Weasel Presents (31 page)

She’d glanced back at the other person in the large room, a black rat sitting in the back corner. He was looking curiously at Coryn, running a claw absently down the white fur of his bare chest. “Aye,” he said. “That’s a slippery one, and no doubt. What business have you with him?”

“I just...things kind of went wrong, and I needed to find him.”

The vixen laughed sharply again, lowering the crossbow all the way and setting it on a table. “You won’t find him here.”

“Something went wrong,” the rat said. “By Rodenta, what an astonishing surprise where that one’s concerned.”

“Now, now,” the vixen said, “he came in here last night very happy, so something must have gone right.”

“Oh, it often goes right for him. But I’ll wager my take from last week that this poor cub was roped in somehow and took the punishment.”

The vixen had merry golden eyes. “Is that it, pupling?”

“I’m of age,” Coryn said hotly, “and no. He just left to get breakfast and then...then I was caught.”

“Mm.” The rat nodded sagely. “Funny how the guards show up right when he leaves for breakfast, aye?”

“He wouldn’t call the guards,” the vixen said. “My guess is it just took him an awful long time to get breakfast. Likely he’s still getting it. You might check in one of the bakeries when they open in the morning, pupling. Mayhap he got his paws stuck in some dough.”

Coryn flattened his ears. “It wasn’t like that,” he said.

The vixen reached up to touch his cheek ruff. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Just go on home and thank Canis you’ve got your fur intact.”

“But...” The urge to turn and run down the stairs was hard to fight. He lifted his chest. “The noble...the one he stole from...he’s demanding gold from my family, and we don’t have much.”

The vixen’s grin didn’t waver. “We none of us have much,” she said. “Times are rough.”

“Go home,” said the rat. “Wherever home is.”

“My father...”

“...will be delighted to see you, pupling.” The vixen stepped back. “There’s nothing we can do here for you.”

Coryn looked back from her to the rat, who shrugged and went back to oiling the tools on the stool in front of him. The vixen straightened her tunic, her tail swishing slowly behind her. The faint sunlight making its way through the dirty windows glimmered in the studs in her ears. Let me be a thief, Coryn wanted to say. I can do it. But he saw nothing forgiving in her eyes.

He could stay here anyway. But that would be running away. He owed it to his father to go back and work, to help pay off the debt to Halinnen. It had been a fun adventure, but the morning was what his life was going to be: responsibility and payment. He lifted his muzzle, said, “Thank you,” and made his way stiffly down the stairs and back out into the street.

The shadows were long by the time he rejoined his father at the cart they shared with two other farmers from Deverin. They sat in the back, staring off the side of the road while the other farmers counted money and told tales of the market. How exciting the big city was, one said: he’d seen a noble come by his stall in person, not sending her servant. They talked about her dress and how gracefully she walked, and then about two of the servants who’d been particularly curvaceous. How much more attractive the ladies in the city were, even those of low birth.

They didn’t know the half of it, Coryn thought. He was just starting to recall his adventure, and perhaps his father saw the slight hint of a smile, because he coughed at that point and said, “The ten gold will come out of your bride price.”

That jolted Coryn out of his reverie. “But...that was to buy our own land.”

“Aye. But you’ll be working my land to help pay off the debt anyway.” His father never even looked at him.

He wanted to protest, but after all, he was the one who’d gone off at night, who’d stolen from the noble. He was the one who knew that stealing was fun as long as you didn’t get caught, who had somehow allowed himself to get caught. This would be the beginning of a long, dreary life, but at least he would have a wife, and he would have his memory of Divalia.

He looked back over his shoulder at the moonlight striking the buildings, and the spires of the Great Cathedral. Up in one of those windows, he’d spent last night in the company of a mysterious, sexy rat, and he’d had an exotic drink, and he’d met a noble. He’d seen a master thief in action, even helped him. If he had nothing else, he thought as the cart rattled down the road, at least he had those memories. His father could never take those. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and in his mind, it was dark and raining again, and a long whiplike tail beckoned for him to follow.

Coryn’s adventures will be continued in a forthcoming novel.