Shadow of the Father (25 page)

“You make a sound and we’ll run you through,” the captain snarled. “Then your friend won’t get any help, will she?”

“No,” Sinch said, and now he remembered Maxon’s words, about another dead mouse to explain. “You don’t have to take me to him. Just tell me where he is. Is he here?”

The captain shook his head, straightening up. “I’ve better things to be concerned with,” he said. “You’re not worth dirtying my sword over. He’s here, just outside the entrance there. Go, before I change my mind.”

“Should I escort them, sir?” Dellis asked.

“Don’t waste your time. Get back in that tunnel!” The captain turned and barked orders at another nearby fox, dismissing both Sinch and Dellis, who looked not at all happy with that turn of events.

Sinch hurried forward, dodging soldiers, stumbling over the floor. He emerged into a wide ditch with dirt walls, though the ground beneath his feet remained stone. The ditch itself looked deserted, but as he cast from side to side, he sensed the huge mass of a building looming over him to his right, and he turned in time to see the stairs leading up to it.

His arms ached, and the stairs were built for foxes, so by the time he reached the top, he had to lean against the door frame to catch his breath. Valix stirred, giving a low moan that filled Sinch with a sense of urgency. He shouldered past the heavy curtain, into a small anteroom that his whiskers told him was barely ten feet across. The glow of firelight around the curtain at the other end obscured the rest of the room. Taking a breath, he pushed through that curtain as well.

For the second time that night, he stepped into a room full of foxes. Where the tunnel had been filled with soldiers, the lobby of this building had been transformed into a sort of makeshift military headquarters. The only foxes in guards’ uniforms were posted immediately inside the entrance, two raising their swords at him as soon as he entered, while two more stood to either side with crossbows leveled in his direction. The rest of the foxes wore decorated tunics and robes, and overall smelled much cleaner.

“State your business!” one of the sword-bearers barked.

Sinch looked around the room for Yilon. To his left, under a sign reading “Dewanne Sewer Authority,” three large braziers cast a flickering light over the room. Opposite them, along the right wall, three groups of foxes conferred, the nearer two groups all standing, the third seated around a table. He didn’t see Yilon at first glance in any of them The fox nearest him jabbed his sword at Sinch. “I said, state your business,” he said, louder. The nearest group of foxes turned, ears perked curiously.

“I need to see Yilon,” Sinch said. “I need… she’s hurt, she’s dying.” He tried to lift Valix towards the foxes, but his arms were too weak.

One of the foxes in the nearest group wore a green vest. He coughed as he turned, and as he and Sinch recognized each other, a smile grew across his muzzle. “Soldier!” Maxon said, limping in their direction. “I’ll take care of this.”

“No!” Sinch stepped back, toward the curtain. “Yilon!” he called.

“The lord-in-waiting is not here,” Maxon said. “Why don’t we step outside and I’ll make sure your friend gets the treatment she
requires
.”

Sinch dodged around him, or tried to. He slipped on the slick marble floor, his legs flying out from under him. Valix landed on his stomach, and the black dagger he’d gotten from the Shadows clattered across the floor. Maxon kicked it away, eyes glittering, and reached down. He cleared his throat. “Soldier, help me escort these intruders outside.”

All the foxes had turned to look at Sinch now. At the far end of the hall, he spotted a white tunic rising from the far side of the table. Relief flooded him at the sight of the familiar muzzle, a relief so strong he nearly collapsed from the lifting of the weight on him. “Yilon!” he called. “Yilon!”

His friend stepped around the table. Maxon moved to block his view. “Outside, now!” he hissed.

Sinch didn’t move. Maxon growled an oath and turned, his ears folding down when he saw Yilon walking in their direction. “Oh,” he said, in a much smoother tone, “the lord is here. I had thought he’d left.”

“You don’t fool me,” Sinch said in a voice pitched only for the steward’s ears. “I know you.”

“So you may think,” Maxon said, “but your friend the lord needs my help to rule. So I would advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself.” He stepped aside.

Yilon stopped some ten feet away. He looked at Valix, then at his friend. “Sinch?”

