Pendant of Fortune (14 page)

“
There were few other options. Rallish had disgraced himself—you heard about that, right?”

Volle shook his head. “Hef just said he retired.”

“
Well, yes. But it wasn’t entirely his choice. You didn’t know about this, Tika? I’m surprised. I know it was kept quiet, but I didn’t think you’d have missed it. He liked rodents, I guess. And one day this mouse, a, er, lady for hire, shows up at the palace asking to see him. She doesn’t have papers, so the guards bring Secretary Marsten down to see her, and she tells him she has these papers Lord Fardew left in her room last night and are they important?”

“
Oh, no.” Tika’s paw flew to her muzzle, and Volle winced. He had visited pleasure houses, of course, but he always was very careful to empty his purse of any palace business.

Lady Alacris nodded. “They weren’t terribly important, but still. Poor Rallish had to resign. The King needed a replacement quickly, and that rat was the only one with enough experience to fill the post.”

“
What about the other assistant? What was his name?”

The bear nodded to Volle. “Hialis. He had been there for a couple years and might have been good enough, but he’d just left the previous month on an envoy to the north.”

“
What happened to the mouse?” Volle thought the whole thing sounded a bit too neat.

“
I don’t know. I expect she went back to the house.”

“
That’s not all that interesting,” Tika said, sounding disappointed. “You did a good job keeping it quiet, though.”

Lady Alacris smiled apologetically. “If I’d known you didn’t know, dear, I would have told you weeks ago.”

A few more people were filing into the game room, some brushing water from their fur. Lady Alacris looked up and waved to one of them, another female bear. “Shira! Bored of the games already?”

“
Starting to drizzle,” grumbled the bear in reply. “We’re going to read some poetry over here. Want to come?”

“
As long as you don’t read any Dowinna.”

Shira shook her head. “It’s only Jellia really likes him.”

“
All right, then. I’ll be there in a minute.” Shira wandered off, and Alacris turned to the rest of them. “Tika, will you join us?”

The wolf looked at Volle and Streak. Streak put a paw on Volle’s and said hastily, “We were going to take a walk. Go ahead.”

“
I’ll see you at dinner, then.” Tika got up as Lady Alacris did. The two males got up and bowed, watching the ladies join a small cluster in another corner of the room.

“
A walk?” Volle tilted his muzzle.

Streak nodded. “Come on.” He took Volle’s paw and tugged on it. When Volle gave him another inquiring look, ears flicking down, Streak smiled briefly in reply. “Come on?” he repeated.

“
All right, all right.” Volle’s tail twitched as they walked out of the game room and along a dark stone corridor. “How do you know where you’re going?”

“
Following my nose,” the wolf said.

“
All I smell is wet fur.”

“
Exactly.” He paused at an intersection. “This way.”

They came to a wooden door, attended by a foot-servant beaver, who filled out the blue and green uniform rather more than Renaldo the marten did. He was peering out the door, but snapped to attention when he heard them come up behind him. “My Lords!”

“
Just wanted to take a walk outside,” Streak said. “Is that okay?”

“
Of course, my Lord. But…it’s raining.”

“
I know. We have thick fur. Not as thick as yours, but it’ll do.”

“
Yes, my Lord.” The beaver opened the door and stood smartly at attention as they walked by him.

The fine drizzle hung in the air, almost an extension of the clouds above rather than a product of them. Volle and Streak looked around the deserted courtyard, and then Streak began to stroll across it.

Volle walked beside him. “Did you just want to walk in the rain?” The courtyard was sheltered from most of the wind, but he could still feel the chilly breeze ruffling his fur. He folded his ears back.

“
Not really.” The wolf was alternately looking up at the walls surrounding the courtyard and down at the path they were walking along. The courtyard was paved with chilly stone, but a path of soft grass had been laid down—recently, Volle surmised from the freshness of the grass. He looked up at the walls and saw that they were in slightly better shape than the outside walls, probably because they were protected from at least some of the weathering the outer walls had gone through. Though cracked in spots, the stone appeared to be solid, and that was more than a simple restoration could have done. Ancient windows dotted the walls at irregular intervals, and obviously the task of fitting glass to them had been too much to ask. Through the two that were not completely dark, Volle saw the folds of curtains and recalled the thick curtains on the windows in Tish’s chambers.

“
Helfer said something about the walls, about fixing up this courtyard. I just wanted to see if…” He paused, nose lifted, then padded quickly off the path, toward a corner of the courtyard where the paving was less even. The stones there were cracked, some tilted at noticeable angles, and Volle wanted to call out to Streak to watch his step on the slippery stones, but the wolf was sure-footed and reached the outer wall without stumbling. He beckoned to Volle, then got down on his paws and knees and disappeared into the wall.

Volle hurried to the spot in the wall, slipping once on the wet stone, and dropped to his knees. Ah, there it was—a small break in the wall hidden from the path. He could see through to the other side, where Streak’s tail was just disappearing from view as the wolf stood. It would be a tight fit, though not as tight as it had undoubtedly been for the poor wolf. He lowered his head and crawled forward into the space.

Wind battered his ears and eyes as he poked his head out on the other side. He ducked away from it instinctively, only registering that he was looking out over a rocky plateau that ended about fifty feet from where they were. The light mist was blown into his fur and clothes as he crawled all the way through. When he turned his back to it, he found a white paw held down at his muzzle level. He grasped it and used it to pull himself up.

Streak didn’t let go, but pulled him into a tight hug. The warmth of the embrace took a moment to sink through the rain-chilled clothes and his fur. Volle rested his head against the wolf’s shoulder, and smiled. “You could have hugged me inside,” he said, though he suspected Streak had more in mind than just a hug.

