Shadow of the Father (21 page)

“It’s not about liking males,” Yilon said. “In my position, I can’t be with a male. I have to marry and have an heir, and I have to be a good father to my heir.”

“But nothing says you cannot enjoy yourself and be a good father all at the same time.”

Yilon saw his father and Streak again. “I’m not going to be like that.”

“Like what? Happy?”

“Being a lord isn’t about being happy. It’s about duty, and service.”

Corwin rubbed his whiskers back along his muzzle, held them there, then let them spring free. “Yes, it is,” he said. “But the weight of all that duty and service can be a fearsome burden. What merchant or farmer would begrudge his ruler some pleasure to ease that burden? In many cases, it is the very weight of the duty that drives these rulers to the extremes they seek. King Barris? Adequate king. Not extraordinary. He did not do very much, save promote some dreary fashions. He had no lovers, from what I hear tell in the palace. The Lord Dewanne before the late Lord Dewanne’s predecessor, whose given name was Talil, was faithful to his wife throughout his reign, as best as I have been able to ascertain. He was a terrible tyrant, taxing farmers and passing loads of unnecessary regulations on trade that his successor had to reverse.”

“But he was honorable,” Yilon growled.

“To his wife, yes. But honor means different things, dear boy, many things indeed. If your people suffer but your wife is happy, is that honor? If you are faithful but your wife is miserable, is that honor?”

“What about Sheffin? Lord Dewanne? He was faithful, you said.”

Corwin looked sharply at him. “Yes, he was. He was a good ruler.”

So the former governor hadn’t been made privy to Sheffin’s one betrayal. “Canis teaches us to care for our pack.”

Corwin nodded, holding up a paw. “And Fox has always held that one’s family comes first. I know all this. But your pack will soon be the city of Dewanne.”

“
And
my family.”

“Of course. But—”

“Just because I have multiple obligations doesn’t mean I can neglect one of them. That’s the price of being a lord, isn’t it?”

Corwin sighed. “Yes, you’re right, you’re right. And honesty compels me to admit that there have been some good Lords, faithful and true. But if you can come to an arrangement with your wife—and Dinah may be headstrong, but she is a sensible vixen as well—then what’s the harm?”

“What if,” Yilon said tightly, “my wife agrees to the arrangement because she feels she has no other choice? What if she chooses to live in sadness rather than make my—rather than make me unhappy?”

The other fox’s eyes studied his. “Then that is very noble of her. Very noble indeed. But it is not your burden to bear. Do you understand, Yilon? You will have enough burdens of your own without taking on those of your family.”

The owner interrupted, coming to clear their empty plate and to ask if there would be anything else. Corwin shook his head, tipped three coins into the proffered paw, and emptied his tankard. “We should be getting back,” he said. “Unless there is something else about the crown?”

Yilon opened his muzzle, then closed it again. Slowly, he shook his head.

Corwin looked around the house. At mid-afternoon, there were not many others in the room, and none within two tables. “Nothing to do with your friend the mouse?”

The sun had dropped to the point that it was coming through the window just over Corwin’s ears, into Yilon’s eyes. He squinted and dropped his muzzle slightly. “I haven’t seen him since we arrived at the castle,” he said, squirming a little at the lie.

Corwin inclined his head forward, bringing the sun back into Yilon’s eyes. “Whatever may have happened is of little consequence if the crown gets returned,” he said. “The stresses in this place—goodness, it’s as bad as Minerva Lightly’s corset, if not quite as likely to explode. Losing the crown is a serious issue for many more reasons than your particular future.”

Yilon raised a paw to shield his eyes. “Why? What difference does it make who holds the lordship? It’s not like there’s some evil killer out there waiting to get his paws on the crown.”

“Isn’t there?” Corwin’s expression was shockingly serious. “Let us assume that Dinah can be found. She has shown even less interest than you in ruling Dewanne. She’d prefer to be living in the hills, or perhaps leaving the valley altogether, like Delia—our current Lady. You at least have been raised with loyalty and honor, however much we might disagree on the exact application of those words. A neglectful Lord or Lady is worse than none at all, because the people expect a certain level of attention when there is a Lord in the castle. Now, when there is none, we are resigned to a small period of unsettlement.” He glanced out the window. “Not this bad. Not this bad,” he murmured almost to himself.

