Weasel Presents (12 page)

“Anyone back here?” Helfer could only see part of a massive leg, clad in the tanned hide of the palace guard. He pulled himself quickly up through the skylight, hoping Vin would be okay.

His paws slipped on the tile of the roof. He caught himself with a minimum of noise, but as he was getting back up, he heard a small clatter to his left, and spun just in time to see a shadow jump from the adjacent roof down to the street.

“You know,” Vin’s voice said behind him, “the air smells much better up here. I reckon a little stretch under the sun might do me some good.”

He was working to close the skylight as he talked. Helfer shook his head and ran off across the adjacent roof to where he’d seen the shape drop. “Ey!” Vin called, the shouts from below cutting off abruptly as he got the skylight shut. “I was thinkin’, maybe I’ll just stick by so I’m close when you decide to change your mind.”

“Fine,” Helfer said. He peered over the edge of the roof into a narrow alley, empty. He padded quickly along the roof to either side, looking down into the street.

“I mean,” Vin said, “that is, you know, unless them guards was looking for you.” Helfer didn’t reply, intent on looking for russet fur and the noble doublet. “They wasn’t, was they?”

“No,” Helfer said. Then it occurred to him that it wouldn’t be unlike Dereath to send the guards out, so he said, “Probably.”

“Prob’ly? Prob’ly yes or prob’ly no?” Vin’s voice broke into a squeak.

There, the fox was just disappearing through a nondescript door, one street down. Helfer pointed at the tavern next to the door. “Vin,” he said, “you know that place?”

“Wot, the Four Vines? Sure. Lovely place. So Hef, are those guards after you?”

Someone was banging on the skylight. “Not sure,” Helfer said. “Best not to chance it, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“First sensible thing you said in a while. Come on.”

Vin led him to the other side of the roof, where they were able to clamber down onto the street. Helfer started toward the Four Vines, but Vin pulled him in the opposite direction. “You crazy? Them guards will be out in no time. C’mon, I’ll hide you round my place.”

“He went into the Four Vines,” Helfer said. “Well, next to it. What’s next to it?”

“What?” Vin stared at him. “Look, let this fox mind his business and we’ll mind ours, right?”

“What’s next to the Four Vines?”

Vin tugged his arm again. “Hef, you don’t want nothin’ to do with the Four Vines. Even I don’t go in there ’less I have to.”

“What?” Helfer yanked his arm away. “I didn’t think there was a place you were afraid to go in Divalia. Did the bouncer there knock your teeth around a bit?”

“Nothin’ like that,” Vin said indignantly. “Only they got this bat workin’ there an’ he knows everyone. You come in the bar once and he got your, I dunno,” he waved his paws around his head, “like, your
sound
or somethin’, so you can’t even sneak back in with another scent. Just keep clear, that’s my advice.”

Helfer folded his arms. “What if you go in and actually pay for everything?”

Vin threw up his paws. “Look, you wanna speak my language, or what?”

Helfer shook his head. “What’s next to the Four Vines?”

“Someone’s house, ya figure?”

“You don’t know who?”

The weasel’s eyes narrowed as a grin spread over his face. “Mayhap.”

Helfer rolled his eyes. “I could just go find out.”

“You wanna do that, you best leave your money here with me, that way you stand a fightin’ chance of gettin’ it back.”

Heavy footsteps echoed through the alley. “Come on!” Vin hissed, grabbing Helfer again. This time the weasel let himself be pulled down the street, into a narrower alley, and through a small window into a dark, dusty room. He tumbled with Vin over a table, some boxes that felt like they were all corners, onto a hard floor. Vin landed on top of him, driving the air from his lungs.

“Well,” the other weasel said, squirming against Helfer, “that had an unexpectedly cheery ending.”

“For you,” Helfer panted. “Where are we?”

“Safe. Private.” Vin’s paw reached down. “Time t’conclude our business?”

Rarely had Helfer felt less in the mood. His back ached from the fall, his ribs from where they’d caught a corner of something on the way down. He breathed in, trying to sort out the scents in the room. Mouse, rabbit (old), and weasels, other than Vin.

Vin’s nimble paw teased further, the weasel undeterred by Helfer’s lack of response. “Now, here I can promise you an undisturbed ten minutes of happiness at the paws of ol’ Vin. Or muzzle, or whatever’s yer fancy. This ’ere’s my place. No guards come ‘round.”

“Really?” Helfer let the rubbing continue while he caught his breath. “Do the guards know it’s your place?”

