already been conveyed.”