Vixen Hunted (16 page)

Tera felt paralyzed.
She knew what she saw. How could they not care about a demon?

"Do stay and rest
the night. We have rooms aplenty," the abbess said.

"We leave
immediately," Balwar said.

"Take me with
you!" Tera grabbed the man's robes.

"Tera!" The
abbess's voice cracked like a switch.

"Take me with you!
I know what I saw! I can serve. I was meant to serve rather than rot
here."

Mother Mae stepped
around the desk. "You will—"

"It seems Valador
took a liking to this sister," Guillermo said.

"It is unusual if
what she says is true. Valador is a wolf. In any case, she is certainly a
lively one. She might enjoy a road ministry."

Tera looked up. Hope
spilled down her cheeks. "I want to be about the Lord's business."

Balwar shrugged.
"We can take her along. It wasn't long ago I was dewy eyed."

Guillermo chuckled.
"And you are not now?"

The abbess hesitated.
"She is young and not even a full year into her vows."

"It is her choice,
is it not, abbess?" Balwar asked.

"I will go!"
Tera kissed Balwar's hem.

The abbess sighed.
"I won't stop you, deary, if this is what you want."

"I do. I will
expose your lies!" Tera rose to her feet. "I will bring in that fox
demon."

"Take whatever you
need, deary. You will always have a place to come back to here."

"Be quick about
it. We leave in an hour." Balwar bowed his head. "This has been…an
interesting meeting, abbess."

"It has, Brother
Tren, Brother Ruz. May God watch over you on your journey."

Mother Mae glided
toward Tera, and the young nun stiffened. It was not fair that the woman could
have so much dignity and be a liar.

The abbess wrapped her
arms around her.

"May God bring you
back safe."

Chapter 10

"That is a
beautiful rock. Where did you get it?" Kit asked.

A girl in a brown coat
far too big for her held several polished stones in her hand. The variegated
stones glittered. Her mother stood nearby with a basket of clothes perched on
her hip.

"There are many
over there in the stream." She pointed with a thin finger to a cluster of
trees off the road. "You should find some for the festival. They are
pretty and good luck."

"Let's go,
Grisald," the girl's mother said. "These people have better things to
do than look at rocks."

"But Ma—"

"I think I will
find some. Thank you, Grisald." Kit ruffled the girl's mousy hair.

"Since when did
you like children?" Timothy asked.

"So you know all
about me now?"

"I know that you
are planning something." He pulled his cloak closed against the wind. Cat
leaned against his leg.

"The girl
mentioned a festival. That gives me an idea." Kit snagged Timothy's hand
and dragged him into the copse of trees.

"And let me guess.
You won't tell me."

"You know me a
little."

Timothy shook his head
and let her tug him toward the crisp sound of water. Cat rustled beside them.
The stream meandered through the trees. Stones of all colors glittered just
under the clear rushing water.

"Give me a
pouch." Kit tossed her cloak on a fallen tree. She pulled off her shoes
and stockings and then stripped off her skirt. As she rolled her leggings above
her knees, her tail swished. Cat chased a butterfly that fluttered like a drunk
leaving a tavern.

"What if someone
sees you? Why do you want a bunch of rocks anyway?" Timothy glanced toward
the road. They were deep enough into the woods that no one could see, right?
What if Grisald returned?

"It is a wonder your
hair isn't white from worry."

"I didn't worry
until I met you."

Kit crossed her arms.
"Give me a pouch, shepherd."

"Fine." He
emptied the money purse into his hand and stuffed the coins in his coat
pockets. Kit wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

"I thought your
fur would keep you warm." Timothy held out the purse.

"Give me
that." Kit swiped the purse from Timothy and pushed her knapsack to him.
She waded into the water. Her tail bristled. "Cold!"

The stream rushed just
below her knees. She rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hand into the flowing
water. Timothy glanced back through the trees. Orange, gold, and brown-edged
leaves hid them from the road, but he was tired of surprises.

"Are you going to
tell me what you are planning? How are rocks going to help us?"

"You will
see."

Timothy rubbed his
forehead and settled on a log, setting their packs beside him. He watched the
direction of the road and Kit at the same time. Cat drank from the stream and
munched on whatever caught her eye. Autumn had descended with vengeance since
they had left Aunt Mae. Timothy hoped she was well.

Kit waded from the
stream about an hour later.

