The Prisoner's Release and Other Stories (26 page)

“
Hey, I don’t know,” he said. “I can ask him though.”

“
Don’t bully him, Hazel.” Jonas stepped slightly in front of the fox.

“
I tell you who it is,” Hazel said. “It’s that lawyer Dixan.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas saw Cherko’s ears perk. “Dixan? I’ve met him. Why would he do that?”

“
Because he picked up some sores on his dick and he’s tryin’ to blame poor Jonas here. But he ain’t never been a client here and I tell you what, we wouldn’t let his filthy muzzle through that door if he paid us in gold.”

Jonas blinked and grinned, and saw that Cherko was relaxing as well. The fox met Jonas’s grin. “I’ll tell a couple people about that. Stuck-up twat, it’d serve him right whether or not it’s true.”

“
It’s as true as that other rumor you heard.” Having vented, Hazel was lapsing back into her typical good humor.

“
All right.” Cherko patted Jonas’s tail. “Come on, I have to get back to the shop before too long.”

Jonas followed the fox upstairs, shaking his head at Hazel. She gave him a wink and a thumbs-up, and then walked back to take care of Selish.

Over the next month, Jonas lost only one client permanently. After a short time, even Xaric eventually came back, and by the end of the month, the supposed rumors about his health had died down. The rumors about Dixan, by contrast, seemed to have taken hold, partly because he didn’t have anywhere to post a certification of health, and partly because many people seemed to want to believe it. Jonas even heard a song that someone had made up—

Even lawyers get the pox

Just like our old friend the fox

Laid a vixen with a pock

Now he can’t stand in the dock

Slid into a filthy place

Now he can’t present his case

It went on for several couplets along the same vein, and although Hazel denied responsibility, she seemed to know all of the couplets and needed little encouragement to sing them. Jonas asked her not to sing in the house, as the disease theme was a little unnerving for his clients, but he couldn’t stop her from going down to the pub every night and regaling the patrons there with verse after verse.

Chapter 14

The heat of summer had faded, and in the nearby park the leaves were just beginning their descent from green to yellow. Since Jonas's visit to Dixan, the neighborhood had become slightly less secure, at least for Hazel and the residents of her house. Coming home late from the pub, the streets seemed to be more alive with shadows than Jonas was accustomed to, and at least twice there had been a definite scratching at the windows. He wasn’t worried for himself, but he did worry that Selia and Selish might be harmed. He asked Benton if Jherik could put in a word to step up patrols in the area, and Benton said he would ask, but it was far outside of Jherik’s purview.

Jonas was not the only one who noticed the increase in prowlers. One of the other tenants of the building told Hazel that he would be moving out before winter. Jonas suspected that his and Selia’s activities were a large part of the reason, but the weasel said only that he was more nervous in the neighborhood and was going to live with his mother. When he left, Selia took over his room. Jonas didn’t know what arrangement she made with Hazel for the rent, but whatever it was, it was satisfactory to them both.

Some nights, Jonas stayed awake, hoping to catch a burglar trying to break in, but all he accomplished was to make himself tired the next day. He settled for locking the money box carefully every night and sleeping with the key under his pillow. Hazel bought an additional lock for him that bolted the box to the wall, and with that in place, he felt that the pendant was safe from any incursion.

The summer had been wet, but the fall brought dry winds from the south and pleasant temperatures. On one particularly pleasant Gaiaday, Jonas walked through the park to the market after services, bought a small lunch, and took it to eat with Mikka.

He felt very comfortable with Mikka these days, looking forward to their weekly sessions now. He knew enough of what Mikka liked that he played a sort of game with himself to see how excited he could get the grey fox, and how much of a smile he’d get afterwards. For his part, Mikka had started reciprocating more, so that Jonas had moved his appointments to the end of the day, allowing him to enjoy himself and letting them relax for a bit before dinner. Mikka continued to respect the boundaries Jonas put on their relationship, and as a result, Jonas found it easier to relax around the fox, not worrying that he was skirting around the edge of a trap every time they talked.

With the end of summer, Mikka’s business was picking up and he was less available for lunches, but he still made time for Jonas. He showed off some of the new designs he was working on, and, one day, gave Jonas a new shirt from his previous year’s designs.

“
I don’t have the money on me,” Jonas said, but Mikka waved a paw.

“
I got orders from the Duke of Westerland and the Duke of Vandara. One step closer to the king.” He grinned. “I could sell that shirt, maybe, but I’m more excited about the new ones I’m making. And besides, you know…” He paused, looked at Jonas’s expression, and said, “You’re making me a lot of money.”

“
Things are going pretty well.” Jonas leaned back and looked up at the clear blue sky, then down at the shirt Mikka had given him. He liked the light blue and the sheen of the fabric. It seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. “You know, I don’t mind what I’m doing. I look at Selia and I think I’ve got it pretty good. I make people happy, I do it on my own time and under my own orders. That’s not such a bad life.”

“
Not so bad,” Mikka agreed. “There aren’t many who could make that claim.”

“
And…and I have good friends, too.”

Mikka smiled at him but didn’t say anything. After a drink, Jonas continued. “I was just thinking about it because I got another letter from Pike already.”

“
More people going back and forth this time of year.”

Jonas nodded. “I just thought, you know, I had a good group of friends there, but we were all in the same profession. Like a train of mounts pulling a wagon. I always wanted more and none of them ever seemed to.”

“
Even Pike?”

“
I don’t know. I was always wary of him because he chased the guys, so I didn’t really talk to him until right before I left.”

