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Chapter 2: Chiona's Request

Because he was supposed to have dinner with his family the next night, Yilon left the palace with Sinch after their practice session to have a quick meal in the local pub. Over stews (roast fowl for Yilon, vegetables for Sinch) and fresh-baked bread at the Cup and Crown, they talked about Dewanne. "All I know about it is it's in the mountains, to the southwest," Sinch said, scooping up vegetables with a slice of bread. "You told me they border Delford."

Yilon chewed a piece of fowl. "During the war, there was some fighting. But it's been peaceful since then. They send us berries and wine, and the mountains around the city have mines. Mostly silver and copper. It's been ruled by foxes for as long as anyone can remember."

"You'll be a good fit." Sinch grinned.

Yilon flicked an ear. "It's about a two-week trip."

At that, Sinch looked down and pushed his bread around his bowl. "You'll be gone for a month and a half."

"Maybe more," Yilon said. "I'm going to stop and see Mother on the way home."

"Oh." Sinch nibbled on his bread.

"Father and Streak are going to come down." Yilon broke off a piece of his own bread to scoop up bits of fowl and vegetable. "Do you think you could come down with them?"

"Maybe."

Yilon looked up at the mouse's drooping whiskers and lowered muzzle. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

Sinch turned from side to side, scanning the room. It was moderately crowded, but the only people near them were a pair of ragged-looking raccoons, absorbed in some discussion of their own. The noise level kept their conversation private: the general background chatter, the clank of plates and tankards, and the noise in the street outside, coming in through the open windows. His ears swiveled from side to side and then cupped forward toward Yilon. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Yilon pushed his bowl forward and licked his fingers before rubbing his muzzle fur clean with them. "All right, I'll see you when I get back here this winter, then."

Sinch smiled, but Yilon could tell it was forced. He pushed his bowl back as well, dropping the remainder of his bread into a napkin and folding it over.

Yilon emptied a silver coin into his paw. He turned it over, looking at it, and then left it on the table. "Ready to collect your winnings?"

"Sure," Sinch said again, with a little more enthusiasm. He waited until Yilon had stood to push back his own chair.

Divalia's streets bustled with activity at dusk. Day workers hurried home while the few nocturnals made their way down to the river docks and the King's Guard stations. Yilon slipped through the crowd with a fox's grace, Sinch following with practiced hops and darts. Even as they dodged around people, they were able to keep up a conversation.

"Mother's going to want to make you cakes," Sinch called around a portly beaver. He'd recovered some of his energy upon leaving the Cup and Crown.

Yilon licked his lips, already feeling hungry again. "I wonder how long they'll keep." He ducked behind a wolf and slipped between a pair of stags. Hopping over a pile of refuse at the side of the street, he turned down a less heavily traveled alley. Sinch followed.

"You can get food along the way, can't you?"

"Sure," Yilon said. "There's pubs and stuff. Maxon will know where to stop."

Sinch sniffed. "He doesn't look like he knows good food."

"I'll order him to find some."

They emerged into another crowded street. Yilon weaved across it to another alley, where he scaled a decrepit gate and dropped to the ground in a filthy garden. Sinch landed beside him a moment later. They crossed together, cut through the corner of the next yard, and opened the gate onto a garden as neatly kept as the others were overgrown. Herbs grew in rows along the edges, tiered with the largest bushes at the top, the green broken up with splashes of purple and red flowers. In the corners nearest the house, two small fruit trees rose. The tree on the left bore only leaves, but the stains and pits below it gave off a thick, sweet fragrance that reminded Yilon of the evenings he'd spent a few months before with Sinch sitting below it, popping cherries into their muzzles and tossing them at each other.

The other tree sagged under the weight of bright green apples, not yet ripe. Yilon's mouth watered at the memory of the sweet, crunchy fruit. He felt a wave of sadness that he would be missing the apple harvest this year. "Save me one, will you?" he said, pointing at the tree.

"Sure." Sinch walked in the back door ahead of Yilon, his tail dragging on the ground again.

Yilon followed him into a small, neat kitchen. Racks of dried herbs and fruits hanging from the ceiling filled the space with a delicious medley of scent that he'd never smelled elsewhere, even in the palace kitchens. The room was warm, as it always was; Yilon had never seen the stove cold.

