Volle (6 page)

Volle looked at Arrin, who had just turned around and was looking blankly at Renaldo, then to Volle. He smiled, but it was less broad than his previous smile. “Thank you, Renaldo. His lordship is done. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Vinton. Please don’t hesitate to come see me if there’s anything you want.”

The phrasing…it
had
to be flirting. Anything he
wanted
? Like a cute young fox in his bed? Volle still didn’t know whether to flirt back. Unsure of his situation, he just bowed his head and said, “Thank you for all the help, Arrin. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

He hoped he was just imagining the look of disappointment that flashed across Arrin’s muzzle before he composed himself and sat down. Or maybe he hoped he wasn’t imagining it. Renaldo hustled him out of the office before he could say another word or sort out his thoughts.

“The Exchequer is up these stairs and to the left.” Renaldo pointed up as they walked down the stairs. Volle had to walk fast to keep up with him. He bounded through the palace with a marten’s energy, barely able to keep to a walking pace, and Volle was glad he’d had the morning to rest in the carriage. “This is the main dining hall. Formal banquets and dinners of state are held here.” Volle poked his head in and saw a raccoon and two wolves scurrying around tidying a huge room, with a large crystal chandelier and windows scattered throughout the ceiling. Portraits adorned the walls and the three fireplaces were edged in gold. The long table was made of beautiful glossy mahogany.

“The King’s audience chamber is through there. It’s closed now. It’s actually not too difficult to find your way around the palace. The main hall runs from the main gate to the back gate, straight through. Every corridor eventually ends up there.” Renaldo kept up a running commentary as they walked. “There are six staircases and each one has a different statue at the base. Bear, wolf, weasel, rat, lion, goat. You noticed the Steward was up the Lion stair?”

“I did.”

“Your apartments are on the first level but by the Wolf stair. The corridor is actually around behind the stair. See, here’s the Wolf stair.” They were approaching another staircase, this one with carved wolf heads on the balustrade. The wolf heads were whiter than the rest of the stair, though, and Volle distinctly remembered the lion heads being the same color.

“Are these newer?” he asked as they passed.

“I guess so.” Renaldo shrugged. “There’s a clock at the base of every stair. They toll the hour and half hour.” He waved to the large standing clock as they passed it, then turned right down a narrow passageway. He passed three doors on the left—none on the right—and at the fourth, he stopped. It stood ajar, and Volle could hear sounds of activity within.

Renaldo signaled to Volle to wait, and stepped inside. He reappeared almost immediately. “They’re just finishing up,” he said. “Your lordship can come into the parlor while they finish the bedroom.”

Volle stepped into a room about the size of the Steward’s waiting room. A threadbare carpet lay in the center of the floor, and the walls were paneled wood, bare except for a small version of the portrait of the King. There were three chairs in the room, one occupied by Reese and one by Ben; the third was in front of a nice wooden desk. A door stood partly open in the middle of the wall to his left, and two narrow windows, barely wide enough for him to get his head through, looked out onto the front gardens.

Reese waved a paw. “So there you are. Sir.” He only added the honorific at Renaldo’s sharp look. “Ben and I were discussing where we should spend the night. Is there a tavern nearby?” This last was to the marten.

“Outside the main gate and to your right, the Prancing Unicorn. Excellent hospitality.”

Reese nodded. “Thank you.”

Two youngsters in aprons, a coyote and a badger, came through the door and bowed to Renaldo. “All finished, sir,” they panted.

“Good.” He clapped his paws. “Back to the kitchen with you, then.” They scurried out.

“Your lordship, the rest of your quarters…” Renaldo pulled the door open and waited for Volle to walk in. “This is the sitting room. We will bring some more furnishings down tomorrow.” The room was bare except for a single couch. One narrow window looked out onto the street, and a single door led out in the opposite wall.

Renaldo crossed to the door. “Your bedroom.”

Inside, Volle saw a lovely four-poster bed, with what looked like a down mattress and linen sheets, bright white. A small table stood beside it, and a wardrobe, newly polished, gleamed in the corner. The window was just as narrow here, but there was a fireplace in the wall beside it. Renaldo gestured towards this with a paw. “None in the parlor, unfortunately, but there is one in the bedroom. The chimneys run through the wall to a vent in the tower. These are all in good working order, though they’re used infrequently. It does get quite cold in winter. My lord is from the south, so it may be quite a shock. Many of our southern lords return home for the winters. As for bathing, your lordship will have to use the public baths just down the corridor. Only five other lords use it, and there is always a servant on duty. There used to be a bath, private, through there, but it was walled in and a door broken through to the apartment next door. Lady Gervis insisted.” He indicated the wall opposite the window, which had a doorway in it that had been filled up with bricks. “I’m sorry about the unsightliness of it, my lord. We’ll get a tapestry to cover that up.”