"Did you leave any
rocks?" Timothy asked. Kit ignored him and dressed. Her bushy tail refused
to fit under her skirt.

"Summer left in a
hurry." Kit smoothed her skirt. "Here, take a look."

He opened the bulging
purse. River stones, polished by water to resemble gems, gleamed. "Pretty
but what did you—"

"You will see. I
am not sure if it will work, but I heard of a merchant…" She trailed off
with a shiver. "Cold! I will be a noble in our story yet. Let's go before
I freeze."

The road was much
closer to the stream than Timothy first thought. Busy as well. Maybe Kit was
lucky.

They walked for two
hours. Kit, for once, said little. She occasionally shook her head and mumbled
something Timothy could not hear. He watched the fields and people pass as the
flat land gave way to rolling hills and pasturage. Getting a flock up some of
those hills looked to be a day's work. A lone shepherd stood out against the
sky on one of the tallest, white shapes milling around the silhouette. The road
climbed a hill almost as tall as the one Timothy watched. At least a shepherd
could see anything coming his way from up there.

"We made it."
Kit tugged his sleeve.

A walled city erupted
into view as the pasture and fields ended at thick stone fortifications. People
flowed from several roads in a steady stream of colors. Yellows mixed with
vibrant reds. Greens clashed with orange. Couples walked with hands locked.
Children darted between creaking carts. The city hummed like a beehive.

Timothy smoothed a hand
over his serviceable but drab coat. Kit's ears pressed against her headscarf,
and Timothy bet her tail was twitching under her skirts. He hoped no one looked
too closely. Her red hair drew enough attention.

A passing buxom woman
caught Timothy's eye and smiled.

Kit sniffed.

"I don't know why
human males like big ones like hers. In just a few years they will be down
here." Her hands pendulumed near her waist. "Her back must hurt. I
like mine. They are perfect, don't you think?"

Timothy laid a hand on
Cat's head. The lamb's head bobbed to each group of children, her tail beating
against Timothy's leg. He peered at Kit's chest and stroked the stubble on his
chin, glancing at the buxom woman and back to Kit. "I agree. Small is
best. Although, it looks like you are a little cold."

Kit looked down and
crossed an arm over her chest. "I am perhaps a little cold." Her face
flushed enough to match her hair. She closed her cloak with her other hand.

Timothy smiled. He
finally managed to fluster her!

"Aw, look! A
lamby!" A blond girl skidded beside Cat. The lamb's tail was a hummingbird
against Timothy's leg.

"Her name is
Cat." Timothy patted Cat's head.

The golden-haired
girl's smile was as radiant as it was gap toothed. "Cat? That is a silly
name!"

"She likes to be
petted." Kit shifted her cloak so it covered the rest of her.

"Really!" The
girl reached out a tentative hand. Cat nudged her head under the hand and rubbed
against it.

"So soft!"
The girl cooed. Cat bleated.

"Where is everyone
going?" Timothy asked the girl.

"There is a
festival. A Founder's Festival, Grannie said." Cat leaned into the girl's
hand.

"A festival?"
Kit tugged at Timothy's sleeve. "It must the same one the other girl was
talking about."

"Yeah! Dancing and
even a castle! Oh! That's Grannie calling me." The girl patted Cat and
darted away. The lamb bleated good-bye.

"Sounds like
fun!" Kit clapped her hands together.

"I doubt anyone
will be looking for us in a town this full." Timothy gazed over the
ramparts. Colored banners that put the most garish bird to shame snapped in the
cold wind. The gate gobbled the stream of human color.

"You worry too
much about things. Let's have some fun! Besides, the festival will make it
easier for what I plan!"

"A plan you
neglected to tell me."

"You will find out
very soon! Maybe we can find out more about my home."

Timothy's hand rose to
his pocket. He needed to tell her soon.

"I'm sure a
merchant has heard about it. We will find something," Kit said.

The flood of people
washed them into the town. Color dripped. Timothy had to close his eyes against
the onslaught. It looked like an illuminator sneezed into his paints. Banners
of every hue flapped from the rooftops, and the giant banner stretched across
the street proclaimed the Founder's Festival. Street performers put on plays
for crowds of people pressed into rainbow throngs. The jugglers' garb looked
mundane compared to the slashed and dotted clothing the audience wore. Street
stalls crammed every possible space, and merchants sat between stalls with
their wares on rugs bright enough to make a blind man look away. The press of
bodies, the smell of meats, breads, tarts, beer, and less pleasant things
overwhelmed Timothy's senses. He and Kit rubbed their noses in unison.

