Weasel Presents (13 page)

“It’s different,” Helfer said. “This isn’t politics. It’s friendship.”

“So is this!” Vin said, waving a paw at himself. “Look, I’m offerin’ this inna spirit of friendship. What’s that fox offerin’?”

Helfer grinned. “Help me with the Four Vines and I’ll take you up on your offer, I promise.”

Vin hesitated. “There’s other offers wouldn’t be as much trouble.”

“But would they be in the spirit of friendship?” Helfer leaned forward.

Vin scowled. “I got lots of friends,” he said. “Friends what don’t ask me t’go into them places.”

Before Helfer could respond, he turned at the sound of heavy footsteps running toward them. Hensley had rounded the corner and ducked into a doorway near them, the heavyset badger panting and gesturing them into the shadows with him. Vin and Helfer glanced at each other and then hesitantly followed.

“Look,” Hensley growled, “I don’ trust ya, and Dicker don’t neither. But he thinks it’s funny if ya go into the Four Vines like a witless sheep, an’ I don’t. So here, give Bichi this.” He dropped a small coin into Helfer’s paw and closed the paw over it before Helfer had a chance to look at it. “He won’t know it come from me, just that it means he should treat you serious.”

“Thanks,” Helfer said, surprised.

The badger patted him on the shoulder. “Hope you find what you want. An’ I’m lookin’ forward to that brandy.”

“You’ll get it,” Helfer said.

Looking both ways, Hensley slipped out of the doorway as stealthily as a six-foot tall, two hundred-fifty pound badger can. The two weasels shrank further into the doorway.

“What’d he give ya?” Vin asked excitedly.

Helfer opened his paw. Inside was a coin about the weight of a copper, but instead of the crown and the sigil of Ursus, it bore a strange spiral bisected by a line on both sides. “You know what that means?” he asked Vin.

Vin shook his head, then perked his ears hopefully. “Mebbe it’s meant to be looked at naked.”

Helfer palmed the coin and slid it into a pocket. “Then let’s hope this Bichi is cute,” he said, stepping out from the doorway.

“I seen it around,” Vin whispered as they walked toward the inn. “Inna Four Vines, an’ around Dicker an’ all. Slick fella like me, they don’t tell me the secrets. Worried I’ll take over, ya know.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Helfer muttered. They’d turned onto the street where the sign hung for the Four Vines, a chipped painting of greenery that might be four vines, or might be six toads, or one tree. Only the words “Four Vines” had been freshly painted, over the black door scarred with age. The stone walls of the tavern were so thick that Helfer could barely see the windows in their deep wells. As they watched, a wolf with an eyepatch and torn ear strolled up and yanked the door open, grinning as he disappeared into the dark interior.

“Well, it won’t get any friendlier,” Helfer said. “Come on.”

“Me?” Vin squeaked. “I seem t’remember tellin’ ya that I ain’t exactly welcome there.”

“I’ll tell them I’m keeping an eye on you,” Helfer said.

“An’ how will they know you ain’t as bad as me?”

Helfer tapped the pocket where the coin rested. Vin shook his head. “You dunno Hensley like I knows ’im. What if he’s just havin’ us on?”

“He seemed sincere.”

“Yeah. Seemed.”

“Only one way to find out.” Without waiting for Vin, Helfer strode to the black door and tried to yank it open as the wolf had done. It resisted with surprising force. He planted his feet and used both paws, and slowly managed to drag it open enough that he could get inside. He felt motion in his whiskers; Vin stood by his side, staying close and looking around nervously.

The Four Vines was more brightly lit than Helfer would’ve thought, given the appearance of the windows and doors. Skylights let in shafts of sunlight, showing the unpolished but clean surfaces of the dark wooden tables. Only the back right hand corner of the bar was not well lit, the contrast with the rest of the room making the shadows even more impermeable. In fact, if he’d just wandered in, Helfer would’ve thought this a rather nice place--if not for the clientele.

The wolf they’d seen enter was standing at the bar holding a metal tankard, talking to a mouse behind the bar. Three of the other tables were occupied with pairs or trios of disparate species, all of whom looked as lean, muscled, and scarred as the wolf. All of them, whatever they had been doing a moment before, were now staring directly at the two weasels. Only the wolf and mouse at the bar continued their conversations in low tones.

Helfer glanced around to make sure that the fox wasn’t at one of the tables, noting the staircase to his left and the door underneath it. Those were on the side of the adjacent house. If he hesitated any longer, he might just run right outside again, so he strode quickly up to the bar, where a large black bear was staring at him, paws moving a cloth mechanically over a tankard.