“Quite all right,” Volle said, studying the room. “Thank you very much, Renaldo. You’re a great help.”

The marten bowed. “Your lordship is too kind. I do my best.” He retreated from the room.

When Volle returned to the parlor, only Reese and Ben were there. Ben was standing by the door, and he bowed as Volle entered. “I thought I would take the carriage to the tavern, my lord. Reese said he would join me there later.”

Volle looked at Reese, who had a serious expression. No doubt he wanted to lecture Volle again on not forgetting why he was here. Well, that wasn’t necessary, he thought. “You don’t have to wait here, Reese. Go ahead with Ben.” Reese started to protest, but Volle cut him off, unable to resist a pre-emptive jibe of his own. “Really, I can manage. I know how long it’s been since you were in a tavern.”

A shadow of anger passed over Reese’s muzzle, but then he smiled, shrugged, and got up. “All right. You know, I am a bit thirsty. And hungry, too. I hope you find something to satisfy your appetite here.”

Volle glared at Reese as Ben chirped, “Oh, I’m sure they’ll provide food for your lordship here. They have to!”

“Mmm, yes,” Reese said, joining Ben at the door. “My mouth’s watering just thinking of all that young, fresh meat.” He smirked at Volle, who had to grin back.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be in touch.”

“You too, Volle.” Then they were gone, and he was alone.

He sat down in the chair at the desk and watched the view out of his window. The crowd in the street outside was rather light, perhaps because it was approaching the dinner hour for many of the people. Or maybe it was always light. None of the buildings were familiar, and he had no idea what to expect when he looked up and down the street.

It began to sink in, slowly, that this was his home for the next several years. Maybe longer, if he did his job. As long as the palace accepted him as Lord Vinton, he would be expected to remain here, gathering information. He would have nobody to talk to except one contact in the palace, and that as sparingly as possible. Occasionally he would be able to slip away to see Seir and Reese, but that too would have to be sparing. He would have to inhabit the role of Lord Vinton.

He had known his work would be hard. Until now, he had not realized it would also be so lonely.

Chapter 4

The Exchequer saw him about an hour before the banquet. Volle paused on the staircase as he passed the Steward’s office. He’d be lonely for company tonight, he knew, and the impulse to go ask Arrin to join him was very strong. But he’d have to hold back, until he knew how strong the Church’s influence was in the palace. His first impression was not heartening.

He was shown into an office where an old fat squirrel sat behind a desk. The ubiquitous King’s portrait hung behind him, but where the Steward’s office had been more spartan, Minister Ullik had a portrait of himself hung next to that of the King. On the other side was a portrait of him with a female squirrel and two children.

Volle had to guess that the portraits were of the Minister, because he little resembled the handsome squirrel they showed. Either they had been done a long time ago, or the portrait artist had been very generous. Ullik’s front teeth were gone, and one of his ears was notched. He had gained at least fifty or sixty pounds since the portraits, and his fur was not quite as sleek any more. The one constant was the calculating expression. Even in the portrait with his wife and children, he had an annoyed, distant expression as he gazed at the viewer, as if figuring how much this would cost him.

Ullik coughed and waved Volle to a chair. “Close the door. Have a seat. You’re the new Lord Vinton, eh?” His voice was low and raspy, and as Volle got closer, he could smell something bad in the squirrel’s scent. The dry, dusty scent held also a hint of decay and dirt; perhaps he hadn’t washed in a while. Volle sat down, feeling a bit more worried.

“Thank you,” he said cautiously. “Sir. I’m supposed to see you about the taxes and about a wage for a personal servant.”

Ullik’s eyes gleamed. “Yes,” he chattered, eyeing Volle up and down. “The taxes. The Vinton seat has been unoccupied for twenty years, yes? And in that time, the taxes on your income have gone unpaid, yes? Vinton is a small province, but still, over twenty years, the amount due is, I’m afraid, substantial.”

“Substantial?” Volle couldn’t keep his tail from twitching nervously. He could get the money if he needed it, but he wasn’t supposed to touch it. They’d assured him that his income would be taken care of by his property.

“Quite.” The squirrel pushed a piece of paper across the desk at him. Volle picked it up and scanned it quickly. In a spidery hand, a column of numbers had been added and then multiplied by twenty, with a figuring of interest.

“Eight hundred and forty-three gold Royals?” Volle almost squeaked. “I can’t…I mean, I don’t…” He looked up at the Exchequer helplessly.

“Terribly sorry, my lord, but until the amount is paid, you will not be welcome at the palace.” Ullik was looking at him with a slight smile, but it was a shrewd one.

