Weasel Presents (17 page)

“Right,” Vin said. “I reckoned you might want to.” When Helfer didn’t respond, he went on. “Don’t worry ’bout ol’ Vin. ’E can avoid Stark, no problem. Got as many hidey-holes as I got hairs on me body.”

Helfer leaned tiredly against a bolt of cloth. Taking Vin to the palace would be troublesome. There would be questions, especially because he, Helfer, would be responsible for whatever Vin did while in the palace. He wasn’t sure he could trust the weasel in the midst of such opulence, and he wasn’t up for watching him every minute of his visit. But on the other paw, Vin had always seemed fairly self-assured, and for him to be so worried about Stark that he was protesting that he wasn’t worried made Helfer a little uneasy. He looked through the dimness at his fellow weasel, as his stomach growled. He realized he didn’t have to come to a decision right away. But he really wanted to get back to the palace.

14

“Come on,” he said, reaching his decision.

“Where we goin’?” Helfer heard Vin hop to his feet, the rustle of dislodged cloth falling to the floor. He patted the papers in his purse and grabbed the other weasel by the paw.

“To the palace.” They emerged back into the light, both looking cautiously up and down the empty alley. Helfer marched Vin along the uneven bricks in what he hoped was the right direction, and since Vin didn’t correct him, he kept going.

Vin’s ears perked right up. “Oooh. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I’m hungry, we’re both being chased, and I’m tired of being out in the city,” Helfer said. “It’s smelly and entirely too interesting. And I like my friends better than yours. No offense.”

“None taken,” Vin said cheerfully. “So, cream pastries and fruit syrups comin’ up?”

“We’ll see what the kitchen’s serving.” By now they’d rounded a corner on which an old pub stood, the aroma of meat and tubers making Helfer’s mouth water despite his words. He recognized the street, and in the distance could see the tips of the spires of the Cathedral. He headed toward them, keeping a firm paw on Vin, who was not at all reluctant to follow him.

“Think they might ’ave honey roasted fowl, like last time? Oooh, or those honey cakes. They was a treat.”

“Just keep an eye out to make sure we’re not being followed,” Helfer said, his stomach growling louder at Vin’s words. In the crowded street, it was more important to keep his paw tight around the other weasel’s, leaving him less attention to spare for potential enemies in the street. He wasn’t used to having to keep an eye out for anything worse than the usual cutpurses, and he found the sensation rather disagreeable.

“Oh, ain’t nobody near us,” Vin said. “Stark sticks out a mile away, ’e’s so tall.”

“I’m sure he’s unable to crouch,” Helfer muttered, but Vin proved to be right, and they reached the palace gates without any incident more serious than Helfer accidentally dragging Vin into a portly raccoon.

The badger guard bowed when he saw Helfer walk up. “Lord Ikling,” he said. The other guard, a slender stag, must have just gotten off shift; he trotted back to the palace as Helfer eyed the badger curiously.

“Did you pull a double shift today?” He produced his papers.

“Double? No, sir,” the badger said. “Been here since sunup, going off in another hour or so.”

“Seems like it’s been a full day,” Helfer said, pushing Vin in front of him. “Here, I need to fill out the papers for him to be in the palace.”

“Right. Just the day?” The guard produced a scrap of parchment and handed it to Helfer, clearing space at the small desk in the guard house.

“Yes.” Helfer filled out Vin’s name and signed his own, leaving it on the desk.

“Not being coerced in any way?” The guard grinned at him.

Helfer shook his head. “No, not today.”

The badger laughed and made a mark on the parchment, then folded it and handed it to Vin. “You need to give this to us on the way out,” he said. “Won’t be good after today anyway.”

“I know,” Vin said. “Already tried it once.”

Helfer dragged him hurriedly away before he could talk any further. The system of signed papers was subject to a fair amount of abuse, but every so often the abuse got to a level where the police decided to crack down, and then it was harder for everyone to bring guests in. Not that Vin’s jocularity would lead to anything as severe as had, say, the death of an eminent Cabinet member, but he was sure every little bit was noted.

“Was just a little joke,” Vin protested as Helfer dragged him past the footservants at the main door.

“Let’s just get you up to the room without any more ‘jokes’,” Helfer said, “and then I’ll have Caresh bring us...oh, no.”