“Bichi?” Helfer said, taking the token out of his pocket as he approached the bar.

Vin tugged at his tunic. “That’s Bichi,” he whispered, pointing at the mouse, who had broken off his conversation with the wolf to join the rest of the tavern in staring at Helfer.

“’Scuse me a moment,” the mouse said to the wolf. He walked along the bar to meet Helfer. His voice was high, but confident. “Afternoon. What can I do for you?”

Helfer laid the token on the bar. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. He went into the house next door, and I was told you were the one to ask about that.”

“Mmm.” The mouse barely glanced at the token, but Helfer did see his eyes flick toward the staircase. “Curious place for a friend of a noble to go. Didn’t he tell you where he was going?”

“No,” Helfer said. “I don’t think he saw me when I waved to him.”

“Or you were following him and didn’t want him to see you. No matter,” the mouse said pleasantly. “It’s no secret. My wife runs a gentleman’s club next door. If you want to wait outside, I’m sure you’ll catch your friend on his way out, in a much better mood.”

“Thanks,” Helfer said. “I may do just that.” His eyes flicked to the shadows, where he heard a rustling noise and then a low chime, clear in the still-silent tavern.

The mouse cocked an ear too, and then nudged the bear. “Go clear the tables,” he said. As the bear walked out from behind the bar, Bichi said, “Thanks for stopping by. Sorry we won’t be able to let your friend leave with you. He owes us--ha, you would, would you?”

This last was to Vin, who had made a respectable dash for the door, only to be tripped by one of the patrons. A moment later, the bear had fallen on him, holding him in place despite the weasel’s squeals. Helfer started back from the bar, but movement drew his eye to the door at the top of the staircase. It was open, just a crack, and in the darkness beyond he saw a glimmer of eyeshine. As soon as he turned, the door slammed shut.

Bichi had noticed it too. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, seeing Helfer’s stare, and walked over to the door under the stairs. Helfer managed one step in that direction before the wolf with the eyepatch grabbed his wrist. “Best leave him,” he said. “Worry ’bout your frien’ there.”

The mouse was through the door, shutting it behind him. On the floor of the tavern, Vin was squealing, “Hef! Tell ’em I ain’t done nothin’!”

Helfer looked back at the wolf’s one good eye, a fierce, bright blue. The canine grinned. “Jus’ tryin’ to be helpful,” he said.

8

Helfer sighed. As soon as he started toward Vin and the bear, the wolf released his wrist and followed him.

The rest of the tavern had turned to watch, some laughing and talking quietly between themselves. They quieted somewhat as Helfer passed by. He reached out to grab the bear, then hesitated and walked around to the bear’s head. “Hey,” he said. “Let him up.”

The bear glared. “He’ll run off.”

“He won’t. Tell him you won’t, Vin.”

There was a pause. Helfer couldn’t see his friend’s face, but he knew Vin could hear him. “Vin. Tell him!”

“I won’t,” Vin said finally.

The bear didn’t move. “Come on,” Helfer said, “get up. He promised.”

Slowly, the bear levered himself up. Vin scrambled to his feet as soon as he was free. He took a step toward the door, then stopped even before the one-eyed wolf moved to intercept him. “Thanks,” he said to Helfer. “Owe ya one.”

Helfer nodded. “So you do owe them something?”

“It weren’t nothin’!” Vin said, a little too loudly. “I jus’ walked out an’ forgot I even had it.”

“You ran away,” the bear said.

“You were chasing me!”

“How much does he owe you?” Helfer cut in.

Bichi said from behind him, “One and a half gold royals.”

Helfer turned and looked with some surprise at the mouse, who returned a bland smile. The weasel fished around in the pouch he carried while Vin said indignantly, “That’s ridiculous, that trinket weren’t worth even one.”

“It was worth one and a half,” Bichi said.

“Not down the street,” Vin muttered.

Helfer shot him a look. “Here,” he said, holding out some coins to Bichi. “That cover it?”

“Yes, sir,” Bichi said. “You and your friend want to stay for a drink?”

Helfer looked at the staircase and door. Whatever was going to happen there had likely happened already. If Volle--or whoever that fox was--was in there, he’d been warned and was gone. Or he wasn’t going to leave, in which case he’d still be there in a little while. And he could use a drink. He handed Bichi another silver. “Sure. Two of your best ales.”

