Shadow of the Father (47 page)

“Lady Dewanne used to take some back here from time to time,” Volle said. “We thought you might like a taste of home.”

Yilon let the sweetness fade from his muzzle. He picked up another slice of bread to dip in, and then stopped with the bread held over the jar. Dinah’s parents had come up to the table and were standing behind Volle, across from Yilon. “Hello,” he said.

“My lord,” the vixen said, “Congratulations and welcome.”

“Thank you,” he said, rising to greet them.

“We won’t stay,” her husband said, and now Yilon noticed other foxes gathering behind them. “We just wanted to be the first.”

“you have an extraordinary daughter,” Yilon said. “She saved my life. Twice. Or more.”

Dinah rose, her ears flicking back. “Well, someone had to take care of you.”

Her parents looked at each other. “It’s certainly nice to know she’s put her skills to good use,” her father said. “We had no idea.”

Volle looked up at them with a grin. “Sometimes your children can surprise you.”

“Indeed,” Lady Dewanne said from the end of the table.

“And I understand we will have a wedding to arrange,” Dinah’s mother said.

“If she chooses.” Yilon turned to her.

Dinah smiled. “We can talk about it later.”

Her parents looked at each other with resignation. “Whatever her decision, we welcome you to our province,” her father said.

“Thank you again,” Yilon said, and impulsively lifted the jar of honey. “Please, have a taste of some Divalia honey.”

And after that, he offered the honey to each fox who came up to introduce themselves. Most of them simply offered congratulations, or welcome. Many had brought small gifts, which footservants took to a side table. Some wanted to talk about their position in the town: the prim assistant head of the silver trade, the scruffy northern region mine surveyor, and the plump city planner. Two leaned in to tell him to take care of the mouse problem once and for all. After the second, Dinah touched his shoulder and said softly, “Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” he said.

“Well, your ears went down and your tail’s all bristly,” she said.

He made an effort to relax, noticing his father and Streak’s ears similarly laid back. “It’s the way they are here,” he said.

“I know,” Volle said. “It’s just that seeing it in person…”

Lady Dewanne tipped her goblet to her muzzle. “With practice, you can view it as a separate place.” The heavy silver goblet landed with a thud on the wooden table.

“Careful of the wood,” Dinah said, leaning over.

Lady Dewanne smiled at her. “It’s not yours yet, dear.”

Dinah folded her ears down and sat back. Yilon shot a sharp glance at Lady Dewanne, but the older vixen, if she noticed, did not react. And then there was another fox leaning forward to bow and say “welcome,” and Yilon had to focus his attention.

The line died down, but foxes came up all through the roasted goat course, the mushroom and potatoes side, and the cheese and berries. Yilon sat back after greeting a vixen from the Heights and found a small wooden box in front of his plate. His mother, across from him, smiled when he looked up.

“I brought something as well,” she said, and when Yilon opened the box, he found a small round Vinton goat cheese, surrounded by dried sunberries and spiced nuts. The familiar scents overwhelmed his senses so that he couldn’t even bring himself to eat any of them at first.

“Thank you,” he said. “I want to save these for later.”

“I wanted to make sure you got to have them,” she said, glancing at the nearly-empty jar of honey.

And after the banquet, there were barrels of wine brought out as the tables were cleared. The residents stayed until the sun went down, and Yilon walked around talking to many of them, soldiers flanking him discreetly. It was all a bit overwhelming, but Dinah accompanied him for much of the evening. She knew enough of the people that he trusted she would remember them later, even if he didn’t. Still, he realized as the evening wound down, he felt comfortable in the castle, and he was looking forward to going back out into the city, to place all the foxes he’d met that evening in their proper settings.

His parents had retired, but told him they would be up for a while and that he should come say good night. When the last few foxes were lingering and nobody was pressing to talk to him anymore, he found Dinah and Lady Dewanne talking near the stairway to the second floor.

“No word from Incic?” he said.

