Volle (17 page)

Volle sensed where that last comment was leading, and didn’t take the bait. “I’d appreciate that, but maybe we should talk about it some other time.”

“Oh, you’re right. We shouldn’t be talking now.” He put a lazy emphasis on
talking
.

Volle rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “Why are you still here?”

“I like you, Volle. And I thought you liked me. Isn’t that why you invited me to dinner here?”

“No…I mean, yes, but…”

“Don’t you like me?” He was staring straight at Volle.

“Look, that’s not the issue. It’s late, and…”

Dereath shook his head and got up. He walked over to Volle, who couldn’t think of anything to do, even when the rat grabbed his shoulders and pressed his muzzle up to the fox’s. The kiss was hard and rough, and not at all like the gentle sharing he’d had the previous night with Arrin. There was quite a bit of wine on Dereath’s breath, but it didn’t seem to be impairing his arousal, which was pressed squarely into Volle’s leg. His thin paw rubbed Volle’s sheath through his pants, then tried to slide down inside them.

The rubbing against his fur, the sour breath, and the clumsy groping were more than Volle could take. “No…NO!” He pushed Dereath away roughly and stood there panting, aware his tail was bristling. “What is wrong with you?”

Dereath didn’t seem to have heard him. He had an odd smile on his muzzle. “Oh, you like it rough? That’s okay, I do too.” His pink tail was lashing behind him, and Volle could now smell his excitement even over the wine.

There was a cough, and Welcis stood at the door. “Sir? I was about to retire for the night.” He glanced at Dereath and then back at Volle.

The rat spoke before Volle could. “Fine. Goodnight, Welcis.”

“Sir?”

Volle looked at Dereath with what he hoped was a stern glare. He felt disgusted, but also felt sorry for the rat. Not sorry enough to let things progress any further, but at least he didn’t want to be too cruel. “Yes, Welcis, I was going to retire as well. Mister Talison was just wishing me a good night. Would you be so kind as to see him out?”

Dereath glared at him with hurt and anger mingled. Welcis reached out to take his arm, but he shook off the skunk and stalked through the door. Volle heard him slam the parlor door behind himself on his way out.

He sagged against the wall. “Thank you, Welcis.”

The skunk bowed. “It is a pleasure to be of service, sir. Good night.” He retreated, closing the door, and Volle staggered to the bed and sank down on it without even bothering to remove his clothes. He wished he’d handled Dereath better, but he couldn’t see how. Let him grope and kiss all he wanted? He would’ve just wanted more, and they’d have ended up naked on the bed, and just thinking of that made Volle’s fur prickle again. The rat would have been a good ally, true, but certainly there were others Volle could befriend who wouldn’t ask so high a price.

And maybe things would be okay with Dereath once he sobered up. Maybe he’d come and apologize for being so forward.

Volle sighed. “Right,” he said aloud. “And maybe he’ll just hand me a file with all the details of the secret plot I’m supposed to uncover.” His lack of progress nagged at him, but in the interests of being an effective spy, he felt he had to devote some energy to fitting in to palace life, and that meant throwing dinner parties and serving on the tribunal, not sneaking around Lord Fardew’s office.

He sighed, wishing Seir had stayed longer, and fell asleep without even undressing.

In the morning, once he’d recounted the events of the previous evening to Helfer, the weasel was more amused than sympathetic. “Dereath drunk and in your bedroom? Good Mustela, Volle, if you want to get into self-flagellation, use something less painful, like pulling your claws out. At least the little prick left when you told him to.”

Volle rolled his eyes and nodded, keeping pace. “I’m a bit worried about making an enemy of him, given all the information he has access to.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’ll sulk for a while and get over it, then he’ll be on to the next object of his desire.”

“He still worries about you.”

Helfer shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that. Anyway, let’s talk about more pleasant things. Did you like the books?”

Volle grinned. “I found them very…inspiring.”

“I thought you might. You can borrow more if you want.”

“I think I’d rather head back to the Jackal’s Staff.”