“Wot?” Vin stared at him.

Helfer inclined his head toward a nearby table. “C’mon. Let’s sit down.”

Bichi served the ales himself. Helfer noticed the long look he gave Vin, as well as the nervous glances the other weasel shot toward the shadowy corner.

“Wot’s goin’ on?” Vin said in a low voice. “Why we hangin’ around here?”

“I don’t think the fox I’m chasing is my friend,” Helfer said. “If he is, he’ll probably wait next door for me because he knows I’ll be there now. If he isn’t my friend, well, then, he’s long gone.”

“I tol’ you not to come in here,” Vin said. “Look, you really wanna find yer friend, we can ask aroun’ a couple other places.”

“Apart from the fact that you stole something from here,” Helfer held up a paw to forestall Vin’s reply, “why’s this place scare you so much?”

“It don’t scare me,” Vin said.

“What’s in that corner? The bat?”

“Shush-shush!” Vin nearly scrambled across the table to clamp a paw across Helfer’s mouth. He nodded, unable to restrain another glance at the corner.

“What--?” Helfer stopped at Vin’s frantic expression.

“Not ’ere,” the other weasel whispered.

Helfer took a swig of his ale. It had a dry, yeasty flavor that he thought was reminiscent of his more northern brews. Something from the Reysfields, most likely. “All right,” he said. This all felt like politics to him, just in a different setting: people hiding secrets and puffing up their image. The only reason he remained vaguely interested was because it affected his trade in mead and ale, and that might possibly affect his income, but even that connection felt as vague to him as the scents of the other patrons in the bar. They were there, they might one day affect him, but if he just let them be, they would likely go on about their business and not worry about him.

“Please, Hef,” Vin said. “Let’s jus’ go somewhere nice an’ quiet an’ have some nice uncomplicated fun, eh?”

It sounded very tempting at that moment. Helfer was about to nod his agreement when a small coin landed on their table. It took Helfer a moment to recognize it as the token he’d left on the bar.

“So,” a deeper voice said, “you know Hensley.” They looked up to meet the steady gaze of the one-eyed wolf. He pulled a chair back. “Mind if I join you?”

Vin looked about to be ill. Helfer gestured graciously. “Our pleasure.”

The wolf dropped his six-foot frame into the chair without a thump. He wasn’t wearing a tunic under the thick padded vest, so Helfer could see that what he’d taken for a dyed pattern of criss-cross lines in the fur of his shoulders was actually several lines of scars. Even the eyepatch was worn in spots, with some gashes that indicated how the eye might’ve been lost in the first place. Helfer thought it likely that the wolf had given as good as he’d gotten, to judge from the thickness of his arms and the hard confidence in his posture. He tapped his claws on the table, looking at Helfer and ignoring Vin except for the partial turn of his ear in that direction.

“Yeah, we know Hensley,” Helfer said. “Friend of yours?”

“We had occasion to meet in the past,” the wolf said. “I’m Stark.”

Helfer introduced himself and Vin, leaving out his title. “Hensley didn’t mention you,” he said. “Just told us to show off this token.”

“You’re a noble, ay?”

Helfer frowned. “Is it that obvious to everyone?”

“Your tunic,” Vin said.

The wolf flicked his ear. “Aye. You carry yerself like a noble.”

“I thought I carried myself like a weasel,” Helfer said. He had had in the back of his mind that he might change his tunic if he kept having to follow Vin down seedy alleys and into disreputable taverns, but now he wasn’t sure that would do any good.

“Noble weasel, aye.” If Stark’s grin was supposed to be reassuring or friendly, it failed. Due to a scar that crossed above his right canine, the grin showed rather more teeth than was polite, and it curled his muzzle into a distinct sneer, at least on Helfer’s side. “A noble weasel who is looking for someone, or something.”

“Not any more,” Vin put in quickly. “We’re just preparin’ to go have some fun.”

“Oh, aye?” the wolf said, raising an eyebrow that seemed to be the only scar-free part of his head. “Well, Stark likes to have some fun too. Besides which, he knows well how to find things that might not want to be found.”

“What’s Stark know ’bout leavin’ things alone what want to be left alone?” muttered Vin, but when Stark turned his eye toward him, the weasel shut his mouth and shrank back in his chair.

“I know what kind of ‘fun’ you like, Vinstrier Tail-Lifter,” the wolf said mildly. “Aye. Wouldn’t have offered had I not.”