“We haven’t checked,” Lady Dewanne said. Her words were slurred just enough that he noticed. “Would you like us to send a messenger over?”

Dinah laid a paw on his arm. “He would have come, if he were… I mean, if he had…”

Yilon nodded to her. “I’d like to—I have to go myself, I think.”

“May I accompany you?” Dinah tilted her muzzle.

He started to say he would prefer to be alone, then changed his mind and nodded. Lady Dewanne held up a paw. “In that case, may I as well?”

Yilon raised his eyebrows. She smiled coolly down. “I have some things to say to you both. You will find that often the best place to discuss secrets is away from this castle.” She brushed a finger up her long black ear and flicked it back, as if to indicate that someone was listening to them at that moment.

He’d expected Lady Dewanne to talk to them on the way over, but she kept silent all the way across the plaza, around the crowds of foxes still celebrating, some, of whom cheered the small party as they walked by. She did not speak under the glow of the moon and the lamps that dotted the streets of the west side, and indeed walked behind them until they arrived at Incic’s offices. There, she took the lead, rapping sharply just beneath the carved relief of the chirurgeon’s emblem on the wooden door with the until a short vixen in a white robe came to open it.

“My Lady,” she said, bowing.

“And your Lord,” Lady Dewanne said, sweeping past her into the small foyer. “Is Master Incic awake? We wish to inquire after the condition of one of his patients.”

“And visit, if we can,” Yilon put in.

“He is with them now,” the nurse said. “Please come into the waiting room. I will let him know you have arrived.” She held aside the curtain, showing them into a small room with benches along either wall. She started to leave through the doorway opposite, turned and made a confused curtsy to Yilon and added, “My lord,” and then turned again and left quickly.

The little room smelled strongly of lye and alcohol, though the smooth white marble benches were bare. Yilon was sure that the discolorations on the floor were spots of blood that had not been scrubbed completely clean. Dinah sat on one of the benches immediately, but Yilon couldn’t bring himself to sit. Lady Dewanne, too, remained standing, but unlike Yilon, she did not pace between the benches. Rather, she stood over Dinah until the younger vixen looked up at her. “My Lady,” she said, “Will you tell us—”

The far door opened, admitting a tall fox in a bloodstained white robe. His arms moved constantly as he talked, slender fingers hovering as though waiting for something to do. “You’re here about the mouse, is that right? The male mouse? The female’s doing well. Whoever treated her did all the right things. All except one or two, but minor, very minor. No way he could have known.”

Yilon glanced at Lady Dewanne. The older vixen didn’t react to the chirurgeon’s failure to address them by their titles. “Incic,” she said, “how is the mouse?”

He brought a paw up to his ear, rubbing the edge between thumb and finger. “Very tricky, very tricky. The humours are out of balance. Then again, for a mouse, who can say? Fascinating things. Wonderful opportunity. Took pages of notes.” He looked around as if expecting praise. “But no dark humour. Very lucky that. The ancestors seem to have, for some reason, who knows? We cleaned him up, waited the night. Today, had to open the wound further to see. Some damage, some damage. But no dark humour. And having the other mouse seems to perk him up. One would expect that, of course. It’s the same with foxes. Loved one nearby, that bond, that does things we cannot with all our tools and knowledge. One day, perhaps.” His expression drifted.

Yilon shook his head, trying to make sense of the fox’s babbling. “So… he’s alive?”

“Of course he’s alive.” Incic brought his paw down from his ear and looked indignant. “I said, if he lived the night. Did I not?”

Yilon’s head spun. He had to lean against the wall, while Lady Dewanne said, “You said there was a chance.”

“Can we see him?” Yilon said. He was having trouble keeping his balance through the wash of relief.

“See him?” Incic fluttered his fingers. “He’s asleep. The other is awake.”

“I don’t care.” Yilon was starting to get control of his breathing. “I want to see him.”

“Even the Lord of Dewanne—” the chirurgeon started.

“As of this morning,” Dinah said, “he is the Lord of Dewanne.”

