The Prisoner's Release and Other Stories (36 page)

“I…I didn’t…”

“I don’t blame you, Streak, my sweet young wolf. I know you did it out of love. Or at least compassion. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so sad, thinking that at least we had this little time together before they take me back.”

A tear dripped onto Volle’s chest. “I do love you,” Streak whispered. “I don’t know how it happened or how they knew. They told me we could go away together, as long as they got the papers back.”

“They used you,” Volle said, reaching up to lick at Streak’s muzzle. “They isolated you, kept you friendless, and told you to go do something against your nature. Then they made sure the only person you talked to would be me—a prisoner desperate for companionship and almost as isolated. We were all each other had for that time. And you’re gorgeous, and I guess you saw something in me…”

Streak licked him back, another tear dripping down the other side of his muzzle. “How did they know?”

“The chimney hole, I would guess. Listening to everything we said and did.”

“Quite astute.” The sharp voice came from the doorway.

They both turned their heads to look. A slender rat was standing there, one paw twiddling his whiskers. He was dressed in a simple black outfit: sleeveless vest and pants, with a silver belt. His hairless tail swung idly against the doorframe.

“Dereath.” Volle laid his ears back. “I wondered when I’d see you.”

“You were supposed to wait outside!” Streak growled.

“Hardly any point to that now, is there?” Dereath smiled at them, a nasty smile that Volle remembered well. “It wasn’t hard to figure out what you came in here to do, so when I heard you leave I thought I’d slip in and listen to the show. You perform quite well,” he said to Streak. “I think we may have an opening for you. When you’re done with that one, that is.”

He leered at them, and Streak’s growl deepened. “Minister or not, I’ll break your muzzle for that.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear boy. Not for another five or ten minutes, at least.” He smirked at their joined hips. “And in any case, I’m not stupid enough to come in here alone. Don’t worry, the soldiers will stay in the parlor. This show is just for me.”

“You said if you got the papers, we could leave together!”

Volle stared at Streak, realizing for the first time what the wolf had meant. He had put his whole career on the line. He’d been willing to give up his livelihood, the only life he knew. Even if he hated it, it was still a significant gesture.

“So I did. But now that he knows you’re working for me, I think the probability of that is very slim.” Dereath looked at Volle. “Unless this wolf actually means something to you.”

“He does,” Volle said evenly. “Not that you’d know anything of meaning, you poor excuse for a person. So if I tell you where the papers are, you’ll let us go?”

“Of course, Lord Vinton.” The rat bowed mockingly. “There is a carriage already ready at the door.”

“We’ve arranged for our own transportation in the street outside,” Volle said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Ah.” Dereath straightened, smiling his oily smile. “We would be deeply offended if you chose to forbear our hospitality.”

Volle watched the glint in his eyes and hoped Streak could see it too. He had a feeling he knew where Dereath’s carriage would be taking them. “Very well.” Streak’s arms tightened around him. He felt the wolf’s knot slip out of him, and the wolf prepared to draw his hips back, but Volle tightened his legs warningly. Streak stopped moving, and Volle didn’t think Dereath had noticed.

“Lord Yardley has the papers.”

Dereath’s expression turned from triumph to puzzlement. “There is no Lord Yardley any more.”

“Of course not,” Volle said. “Behind his painting in the east wing gallery, there is a small concealed space. That’s where I hid the plans I stole.”

The rat grimaced. “We’ll soon see if you’re telling the truth. Meanwhile, you can stay here.”

He turned and disappeared from the curtain for a moment. They could hear him talking to someone in the parlor, and in that moment Volle let Streak’s length slip out of him. He restrained a gasp, and whispered in the wolf’s ear, “The wardrobe. First chance we get.”

Streak’s eyes widened, but he nodded. Volle pulled their hips together to conceal the fact that they were no longer tied, just as Dereath’s muzzle reappeared in the curtain. “There are still three soldiers here, in case you’re thinking of trying something,” he said suspiciously.

“Could you have them fetch us something to eat, leaving you alone and unprotected?” Volle didn’t want to take too much time, but he did want to let the rat lower his guard.

“Ha ha.” Dereath sneered.

“Could we at least have some privacy to be made presentable before you force him to take me back to prison?”