“But she’s from here,” Yilon pointed out. “She knows…”

“Yes, yes. But she is also missing. So let us assume that you are sent away in disgrace for losing the crown—this is what you wanted, my whiskers tell me, no? And Dinah manages to avoid her responsibilities. There are no clear choices after that. Sheffin had a bastard son, but he left here at about your age and hasn’t been heard from since. Delia’s sister died bearing a male son, with a clubfoot. He blames the mice for his disfigurement and his mother’s death, and is currently under ‘observation’ for killing one in the plaza right out here seven years ago. Tyle Durenin is five; Lady Dewanne would have to remain as Regent for another ten years. Dinah’s sister Porti is younger still. Or another regent could be appointed, but that would be a long and contentious process as well.”

“But it would be resolved eventually,” Yilon said.

Corwin ticked off points on the finger of one paw. “The longer the period of unrest, the worse our situation is. We are so far from the capital that our trade is always as tenuous as Chali Fortson’s cookery. Any small disruption could be disastrous. Sheffin’s illness and your distance from Dewanne have allowed thieves to operate more openly, not to mention the shadows. Then there is the point I mentioned before, about expanding the role of Dewanne. None but you are qualified to do that. There are always tensions between us and the mice, which you are admirably and uniquely suited to mediate.”

He stopped at Yilon’s exaggerated sigh, but left his fingers up, pointing directly at Yilon’s muzzle. In the silence, Yilon could hear murmurs outside the window as foxes and couples walked by it. He filed away the curious mention of “shadows” to ask about later, voicing the more urgent question first. “Have there been any good Lords who didn’t want to be lord?”

Corwin smiled. He reached out and took Yilon’s paw, clasping it tightly. “Only all of them, dear boy. Only all of them.”

Yilon took a deep breath. “Sinch might know some more,” he said. “He’ll probably come to the castle tonight looking for me. I’ll ask him then. If he knows… I promise I’ll get the crown back.”

“Wonderful.” Corwin’s ears perked up. “Then all this ugliness will be behind us, where it belongs.”

“At least you will be able to tell this story to the next young lord to come into town.”

Corwin laughed. “I should live so long. No, I will be happy to use it to lure the young tods who already know all my other stories to my parlor one more time. And for that, I thank you.”

They rose and walked to the door. “Speaking of which,” Corwin said, “you never did tell me the name of this adorable young nurse who saved your life.”

“Oh.” Yilon blinked into the sun. He turned to Corwin. “His name was Colian.”

Corwin whirled, grabbing Yilon’s shoulders. “Colian?” he said sharply. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Yilon frowned, his ears swiveling back. He squinted up at the former governor. “That’s what he said.”

“Where—” Corwin said, then pushed Yilon back, not hard. His head came up, looking from side to side.

Yilon tried to follow him. “What?”

Something was poking him in the shoulder. He looked down and saw the end of a quarrel, slick with blood, protruding from the right side of Corwin’s chest.

 
By Sinch’s reckoning, he’d been pretending to snore for three hours before he heard the rhythm of Valix’s breathing settle. He peered down from the upper bunk to her shadowy shape on the floor. He gauged the distance from the edge of the bed to the hallway just beyond her body. The trick would not be clearing her; the trick would be landing silently. He knew how to land on the balls of his feet so his claws didn’t hit stone. He knew how to minimize his impact to reduce the percussive sound. He’d practiced it many times. He’d just never used it in quite so critical a situation.

If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that nothing got easier for thinking about it too much. He got to the edge of the bed, gathered himself, and leapt.

His landing in the corridor didn’t sound loud to him. He waited just a moment, but Valix didn’t stir. Her breathing remained even. He padded back up the stairs and out to the street, which was busier now, much busier. This must have been difficult for Valix, staying wide awake while the sun was up, when most of their people were sleeping. No doubt that was why she’d fallen asleep so soundly, when she finally had.

