Volle (8 page)

Volle nodded. He didn’t mind the seats; from this vantage point, he could watch about half the audience without seeming too obvious about it. He couldn’t see Ullik or Alacris—in a private box, most likely. He did recognize the foppish weasel, and the wolf who’d been in front of him in the line. He thought he saw the Steward as well, though he was fairly sure the coyote hadn’t been at the dinner. He tried sniffing the air for familiar scents, but the only one that came in clearly was Tistunish. The rest of the scents merged into a fluid background that he didn’t have the knowledge to sort out.

He was just craning his neck around behind him to see if he could spot Arrin anywherewhen a cheer from the crowd brought his attention back to the stage. A single slender figure stood there, wearing only a green silk tunic tied around the waist. What he could see of her fur was snowy white, except for the very tip of her tail, which was coal black. Her slender musteline muzzle surveyed the crowd but remained expressionless, Her shiny black eyes catching gleams of torchlight as they turned this way and that. She looked right at Volle, and then at one of the private boxes above him. Closing her eyes, she executed a deep curtsy, but instead of keeping the back leg on the ground for support, she lifted it off the stage and held that position for a good twenty seconds.

The crowd applauded politely, as a line of five more ermines, dressed in different colored tunics, trooped out behind the first one, their paws making almost no noise on the wooden stage. They each imitated the curtsy of the first one in sequence: the third one started when the second was halfway down, and so on. After a moment, the first one began to rise, and then the second, and so on until they were all standing in a line on the stage. And then the dance began.

They were not just dancers, but acrobats, and their lithe movements across the stage were amazing to behold. Volle was fascinated, though not with the tongue-hanging-out absorption of much of the crowd. They moved fluidly, gracefully, each step blending into the next and complementing the steps of the others at the same time. They seemed to be part of an intricate flowing clockwork rather than six individuals.

He leaned back in his seat to watch, enjoying the show, but not seeing quite what Tistunish found so arousing about it. He looked at the wolf and saw that his expression was more one of anticipation than fascination. Looking around, he noticed the same tension in many of the nobles around him. They were enjoying the show, but also waiting.

The ermines went through two dance numbers before Volle found out what the crowd was waiting for. One by one, they slipped out of their tunics, tossing them to the side of the stage. Tistunish, and indeed most of the crowd, leaned forward eagerly. The ermines each spun slowly on the stage, showing off the gentle slopes of their chests, the supple curves of their rumps, and the touch of pink between their legs. They broke off into pairs and began a slower dance number in which they pressed close together, running their small paws over each other.

Volle could smell the increased arousal from the crowd. He was sure that any canid could smell it; five minutes later he was sure it was obvious to everyone, and that the crowd was feeding off of itself. He shifted as he felt his sheath bulge, though it was more in response to the musky aroma of the wolf next to him than the erotic dance on the stage.

The ermines were moving more quickly now, tongues flicking as they brushed past each other. The dance was still technically lovely to watch as they slid around and past each other, now and then changing partners, but always in perfect synchronicity. They used their black tails to highlight patterns on each other, small black patches moving along soft white curves in shapes as graceful as the rest of their movements.

Nevertheless, Volle grew slightly bored with the show. The eroticism had been thrust to the fore, and as lovely as he thought the ermines were, he didn’t find them exciting. He leaned forward and scanned the rest of the crowd.

Every other male, it seemed, was leaning forward, intent on the show. Volle spotted only two who seemed as disinterested as himself. One, the foppish weasel, turned and looked back just as Volle was looking at him. Their eyes met, and Volle thought he saw the weasel smile before he touched the beret he wore and turned back to the show.

Volle continued to watch him, thoughtfully. Was he just affecting boredom? He was sitting alone, with no wife that Volle could see. He filed the weasel away as potentially an interesting contact for later.

