The Prisoner's Release and Other Stories (37 page)

“
What do
you
want to do?” she’d ask, and each time he shook his head. The euphoria of his escape had long since deserted him, and now that he faced the reality of freedom, he found himself at a loss to know what to do with it. Teach in the Academy? Retire? He’d joked about living on a farm, but seeing the farms they stopped at, the life seemed dreary and confined compared to what he’d been used to in Divalia. Nothing appealed to him, because the only thing he really wanted was to go back to his life as a Lord and spy, which he could now never do.

And if he couldn’t define his own future, how could he offer anything to Streak? He knew they cared for each other, that they’d come together in the loneliness of the prison, but did they have a life together? Whenever he thought about that, he thought of the others who’d tried to share a life with him: Ilyana, the noble vixen he’d married in order to continue his fictional lineage, Arrin, the shy romantic fox he’d courted back in the castle, and Xiller, the cougar soldier who had been as young, passionate, and naïve as Streak. His life had carried him away from Arrin and Xiller, while Ilyana was very likely in danger because of his capture; at the very least, her position as a Lady was in jeopardy. What if Tephossian agents came after Volle? He didn’t want to put Streak in danger.

Tired from his imprisonment and the long journey, Volle was usually asleep before Streak returned from his work to climb into bed with him. One night, when they had some privacy, Volle stayed awake and welcomed the wolf back to bed with a kiss, which led to shedding their clothes, and then he was gently pushed down, made to lie back as Streak applied his muzzle to the fox’s sheath. Volle grew hard quickly, but found it difficult to let his arousal crest into climax. In prison, he’d been forced into abstinence for weeks and months on end, and he’d almost come just at the wolf’s touch. Now, free from his chains, fatigue and worry combined to keep him from finishing, something he’d rarely felt before.

Finally, the warm, patient tongue won out, bringing him the rush of release. He arched his back and moaned as he came into the warm muzzle. His climax exhausted him further, and when he tried to return the favor, Streak pushed him back down and kissed his nose, telling him to rest.

The other nights, he contented himself with waking in the morning with his back to the wolf, nestled in the strong white arms, feeling the press of the wolf’s sheath against his tail, but not under it. A year ago, he would have had trouble sleeping with the sexual energy inside him racing at the close warmth, but six months in prison had taken their toll, and not until they approached Caril did he feel close to his former self.

They arrived at the perfect time, just before sunset, when the red cliffs to the east of the city glowed brightly over the white marble of the palace and the nobles’ quarter. Volle shifted so Streak could sit near the window, catching the red highlights on his white fur. He smiled at the wolf’s rapt expression and rested a paw on his tail, watching over his shoulder.

Once they’d entered the south gate, Volle slid over to his own window. Seir pointed out landmarks as they passed them, more excited than the fox even though she’d been back just two years ago and for Volle, it had been five. He remembered his first ride through Divalia, how the city had seemed familiar, yet different; now it was Caril that felt different to him.

They skirted the Academy, a neighborhood where he’d lived for six years, but even the sight of the large, austere building couldn’t make him more than nostalgic. “Nice to see the old neighborhood,” Seir said, but when she said “old
neighborhood,” Volle thought of the Jackal’s Staff, the Lonely Cock, and the streets around the palace in Divalia. The fox who had frequented the Academy was someone he remembered being, but distantly, as if he’d been only assuming the identity of a spy-in-training before he left for his mission, and had discarded it once he’d left the city.

“
Is that the Hungry Bull?” Streak asked, pointing to a swaying wooden sign painted with a wide-mouthed bull.

“
That it is,” Seir said. “Volle’s second home, once upon a time.” Volle glanced at the sign and nodded, remaining silent. “Well, fine. I thought you’d be happy to get home. Am I going to have to celebrate by myself?”

Streak put a paw on Volle’s knee, and the fox covered the white one with his own. He felt adrift in the carriage, floating past familiar images without any connection to them at all. But Seir was real, and so was Streak. “I’ll have a drink with you,” Volle said to the mouse. “It’s just a little...overwhelming, you know?”