“Oh, you’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before. Or won’t see again,” he leered.

Volle shrugged. “Fine.” He wiped his belly with his shirt, and motioned for Streak to get up. “I need to change my shirt, though.” Deliberately, he held his shirt up, giving Dereath a good view of his sheath.

“Mm.” The rat was looking at both him and Streak. “Sure, fine.”

Volle had to work to keep his tail still as he walked to the wardrobe. At the door, he turned to Streak, who was pulling his pants up. “Wolf? Can you help me pick out one?”

Streak looked at Dereath, but crossed the room before the rat could say “Wait!” He slipped into the wardrobe, and Volle closed the door behind them both. He slid the bolt and walked to the back.

“Why does Helfer have a lock on his wardrobe? And what does this gain us?” Streak fastened his pants and followed Volle to the back of the wardrobe.

“I figure we have about five minutes,” Volle said, fingers running over the stonework at the back of the wardrobe. “Ah, here it is.” He pressed on a stone about seven feet off the ground. There was a sharp click, and a section of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark passageway. The air inside was chill and dank, and smelled of mildew and rot.

Volle stepped into the passage. He held out a paw to Streak. “Coming?”

The wolf’s eyes lit up. He bounded into the passage, almost knocking Volle over, and swept him up in a tight hug.

“Hey!” Volle laughed softly. “Careful! We need to get that closed. See the handle there? Pull it closed with that.”

Streak licked the fox’s muzzle and set him down carefully. He pulled the door closed with a satisfying click. Volle thought it was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.

The passageway went only a short distance before ending in a ladder. They climbed down a long ways, and at the bottom, Volle’s arms hurt again. Only then did he feel it was safe to talk.

“Helfer used this passage to get himself in and out. So he wouldn’t have to bother with security when he wanted to bring uninvited guests back, usually. I only used it a handful of times.”

“Pretty lucky that you knew about that,” Streak said. Volle grinned back at him. The passage wasn’t quite wide enough for two, but Streak was walking close behind him. The wolf seemed to have a bounce in his step again, and his tail was wagging.

“I’m sure there are several other ways into and out of the castle.” Volle knew of two others for certain. “I’m lucky that I got to know Hef well enough that he trusted me with this one.”

At the end of the passage, Volle listened at the wooden door, then opened it slowly. They emerged into a dark cellar full of barrels and crates. A line of light at the far end indicated where the stairs to the street were, and gave them enough light to see that the cellar was deserted. Volle closed the door, which seemed to merge with the paneling of the cellar. He followed Streak across the cellar toward the stairs.

“You took your sweet time.” Seir hopped off a crate and walked toward them. She looked exactly as Volle remembered her: half his height, thin and wiry, with a nondescript tunic tied with a length of rope around her waist. He remembered the scar in her left ear that she wouldn’t tell anyone the origin of. He remembered the swing of her tail. And he remembered the way her eyes could look soft and hard at the same time, as they did now.

Streak growled and bared his teeth, but Volle waved him off. “Seir’s a friend of mine,” he said. “You got the plans okay?”

“Safe and sound and on their way home. And so should we be.” She stood a foot away from him, arms planted on her tiny hips. “We were so worried, Volle. When I got your note…”

He stepped forward and hugged her, and she threw her arms around him. “It’s okay now,” he said. “Long as you can get us home.”

“Us, eh?” She eyed Streak warily, stepping back from Volle.

Volle took Streak’s paw. “He saved my life.”

“Uh-huh. And more than that. I can still smell, you know.” Seir nodded curtly to Streak. “Sorry. This one has a tendency to think with his cock sometimes.”

Volle’s ears flattened in embarrassment, but Streak just smiled politely. “We found that we do think a lot alike.”

Seir chuckled, and walked over to Streak, examining him up close. “All right. I like him. Well, we’ll have a good long time to get to know each other. It’s a week and a half to the border, and we won’t dare show our muzzles outside the carriage most of the way.”

“The border?” Streak’s paw tightened around Volle’s.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Volle squeezed back. “I won’t ask you to do anything against your country.”

Seir looked back and forth, and stepped back. “So, ah, let me go get the carriage. Back in five. Don’t go anywhere.” She climbed up the stairs and slipped out the door, letting a brief burst of evening air and light into the room.