 
Sinch looked terrible. Covered in grime, clothes torn, eyes wide, and shivering, though the room was warm. But as bad as he looked, the mouse huddled next to him on the floor looked worse. She smelled of blood, though Yilon couldn’t see where she was hurt. Her breathing came in quick, shallow pants, and though her eyes were closed, her eyelids fluttered in the firelight. He couldn’t tell whether she was as grimy as Sinch, because her clothing was the same greyish-brown as the dirt that encrusted it.

But despite all that, Sinch’s smile and bright eyes were unmistakable. “Yilon,” he said. “You’re here.”

Yilon padded closer, dropping to one knee beside him. “I’m here,” he said. “What… what in Canis’s name happened to you?”

Sinch shook his head, pointing at his companion. “Later,” he said. “We have to get her help.”

“I don’t know.” Yilon touched her shoulder. “She might be beyond help.”

“No!” Sinch lurched upright. The nearest soldier barked out a warning, jumping between them, but Yilon brushed him aside. The soldier looked mutinous for a moment, until Yilon glared at him. He lowered his ears and stepped back.

“Min!” he called, raising a paw. To Sinch, he said, “I know where there’s a nurse nearby. We’ll take her there. If there’s anything he can do…”

Sinch’s eyes glistened. “I knew,” he said, and then just reached a paw out. Yilon held it and squeezed. Min hurried up behind him. He stopped dead behind Yilon.

“What… er, is this your lordship’s friend?” He dropped his voice to a whisper for the last word. In public, and especially in front of soldiers, it was best that Min keep using the honorific. Yilon indicated the other mouse. “We need to get this one out of here,” he said.

“She has information about the Shadows,” Sinch said.

Yilon stared at him. He started to ask about what Sinch had been doing in the last day, that he’d been covered in grime and had acquired a companion who had been grievously wounded, and now appeared to have information about the Shadows. “We’re taking care of the Shadows,” he said. “But we will take her. Min, can you carry her?”

“I… yes. My lord.” The fox knelt and gathered the mouse into his arms with a gentleness that belied his clipped tone. His expression softened. “Where are we going?”

Sinch scrambled to his feet. The soldiers around them drew back, staring at Min and Yilon, confusion in their eyes and flattened ears. Maxon, at their fore, said, “My lord… this is a mouse.”

“I am aware of that,” Yilon said coldly.

Maxon drew him to the side. “If you ever hope to lead these soldiers, you will not abandon this battle for the sake of a mouse. The wounded one—you don’t even know it.”

Yilon swept the soldiers with his eyes. None looked back. “I have to do this,” he said loudly. “We can and will punish those who have done us wrong. But she is no Shadow.”

He returned to Min’s side. Maxon followed. “Your safety…”

“Is not in question. Thank you,” Yilon said. “I will have Min with me, and I trust my life to him.” Min looked startled, then beamed in pleasure. Behind Maxon, the soldiers’ ears rose, slowly. They knew Min, and trusted him. “Come, follow me. Maxon, I will return soon.”

They descended the stairs and turned away from the sewer. Yilon thanked Canis silently for the moon that night. He wasn’t familiar enough with Dewanne to know his way without landmarks, but he now knew the hill, and he could make his way there along the wider streets until he found the one he knew. Sinch remained a few paces behind him; his breathing was labored and he was limping, but he did not complain.

“You could’ve been killed,” Yilon said, when he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Sinch didn’t respond. Bloody memories from that day stained Yilon’s thoughts. “The Shadows don’t just fight foxes. They’ve killed mice, too. Left bodies in the streets for the guards to find.”

“I know.” Sinch’s small voice made Yilon regret his tone immediately. He wanted to ask what Sinch was doing down there, but Min’s presence kept the question down. Instead, he asked Min about his second most pressing concern. “I thought the soldiers were starting to trust me,” he said. “Was this a mistake?”

Min hesitated. “It might have been,” he said. “But your—you spoke from your heart and you spoke to them directly. They will respect that. I believe that they will give you another chance.”