“Ha ha. One might almost think you was tryin’ to get out of a little action.”

His eyes had adjusted to the unlit room, so he could see the rough wood ceiling and the room full of crates, some open, most not. “You live here?”

“Sometimes.” Vin’s claws tickled as they traced up and down. “Well, at least I curl up here for a nap betimes.”

“It looks like a storeroom.” Helfer squinted, trying to make out the writing on the sides of the crates.

Vin’s teasing slowed, becoming more relaxed. “You wanna have fun or you wanna tour of the least-visited spots in Divalia?”

“Let me catch my breath,” Helfer said. The fox he’d been pursuing had gone into a building, and he knew where that building was, even if he couldn’t go there for another few minutes. Truth be told, he wasn’t averse to a nice ten minutes with Vin once his body’d recovered, and he would’ve lay back and relaxed if he hadn’t happened to notice a familiar crest on a box at the far end of the room.

“Get off a minute,” he said to Vin, pushing the other weasel aside and getting to his feet. His side protested, but not seriously, as he padded across the floor to the crate.

Vin scurried behind him. “Look, Hef, why’n’t ya come back this way? Vin’ll take good care of ya...oh, blood’n’bones.”

Helfer had reached the crate and turned, facing Vin. “This is one of mine.”

“Look,” Vin said. “The folks what keep this place, I dunno what they do, I just help ’em out sometimes--but not this one,” he added hastily. “They got all sortsa fellows workin’ on things.”

Helfer sighed, reaching past the broken king’s seal into the half-empty crate to pull out a bottle. “Apricot mead,” he said.

“You got plenty o’money,” Vin said. “No need to go stirrin’ up trouble. Look, I’ll talk to the boys, make sure they don’t go for no more Ikling boxes.”

“Should’ve done that already,” Helfer said, but he couldn’t stay mad at Vin. Ever since he’d known the weasel, Vin had had a knack for getting mixed up in things he didn’t understand. Fortunately, he also had a knack for slipping out of them before they got too dangerous.

“Slipped my mind,” Vin said. “I swear, I almost never seen one o’yer boxes here before.”

Helfer traced a claw around the bottle’s seal. Apricot was one of his favorites. “What do you know about the Four Vines?”

Vin’s tail drooped, just a little. “Well...some o’the boys here, they like to take a nip there, time to time. If y’follow.”

“I think so. What’s next to it?”

Vin shook his head. “House. I dunno who lives there.” His ears perked up. “I know who’d know!” Before Helfer could stop him, he’d run to the door and thrown it open, poking his head through. “Oy! Hensley!”

A general flurry ensued in the other room. Helfer slunk behind the crate, which came up to his chest level, and carefully put the bottle back in it. It was certainly large enough to hide him if he needed to duck behind it.

He heard a deep roar, “Vin! What’choo been keepin’ busy wit?”

Another voice, lighter, said, “Ey, with Vin, we don’t need t’ask, do we?”

“Jus’ pallin’ around with my mates,” Vin said. “Any of you sots know who’s inna house next to Bichi’s?”

“C’mon in, have a drink,” the deep voice said.

Helfer saw Vin turn to look back at him. He wasn’t the only one. “You got some piece o’tail back there?” the lighter voice said. “Bring ’er out, let’s havva look.”

“Maybe ’sa he,” the deep voice said.

“No,” Vin said, “he’s kinda--” He squeaked as the door was pushed open and a large shape lumbered past him.

Helfer had no chance to dive behind the crate. He met the eyes of the muscular badger, standing up straighter. “Wot’s this?” the badger said. “You bringin’ nobles in here?” His large, fierce paws flexed as though they already had a throat between them.

“He ain’t...he’s my...he...” Vin sputtered.

Helfer braced himself on the crate and lifted his muzzle, still a foot or so below the advancing badger’s. “I’m not here to turn you in,” he said.

“Where’s your guards?” the badger said suspiciously. Behind him, a rat had pushed past Vin to stare at the two of them as well.

Helfer jerked his head back in what he hoped was the direction of the palace. “Didn’t bring ’em.” It only occurred to him after he said it that that might not have been the wisest confession to make.

“What’s ’e got on ’im?” the rat said.

“Ho, smooth your fur,” Vin said desperately. “This is my friend, Lord Ikling. He don’t mean harm!”

Helfer stood his ground, but slipped one paw into the crate. At worst, he could use one of the bottles as a weapon. Though he did hate to waste apricot mead.