“
He must have made quite an impression if he’s the only one you’re writing back to.”

Jonas nodded. “I wish I’d talked to him more.”

Mikka smiled. “Keep writing. I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“
I will. I like it too. There are a couple things I wanted to ask him.”

“
Like what?”

“
Er…about the business.”

“
Oh.” Mikka grinned and looked up at the sun. “I should get going, I guess. Thanks for lunch.”

“
You’re welcome. Thanks for joining me. Will we see you at dinner?”

“
Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’ve been up late all week working on designs. I think I’m just going to sleep.”

Mikka waved as he walked away. Jonas noticed a thin raccoon getting up as the fox walked by him and thought he might be a customer, but even though the raccoon was looking right at him, Mikka walked past him with no sign of recognition and the raccoon just left the park behind him. It was unusual enough to notice, and later, Jonas would be glad that he had.

Jonas had only two customers that day—Gaiaday was usually slow for him—and Selia only had one, so they helped Hazel prepare the dinner. As it happened, it was only the three of them and Selish; Hazel’s other tenant had stopped coming to the dinners soon after Selia moved in, whether out of discomfort at the presence of another prostitute or annoyance at the mouse kit’s discovery that he could throw food right across the room, they didn’t know. Privately, Jonas and Selia speculated that he would be moving out either right before or right after the winter, but they thought Hazel wouldn’t have much difficulty finding another tenant.

The sun had set, and Jonas and Hazel were relaxing, letting the heavy meal digest as Selia was cleaning off the walls and floor, a task she would not allow Hazel to help her with. Their conversation was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.

Hazel looked at Jonas and Selia curiously, and got up to answer it. “Who’d be callin’ this time of night?”

“
Maybe Mikka came after all,” Jonas said.

“
He wouldn’t knock,” Hazel said. The knocking sounded again as she walked across the room. “Hold on, hold on, I’m comin’!”

“
Mikka!” They could hear the shout even through the closed door.

“
He’s not here,” Hazel said, opening it. “What’s the matter?”

Behind her, in the doorway, Jonas could see a small weasel hopping from paw to paw. “Fire! In his shop!”

“
Oh, Gaia.” Hazel’s paw flew to her muzzle.

“
What?” Jonas ran onto the porch. He was about to follow the weasel when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He called to the weasel, “Hold on!” and padded quietly to the side of the house. He placed a paw on the corner and looked around, into the shadowy gap between Hazel's house and the next one.

There was nothing in the alley. He relaxed, and then, just as he was stepping back, saw a dark shadow halfway up the side of the house. Clinging to the wall just below his window, a slender raccoon hung motionless. “Hey!” Jonas yelled.

When Jonas saw the shine of the setting sun in the raccoon's eyes, he realized the thief must have been keeping them closed. He was a thin creature who might have been the same one Jonas had seen in the park. His scent held more than raccoon; in fact, Jonas could barely smell the raccoon at all. What he could smell was pitch. And smoke.

“
Hey!” he yelled again.

The raccoon glanced at him, then leaped across the narrow gap to the adjacent house, grabbing onto a narrow shelf. He swung around and landed on the porch roof, and Jonas only heard two footsteps before he was gone.

He ran out into the street and scanned the porch roofs, but the raccoon was already gone. Hazel grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she said. The weasel was standing in the main street, gesturing furiously to them.

“
Tell Selia to stay in my room with Selish and watch the money-box,” he said. “There’s a thief outside. I think he might’ve started the fire.” The vision of the raccoon leaving the park that afternoon, following Mikka, was foremost in his mind as he sprinted into the street after the weasel. That plus the fire, plus a raccoon smelling of smoke climbing towards his window—it couldn’t help but be connected. If it were, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was behind it. He would deal with Dixan later, after the fire.

He smelled it before he saw it, the acrid reek of smoke being pulled into his lungs as he ran. Two blocks later, the crowd of people around the shop forced him to slow as he pushed his way through them. The weasel darted through ahead of him. “Anyone in there? Anyone in there?” he said as he shoved through, but nobody could answer.

Finally, as he got to the front and could see the flames licking up the side of Mikka’s workshop, a rabbit said, “I don’t think anyone’s in there. They’re all closed up. Mikka’s always gone for dinner on Gaiaday anyway.”

“
Not tonight.” Jonas looked around and didn’t see Mikka anywhere. He held a flap of his shirt over his muzzle to protect himself from the smoke, and ran up to the house. A few cries of “stop!” “he’s crazy” came from behind him, but nobody tried to stop him, or help him.

Flames licked around the edges of the door. Jonas aimed for the center and kicked hard. The wood shuddered but held. He eyed the glass window, but worried that he’d cut himself if he shattered it. He kicked the door again, and felt it give; one more time, and it groaned, then fell inward in a shower of sparks.

Holding the cloth against his muzzle, he stepped inside and ran for the stairs. They looked to have escaped the worst of the fire so far. All the fabric in the room was burning, and even through his shirt, Jonas felt the tickle in his nose and lungs, and almost sneezed. He leapt up the stairs and opened the door at the top.

Smoke billowed out, the heat was painful on his eyes and ears. It took him a moment to see the grey fox stretched out on his bed.
Please, let him still be ali
ve. He closed his eyes and stepped forward, sliding his arms under Mikka to lift him, then ran for the stairs and down. He bumped the fox’s foot a couple times, but he didn’t stop; he couldn’t hold the cloth over his muzzle now, and his lungs were starting to sear from the smoke. He couldn’t tell whether Mikka was alive or not.