The other bored male noble, a bear, was more sleepy than anything else. His eyes were half-shut the first time Volle looked at him. Five minutes later they were almost completely shut. His wife turned to look at him but didn’t make any move to wake him up.

The ermines were now rubbing against each other quite enthusiastically. Volle suspected this had to be the last number; any further and they would need to bring beds out onto the stage. Fortunately, the ermines concluded that number with several bows, and Volle stood with the rest of the crowd to give them an ovation and several curtain calls.

“Well!” Tistunish said, composing himself somewhat as the nobles hurried to the exits. “I must be getting back. Yes.” He clapped Volle on the shoulder. “We must find you a vixen, dear boy. Next week, you will come dine with us in our chambers. Tika knows many families in Divalia. She’ll find a suitable consort for you.”

“All right,” Volle said. What harm could a dinner do? And at least it would allow him to talk to Tistunish about palace politics.

“And I have some other…friends. You should meet them sometime. All in due time, though.” His eyes were already looking towards the upper windows of the palace.

Volle smiled. “Get to your duty, sir. Thank you for the dinner company.”

The wolf waved a paw. “My pleasure. Oh, and none of that ‘sir’ rubbish. Call me Tish. Everyone does.”

Volle bowed. “Then I insist you call me Volle.”

“I’ll do that. Good night, Volle.” The wolf moved off with the crowd. Volle followed his progress for a few minutes, then lost him.

When the crowd had thinned out, Volle ambled towards the exit at the top of the amphitheater and turned towards the garden. He wanted to go by the inn where Ben and Reese were staying, to tell Ben to ask the governor for any records of taxes paid during the last twenty years. He thought he knew his way around well enough to get there and back, and he could use the walk; his sheath was still hard from the scents of the show. No chance of release tonight unless he used his paw, but maybe he could relax a bit. To drink, though, he’d need money. He started to turn back to the palace to get money, but then remembered he’d worn his purse out of habit.

A paw on his shoulder stopped him. He turned and saw the weasel, wearing the beret at a jaunty angle. The weasel was smiling, and his bright eyes were sparkling.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he said without preamble.

Volle nodded, and bowed. “Lord Vinton. Volle.”

The weasel stuck his paw out. “Lord Helfer Ikling. No need to bow to me. Vinton-Volle, was it?”

Volle laughed. “Just Volle.” He shook the weasel’s paw. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The honor and pleasure are mine. There, now that’s out of the way…I noticed you didn’t seem to appreciate the sensual portion of tonight’s program.” Helfer looked at him intently.

Volle’s ears flicked. “Ah, well, technically it was quite impressive. I—”

“But it would’ve been more interesting with some young male ermines instead?”

“Uh…I…” Volle stammered.

Helfer laughed. “That’s answer enough. Well, if you were as affected by all the pheromones as I was—and with that nose of yours, I’m guessing you were hit harder—would you like to join me for a little indulgence more suited to our tastes?”

Volle blinked. He looked to either side, but there were only a few stragglers left and nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. Looking back at Helfer, he considered him. He was attractive, if about a foot shorter than Volle, but Volle had never been attracted to the musteline set. They tended to get excitable and lash out with claws and such, and they came quickly and often. If not for that, he might have just said, damn the Church. “Well, I have an errand to run outside the walls…”

“Perfect! That’s where I’m going.” The weasel started down the path, then looked back at Volle. “Coming?”

“Listen.” Volle caught up with him and stopped him. “You seem very nice, but…wait, why do we have to go outside?”

“Because that’s where the place is,” Helfer explained patiently. Light sparked in his eyes. “Oh, you thought I meant…ha! I’m sorry, Volle, nothing against you, but I don’t ride in the palace stables, so to speak. Leads to complications and all sorts of other things. I prefer to get a nice mount down the street, have a good ride, and send him on his way.” He grinned. “Better?”