“Well?” the badger said. “What does ’e mean, then?” He glared at Helfer.

7

Helfer glared back. “Are you threatening me, cutie?” he said.

The badger drew up short and blinked. “Wot’s ’at mean?”

Behind him, the rat broke into a chuckle. “Reckon it means yer his type, Hensley.”

“Look,” the badger said, but his momentum had been broken.

Vin took the chance to jump in. “He’s a friend, Hensley,” he said. “He ain’t here about the boxes.”

Helfer took his paw out of the crate and leaned on it. “My name’s Hef,” he said. “I just came in for some play with Vin. You feel like joinin’?”

Behind the badger and rat, Vin was shaking his head and waving his paws furiously. The rat laughed, while the badger scratched his ears. “Well, what...” he said, and then looked back at Vin, who composed himself just in time.

The rat was laughing. “Oh, he’s okay,” he said. “Y’already know Hensley. My name’s Dicker. It’s what I’m called, it’s what I do.” He winked, but Helfer noticed he kept one paw on the hilt of his knife.

Hensley was less subtle about his suspicion. “How d’we know he ain’t gonna go back t’the castle and tell where we are? Hm?”

“I wouldn’t do that to Vin,” Helfer said.

“He’d do it to you.”

“Hey,” Vin said, stepping forward. “I wouldn’t! Well,” he said as they all turned to look at him, “not ’less, y’know, someone was threatenin’ me.”

“We know ya, Vin, we love ya,” Dicker said.

Helfer cleared his throat. “I keep out of palace affairs,” he said, drawing one paw along the edge of the box. “I’d ’preciate it if you’d hold off on the Vellenland stuff as much as you can, but that’s the price of business.”

“You’re Vellenland?” Hensley’s eyes widened. “Tell yer brewers not to make the apricot so sweet. Chokes me.”

“I like it sweet,” Helfer said. “You should try the lemon brandy.”

Hensley sheathed his knife. “Lemon brandy? Never seen it.”

“Mostly they serve it over on the east side of town,” Helfer said. “But I can get a couple bottles for you.”

“That’d be right nice,” the badger said. He jerked his head to the other room. “Join us for some ale?”

Helfer shuddered inwardly to think what they might be drinking. “No, thanks. I just want to find out where this...friend of mine went. He ducked into the house beside the Four Vines. I didn’t want to just barge in after him.”

Hensley looked back at Dicker. The rat’s expression was carefully guarded. “Don’t really remember,” the rat said. “Ain’t a good place t’go wanderin’ around. Hope your ‘friend’ knows what he’s doin’.”

Vin shrugged when Helfer looked at him. “Would the people in the Four Vines know?” Helfer said.

“Reckon,” Hensley said. “They--”

Dicker strode forward. “They know lots in there.” He gestured to the front room. “Can we show you out, yer lordship?”

Helfer nodded. With a wistful glance at the apricot mead, he walked through the door into the back of a small closet. The closet opened into a small gentleman’s club that had seen better days, and none too recently, at that. The wood floor was pitted and warped, where it was visible below rugs so discolored the patterns were no longer discernible. All of the furniture had either been clumsily repaired or was in dire need of it: one wooden chair listed to one side, another was missing half the back, a bench’s upholstery was torn, the straw half gone from it. Only the liquor cabinet in the corner looked fully functional, despite the doors being of different wood grain from the body.

The only other door in the room was set across from him, between two grimy windows through which sunlight oozed. As much as they wanted him out of the back room, he seriously doubted they would want him to go upstairs, and he didn’t really have any desire to mount the rickety staircase anyway. “I’ll send that brandy along,” he said as Dicker opened the front door.

“Pleasure,” Dicker said. He ushered them out into the street and slammed the door.

Helfer brushed his tunic. “What nice friends,” he said, glancing up at the front of the building and seeing to his surprise a sign that proclaimed it a boarding house. “Who would stay there?”

“You’d be surprised,” Vin said, swinging his paws. “Well, lucky I was ’round for that, eh? Narrow escape. Hensley’s got a temper, he does.”

“Dicker’s the more dangerous,” Helfer said absently. “I suppose we just go into the Four Vines now.”

“Or,” Vin said, “we could forget about all of it an’ jus’ find a nice room where we won’t be bust in on.”

“Do you actually know any?” Helfer walked away from the house in the direction he thought the Four Vines was. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

“We wouldn’ta been interrupted back there if you coulda left this whole thing alone. Ain’t like you,” Vin grumbled.