Chiona, Sinch's mother, wasn't bent over the stove as they walked in. She was talking to a young badger, about twelve from the look of him, who was just her height. "Here," she was saying, "and tell your father he can make up the difference next week when he's feeling better."

She placed a cloth-wrapped package into the badger's paws, topping it with a small cake. "Thank you, miss!" the badger said.

"Off with you, now." She patted his shoulder as he left, then turned. "Good evening, boys. How was your day?"

"I won this time." Sinch stepped forward for a hug, and then dropped the leftover bread into her paw. "We ate at the Cup and Crown."

She lifted the bread to her nose, then took a nibble of it. "Good, reliable Jesse," she said, setting it on the counter beside the stove. "Nothing new with him." Yilon stepped forward, hugging the small mouse to his chest. She looked up at him as they drew apart. "But you, there's something new with you."

Yilon smiled down at her. "They're sending me away, finally."

She tilted her head, a small sparkle in her eyes behind her wire spectacles. "How nice of the old Lord to wait until you'd come of age. Consideration is not common among Lords."

"Tell me about it." He ducked his head, scratching behind one ear.

"Oh, you'll be different." She turned back to the stove, reaching into one of her cabinets. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't have compassion."

Yilon felt Sinch's paw at the base of his tail. He wagged it slowly. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

She pulled out two small sacks, smelling of flour and sugar. "I'll make you some cakes to take with you. Never know what you're going to find on the road. Let's see, you like cinnamon, right? And I can spare a little bit of this..." Her paws lifted a small pouch delicately from the spice rack.

Yilon leaned forward to sniff, but only caught a whiff of an exotic scent when she shooed him out. "Go on with you both. You'll smell when they're ready."

Sinch grabbed his paw and pulled. "Thanks!" Yilon waved, trotting after his friend. They mounted the narrow wooden staircase, boards creaking under their hind paws. Yilon kept one finger on the wall, tracing the pitted holes in the wood. Halfway up the first flight, he paused next to a small portrait of the family, Sinch's mother standing behind her three children.

His friend stopped patiently, tail flicking along the stair. Yilon smiled up. "Wonder if they'd let me make a copy to take to the court at Dewanne."

"You could take that one," Sinch said. "It is yours."

"No, it's yours. Maybe by the time I get back." Yilon patted Sinch's rump, starting the mouse on his way back up.

They passed the room his sisters shared, but even Yilon's ear caught no sound from inside. They were most likely still out at their jobs. Sinch's room, at the very top of the narrow house, was the smallest, but it was his alone, and it was this as much as his mother's affection and cooking that made Yilon's tail wag whenever he visited. He had to share a room with Volyan, in the servant's quarters of his father's chambers, which was awkward whenever Volyan brought back one of his conquests for the night. It was one of those nights that had prompted him to visit Sinch, at the mouse's urging.

The small room was almost as familiar to him as his own: the narrow bed of straw-stuffed cloth, the tiny table piled with tunics, the stool tucked neatly under it. With the door closed, there was barely room for the two of them to stand together on the floor. Which was okay, because they rarely stood together for longer than it took to rub the sides of their muzzles against each other.

Sinch sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall as Yilon closed the door. His tail flicked along the cloth. "You know, since it's your last night and all, if you don't want to..."

Yilon slid the lock across the door frame. When he turned, he knelt immediately in front of the mouse, his muzzle wide in a grin. "Why would I not want to?"

"Oh, I was just saying." Sinch closed his eyes as Yilon's paws tugged at the laces of his pants, slipping them apart easily.

"I lost fair and square," Yilon said. "So I go first." His paws pulled gently on the waist of the trousers, sliding them down Sinch's narrow, grey-furred thighs. He leaned forward, one paw holding the fringe of the mouse's tunic up while the other slipped along the white space between those thighs to cup the soft white sac. Sinch was already pretty hard, pink shaft showing above his white sheath, so Yilon got right to it, brushing his tongue up the sheath and then up the warm skin above it to the tip.

Sinch's narrow frame shuddered. He reached around to hold Yilon's arm, spreading his legs as much as the half-removed trousers would allow. Yilon closed his eyes, inhaling his friend's light scent. He settled himself on the floor more comfortably, resting both elbows on the mouse's thighs. With slow, even strokes, he licked up the warm hardness in front of him, brushing Sinch's tight white stomach with his other paw as he did.

