Pendant of Fortune (32 page)

He half-dozed in the sunlight until the otter’s shadow fell across his muzzle and the thick musteline scent intruded on his awareness. “Sahr? There is a cabin free.”

Volle cracked one eye open and saw the otter’s earnest muzzle in front of him. Blinking against the sunlight, he could just make out another figure wandering back through the compound. The scent was too faint for him to catch. He yawned, got to his feet, and followed the otter through the compound to a hut with an open door.

To his surprise, he saw sunlight streaming down inside. The roof had a large hole in the center, and a hanging canvas flap showed how it could be covered in case of rain. The hut had only one room, and in the center was a low bath filled with fine white powder scented with a mild piney aroma. To one side stood a waist-high bench covered with brushes and a few other tools, and in front of the bench stood a smiling otter in a white skirt who bowed and ushered Volle into the hut. The other otter said, “Enjoy your bath, sahr,” and closed the door as he left.

The attendant otter stood patiently while Volle examined the bath. It was lower than he was used to, and included a small dust-free basin at one end that he guessed he was supposed to rest his head in. The dust was smoothed over; certainly there had been others in it earlier that day, but he would never have known it from looking at the bath. That was what two of the tools on the bench were for, he guessed. One was a small rake-like implement and the other was similar, but with a flat edge. He also saw a small ceramic bowl half-filled with lotion next to the three different-sized brushes that had been carefully cleaned of all fur.

His gaze turned to the otter, who was younger than the others he’d met but possessed of the same cheerful self-assurance. Even while waiting for Volle to finish his inspection, he wore a patient smile and held his paws clasped behind his back. His chest was firm and fluffy with a ruff of soft-looking fur, and his stomach was trim and well-groomed. He was less stocky than the other otters Volle had seen, with almost a weasel-like build.

When Volle didn’t say anything, the otter spoke. He had a somewhat high-pitched voice, but not unpleasant. “If sahr would like to get in the bath?” One of his paws slid out smoothly from behind his back and gestured to the basin.

Volle started to step into the bath, then stopped and put a paw to his shorts. The otter nodded, and pointed to a small basket at the back of the hut that held several discarded garments. Beside it, another basket held a stack of neatly folded clothes. He hesitated, then slipped his shorts down over his hips and threw the wet fabric into the basket. He glanced back at the otter, who continued to watch him with the same patient smile. Volle couldn’t detect any interest in his nakedness, nor was he sure whether or not he wanted to. It was more intimate in these small, confined quarters than it had been in the relatively open areas of the pools, but he reminded himself that the otter was a professional. Stepping slowly, he got into the bath.

And stopped, kneeling in the bath, the pine-scented white powder already clinging to his wet fur. “Um…on my stomach or my back?”

“
Back first, sahr,” said the otter, “then roll onto your stomach. Head in the head rest there.” He pointed to the dust-free basin.

Volle nodded, lay on his back and rubbed his fur into the dust. Pine scent rose around him and he inhaled deeply, losing the hint of sulfur in his nose. He rolled over onto his stomach and rested his head in the stone basin, his muzzle almost reaching the bottom. There, he could almost catch the elusive scent of the people who’d been there before him, but even the gentle scent of pine was overwhelming and the stone didn’t retain scents well.

The otter waited until he was settled, then began scooping dust onto his back, legs, and arms. The pine grew stronger, and the soft weight of the dust settled into his fur, warm from the sunlight. His eyes drifted shut and stayed closed as the brush first touched him.

The bristles moved through his fur in long, even strokes, and the otter’s gentle paw followed behind, smoothing the fur down. The effect was relaxing, very soothing, and any tension that was left in Volle’s body drained away.

When the otter had brushed out all of Volle’s fur, he paused. Volle heard the soft click as he put down the brush and picked up another, and then he started brushing Volle’s tail with a longer-bristled brush. It reminded him of the way Streak liked to brush his fur, and this time rather than push the memory away, he let it enfold him. The scents were blurry enough in his nose that with his eyes closed, he could pretend that the white wolf was there brushing his fur, that it was his rough, strong paws and not the otter’s soft, delicate ones that smoothed down Volle’s russet fur and gently caressed him. He tried to focus on the happiness of the memory and not their current situation, and while the brush ran through his tail he almost managed it. He knew Streak’s scent so well that he could fool himself into thinking he could smell it there.

“
Turn over please, sahr,” the otter said, dispelling the illusion Volle had nearly lost himself in. He sighed and rested for a moment, working his paws through the dust, and then turned over onto his back. The otter placed a cushion across the head rest to support the back of his head, and then set to brushing his tail again.

Volle closed his eyes, but he couldn’t convince himself that Streak was there any more. The sight of his paw covered in white powder, still wet, reminded him with an almost physical pain of the paw he had clutched in the rain only last night. He might as well open his eyes, he figured.

The otter seemed to know. He turned and smiled a moment later, then continued his brushing. He was pleasant enough to look at, and Volle felt a stirring. He tried to quell it, but when the otter switched to a shorter brush and carefully groomed his chest and legs, it grew stronger. The more he tried to ignore it, the more aware he was of it. The stirring spread to a swelling in his sheath, and as his member slid free, he thought about apologizing.

But the otter just kept brushing, his expression changing only through various shades of concentration on his task. When he’d finished brushing Volle’s arms, he switched to a small, fine brush and carefully brushed the fur around his sheath and sac, and then gently brushed those as well.

By this time, Volle was fully aroused. Must happen fairly often, he thought, and indeed the otter’s muzzle and ears showed little surprise when he put his small brush away and looked at Volle. “I can perform other services, sahr, if you wish.”