“As long as Maxon isn’t poisoning them against me.”

“He has not spoken against you in my presence,” Min said.

Sinch spoke up, his breathing labored. “He’s clever enough not to.”

“That’s true,” Yilon said. “I don’t trust him. He’s got some other motive and I don’t know what it is. He was…” He hesitated. Min was watching him attentively as they walked. He trusted Min, though, didn’t he? “I followed him to a house on the east side, where I was attacked. Later, he denied being there.”

Min’s eyes narrowed. “I have not been listening closely. From now on, I will.”

They rounded a corner, and there was the door and the building. Yilon ran up and pounded on the door. “Colian!” he called. “Colian, please, we need your help!”

The street remained silent. Yilon pounded on the door again. Sinch and Min stood behind him, their postures tense. Yilon had just raised his fist to strike the door a third time when it cracked open. He saw through the narrow gap, not Colian, but the vixen who’d rescued him. Her fur was all unkempt, but her ears were perked straight up and she was frowning. “What do you mean, calling on Colian—
you
?” The door slammed abruptly.

Yilon recovered his composure quickly. He struck the door and yelled, “We need help! We have a wounded…” He’d learned enough to avoid the word “mouse”. “She’s going to die!” he yelled.

Behind him, he heard a voice call, “Keep it down. Some folks want to sleep!”

He could sense her behind the door. He raised his arm to knock again, but Sinch reached up to stop him. He put his muzzle to the door. “Please,” he said. “Have mercy.”

Yilon heard a slow sigh. They remained perfectly still, as though the least moment might top her decision in the wrong direction. Her claws scratched the other side of the door in a slow, pensive rhythm, and finally, it opened.

“Come in,” she hissed. “Colian’s on the second floor. Just… just go.”

Yilon bowed to her and pointed out the stairs to the others. The vixen shut the door behind them and stood with her back to it, watching. She wore nothing but a nightshirt, which was at least more feminine than the jerkin and pants, and her eyes still bore the crust of sleep about them. But there was a grace and beauty to her, even in this rumpled state, that made Yilon pause. He couldn’t reconcile this picture of her with the vixen who’d coldly stabbed a fox in the throat.

“Our very great thanks to you,” he said. “I hope we will not be disturbing you for very long.”

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have helped you.”

He frowned. “I… but you saved my life.”

“Yes, I had to do that, I know. But I could have just knocked him out and left.” Now she looked annoyed. “If you weren’t so helpless…”

“He took me by surprise,” Yilon said.

“Even a cub learns to defend himself. You don’t even carry a knife. What kind of noble goes through life not learning any fighting skills?”

“I shoot a short bow,” he said hotly. “Very well, in fact.”

She yawned. “That’s wonderful. When you can fit a short bow in a pouch at your waist, I will be impressed.” She glanced at his crotch. “Other than the one you’ve already got. But I’m guessing that doesn’t shoot as far.”

“Better than throwing rocks,” he retorted. “And you didn’t carry a knife either. You had to…” He fell silent. She looked down at her paws, then folded her arms and just stared at the floor.

“Anyway,” he said, by way of apology, “I guess it doesn’t apply to you, right? You’re not a noble, so even throwing rocks is pretty impressive. You knocked him right out, too.”

“Hah,” she said, and then scorn gave way to disbelief. “Wait. You…”

“You did.” He tried as hard as he could to be complimentary. “I mean, I’ve thrown rocks before, but never got… I never could… what?”

She’d started to laugh, a high, clear sound that echoed in the dark stillness of the building’s tall lobby. Her shoulders relaxed back against the door, and she clutched her sides. “Hoo hoo hoo! You really don’t know! How could you not? Did you…” Her laughter subsided to a chuckle. “Did you not tell anyone about our little misadventure?”

“I told people,” he said. “I told Corwin, but then he got shot.”

Her smile vanished as though cut. “What? Corwin’s shot? Is he…?”

“I don’t know.” Yilon spread his paws. “They took him to a chirurgeon. The last I heard, he was still alive, but he wasn’t awake.”