Relief: he would have to leave. He could go back home. Panic: he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t fail his mission. “Can’t I pay a bit at a time? I can maybe ride back to the province, see what they have there? I don’t think they’ll have all that, but I can try…” He was talking faster than he should, and he just trailed off, looking at the squirrel, who was shaking his head. “Isn’t there any other way? I mean, I don’t want to leave the palace.”

As soon as he’d said that, the smile on the squirrel’s face told him that that’s what he’d been waiting for. “Well, Lord Vinton, I don’t know. Do you have any other…talents… you could offer?”

“Talents? I…” Volle knew suddenly what he was getting at. His eyes flicked up to the family portrait.

Ullik followed his gaze. “Oh, yes, I’m married,” he said. His tail twitched behind him. “But a wife doesn’t always take care of all her husband’s needs, you know? Of course you don’t. Not married. And you’re still
young
and
handsome
. No problem getting the pretty vixens to do what you want.”

Volle just stared at him numbly. “You’d forgive eight hundred forty-three Royals?”

The squirrel’s smile widened. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I can make the balance come out. If I am convincingly persuaded.” He said the last two words in almost a hiss, which turned into a whistle through the gap in his front teeth.

“But what about…I mean, what if someone…”

Ullik leaned back and put his arms behind his head. He pushed the chair back from his desk and smiled. “Yes, well. Lock the door before you start.”

“But…the Church!”

Ullik frowned. “Lord Vinton, if you would prefer to go home, we can end this meeting right now.”

“No. No, I…” He stood up, numbly, and walked to the door. The bolt slid across simply and easily, but he still stood staring at it for a moment. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. He’d hoped for relief from chastity, but not like this. Even at the thought of what he was about to do (whatever it might be; he had a good idea), his sheath wasn’t stirring.

He turned and walked back towards the desk. Ullik had already undone his pants and lifted his tunic, revealing a small sheath and a huge sac below it, the biggest Volle had ever seen. He’d never been with a squirrel before; maybe it was a rodent thing. He walked around the desk, tail curled down between his legs.

Ullik’s face was set in a gleeful expression of anticipation. He actually licked his lips as Volle approached, and slid forward on the chair more. He was already quite aroused; Volle could see a drop of clear fluid trickling down his hard maleness.

Volle took a breath and then knelt beside the chair. He reached out and took the stiff length in his paw. It was warm to the touch, but if he blocked out the smells, it wasn’t all that different from others. He could pretend he was somewhere else, pretend that the fur pressing against his paw was from a lover doubled over and not from an obscenely distended belly. He stroked up and down, thinking, please let this be all. Let this be over soon.

“Mmmm.” The squirrel’s expression of pleasure was a deep, rough rumble. Volle knew he was imagining things, but to him it sounded like the rumblings of an upset stomach, a wet, roiling sound. He moved his paw more quickly, trying not to listen and trying not to smell the dry, dusty smell that was quickly being overpowered by the squirrel’s arousal and his breath. He obviously took snuff, a practice that Volle found revolting.

“That’s very nice, my lord.” Ullik said the last two words with a mocking undertone. “But I’m sure you will agree that a debt such as yours must be worked off with a more skilled instrument than your admittedly capable paw.”

Volle stopped, and then lifted his paw away. He swallowed, working his tongue in his muzzle. It took a moment for him to steel himself sufficiently, and once he had done that, he had to work himself into a better position. He ended up crouching half under the minister’s desk, his head between Ullik’s knees. He could see patches of grey in the fur and he was sure he could hear fleas scratching around. The smell was too strong to ignore now, and while the arousal itself wasn’t completely unpleasant, the dirt and accumulated oils in the yellowish white fur between Ullik’s legs made Volle’s nose wrinkle. He almost sneezed, but held it back, and gingerly touched his tongue to the minister’s length.

The sooner he comes, the sooner I go. The sooner he comes, the sooner I go.
He held the short member in his paw and slid his muzzle up and down it, chanting that refrain silently to himself. It was fairly hard to pull the shaft away from the flabby stomach so his muzzle could work on it, and he found to his surprise that his paw was getting tired. He worked his muzzle and tongue faster still, ears alert for the phlegmy, raspy moans of the minister as his body tensed and shifted.

Soon now, he told himself, and quickened his muzzle’s licks and suckling as he heard the squirrel gasp shortly. He felt a familiar shiver in the shaft he held, and four strokes of his muzzle later, warmth spurted out into his muzzle in time with a series of grunts from above.

When he was sure the minister had finished, he slid his head back, still holding the fluid in his muzzle. It tasted sour and bad, and since he hadn’t swallowed immediately, he was finding it hard to work himself up to it. He looked back and forth behind the minister’s desk for somewhere to spit it out.

