Pendant of Fortune (26 page)

Volle stopped in mid-chew, his muzzle hanging open. “She was bait,” he said, and swallowed. “No, wait. How could he know Streak would…” He paused, realizing the implication of that.

“
Don’t forget that he knows Streak,” Tish said softly.

“
No, I haven’t. I just think it’s chancy. Not like Dereath.”

“
I think you’re right. But it was just a thought. It’s also possible that she was killed for some other reason and your wolf was just there to try to find out what she knew. Prostitutes make many enemies.”

Volle frowned. “She was a prostitute?”

“
That’s what Alcis told me the guards were speculating.”

“
That doesn’t make sense. Dereath doesn’t like women.”

“
No, I suppose not. But you know how guards are.”

Volle chewed and grimaced. “This makes no sense from any angle.”

“
It makes sense from mine.”

Volle flicked an ear. “What do you mean?”

Tish lowered his voice. “I mean that without a witness, I believe that your hearing will go as smoothly as I had planned. The murder will be a distraction, but however it’s resolved it shouldn’t have any bearing on your case. Oh, Dereath may and probably will argue that your wolf killed his witness to give you an advantage, but even if he manages to prove that Streak is guilty, he can’t prove the motive. Without a witness, his case is flimsy and I know we can beat it. And it resolves your dilemma, though not in the way you’d hoped.”

“
My dilemma?”

“
About bringing Streak to the palace.” Volle looked glumly at his plate as Tish went on. “A loved one can be a large vulnerability, Volle. Look at how easily you have been distracted by Streak’s predicament. If someone offered you the chance to free him, what would you give up in exchange?”

“
Not just anything,” Volle snapped. Dereath’s leering face appeared before him again. He looked around quickly, but the rat wasn’t present at the table.

“
Maybe not. But it’s still a vulnerability.”

“
What about Tika?” Volle hissed back.

Tish glanced at his wife, who was chatting quietly with Lady Alister to her left. “Tika made a decision. She knew some of the risks.”

Volle raised an eyebrow.

Tish elbowed him. “All right, all right, you impertinent pup. I don’t always follow my own rules. But Tika does know the risks of being the wife of a noble, and I have been discreet and quiet enough that she’s never been in danger.”

Volle sighed. “Point taken.”

“
Besides,” Tish said, “I love her with all my heart. And if I were forced to be apart from her, I would be miserable every day. So I made an exception for myself. And that’s why you must be sure of how you feel.” He paused. “Or had to be sure how you feel.”

The servants were clearing away their plates. Volle said, “I feel more sure now than I have in a while.”

“
That’s good. I hope it is not too late. May I have a private word?” Tish looked around, then said a soft “excuse us for a moment, dear” to Tika and got up, beckoning for Volle to follow him.

“
About Streak?” Volle eyed the cream cakes the servants were bringing out as he got up.

“
Indirectly.” The wolf saw his look, and patted his ample stomach. “Don't worry. I’ve had plenty in my life. Missing one won’t hurt. Besides, I don’t fancy the chances of the cream not having turned at least slightly.”

“
I wasn't worried about missing dessert.” Volle fell in behind Tish as the wolf left the dining hall. They waved to the servants outside the door, who bowed to them, and walked on down the hallway.

The castle was mostly deserted, and a few of the torches had gone out, giving it a sepulchral look in some of the darker alcoves. Tish stopped near one of these and leaned against the wall with a sigh. He folded his arms and rested his muzzle on his chest. Volle stood patiently and watched him, tail waving slowly back and forth, and was just about to speak when Tish looked up at him.

“
I have been debating these last few minutes whether or not to tell you this, because it may just confuse you further. But I think you should know…” He sighed again. The grey on his muzzle was more pronounced here, away from the bright torches, there was a sag in his shoulders, and even his eyes, cast down at the floor, looked weary. That the black wolf was forty years his senior was always in the back of Volle’s mind, but rarely did he remember it when he was with his friend. Tish’s optimistic spirit and youthful energy usually took ten or twenty years off of his apparent age, but now they were gone or faded.

Volle waited patiently, ears perked. After a moment, Tish went on. “I told you my son never wanted to come to the palace. That is not…quite true. He did, at first. I had to be firm about it. As he grew up, of course, he resented me, and when it came time for him to come, he resisted. Again, I had to be firm, and so he is now at the palace. But he does not like it, and he does not like me.

“
I did not want him around, because at the time he was born, I had only been two years into…” Working with the Ferrenians, Volle knew. He nodded in response to Tish’s look, and the wolf went on. “I was young. I didn’t know what I would be doing, but I knew there would be danger, and I didn’t want him around to be used against me.” Tish was speaking in a rapid whisper now. “I made that choice, and now I wish I could go back and undo it. But if I had to do it again, I am not sure I would not choose the same path.”

Volle flicked his ears. “I’m sorry about that,” he said softly. “Does this concern Volyan?”

“
It might.”

“
And what do you think about that?”

Tish shook his head. “I cannot make your decision for you. I just wanted to tell you what you would be risking, whichever way you chose.”

Volle put a paw on his arm. “Thanks. And…I’m sorry.”

“
So am I.” The wolf smiled thinly. “Thank you for listening, Volle. There…are not many people I can talk to about this.”

Volle flicked his ears, feeling awkward. “It’s okay. I mean, I know it must be hard.”

Tish nodded. “But it is a burden I chose, and I should not complain about it.” He straightened and rubbed a paw over his ears, and when he looked at Volle, his ears stood straight up and his smile was more full. “Come on. I don’t want to worry Tika.”

