Volle (7 page)

“Lord Vinton?” He turned to see a large black wolf glowering at him from under white bushy eyebrows. He was dressed in charcoal grey: a lighter grey vest over a darker shirt, and short pants that matched the shirt. The shirt stretched out slightly over the pants, but the wolfcarried the extra weight well. A black paw was extended towards Volle, and he saw a bit of grey fur both on the paw and on the muzzle.

He reached out and grasped the paw. “Yes, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

The white eyebrows lifted, and the light blue eyes sparkled as the wolf smiled. “Lord Tistunish of Hallenford. Even if Lord Dewanne weren’t on vacation, you’d be easy to pick out.” He glanced at the leather trousers. “Did you just arrive today?”

Volle nodded. “It’s been a long trip.” His ears flicked, and he smiled. “These are the nicest clothes I have.”

“Plenty of time to remedy that. See that you do. The palace tailor is a good old goat, he’ll find something for you.” Lord Tistunish cocked an ear to the footmarten who was announcing that the King had entered the banquet hall. “You’ll need to go down to eat, soon. Junior nobles are announced first and you’re about as junior as they come. Your personal servant…” He looked around behind Volle.

“Haven’t been assigned one yet.”

“Ah. Never mind, then. Come along. I’ll ask them to arrange the seating.” He took Volle’s arm in a surprisingly strong grip and steered him towards the nearest footman, which happened to be the fox.

The fox met Volle’s eyes and gave a quick smile of species familiarity, then turned to Lord Tistunish. “Yes, my lord?”

“Lord Vinton is to be seated next to me at dinner.”

The fox looked again at Volle, and inclined his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t realize who you were.” He made a note on his scroll and looked back at the wolf. “Yes, my lord. I’ll see to it. Lord Vinton, you’ll be in the first group called. I believe they are getting ready to announce them now. If you would follow me, your lordship?”

Lord Tistunish shook his paw again. “Go ahead. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Thank you.” Volle smiled, shook the wolf’s paw, and set off behind the fox.

The fox and marten conferred, and only a minute later, the marten announced, “Welcome to the Royal Banquet in honor of the Festival of the Renewal. My lords and ladies, it is my honor to invite you to join their Majesties at this sumptuous feast.”

He opened the door and stood in the doorway to one side, facing the other side, and called out a list of about ten names. Volle heard his among them, but hung back to let some of the others go in first so he could follow their lead. He ended up eighth in line, behind a chubby young wolf with grey fur and in front of a raccoon and his wife. The foppish weasel was near the front of the line.

The wolf glanced at his trousers and gave him a rather condescending look before facing forward. Volle frowned at his tail, then chuckled to himself. “Short tail, small tool,” he muttered under his breath, and the childish words made him feel better.

The line of nobles proceeded to the two chairs at the head of the table where the King and Queen were sitting. They were imposing in person, as most bears were, but they did have a noble carriage and alert, if not kind, eyes. Each noble bowed deeply to both and kissed the Queen’s paw, then met a servant on the other side of the royalty and were escorted to their seats.

Volle heard the wolf in front of him say “All honor to their gracious majesties,” as he bowed, so when it came his turn, he repeated the phrase. The Queen smiled at him and moved her gaze to the raccoon and his wife behind him, but the King’s eyes lingered on Volle. The next servant, a badger, was about to take Volle’s arm when the King held up a large paw.

“Lord Vinton?”

Volle looked back into the clear brown eyes. “Yes, your Majesty.” Unsure what to do, he bowed again.

“We have heard news of your coming. We are pleased to see the Vinton seat occupied again. Please feel free to visit us if the Vinton lands have any pressing needs.” Formality prevented the words from being as pleasant as they might have been, but Volle didn’t know whether that was the King’s doing or the fault of the circumstances.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

The King looked down at his trousers and then lowered his paw, turning to look at the raccoon behind Volle. “Hello, Lord Black,” Volle heard him say as the badger led him around the table.