The wolf’s muzzle touched the inside of his ear, the breath warm on the cold skin. “I know,” he said softly, and in a fluid motion sank to his knees. His paws slid down Volle’s sides and around to the front of his pants, undoing the lacing and pulling them down. Cold air caressed Volle’s sheath as Streak’s paws brushed down either side of it, cupping his sac and smiling up at the fox.

Volle curled his tail around his leg, no longer caring quite so much about the rain and chilling mist. He said, without much conviction, “We could wait until tonight, when it’s warm.”

“
Mm.” Streak lowered his head to Volle’s sheath, which was swelling somewhat, and licked at the end of it. Volle watched the pink tongue slide across his fur, feeling the swath of warmth against his rapidly cooling fur. After a couple licks, Streak murmured loudly enough for Volle to hear, “Where is he hiding?” and slid his tongue into the opening at the tip of the fox’s sheath.

Volle gasped and braced himself against the wall. His erection grew quickly, pushing out against the wolf’s questing tongue. His knees trembled and he let out a moan. “You never did that before.”

“
Never had the chance. You were always out of your sheath before I got there.” Streak sat back and watched as Volle’s erection grew, pushing out of the top of his sheath. He leaned forward again and covered the tip with his muzzle before the cold could register on it.

As his arousal grew, Volle could feel the cold on his bare skin when the wolf’s muzzle lifted from it. He barely had time to shiver before it was enveloped in warmth again. The warm tongue and muzzle felt even better on the cold skin; in fact, Streak’s muzzle seemed to linger at his tip, letting the air chill the rest of his length before the wolf’s lips slid easily down the slick skin.

Volle let his gaze wander to the rocks on the plateau, the cold and misty sky beyond, and back to the pitted and cracked castle walls. He looked up, wondering if anyone could see them, noticing that there were no windows in the outside wall. The wall’s stone was cold against his paw, but he didn’t dare move it for fear he would fall, as his legs shivered with each slow lick.

Another moan escaped his slightly parted muzzle. The wolf knew just the right places to touch and caress with his tongue. Volle looked down at the white ears, the long, thick muzzle, and the soft paw that alternately cupped his sac and held the base of his shaft. He hoped Streak was warming to the idea of palace life, because Volle wouldn’t want to have to choose between the wolf and the palace.

His tail was twitching as his body shivered, the fire within fighting the cold without, and winning. He closed his eyes, letting the wolf’s tongue battle the chill and rain. Slowly, the world outside lost focus, his blood raced faster, and when he finally moaned in release, his hips thrust forward, and all he could feel was the warmth of the muzzle around his shuddering length.

He opened his eyes to the cold rocks and the warm smile in the white-furred muzzle below him. “Mmm.” Streak was licking his lips, and Volle felt the cold air on his wet erection. He panted, still moaning slightly, and let his tail uncurl from the back of his leg, which felt very warm compared to the rest of him—all except the warm spot at the base of his shaft, resisting the cold still.

Streak washed his length with one more lick, then stood and touched Volle’s nose with his own. Volle licked the white muzzle as he pulled his pants up. “What brought that on?”

He couldn’t read Streak’s eyes, slitted against the wind. The wolf was quiet for a moment, then said, “I always wanted to take you outside on the farm, but I was worried one of the servants would see it.”

“
Oh?” For the moment, that would do. He rubbed his paw against the bulge in Streak’s pants, warm despite the chill of the cloth. “And did you want me to take you outside, too?”

The grin was answer enough. Volle turned the wolf so the wind was at his back and used his body as shelter. He knelt, adjusting his position to find something comfortable on the uneven ground, and wrestled with the wet lacings of Streak’s pants, picking at them with his claws until they fell apart. When he pulled them down, he saw that he would have no chance to explore the inside of the wolf’s white sheath; his erection was already showing, dangling invitingly in front of his white shirt. Volle grinned, letting the cold air and mist brush over it, then teased with his tongue, applying warmth here and there in places he knew were sensitive. He had to fold his ears back against the mist, but he wasn’t listening anyway. He was smelling the wolf’s musk, stronger in the damp air; he was feeling the familiar warm length with paws and tongue; he was seeing the bright pink against white and the small beads of moisture that formed on it when he let the mist collect.

Just as he had tuned out the world when the wolf’s muzzle was on him, so he focused his awareness on the pleasurable task before him. He left the wolf’s erection out in the cold until he heard a soft whimper; then he relented and lowered his warm muzzle over it. Even though the air was cold and his knees were starting to hurt, even though he was outside in an unfamiliar place, the feeling of the slick hardness against his tongue was reassuring, and the warm scent that made its way to his nostrils was a good one. He slid back and forth along the wolf, just playing with his arousal and feeling it grow. A paw gripped his shoulder; he brought up his own paw to circle the furry sheath and pull it down, giving his long muzzle more room to play along it.

His wet tail wagged against his legs after several long, pleasurable minutes of this. Streak was starting to pant, and Volle was ready. He adjusted his licking, curling his tongue around certain spots and pressing up as his muzzle withdrew, speeding up the strokes and squeezing slightly with his paw. The wolf responded with a harsh gasp and more pressure on his shoulder.

Volle savored every inch of the hard, musky length in his muzzle. The voices in the back of his head returned, asking whether he could remember what others had felt like and tasted like. He remembered some, had forgotten others, couldn’t even remember whether he’d tasted some others. He recalled a pub in Caril, the dark warm space under a table, a wolf whose name he didn’t even know sitting with an ale in one paw while Volle’s muzzle worked on his member, out of sight of the other patrons. Funny that he should remember that one, but Streak reminded him of that wolf, or at least his memory of that wolf, though he never had before. Maybe it was the exposure, being outside where anyone could potentially discover them.