Later, as he paced the corridors alone, Volle thought about Tish’s words. The strain of his life must have been great, and the cracks he’d shown that night gave Volle pause about the direction of his own life.
Won’t let it get that far with me
, he thought.
I’ll get out while I’m still young. Retire to that farm.

But the haunting voice in the back of his head mocked him.
You had all that. Retirement, a life of ease, no worries except when the frost would come or whether the rot would spread to another field…and you gave it all up to come back and plunge your head into this basket of nettles. You’re just like Tish. You thrive on this, and in the end it will eat you from the inside, and you won’t even realize it until you’re standing in the shadows of a corridor, afraid someone will hear or see you, telling your young protégé about all the regrets you had.

No
. He pushed the voice away.
I have Streak…
He paused, night air filling his nostrils as he stood at the base of the stairs that led to the parapet. He didn’t have Streak, not right now. But he would.

The torches in the hallway made the sky look black by contrast. The wind had picked up outside, making an eerie keening across the doorway that set his fur a-prickle. He pulled his vest together and started up the staircase.

The stone grew colder under his paws, and even his fur didn’t keep out the chill of the night, especially when he emerged into a brisk wind with spatters of rain. He shook his fur and started along the cold stone walk. As his eyes adjusted, slitted against the wind, he could see the oppressive grey shapes of clouds overhead, and the solid grey forms of the parapet and walkway. He stepped carefully on the stone, bracing himself against the gusts of wind as they came. He thought more than once about turning back; after all, he probably wouldn’t be able to get into the tower or help Streak at all. But the need to talk to him, just to hear his voice again, kept his paws moving forward.

As he rounded the corner, he opened his eyes a little wider now that the wind was blowing against his right side. Once, he slipped, and feared he would lose his balance and end up in the courtyard with a broken leg, or worse. But he recovered and stayed close to the parapet from then on, putting out a paw to hold on to it from time to time. The rough stone was comfortingly solid under his paws, and he tried to draw strength from it to go on against the wind. He no longer worried about anyone looking up from below; he just wanted to get to the other side where the wall provided at least a little shelter.

When he finally reached it, the fur on his head and tail was cold and wet, if not yet soaked. He took a moment to lean against the wall and shiver, imagining that it provided some protection from the wind. Further down the wall, the dark hole gaped, and again he considered turning around. To risk the leap with the wind and rain…

Stubbornly, he set his teeth and walked to the edge of the hole. He wouldn’t risk walking along the wall this time. He waited for a brief moment in which the wind died down, and then clambered up onto the top of the wall, remaining low on his paws and knees, tail tucked under his legs and getting them wetter than they already were. Slowly, he crawled across the rough expanse, ducking his head against the wind and watching every crack and gap in the wall carefully as he put his paws down.

He almost smacked his head into the wall of the tower, so intently was he watching the placement of his paws. For a moment he just stood there, his paws becoming slowly numb. Then, slowly, he got to his feet and steadied himself against the tower wall. Below him stretched blackness; he could just make out the gleam of light on the stone stairs, but the wood swallowed the light and gave none back. The tower wall was reassuring and solid, almost bright by comparison. And the wall had crumbled away about five feet from the inner edge of the castle wall. He couldn’t reach it by stretching out his arm, but he could jump to it, cling to the edge, and then…and then he hoped that the floor he’d seen inside could still hold the weight of a thoroughly wet fox.

Warm up your paws a bit, he thought. He crouched down and shoved his paws between his legs, rubbing them together until some feeling came back into them. From that position, he studied the wall.

This is crazy. I could fall. I could be killed.
But he felt the need to do it, as if to prove to himself that his feelings for Streak were real. More, it was a need borne of the anger and frustration he’d felt that afternoon. He wanted so badly to beat Dereath, to get to Streak without giving in to the rat’s conditions. The memory of Dereath’s smirk gave him the spur he needed.

The more he hesitated, he realized as he stood, the less likely he would go through with it. He was already starting to shiver from the cold.
It’s an easy jump. You’ve done it a hundred times (back in school, and two feet off the ground, not sixty).
A step to the edge, crouch, push off…

He took a breath, and launched himself into the rain and wind.

The wall seemed to float in front of him, getting no closer, and for a moment he panicked. Then his paws were on either side of the wall, the broken stone cutting his pads, and he was swinging his weight around and collapsing onto the remnants of a solid stone floor.

For the span of several panting breaths he sat there, back against the wall, heart thudding in his chest. He was sure that if his fur were dry it would be bristled out all over. He only moved because, upon looking up, he noticed that the tower roof on the far side was more or less intact. Getting shakily to his feet, he edged around the caved-in floor and sat on the first step of a stairway that led down three steps before it too was gone. Here, he was sheltered from both the wind and the rain.

Further along the floor, to the opposite side of the tower, the wind was blowing the rain in under the roof. He contemplated that wearily, wondering if he would have to make another jump over to the parapet. Behind him, a narrow slit of a window gave out onto the night sky, flashing with glimmers of raindrops. This was the same sort of window he could expect to encounter at the north tower—there were two still intact in this tower. He put his paw sideways into the window and moved it from one side to the other. Only about two inches leeway. He would probably not be able to see the wolf at all. This whole enterprise felt more and more foolhardy, but he couldn’t stop himself. Having come this far, he had to go through with it.

Stepping back into the wind and rain was a bit of a shock, but he was prepared for it. He followed the tower wall around the other side to where it fell away gradually into nothing, and discovered that he could easily clamber up onto the broken section and drop to the walkway on the other side, which was missing some stones but seemed solid.