She glanced at Streak, and her expression softened. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.” She smiled. “I’m just relieved to be home. The past six months...”

He nodded. “I know. It’s over now.” But he knew that this wasn’t only an ending. It was a beginning, too; what he didn’t know was of what.

They pulled up outside a building that dwarfed the others on the block in size and elegance, with a large arched entryway and smaller arches over each of the sparkling glass windows. A pair of weasels chattered back and forth cheerfully as they cleaned the yellowish stone of the building’s walls, one from the street and one walking across an upper story ledge. No dangling wooden sign hung over the arch; golden letters carved into the stone proclaimed the name of the building to be “The Feathered Friend.”

Here, Volle did smile broadly. Seir grinned. “Ah, I thought you’d like that.”

Streak looked out at the inn, and then back to Volle. “What’s this place?”

Volle waved a paw at the elegant white arch, the gilded sculpture of the phoenix over the keystone, and the cupolas that rose over the rest of the neighborhood. “This is where visiting dignitaries stayed when they came to visit the King,” he said. “If they weren’t cougars, that is.”

Streak cocked his head, looking back out. “Why not cougars?”

“
Because cougars are all noble-born, and they stay in the palace. Other nobles are ambassadors from other lands, or else have titles bestowed on them. Only cougars are allowed to inherit land, though.” As Volle said that, he thought about the land he’d falsely claimed, posing as the son of the long-dead Lord Vinton in Tephos.

“
Oh.” Streak flicked his ears and nodded.

“
It’s only for three nights,” Seir said. “But Avery didn’t even question the expense when I asked.”

“
Maybe he won’t castrate me, then,” Volle said, and laughed at Streak’s alarmed expression. “It’s okay, wolf, put your ears up. I’m pretty sure he was joking.”

“
Who’s Avery?” Streak said, his ears coming up only partway.

Volle glanced at Seir. “Well...he’s my superior.” He’d told Streak that he was working for Ferrenis, but not many more details, and the white wolf hadn’t pressed for any. Now he just nodded and looked back out the window.

“
Will they have a water bath?” he asked.

“
I’m sure they do.” Volle grinned. “I could use one myself. It’s been a dusty trip.”

“
You’re free tonight,” Seir said. “I’m staying with some friends down the street. I’ll let the Duke know you’re here and I or someone else will come by to collect you tomorrow.”

“
All right.” Volle took her paws in his. “Thank you, Seir,” he said. “For everything.”

“
I should be thanking you.” She smiled. “You may have averted a war.”

He remained silent as they disembarked and walked into the inn, at first thinking about what Seir had said, and then overwhelmed by the luxury inside the inn. His paws sunk into the finely plush carpeting woven in an intricate gold and green pattern, so thick that he could only tell that the floor was solid stone underneath because of the gleaming white showing around the edges of the carpet. Portraits adorned the smoothly finished walls, each one depicting a noble as elegantly dressed as the velvet-clad wolf behind the mahogany desk.

Seir approached him while Volle and Streak toured the portraits. Volle knew some of them, and could guess at others, but more than once he found himself saying the name of some Tephossian noble: Lord Creane at the picture of the aged raccoon; Lord Vanadi at the portrait of the young grey fox.

He was just getting frustrated at his ignorance when one of the inn’s servants, a bear, came to take the bags to their room. Seir gave Volle some silver Royals for his food for the night and bid them good-night.

The bear led them up the curved marble stair to an immaculate room with a finely made bed, a low chest of drawers, and several silver candlesticks scattered about the room. After setting their bags carefully next to the chest, the bear lit their candles and then stood attentively before them. “Water baths are on the ground floor, my Lords, and are kept heated at all hours. The chamberpots are emptied in the morning; there is a necessary down the hall if you do not wish to use the pots in your room. Food is available beginning at sunrise. If you wish food brought to your room, summon one of our staff by means of the bell-pull located at the door, and we will be delighted to oblige. Is there any other way in which I can make your stay more pleasant?”