He was still talking as if he didn’t care who heard them. But he was offering to show Volle to one of those secret places where he could find an erotic performance more to his tastes, and Volle just couldn’t pass that opportunity up, not if he were going to survive years in this palace. He’d have to trust that Helfer had been doing this long enough to know how not to get caught.

He smiled broadly. “Yes, that’s fine. I’m terribly sorry.”

Helfer shook his head. “I can see how you might have thought that. You must get a lot of offers. New noble, young and good-looking as you are…”

“I’ve only been here a day,” Volle said, avoiding the question. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it, and Helfer didn’t press.

They kept walking towards the gate. By this time, the moon was high in the sky and most of the torches in the garden had been extinguished. Volle could see nearly as clearly as if the sun were up, but the world had a grayer cast to it. Plants glowed silver where the moon touched them, and the shadows under them were blacker than pitch. It had an ethereal beauty to it; everything seemed slightly less real in the softer light of the moon.

He hadn’t brought his certificate, but Helfer had. “This is Lord Vinton,” he told the guard. “He’s with me.”

The guard nodded and let them through, handing Volle a small purple piece of paper. “This’ll get you back in as long as you come in with Lord Ikling, sir,” he said. “I’d remember you, but I go off duty in an hour.”

“Thank you,” Volle said as they started off down the surprisingly active street. They walked on the sidewalk, avoiding the filthy cobblestones, and smiled at the people hurrying around them.

“Late to his mistress,” Helfer said, pointing at one. “Late to his ale. Oh! Late for an appointment with me!” That one was a slender white rabbit, whose ears turned at Helfer’s words. He didn’t slow down, though, and soon was lost. Volle laughed.

“Thank you,” Helfer said with a smile. “I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to be in the company of someone who finds me amusing but not attractive.”

“Oh, you’re attractive enough,” Volle said. “This is the inn I need to stop at.” They were underneath a gently swaying sign that bore a picture of a unicorn dancing.

“You really have an errand to do? I thought that was just to get rid of me.” Helfer grinned teasingly at Volle. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Would it have worked?” Volle shot back as he walked in.

“Not if I was determined!” Helfer called after him.

He shook his head, smiling, as he let his eyes adjust to the slightly darker interior. Ben and Reese were nowhere to be seen in the main room of the pub, so he walked up to the bar and waited for the beaver behind it to get over to him.

He did so, and eyed Volle’s clothes before speaking. “Evenin’, sir,” he said amiably. “Pint of Vellenland?”

“No, thanks. I’m looking for a marmot and a hare who are staying here? I need to give them a message to deliver for me.”

“Ah. They went up to the room about an hour ago. Said they were leaving at first light. If you leave the message with me, I’ll see they get it.”

Volle nodded. “Have a quill and paper?”

“In the office. I’ll fetch some.” The beaver waddled through a small door behind the bar, and returned with a quill, an inkpot, and two sheets of paper.

“Thank you. I’m much obliged.” Volle scrawled a hasty message to the governor asking him to send all tax receipts from the past twenty years to him at the palace by personal messenger. He sealed it, and wrote a second note to Ben asking him to deliver the first note personally to the governor. As he was writing it, he realized that he didn’t know whether Ben could read, so he added “or Reese” to the address.

He gave it to the bartender, who promised to deliver it, and dug in his pouch for a silver coin. “This for your trouble, good sir.”

The beaver bowed. “Your lordship is too gracious.”

Volle smiled at his promotion in status. “I appreciate the trouble you’re taking. Good night, sir.”

He didn’t see Helfer at first when he walked back into the street, and he thought the weasel might have gotten bored or left him behind. But Helfer appeared behind him a moment later. “All done? Good. The place is just down here.”

He led Volle back past the front of the palace, past a noisy pub with a cup and a crown on its sign, then down an alley that was darker than the street, but no less traveled. It was harder to avoid the press of people, and the scents started to combine into one big crowd-scent again, making Volle a little nervous. He stuck close to Helfer until the weasel stopped and said with a grin, “Here we are.”