"It does smell
pretty bad."

"It does, but I am
still hungry. These look wonderful!" Kit stopped at a street vendor
selling honeyed apples.

"They are only a
half silver for three, good sir." The elderly women looked at Cat. Her
wrinkled face folded with curiosity.

Timothy hesitated, and
Kit frowned at him. "You never did apologize for your last trick on
me."

"They are
expensive. Too expensive, and you never apologize for your tricks"

"Perhaps I should
find a man who will appreciate me being cold?" Kit turned to walk away.

Timothy huffed. "I
doubt you would let me off that easily." He dug out the coin from his coat
pocket and handed it to the old shop keeper.

"Thank you, sir.
Happy Founder's Day," the shop keeper said.

Kit held an apple for
Cat and took a bite out of the other two.

"Someone is greedy
today." Timothy forced his mouth not to betray him.

Honey dripped down
Kit's chin. "These're good."

"Baa!"

"It is going to be
hard to find a room. And expensive," Timothy said. Kit grabbed his arm and
he stopped. "What do you see now?"

"I want to go in
there." She pointed to a clothing shop. Timothy shrugged and took a step
toward the building.

"At least we can
get away from the people for a bit," he said as Kit stopped him again.
"What?"

She rubbed her face on
his sleeve and Timothy groaned. She bounced ahead of Timothy and leaned in.
"Am I presentable?"

"You still have a
few freckles, and you still look cold."

"And you can't
look away from my chilliness, can you?"

"Well, I do like
small girls." He cleared his throat.

"Pff. You still
need practice," Kit said. "Your red face is cute though."

Kit grabbed his arm and
pressed her side against his.

"Stay out
here." Timothy told Cat.

The shop's silence
welcomed Timothy. Rich clothing dyed with soothing colors lined the walls, all
folded just so. Fur-lined coats hung from a strange iron frame Timothy had
never seen before. Kit wandered over to run her hand over the coats' fabric.

"How may I help
you today?" The shopkeeper's clothes matched the show: simple but
expensive looking. The simple blacks and grays complemented his impressive
mustache and gray eyes. He wore a white cloth wrapped around his head. The odd
hat made the man's head look larger than it was. Timothy tried not to stare.

"Oh! I'm sorry,
dear sir. I…I was only looking." Kit shot a look at Timothy. He swallowed
a groan.

"I know you are up
to something. What is it?" Timothy whispered.

"Hush and
watch."

Suddenly she started
crying.

Timothy took a step toward
her before he realized what he was doing. She skewered him with a glare as the
merchant glanced from her to Timothy. Shock and surprise opened the man's dark
face.

"I…I'm sorry sir.
It is just that…I only have a week before I am sold. I…I wanted to buy
something for my new husband"—she waved at Timothy—"to show him how
happy he has made me these last few months."

"Sold?" The
man produced a handkerchief and shot Timothy a murderous look.

"Y…yes. His father
has a huge debt." Kit hiccupped. "My husband is to be sold to the
slave caravans to pay it off." She looked at the shopkeeper with flooded
eyes. "But as you can likely see, he is a good-natured boy. I just cannot
bear the thought of him going." She collapsed into the shopkeeper and fanged
a smile in Timothy's direction.

"My father managed
to change the contract," she said. "I am to be sold in his stead. To
work as a…So we wanted to spend our last week together. I wanted my…last…last
memory of us together to be happy." She dabbed her eyes with the shopkeeper's
handkerchief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to buy a nice
coat for him to keep him warm when I cannot, but…but…"

"It is quite a
tale. One that I am sorry to hear. It is not uncommon in my homeland. My own
grandmother had to work off my grandfather's debt." The shopkeeper patted
Kit's shoulder. "She was stronger for it. So will you be too. Contracts
are contracts."

Timothy let out a
breath he didn't know he had been holding. Just what was she planning?

"Well, I don't
think we have enough money for this coat." She gestured at it.
"But…" She slung her pack from her shoulder and dug out the purse of
river stones. "Will this help the difference? I am sure someone as
successful as you look to be could do something with these."

She poured out a handful
of polished river stones. Their smooth, swirled surfaces gleamed iridescent.