“
Do you have powdered scents available?” Volle asked.

“
Indeed, my Lord. I will bring a selection to your chambers immediately.”

“
Thank you.” Volle turned to Streak. “Anything you want?” When the white wolf shook his head, Volle dismissed the bear.

“
This is pretty nice, eh?” he said, fingering the silken bell-pull by the door.

“
Beautiful,” Streak said, sitting down on the bed. He grinned and patted the bed beside him.

Volle turned and padded over the soft wooden floor to sit beside the wolf. He looked at the white fur, candlelight flickering across it, but didn’t say anything.

Streak turned to nuzzle him. “Are you sad I came with you?”

“
No!” Volle leaned against him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what I’m going to do now. I didn’t think when I dragged you away that I didn’t know what I was getting you into.”

“
It’s okay.” Streak smiled. “I had to decide to trust you. I’m sure whatever happens, it will be better than what I left behind.”

Volle smiled. “Tonight will, for sure. You’re going to be pampered. Want to take that water bath?”

The wolf nodded and rose to his feet. “Sounds wonderful.”

It was. The tubs were stone with high walls, the water was heated and constantly refilled by from a walled balcony above, keeping the room reasonably private. Four different scented soaps lined the edge of the tub, and an otter around the corner attended a stack of fluffy towels. A wooden bench faced a small fireplace where a cheery blaze had been set, above which another lovely portrait hung.

Volle and Streak stripped and climbed into the bath together, easing into the steaming water carefully. Volle sighed as he felt it soak through his fur. He’d soaked in Helfer’s bath after his release from the dungeon, but this felt better still. He was less exhausted now, and less worried that in cleaning himself, he would scrub away chunks of his fur. The dust and grime of their travel came away easily as he pushed his fingers through his fur.

When they’d soaked for a few minutes, Volle stood free of the water, reached lazily over to the nearest soap, and rubbed it between his paws to produce a lather. As he washed himself, Streak began to do the same. Volle watched the wolf’s paws rub down his chest and stomach to his sheath, fondling there perhaps a little longer than was necessary. The wolf met his eyes and grinned, then moved on to soap the rest of his body.

Volle slid his paws over his own sheath, feeling the stirrings inside it as his eyes wandered over the rugged white landscape. On the white wolf’s hip was the streak of black fur that had led Volle to give him his nickname, and Volle still thought that the way it traced the outside curve of his hip was as sexy as anything he’d ever seen.

His sheath betrayed his thoughts as arousal pushed his pink member free from the tip. He slid a paw over it, catching Streak’s eye deliberately as he stroked himself.

The wolf grinned, leaning back against the stone wall and watching. “Make sure to get that nice and clean,” he said.

“
I am,” Volle replied, and just as he was about to say, “Come over and feel for yourself,” the door to the bathroom opened and a small otter scurried in. The tub was high enough that he couldn’t see anything below their chests, and he wasn’t looking anyway. He ran directly to the fireplace and stoked the fire, then threw two more logs onto it and watched for a moment.

“
Sorry, sirs,” he said cheerfully. “Got ‘er all good an’ ready to dry your fur out when you’re done.”

“
Thanks,” Volle said, and removed the paw from his sheath to wave as the otter slipped out the door. When it closed, he put it briefly back, but the moment had passed, and Streak felt it too. They finished washing quietly, toweled themselves as dry as they could, and then sat together on the bench in front of the fire. Volle leaned into the wolf’s side and slid an arm around his waist, Streak lifted an arm across the fox’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and they stayed like that, talking quietly about matters of little consequence until the fire’s heat had mostly dried their fur out, except for their rumps and the small patches where they’d pressed against each other.

The patterns of dancing light in the fire began to make Volle’s eyelids droop, and when he saw Streak yawn widely for the second time in as many minutes, he mustered his strength and grinned. “Time for bed,” he said.