When he felt Sinch squeeze his arm, he slid his lips around the mouse's erection, taking the narrow shaft completely in, rubbing his tongue against it the way Sinch liked. Yilon enjoyed the rhythms of pleasing his friend, the breathing getting harsher, the feel of the skin sliding through his lips, even the curl of Sinch's whiplike tail when it wound around his wrist, as it did now. He wasn't as fond of the taste of the climax (compared to his own, at least), but it certainly wasn't bad. Besides, the connection he felt would have been worth it even if it tasted like locusts.

This close to Sinch, he could really feel the mouse's warmth through his short fur. Yilon's thicker fur was cooler to the touch, but even at the skin, Sinch was always warm. On the nights when they'd begun sharing the small bed, Yilon usually ended up waking early from the heat. The mouse was, if anything, warmer during their intimate sessions. Now, sliding his muzzle up and down over an erection that felt as if it had been out in the sun for hours, Yilon tightened his paw and fancied he felt the shaft in his muzzle grow warmer still.

He slowed just a bit, just enough to prolong Sinch's trembling and soft squeaks, but it was already too late for him to stop. The squeaks grew louder, interspersed with ragged inhalations, until the mouse's hips bucked up against Yilon's muzzle, warmth splashing onto his tongue in time with Sinch's moans of pleasure.

Yilon held him, sucking gently as Sinch arched. He lowered his muzzle with his friend's hips when it was over, washing with his tongue until Sinch squirmed and moaned. Yilon lifted his muzzle and smiled up. "Good?"

Sinch didn't answer right away, panting. "Yes," he said. "I'll miss ya."

The words drove home to Yilon that this might be the last time he knelt here, in this small room at the top of the house. He looked away from the mouse's eyes and around to the warped wood walls, the neatly piled clothes, the window looking out onto the buildings across the street. It reminded him of his own room, the one he'd moved into when he turned ten. That room had a view of the gardens, and the city of Vinton beyond.

"Your turn." Sinch interrupted his reverie, sliding off the bed and patting the cloth. Yilon smiled and stood, gazing absently out the window at the street below before sitting down in the same position the mouse had just vacated. He didn't look down as Sinch reached up to his waist, even when he felt the mouse's nimble fingers at his pants laces.

Sinch's paw closed around his sheath, squeezing the softness. "You okay?"

At that, Yilon did look down along his slender muzzle at Sinch's anxious expression. "I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking."

"Don't think so much." Sinch smiled, trailing a finger up and down Yilon's sheath.

The fox drove the nebulous thoughts out of his head and focused on the light brushing, the tickling sensation in his fur. His sheath tingled, getting harder. "There you are," he said.

"Mmm. There you are." The fingers on his sheath met more resistance in their squeezing. Yilon spread his legs and leaned back, letting Sinch caress him to full hardness. As soon as he felt the opening of his sheath spread and cool air on his tip, he felt the mouse's fingers brushing his skin, and then it was much easier to relax and let himself feel the tingles building in his groin, the pressure in the swelling knot at the base of his shaft.

Sinch liked to use his paws first, before applying his tongue. He slid a paw up Yilon's sheath, ruffling the fur and then smoothing it down again. When he reached the top, he brushed a furry finger up the protruding shaft, then teased with a claw on the way down. The sharp touch made the fox shiver every time he felt it, made the fur on his arms lift in arousal and his fingertips twitch. His tail thumped against the bed.

"I like when your tail wags," Sinch said softly. He slid one paw under Yilon's sac, rubbing lightly there. His other paw stroked smoothly up and down Yilon's now-full erection, pausing to squeeze the tip between his fingers and thumb, then lowering to rest against the swollen knot. Yilon laid a hind paw against Sinch's thigh, his toes curling at the mounting arousal. Any moment now, Sinch would ask if he were close. His whiskers twitched. Not yet...not yet... Warm breath on his sheath. He heard Sinch inhale as the mouse's paw moved faster, building heat in his shaft, building pressure in his knot. Yilon's hips trembled. "Are you close?" Sinch asked.

"Yes," Yilon breathed. "Yes."

"Mmm." Warmth enveloped him. Sinch could never stop his front teeth from brushing skin, but Yilon liked that, and though he'd never said so, he suspected Sinch knew. He gasped at the press of the mouse's tongue along his tip. Even though it sometimes took him a while to bring himself to climax, depending on his state of mind, he never lasted long once he was in Sinch's muzzle. Tonight was no exception. With a panting moan, he arched his back away from the wall, his whole body tense in that moment before his passion crested. And then he sucked in his breath and moaned, convulsing and spurting out into the warm muzzle around him, over and over.