He was seated about halfway down, closer than all of the junior nobles except the weasel. The next group had been announced and was moving into the room as Volle sat down. The badger pushed his chair in gently, then left to escort another noble to his chair, and Volle could study the room, thankful that his trousers were hidden from view.

The place settings were silver, or at least looked like it. There were five pieces in front of him: two forks, two spoons, one knife. He also had a goblet that proved to be crystal; he ran his claws over it to check. Very fancy. Of course, he’d never been invited to dinners of state in Caril, so he had no basis for comparison.

There were, by his quick count, about a hundred place settings at the table. They were filling in rapidly, as each guest entered, paid his or her respects to the royal couple, and were seated. He looked curiously to see whether the herbivores had their own section. At the Academy, they’d been seated at a separate table, because the smell of meat made some of them ill. Here, he noticed deer and goats sitting beside bobcats and wolves. Either it didn’t bother the nobles here, or they had gotten used to it.

Once the table was about two-third filled, the groups entering became smaller, until the last seven nobles—the most important, Volle presumed—were introduced individually with their wives. “Lord and Lady Quirn.” A pair of bears entered. “Lord and Lady Wallen.” A pair of deer entered, the male turning his head so his antlers would clear the doorway. “Lord and Lady Fardew.” A pair of wolves entered. “Lord and Lady Ullik.” The Exchequer and a plump female squirrel entered.

He wore a fancy silk shirt that strained across his chest and stomach, and a skirt that didn’t quite conceal the shape of his thigh. His wife was wearing a shorter dress than most of the other ladies, and she had curled her long headfur. It looked rather dreadful, but Volle didn’t see any more, because at that moment the Exchequer glanced in his direction, and Volle looked quickly down at his paws on the table.

Lord Tistunish had been facing his wife, an ample bitch who was nearly as tall as he was, though her fur was a more standard grey and white. He noticed Volle’s movement and glanced at the Exchequer, but didn’t say anything. The room remained almost totally silent as the nobles walked by and took their seats, all at the head of the table.

“Lord and Lady Barclaw.” Volle didn’t look up until he was sure the squirrels were in their seats. He saw the backs of two bears as they approached the king.

“Lord and Lady Villutian.” Two more bears entered.

“Lord and Lady Alacris.” A third pair of bears entered, and when they had been seated, the murmur of conversation filled the hall. The great wooden doors were swung shut, and four smaller doors at the sides of the room opened. Raccoons bearing small silver platters marched stiffly around the room serving, from the head of the table down.

“Already had a run-in with Ullik?” Lord Tistunish asked quietly as they waited for their meal to be served.

Volle nodded. “I have to collect some back taxes.”

“Back taxes…” The wolf was silent while the raccoon placed a platter in front of him, then in front of Volle. The appetizer was an entire game hen, roasted and steaming, with the head still on. Volle could smell orange and honey in the sauce as well as two spices he didn’t recognize. His stomach reminded him loudly that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and Lord Tistunish grinned and elbowed him.

“Go ahead and eat, Lord Vinton. The King’s started.” Indeed, Volle saw, the King had already made his way through half of one of the two birds on his plate. The Queen was delicately picking apart the other with precise motions of her fork and large claws.

Volle picked at his bird with a fork and found that the meat peeled easily away from the bone. He took a bite and chewed quickly, reaching for another as soon as he felt he could politely do so.

“Oh, about Ullik.” Lord Tistunish was chewing thoughtfully. “He’d sell his mother to the merchants if he thought he could get a fair price for her. In fact, he might have—nobody’s seen her in years.” The wolf chuckled, and Volle joined in. “What I mean to say is, check your land’s records. Just to be sure that the amount he told you is correct. He’s a powerful lord, and not one you want to be on the wrong side of, but you don’t want to let him get a hold on you, either, and he’s not above mishandling the numbers if it works to his advantage.”

“Thank you. I will have the records checked.” If he lied, Volle thought furiously, if I went through that for nothing … but he couldn’t think of anything he could do except walk away from Ullik. He absolutely did not want to make enemies in the palace.