The Great Hall was bustling with activity, and although Helfer far preferred the scents of this activity to the ones on the street, there was one acrid, arrogant odor that cut through the crowd and made him glance instinctively for a side passage where he knew there was none. A moment later, the silky, high voice greeted him. “Lord Ikling. How fortuitous that I should run into you here.”

Helfer noticed the slender stag guard making his way back out the doors, and doubted that the meeting was in any way due to chance. “Yes, isn’t it,” he said. “Well, hate to meet and run...”

“Wouldn’t dream of allowing it,” Dereath said. “Come on up to my office, and bring your little friend there, too.”

Vin’s ears had gone all flat and his eyes wide. “Of course we will,” Helfer said, as though Dereath asked that every day, but Vin didn’t seem reassured by his calm tone. They set off up the stairs, and twice Vin tried to whisper something. Helfer had to shush him both times; the second time, Dereath looked around with a nasty grin.

“Now, now, no spoiling the surprise you have for me,” he said, then turned around again.

Surprise?
Vin mouthed. Helfer responded with a quick hand motion, tracing Weasel’s sign in the air. Vin frowned, and then--they were almost at the landing--he nodded and returned the sign.

They turned down the corridor toward Lord Fardew’s office, where Dereath’s desk was. Helfer felt a little more at ease since Vin seemed to understand his message: follow the teachings of Weasel, trust nobody, notice everything. Of course, you should always be doing that, but it probably helped Vin to have a reminder, and to feel the company of a fellow weasel reinforced.

“Now,” Dereath said when they reached his office, “I’ll talk to your friend first. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“This is Vinstrier,” Helfer said, “and you’ll talk to us both together.”

“As a procedural matter,” the rat started, but Helfer cut him off.

“I don’t know much,” he said, “but I do know that as a procedural matter, Lord Fardew or Captain Nero should be here. Where are they?”

The rat’s eyes narrowed. “This is an internal investigation...”

“Then Lord Fardew should be here. Funny, I don’t see him around.”

“Lord Fardew is extraordinarily busy with other aspects of this...”

Helfer was enjoying not letting the rat finish a sentence. “Then you can wait to talk to us ’til he gets back. Or we will allow you to talk to both of us together.”

It probably wasn’t wise to taunt the rat, but, Helfer thought, I got away from Stark, and Stark would eat this guy for lunch. His stomach growled again, but he ignored it.

Dereath stared back at him, and finally said, “Fine. Both of you then, come in here.”

Helfer nodded to Vin, who was staring at him in unabashed relief. They followed Dereath into Lord Fardew’s office, where the rat sat behind the large wooden desk. Helfer couldn’t help but notice the way his skinny fingers caressed the wood, nor the proprietary way he ensconced himself in the chair and stared out at them. “Now, we have been looking for Lord Vinton, but since you disappeared after speaking with Alister earlier this morning, we have been looking for you, too.”

“I came here to wait,” Helfer said, “and you weren’t here. So I left.”

“Indeed,” Dereath said. “Well, it may interest you to know that we still have not located Lord Vinton. But the fact that you have returned with an accomplice is highly significant. Have you disposed of the merchandise, I take it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Helfer said.

“Come now,” Dereath said. “Let me tell you plainly what I am talking about. Lord Vinton was seen late last night stealing some valuable papers from the Agricultural Committee files and has not been seen since.”

“Why didn’t the person who saw him apprehend him?” Helfer asked pleasantly. He was starting to put some pieces together, but he didn’t want to help Dereath at all.

“That’s not your concern,” Dereath said.

Helfer leaned back in his chair. “Seems to me it is,” he said. “If he’d apprehended Volle right off, you wouldn’t have to be asking us questions. Or was he too far away to see who it really was?”

“Oh!” Vin said suddenly. “I bet it was...oop!” He clapped a paw over his muzzle and stared apologetically at Helfer.

“Hmm.” Dereath’s smile spread over his muzzle. “Do, please, continue.”

15

Helfer coughed. “Actually, I’m more interested in why you managed to see him, but let him get away.”

“Who said it was me?” Dereath snapped.

Helfer hadn’t meant it that way; he’d meant “you” as in the whole general security establishment. But now he was convinced that it had been Dereath himself who’d been stationed, waiting to catch the thief. “Who else would have set such a cunning trap?” he said, leaching as much sarcasm from his voice as he could.