Helfer flashed him a smile. “I don’t think they have a fox working there.”

“Doesn’t matter, really. I kind of wanted to give that cougar a roll.”

“Jonas? He’s pretty cute, yeah. If you’re going to be with him I might try Richy, since you gave him such high marks. That is, if there aren’t any cute rabbits around. I keep telling Tally to hire one, but she says they’re not in demand.” He snorted. “Three wolves on staff and not a single rabbit.”

Volle grinned. “Pity the world doesn’t cater to your particular fetish, eh, pal? So when do you want to go?”

“Tonight’s okay with me. You have money?”

Volle’s ears fell. “I forgot about that. Let’s wait a couple days. I should hear by then.”

“All right. It’s a bit soon for me to go again anyway. Not that I have to go with you, but it’s more fun, eh?”

Volle nodded and patted Helfer on the shoulder. “I appreciate the company. And I guess it’ll do me good to wait.”

Helfer grinned widely. “I don’t know about
that
.”

After the run and a quick bath, Volle spent fifteen minutes searching for the tribunal room. He had been listening for the sound of arguments and discussion, but in the end, when he found the room, it was silent. The three Lords who made it up were seated behind the bench: a bear seemingly asleep with his head on his arms, a wolf leaning back staring at the ceiling, and an elderly raccoon who waved Volle over as he spotted him.

“Lord Vinton?” Volle nodded. “I’m Lord Creane. You’ll be taking my place. This is Lord Oncit,” he gestured to the wolf, “and the snorer there is Lord Boursin.”

The wolf extended a lazy paw without otherwise moving. Volle thought he recognized him as one of the Lords who’d been at the table when he’d attended the luncheon, talking about ‘Old Blood’n’Guts.’ He shook the paw, and then shook Lord Creane’s.

They sat all afternoon without hearing a single case. Lord Creane got some files of previous cases and went over them with Volle, who had the annoying feeling that he was back in the Academy studying. One would think, he reflected after about five indistinguishable cases had gone through his paws, that these matters and questions would at least be somewhat interesting. Sadly, people seemed inclined to complain and argue about the pettiest things, and his job apparently was to pretend he cared long enough to help make a decision.

“I’ve done this for twenty years,” Lord Creane told him, “and I’ve finally had enough.”

“Twenty years!” Volle shook his head. “I was bored after twenty minutes!”

“M’boy, you do occasionally get interesting ones in here, though most of the really juicy ones go to the King. You just have to wait out the interesting ones. Meanwhile, bring a book or a conversation. We ran out of things to talk about months ago.”

Volle looked at Boursin, who had shifted to another position but was still snoring, and Oncit, who was now apparently counting the hairs on his paw. “I wouldn’t count that your fault,” he whispered.

Creane chuckled. “They’re good folk, just quiet.” He himself seemed delighted to have someone new to talk to, and much as Volle wanted to ask Lord Oncit about ‘Old Blood’n’Guts,’ he couldn’t break away from Lord Creane’s amiable chatter.

The afternoon finally ended, and Volle was able to escape back to his chambers. Welcis met him with a glass of wine, which he sipped gratefully.

“I believe I would like to eat alone tonight, Welcis,” he sighed.

“As his lordship wishes. The tailor delivered the first of your lordship’s clothes today, if you would care to see them.”

“Oh, yes!” Volle sprang to his feet and followed Welcis into the sitting room. There he saw two pairs of smart yellow pants, one a pure yellow and the other more orangish. The tailor had also left three skirts, all emblazoned with the Vinton crest, and three shirts, two white and one a soft brown.

“Nice. I can still wear my doublet over these.” He fingered the material admiringly.

“Yes, sir. The tailor wished me to tell you that the formal garments will be ready in two days, for your lordship’s dinner with Lord Tistunish.”

“Good F--Canis, I’d almost forgotten about that.” He wondered if the vixen they’d found for him would be at all interesting.

“Yes, sir. In addition, the King has announced a banquet for junior nobles two weeks from tomorrow night.”