“Even the Lord of Dewanne,” the chirurgeon went on, “must not wake a patient of mine. The sleep of Canis, the sleep of Rodenta, whatever it is.”

“I don’t want to wake him,” Yilon said. “I just want to see him.”

Incic shook his head and perked an ear, as though Yilon were speaking a different language. “See him? Ridiculous. What good does that do? See him?”

Dinah stepped forward. “Can we talk to the other one?”

He stopped and stared at her, and then resumed his fidgeting.

“Course you can talk to the other one. She’s awake. Talkative too. She keeps asking if she’s dreaming. Tchah.”

Lady Dewanne leaned forward. “Take us to her, please, Incic.”

He jerked his head. “This way.” He vanished through the doorway.

They followed him up a set of stairs and down a hallway, to a small room with two beds. The smell of alcohol grew stronger as they walked into the room past a small stand which held several bottles and a small pile of bloody rags. Two of the multiple small drawers in the front of the stand were open, but Yilon didn’t look to see what they contained, because his attention snapped immediately to the bed on the left and the small shape huddled under the blanket. He padded quickly across the stone toward it.

“’Bout time you showed up,” a sharp voice came from the other bed.

He hadn’t even noticed Valix there. She was sitting up, a robe wrapped around her shoulders, staring at him. He looked down at Sinch’s sleeping muzzle and caught the faint citrus and rosemary scent of a sleeping draught coming from the empty cup next to the bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He talks in his sleep,” she said. “Keeps talking about you.”

Incic stood off to one side, fingers tapping along one arm. As Yilon reached out to rest a paw on Sinch’s shoulder, the chirurgeon coughed and shook his head when Yilon looked at him. “No touching,” he said. “Definitely no touching.”

“All right,” Yilon said, returning his attention to Valix.

She rolled her eyes. “He kept saying something about the smell. I figured he must be talking about a fox, right?” Yilon’s ears folded back. “Oh, all right, he might have said your name a couple times, too. That make you feel better?”

“Not really.” Yilon stared down at Sinch. His muzzle looked so peaceful. He was breathing normally, and as much as Yilon wanted to see the wound, he would have to trust Incic’s skill.

And then Sinch’s eye opened. He yawned and turned his head.

Incic was at his side in a flash, his fingers now sure and quick now that they had something to do. He pushed Yilon aside. “Shouldn’t be awake,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Sinch’s eye tracked Yilon. “My side hurts,” he said. “But I’m okay.”

Incic snorted. “You are not okay. Perforated internal organs, mixing of humours, elevated temperature, no, no, not okay at all.” He paused. “Even for a mouse.”

“I will be,” Sinch said.

Yilon nodded, and found Sinch’s paw under the blanket, while Incic wasn’t looking. He squeezed it as gently as he could, trying not to worry at the mouse’s weak grip. He let go before the chirurgeon could see it. “Open your mouth,” Incic was ordering Sinch, and Yilon stepped back to let him work.

Dinah touched his arm. “Yilon,” she said.

He tore his gaze from Sinch. She was smiling. “Is this a good time to tell you my decision? Because I think I just made it.”

He knew what her decision was by her smile, but he nodded anyway and said, “Go on.” Lady Dewanne and Valix were watching them too, now. Only Incic seemed oblivious, feeling Sinch’s ears and then padding to the side table to mix another solution.

“I’ll be Lady Dewanne,” she said. “We’ll figure out how to have heirs. I figure together we can work something out. But the condition is that you have to be happy about it.”

“I am,” he said, but even he could hear the flatness in his voice.

She nodded toward the bed. “It doesn’t take Canis’s Nose to sniff out what you’ve got with him, even if you won’t admit it. It appears to be the one thing that makes you really happy.”

“We don’t have to get married right away,” he said.

“Oh, stop it.” She punched his shoulder. “I’m willing to do my duty to,” she rolled her eyes, “my land, my people, and all that. But I’m not willing to be miserable doing it, and if you’re moping all the time and I have to live with that, I’m going to be miserable.”