The rat glared at him. “I cannot think of anyone less qualified than you to criticize the security workings of this palace.”

Helfer shrugged. “You set a trap, but you let whoever it was get away? I don’t know how much I need to know to criticize that.” He could see Vin out of the corner of his eye, cringing in his chair, so he just kept talking, saying whatever came into his head. “I mean, isn’t the whole idea of a trap to catch the target?”

Dereath’s claws scored the desk. Helfer could see the rat’s whiskers twitching, one fang showing as his lips curled. The rat turned abruptly to Vin. “I believe you were going to say something before we were interrupted?”

“Let him be,” Helfer said. “I just invited him in for a nice meal and maybe some fun later on. You can understand that, right?”

Vin was sitting up, now, though. “It’s okay, Hef,” he said. “I was just gonna say, you think it mighta been some other fox you know?”

“That’s not what you said,” Dereath snapped.

“Oh, innit?” Vin scratched the side of his muzzle. “Coulda sworn...”

Dereath sat back in his chair. “I may not have a lot of leeway with your royal john here,” he said coldly, “but it would not take much to throw you in prison. And I tend to forget people I’ve thrown in prison.”

“He hasn’t done anything,” Helfer said. “You can’t throw him in prison because I brought him here.”

“He’s withholding information.”

“You don’t have any proof of that.”

Dereath smiled thinly. His whiskers had settled, his fang hidden again. “I don’t need much proof. I have what I heard. And my word carries considerably more weight than yours around the palace.”

Vin glanced sideways at Helfer, who gave him a quick nod. “There’s no point trying to scare him,” Helfer said. “I told you, and he told you, he doesn’t know anything.”

“So there is something to know,” Dereath said. “Why don’t you enlighten me, then? You know how difficult I can make life for you around the palace. I’d personally enjoy seeing your movements outside the palace restricted, for example, or Ullik taking a more, shall we say, detailed interest in the Vellenland finances.”

Helfer sighed. This, he reminded himself, is why he avoided politics. “You don’t have any proof that either of us know anything,” he said. “And we don’t. I waited here this morning for you to talk to me, you weren’t here, I got bored. It happens to weasels. I went into town, ran into Vin, he propositioned me, I accepted. But he doesn’t live in the best of accommodations, so we came back here. End of story.”

Dereath shook his head. “You’ve been acting strange all day,” he said. “In the--”

They were interrupted by a rabbit, opening the door and sticking his head through. Helfer expected Dereath to snap, knowing how the rat hated distractions, but instead, he half-rose eagerly, his ears coming up. The rabbit just said, “Found ’em,” or maybe it was “found ’im.”

The rat sprang to his feet and waved at Helfer and Vin. “You two can go. Just stay in the palace in case we need to talk to you.” He dashed out of the room before either of the startled weasels could say anything.

They exchanged looks. Vin said, “Wot should we do?”

“In my experience,” Helfer said, getting up, “when he says you can go, you should go while you can.”

He hurried Vin through the corridors. “Who you think they found?” Vin asked.

“Dunno,” Helfer said. “Don’t care.” He hadn’t thought about it at all until Vin had asked, but now he thought there could be only two people the rabbit could have meant: Volle or Dewry.

“Don’t think it were,” Vin looked around to make sure the corridors were empty before whispering, “Dewry?”

“Shh,” Helfer said. “No, I don’t.”

“Me neither.” Vin scurried alongside Helfer. “So that rat, he’s like some kinda Stark in the palace?”

“Something like,” Helfer said. “You seemed to handle him okay after a couple minutes.”

“Jus’ watched you,” Vin said. He grinned. “I saw he weren’t gonna do nothin’ to you. Hope I din’ make nothin’ worse for ya.”

“No,” Helfer said. “Me and Dereath go back a ways. He’s never liked me.”

Vin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me ’e was sniffin’ up for ya.”

Helfer grimaced. “That was kinda the start of it.”

“Ouch.” Vin shook his head. “Thought you was more smooth than that.”

“It was a long time ago.” Helfer shook his head, banishing the memory.

“Never knew a rat didn’t carry a grudge,” Vin said. “This one chap, you never knew him, name o’ Chintzley, well, we ’ad a little disagreement six years ago ’bout the value of a pair o’ breeches what I got from that tailor I took ya to, an’ ya know, just last week ’e tries to short me on a box o’ yellowfruit.”