“You already gave her the papers?” Streak said, not letting go of Volle’s paw.

“Afraid so. I told the truth about the portrait, but I had a friend get the papers early this morning.” He chuckled. “I fear Dereath is in for a number of disappointments.”

Streak wasn’t smiling. “So…you could’ve escaped any time today.”

“I…well, I guess so.”

“But you stayed. For me?” Streak’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“You didn’t think I’d run off without you, did you? Not after all you did for me.”

“You knew I was betraying you and you still stayed for me?” Streak was sniffing back tears now.

Volle stepped forward and pulled the big wolf into his arms. “Of course I did, you silly. Because I knew you were doing it out of love. And I thought I had a pretty good chance of getting you away from Dereath. I mean, his tail isn’t nearly as nice as mine.”

Streak’s composure broke, and his body shook with half-laughs, half-sobs. “No, your tail is much, much nicer.” Volle held on to him and nuzzled gently. He nuzzled back, and then they were sharing a kiss again, and that’s how Seir found them.

“Break it up, you two.” She grinned. “Plenty of time for that on the way back.”

They sat together in the carriage, with the shades drawn until it was safely outside the town limits. Volle leaned against Streak, who put an arm around him, and Seir smiled from the opposite seat. For a while, none of them spoke. Streak rubbed Volle’s chest through his shirt, and Volle rested a paw on the wolf’s pants.

“What are you going to do when we get back?” Seir said as the carriage turned a corner. “They might want you to stay on as an advisor.”

Volle’s tail swung lazily back and forth, brushing Streak’s leg and foot. “I just spent five or six months in prison. I don’t think I feel much like doing anything at the moment. Maybe I could get a minor estate somewhere in the country. Though I don’t really know anything about farming.” He tilted his head back and smiled up at the wolf.

“Mmm,” Streak said, brushing a paw gently over his muzzle. “I think I know someone who might be able to show you a few things.”

“Really? What’s his name?” Volle grinned.

The wolf leaned over and kissed his nose. “You can call him ‘Streak.’ He likes that just fine.”

HOME AGAIN

As Volle looked back at the land of Tephos, where he’d very nearly just lost his life, the feeling he couldn’t shake out of his fur was a deep longing to return.

The ride over the mountains had been rough, but Seir thought it essential that they get out of Tephos as quickly as possible. With winter approaching, it made more sense for them to veer south, and so of course all the pursuit would be going there. That was small comfort as their carriage climbed snowy mountain slopes, crossed the border into Ferrenis, and skidded down the ice on the far side, but Seir assured Volle and Streak with chattering teeth that it was necessary.

Once over the mountain, the mouse relaxed. To be safe, they hired a new driver at the first opportunity and took the south road, coming to the capital city by a circuitous route that avoided any large towns. Volle protested that only Dereath Talison knew of his escape, and he wouldn’t be able to commandeer enough troops for pursuit without explaining to his superior, the Minister of Defense, what he’d done. And if Volle knew the rat--and he did, much to his eternal regret--they would be well into Ferrenis before the Minister of Defense heard anything about that.

“
Better safe than sorry,” was Seir’s only reply, and whether it was through her devious wanderings or not, they saw no pursuit all the way to Caril.

Volle was not as concerned about pursuit as he was about Streak, and himself. The white wolf who’d rescued him from death in the Tephossian prison had clearly not thought far beyond the rescue. He’d been whisked into the carriage as Seir came to get Volle, and in an hour they were outside the walls of Divalia, the capital of Tephos. He’d looked back quite a lot as they left Divalia, but after that he seemed to relax, chatting with Seir as the carriage slid through the snow and ice and then made its way across the Ferrenian grasslands. The mouse told him about Caril, and the young wolf asked incessant questions about Ferrenis. When they stopped at farms for the night, even though Seir had money to pay their board, he volunteered to help with farm chores, “because I can,” he grinned when Volle asked him why.

So at night, while he worked, Volle and Seir talked quietly about what would happen back in Caril. Seir hadn’t had any return communications from their superior, Duke Avery, since notifying him of Volle’s escape. The most she could do for Volle was reassure him that he wouldn’t go to a Ferrenian prison--probably.