Still, he didn’t trust her. He stood just to the right of the doorway, waiting. When Valix didn’t emerge after several minutes, he slid out into the crowd.

He felt like a stranger in the Warren. Now that the moon was up, the mice were more animated. Cheerful, even. They talked to each other as they passed on the street, with familiar waves and chirps of greeting. Only Sinch was silent, jostling through them, crowding over obstacles and through puddles with them.

First he stopped at Miss Chakray’s house, though, it took him the better part of an hour to get back to a familiar area from which he could find it. He climbed the pile of debris to the window that had been his. He listened, but no noise came from inside. Carefully, he climbed through, pausing to make sure the room was empty. He twitched his whiskers and sniffed, but the strongest scent was his own. Quickly, he dropped to the floor, prised up the loose board, and reached inside for his money and tools.

He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he felt the weight of the small pouch. He exhaled, fastened the pouch to his waist, and crept back out the window.

Someone happened to be crossing the pile of debris as Sinch emerged. He started, nearly falling down in his surprise. “Sorry,” the other mumbled, and scurried down the other side. Sinch descended his side with similar quickness, his nose twitching. For a moment, he’d worried that Valix was following him, peering in at the window to take his money from him, or that Balinni was having the room watched. But though he glanced back at the building and the barricade, nobody climbed back over it to follow him. Nothing ever got easier from thinking about it, he reminded himself, and hurried on to the outskirts of the city.

From there, it was easier to make his way to the castle. The mice on the outskirts of the Warren went about their business more quietly, the crowds more sparse and skittish, as though the castle now visible to the east were watching them. Certainly some vulpine guards were; Sinch heard their footsteps crunch across the dirt. They were easy enough to slip around behind for one practiced at moving quietly. It was before he even reached them, though, that Sinch’s whiskers began to tingle, making him look back several times. Once he thought he saw a shadow slide behind a building, but the next time, there was nothing there. To be sure, he cut around and doubled back, then went around a building in the opposite direction, hiding for a full five minutes before making his way forward again. He waited for a patrol to pass, and when he padded quietly behind them, the tingling in his whiskers subsided. It didn’t return as he hurried across the scrub grass, all the way up to the castle wall.

With one more check to make sure nobody was watching, Sinch made his way up the stone wall, holding on to the cracks in the stone with slender fingers. He reached Yilon’s bedroom window and pulled himself to the sill. The window was closed.

Sinch cupped his paw against the glass, trying to see past the reflection of the moon. He scratched gently at the window frame. No sound or movement came from inside. He waited, looking down nervously at the grounds, then scratched again.

Nothing. Yilon wasn’t there. Sinch took a worried moment to wonder where the fox might be, if not in his own bedroom (in someone else’s?), before making his way back down the wall. He pressed himself against the stone, listening and sniffing the wind. No movement. The guards around the Warren were all that were deemed necessary, he supposed.

He allowed his mind to wander back to Yilon as his feet took him to the outer wall and the unguarded door. He would have to come back the next night, and if Yilon still weren’t there, he’d have to get a message to him somehow. Sinch felt sure he could get into the castle if he really needed to. After all, they did silly things like leave the service door unguarded.

The moment he stepped through it, he was tackled to the ground. His left arm was twisted behind his back, its leverage used to press him down. He struggled only until he heard Valix’s voice. “Keep still, you idiot.”

Her scent filtered down to him through his own surprise and fear.

He relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

“Idiot,” she snarled again. “If I had known you were coming here, I would have tied you to the bed. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“How did you find me?”

He tried to twist around to look her in the face, but she prevented him. “So you know someone in the castle? Or you were just hoping to rob the treasury? No, you were at an upper window. So you know someone. The new lord?”

“If I’d wanted to tell you, I’d have invited you along,” Sinch said.

At that she did turn him over, though she remained straddling him. “Well, I’m along now.” He set his muzzle stubbornly, turning over the possible lies he could tell her. “Oh, come,” she said. “If I were Balinni, I would have a knife in your kidneys already, gold or no gold. I don’t say you can trust me, but… it doesn’t look like you have much of a choice.”