It was tempting, very tempting, and Volle considered for several seconds before shaking his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer.” He smiled. “Just thinking about someone.” His body pleaded with him to accept, but Streak’s memory and the otter’s businesslike attitude had made him hesitate just long enough. How long had it been since anyone but Streak had touched him like that? He wanted it, very badly, the more so because it had been so many days, and in fact the moment he said no, he regretted it. Streak wouldn’t mind, he told himself, or maybe it was his arousal telling him that.

The otter nodded, with that same smile. “Of course, sahr. When you are ready, you may stand.” He stood attentively.

Volle raised himself to his elbows and glanced down at his length, still very full. “About those ‘other services,’” he said hesitantly. “Um, how much…”

He was trying to figure out how to ask “how much are you allowed to do,” but the otter jumped in when he paused. “The charge will be added to your bill, sahr. There is no need to worry about paying now.”

“
Charge?” He felt his arousal start to flag.

“
Yes, sahr. For the other services, there is a small additional charge.”

“
I see.” Dewanne was treating him, he supposed, because he hadn’t been asked to make any sort of payment or promise as they entered, and now he remembered the weasel asking Dewanne if Volle was his guest. That meant that if he did anything, the charge would be billed to Dewanne, and Volle was sure it was just what Dewanne expected of him.

He sighed. He didn’t particularly want Dewanne to be able to hold that over him, not after their discussion earlier. The other fox had irritated him with his self-righteous judgment of Volle’s behavior, and Volle didn’t want to give him any more ammunition. And besides that, he was now facing the practical concern that his erection had already slid partway back into his sheath.

He smiled at the otter. “I’ll pass, for now, I think.”

“
I’m sorry, sahr.” The otter’s whiskers had drooped, and as much as his small ears could, they were swiveled down. “I should not have mentioned the cost.”

“
No, no.” Volle got up carefully, trying not to raise clouds of dust. “The moment had passed, that’s all.”

“
If you say so, sahr.” The otter held his brush ready as Volle stepped out of the bath, and started with his back.

Volle sighed inwardly at the otter’s gentle touch, regretting the missed opportunity somewhat, but thinking more of Streak. He had to see the wolf again. And down here, away from the castle, with Dereath a more distant memory, the price didn’t seem too high after all. Not that he suspected they would allow him any length of private time in the tower cell, but at least it would be something.

The otter switched to the longer brush to touch up his tail, then moved to his front. He used the smaller brush delicately on the inside of Volle’s thighs and up near his sac, cleaning the dust out, and then stood up on a small stool to clean his muzzle of the traces of dust it had picked up. As he put the brushes down, Volle felt his fur and found it to be only mildly damp.

Holding out one of the folded clothes from the basket, the otter bowed slightly. “As sahr leaves, there will be basking areas should sahr wish to dry in the sun.”

Volle smiled and took the shorts, pulling them on with a bit of regret over his smoothly brushed fur. He hadn’t felt this clean in a long time. “Thank you. You did a wonderful job.”

“
Thank you, sahr. If you are here tomorrow, I would be greatly honored if you returned to my bath.” The otter moved to the door and opened it for him.

“
If I am here, I certainly will.” He patted the otter’s head and walked out.

The basking area, when he found it, was rather crowded. Dewanne and the vixens were there, but he pretended not to see them and instead took a solitary bench near two weasels who were chattering back and forth. He lost their words in the rhythmic murmurs, closed his eyes in the warm sun, and thought about his decision. To give Dereath what he wanted—did he really want to go through with that?

He couldn’t think of anything else to do. It had now been two days, and he had to see Streak, had to be sure he wasn’t guilty, had to assure the wolf that everything was going to be okay. Nothing was as important as that, not Dereath, not Nero, not anything. And as long as he took enough precautions with Dereath, and remained on guard…well, it was just sex, wasn’t it? Even if the thought did make him faintly nauseous.

To quell the unpleasant feeling, he thought about Streak, imagining that the sun’s warmth was the white wolf’s body on top of his. He smiled, picturing how their reunion would feel, and the relief they would feel when Streak was cleared of the murder. The visions relaxed him so much that although he hadn’t felt tired, he was asleep in moments.

Chapter 8

He heard Ilyana’s voice as if through a haze, calling his name. Then a huge weight landed on his stomach, shocking him awake and leaving him gasping for breath.

“
Voly!” Ilyana sounded like she was trying not to laugh as she scolded the cub, and as Volle’s vision came back into focus, he saw that the weight on his stomach had orange fur, a tail, and a big smile.

“
Hi, Daddy,” it said.

“
Hi,” he wheezed, and reached out to move the cub off his stomach. Volyan was dressed now, he saw, at least in a small pair of yellow shorts, if not a shirt or tunic. “You’re pretty heavy, aren’t you?”

“
Just when he jumps.” Ilyana smiled and took the cub’s paw, helping him down from the bench. “We’re going to dinner and wondered if you’d be joining us.” She had dressed in a simple tunic, belted around the waist. It looked good on her.

He rubbed his stomach and sat upright. “If I still have anywhere to put it.”

The dinner was served at the lunch pavilion in the same informal manner, and was largely composed of the same type of food. “Where are Lord and Lady Dewanne?” Volle asked as they sat down, bowls appearing in front of them almost instantly.

“
They’re eating over there with some other nobles who came down this afternoon.” Ilyana helped Volyan sit up to the table and reach his bowl. “They said they thought we might like a little time as a family.”

Volle’s ears flicked back before he could help it. He saw Ilyana notice, and said, “Sorry. Dewanne was giving me a hard time about Streak today. Wants me to stay with my own ‘kind.’”