“Do you think I have to dress formally for the dinner with Lord Tistunish?”

“I would recommend it, sir.”

“Oh, all right.” He grinned. “Maybe I will go eat dinner after all. I’d like to show off my new clothes.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Welcis helped him dress, and brushed his fur, and thus attired, he set off for the dining room.

He was disappointed to find neither Helfer nor Tish there. Lord Vanadi found him rather quickly, and though Volle was apprehensive at first, without the distraction of Dereath, he managed to have quite an interesting conversation about the differences between the Reformed Panbestian Church (“Well-meaning but trying to hard to please everyone,” sniffed Lord Vanadi) and the Orthodox Church. He was aware, for example, that the Reformed Church did not lump the species into Houses, as the Orthodox did, but he wasn’t aware that the Orthodox Church had not only a Gaiavox, but a Cantor for each House.

The dining hall was large and crowded, and so it wasn’t until Volle had gotten up to leave that he noticed Ullik and his wife in another corner, laughing merrily with an ursine couple. He tried to leave quickly, but Lord Vanadi insisted on accompanying him and finishing their conversation, and he was sure Ullik had seen him by the time he left.

No harm done, though, he thought as he bid the grey fox good night and walked across the main hall towards his chambers. I just need to avoid him for another couple days…

The hall was deserted; everyone was at dinner, either in the dining room or in their chambers. He stopped when he heard footsteps and looked around, but there was nobody there. A bit more nervous, though he couldn’t have said why, he hurried past the Lion Stair and toward the Wolf. Rounding the corner of the staircase, the sight of his corridor, with his rooms just a few yards away, helped him relax.

Silly, he thought. Who would be stalking you in the palace? But when he stepped into the corridor, a draft brought him the scent of dry dust and old ink, with a subtly unpleasant undertone, and he knew who was stalking him even before the weight slammed him into the wall and the voice hissed in his ear.

“Been avoiding me, little lord? Trying to shirk your duty?”

Muzzle pressed against the wall, Volle found it hard to talk, especially with Ullik’s weight crushing his lungs. “Couple…days…” he coughed.

“Days,” the squirrel snarled, and let him go. “You need to wait for your governor’s word? You don’t trust me? I think we should go to my office and make another deposit right now. Or maybe…” his eyes traveled thoughtfully along the corridor, “your rooms are closer.” His paw gripped Volle’s muzzle, forcing him to look the squirrel in the eyes. “We can get rid of your servant.”

Volle wrested his muzzle free, repressing a snarl. “No, let’s go to your office.” Ullik’s eyes brightened, then flashed suspiciously at Volle’s agreeability. “Then you can show me the Vinton books.”

Ullik folded his arms. “I think we should use your chambers.”

His attitude now radiated muted anger, but also wariness. Volle was now sure he was right: Ullik had somehow heard about his dispatching a messenger to the governor and wanted to get in one last session before the official receipts returned and Volle could confirm his lie. He silently thanked Dereath for telling him about the books; the rat had probably saved him from another disgusting muzzleful.

“Once I see the books, we can come back down here,” Volle said, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic Ullik’s position.

The squirrel looked him up and down and then shrugged, with a crooked smile. “No need for that, Lord Vinton. I’ll send down a report in the morning. It was fun while it lasted.” He leered and then started to walk away.

“Hey!” Volle’s claws were bared and he wanted nothing more than to rip long gashes in the squirrel’s fancy clothes, if not his disgusting hide. He restrained himself, but Ullik, turning, could see his frustration.

“Yes?” The squirrel smirked at him, and Volle knew there was nothing he could do.

Volle stared at him for the space of half a dozen heartbeats, and then forced himself to relax. “If twenty years accumulated eight hundred gold pieces, and you’d forgiven me one year, shouldn’t that be added to my account now?”

Ullik stared at him, and then burst into laughter. “You’re a Lord after my own heart, Vinton. Forty gold for a little tongue action! My boy, you’d be the most expensive in Tephos—and I should know.” He gave Volle a leering wink, and walked away, still laughing.