Ullik was panting. “Oh, that was good. Yes.” He saw Volle’s muzzle moving and reached out with a paw to brush under his chin. “What’s the matter there, my lord? You know, when you make a deposit with me, I don’t just spit it back on your desk. I put it in my vault and keep it safe.” The paw reached up, holding Volle’s muzzle closed.

Volle’s eyes searched Ullik’s, but found nothing there but cruel pleasure. He took a couple breaths and then swallowed.

The paw released his muzzle, and he banged his head on the desk as he recoiled backwards. The taste lingered in his mouth, reminding him of waking up after a night at the tavern. He wiped his muzzle and then got up unsteadily.

Ullik had pulled his trousers back up and was arranging his shirt. “I assume I will see you at the banquet tonight?”

Volle nodded. “So…I’m all right, then?” He edged slowly back around the desk.

“Yes, you may stay in the palace.” Ullik smiled at him. “I think that was well worth forgiving one year of your debt.”

“One…” Volle steadied himself on the desk with a paw.

“You surely didn’t think that would make up for all twenty? We can discuss the regular payment of the rest of your debt in the next few days. Once you get settled in.” His smile was smug and confident. “Now you’d best run along. Not much time to change before the banquet.”

Volle unbolted the door and fairly ran for his quarters. His muzzle still felt disgusting, no matter how many times he opened it to pant and let the cool air in.

He checked the large clock at the base of the stairs. Half an hour ‘til the banquet. He didn’t think he’d have time for a bath, but he definitely had to wash his muzzle and get the taste out of his mouth.

The baths were easy to find; the smell of scented powder wafted down the corridor a good thirty feet away. He followed it to a white stone archway, inside which a plump female raccoon stood. She straightened when she saw him and favored him with a warm smile.

“Evening, sir. Freshen up for the banquet?” She reached behind her for a small stack of towels and handed him one.

Volle took the towel and leaned over a basin of water. He dabbed at it with the towel. It was lukewarm and only lightly scented. “Thank you. Is there some water I could wash out my muzzle with?” He cleaned his muzzle with the damp towel and then rubbed the fur dry while she answered.

“Oooh. I think…let me see, sir.” She disappeared into a small doorway, leaving Volle to look around the room. The two ceramic basins had a few small cracks, but were otherwise in excellent condition, and he could now tell that the water they held was scented differently. The one he’d used was roses, and the other was jasmine. To his nose, the scents were moderately strong; to non-canids, he suspected they would be very light and subtle. More scents like those emanated from the curtains to his left; through there, he suspected, were the powder baths, large basins full of scented powder for a person to roll in.

Those were luxurious enough, but then he noticed a curtained archway in the back of the room that billowed gently with steam, and Volle could smell the soaps. Warm water baths! He was sorely tempted to immerse himself in one, but he would never have time to dry off before the banquet.

He had just put the towel down and started smoothing his muzzle fur when the raccoon returned with a pewter mug. She handed it to him. “Here, sir. Clean water.”

“Thank you.” He rinsed his muzzle out and spit the water into the drain. The water was cool and refreshing, and got rid of some of the taste. He emptied the mug, swallowing the water this time, and handed it back to the raccoon. “Again, thank you.”

She curtsied and smiled. “At your service, sir.”

Back in his rooms, he examined his wardrobe. The only fancy thing he had to wear was the doublet he’d worn to the meeting, on his last day in Ferrenis. He took it down and fingered it softly, feeling again very lonely. Banquet, he told himself, great place to meet people. Except, of course, he would be meeting them in the hopes of finding out whatever information they had, always with that in the back of his mind. Not just to be social, just to make friends.

He sighed and pulled the doublet on, adjusting it. There was a full-length mirror inside the wardrobe, which he used to check his appearance. He wished he had more formal pants than the soft cowhide ones he was wearing, but that would be something to take care of in the coming weeks.

After five minutes spent brushing his tail, he felt calm enough and presentable enough to attend the banquet. He found the dining hall easily, because as soon as he got to the main hall, he could hear and see the crowd of nobles milling around outside it.

They were of all different species, but he did notice a preponderance of bears. Wolves, raccoons, and weasels were all well represented, and of course there were several rodents: two squirrels, a beaver, and a dignified-looking white rat. The Exchequer, to his relief, was nowhere to be seen. He only saw two other foxes, and neither of them was a noble: the first was a footfox, walking around jotting names on a list, and the second was a personal servant attending a foppish-looking weasel who kept adjusting his lace collar. Volle’s glance through the crowd failed to turn up a single other pair of leather pants. Some males were wearing colorful cotton short pants cinched just above the knee, and some were wearing what looked like a knee-length skirt. The females, of course, were wearing long, loose robes. They all tended toward the heavy side, especially the males, but only a few were as excessively overweight as the Exchequer had been.