“So tell me about yourself,” Lord Tistunish said, and Volle spent the next three courses talking about his childhood, mixing in a few strategic falsehoods. He didn’t remember his father (which was true), but his mother had told him that he was the lord of a small valley in Tephos (not true). That story took him through the salad course, which was a small bowl of greens with berries he was familiar with and a vinaigrette dressing. Wine was served with that course, but Volle only sipped at it; he didn’t want to drink too much. He noted that most of the nobles, including Lord Tistunish, did not share his concern.

By the time the roasted goose with apple stuffing had been dispatched, the conversation in the room was considerably louder. Lord Tistunish had heard Volle’s story and was giving him pointers on palace etiquette, with his wife Tika chiming in from time to time. She had a nice smile and kind eyes, and Volle liked her immediately.

Dessert was a plum pudding garnished with cleverly crafted marzipan birds. Volle had three on his plate, but he saw that some of the lords closer to the King had at least ten, and he marveled at the kitchen staff’s industriousness and creativity in creating so many colorful, lovely birds. He was so full by that point that he didn’t eat them, but he certainly enjoyed looking at them.

“My lords!” A great bellow sounded throughout the hall, and everyone fell silent. The bear standing to the right of the King—Lord Alacris?—was standing and had raised his wine goblet. “We have eaten at the King’s table and drunk of his wine. Please join me in drinking to his continued health and fortune. To the King!”

“To the King!” The roar swept the hall. Goblets were drained and refilled.

The King himself stood, and Alacris sat. “Thank you, my friends. The Festival of the Renewal is a time of joy and celebration, a time to celebrate fertility and life.” He was enunciating enough that Volle suspected he was a bit tipsy. “A toast to the Mother of us all, and to all of our mothers!”

“To Mothers!” Once again, the wine flowed. Volle joined in the toast, but contented himself with a sip each time. Lord Tistunish and his wife both drained their goblets.

“And in celebration of life, you will find in the theater immediately following dinner a performance of the Ermine Dancers, specially commissioned to appear here. Drink up, and enjoy the show!”

More wine was downed and poured. People started to get up, and after a couple minutes, Lord Tistunish and his wife followed suit. Volle stood along with them, waiting for a break in the crowd as the nobles strolled by. “Ermine Dancers?”

“Beautiful ladies from the northern mountains. They travel throughout the country every few years. Quite, um, engaging, the last time I saw them.”

His wife smiled and kissed him on the nose. “You two go ahead, dear. I’ll be waiting for you when it’s over.” The look that passed between them was unmistakable, and made Volle smile.

“You’re very lucky,” Volle said, and felt confident enough to add, with a sly grin, “Nice to see you’re not into your dotage yet.”

Lord Tistunish roared and clapped him on the back. “You young whelp! No, I haven’t quite got your youthful stamina, but I have energy and experience. And besides, these Ermines would get a rise out of even old Alacris here!”

The bear and his wife happened to be passing them at the time. Lord Alacris swiped at the wolf, and grinned. “Get on with you, Tish. Not all of us can be as wolfish as you.”

“Might ruin your noble bearing!” Tistunish shot back.

Alacris’s wife tittered behind a paw, and the bear rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “See you at the dance, Tish.”

“He’s a good sort,” Tistunish muttered to Volle as they made their way through the emptying hall. “King’s advisor, but not nearly as stuck up as most of the high nobles. So you’re not married, are you?”

Volle shook his head. “No.”

“Vixen back home?” He shook his head again. “We’ll have to find you someone, then. Don’t want to risk the Vinton line dying out again.” The wolf chuckled. “Maybe you shouldn’t attend the dance. Wouldn’t want you to be all worked up with nowhere to…go.”

Volle chuckled. “I can handle myself,” he said, which set off another roaring laugh from the wolf.

They walked outside of the palace proper, to an outdoor amphitheater with an open stage and sheltered seats. Several private boxes sat along the sides, but Tistunish led Volle down to the common seats. The center was already filling up, so they took a pair of seats at the edge. “The view is just as good from anywhere for this show,” the wolf said with a grin as they sat.