When he sagged back against the wall, Sinch lifted his head, rubbing a paw along his smile. "Nice," he said. He brushed a finger along Yilon's sheath. "You want a cloth?"

Yilon shook his head, still panting. "I'll be okay. Thanks."

His friend climbed up onto the bed and sat beside him, his pants at mid-thigh as well. He leaned against the fox and curled his thin tail over Yilon's bushy one. "When you're a Lord," he said a moment later, "will you have to stay in the palace all the time?"

Yilon turned his muzzle slowly. "Probably," he said. "But I'll have my own chambers. If there are any."

"There's empty ones on the first floor, by the Weasel Stair."

"I'd rather be on the third floor." He looked the mouse in the eye. "Wait, was that where you were hiding that one time?"

Sinch smiled. "No. I found those when I was wandering one day."

"I never noticed them."

The mouse traced paths through the red fur on Yilon's exposed thigh. "Going to stay here tonight?"

"Sure." Yilon said it without pausing to think.

"Your father won't be upset?"

Yilon shrugged. "You think your mother's done with the cakes?"

"She won't have started them baking yet," Sinch said, but he scooted away from Yilon and pulled his pants up.

He was right, as it turned out. Chiona was just mixing ingredients into a large bowl. Her nose twitched as they entered the kitchen. "Sinchon," she said, "would you taste this and see if there's anything you'd add to it? Yilon, come help me gather a couple things in the garden, be a dear?"

"Of course." Sinch took the bowl.

"Wash your paws first," his mother said. Sinch dipped his ears and gave Yilon an abashed grin, putting the bowl down again. Yilon lifted his own paws to his nose, trying to be nonchalant about it, and smelled mostly his own saliva and a bit of Sinch's musk. It wasn't too bad. Still, he wiped them self-consciously on his tunic as he followed Chiona outside.

"What are you collecting?" he asked her, but she motioned him to the far side of the garden, near the gate. The drone of locusts overwhelmed the sounds of the far-off busy street. Yilon's ears tracked them, in case one came close enough to grab.

"I just need some of these flowers," she said. She bent to pick small purple flowers from a large bush. "Hold out your paws."

He held them out, cupped together. One by one, she dropped the blossoms into them. "You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Day after." A small noise outside the gate, a scrape of claw on pavement, turned his ear. Someone passing by, he thought idly. Someone else who knows our shortcut.

She nodded. Three more blossoms fell into his paws. "I want you to take Sinchon with you."

He almost dropped the flowers. His ears swung around to face her full on. "What?"

"He has nobody else. He won't ask you for fear of troubling you. But he has no other friends, really."

The blossoms in his paw filled his nose with fragrance, sweet and delicate. "I know that, but I thought..."

Chiona moved to another section of the bush. When he didn't finish, she said, "You've always seemed older than him, more sure of your place in the world. Before you met him, he was quiet and shy, never told me where he was going. When he's with you, I don't worry."

Another noise behind the gate. Yilon had never stood here for this long, so he hadn't realized it was such a popular shortcut. "But he helps you in the kitchen. He can't leave his...his family."

"It's woman's work, what he does. And he has so little family as it is. Just me, and his sisters, when they're home." Her fingers worked dexterously to extract blossoms from the inside of the bush.

"He sees his father."

She turned from the bush to peer up at him. Her wise, dark eyes reminded him so much of Sinch's that even had he not known her, he would have known they were related. "In passing, in corridors and gardens. Not to come home to. Not to tell him when he's doing well, or keep him from doing ill."

"But there's you," he said.

"There is me," she agreed. "But I've taught him all I can. Bellia can help me in the kitchen. If Sinchon stays around here, he'll end up a cook or a kitchen boy."

"A cook is an honorable profession," Yilon began, but stopped when Chiona laughed.

"Rodenta bless you, my boy, I'm not ashamed of what I do. It's fine work, for a woman. But Sinchon can be more." She rested her paws on his, over top of the blossoms. "He's got much of his father in him, just as you have of yours."

"You know my father?"

She winked. "When I worked in the kitchens, he and that Lord Ikling were in there every morning to snatch a piece of bread or a small cake, seemed like. He always paid me compliments and asked after me. Not many Lords do that."

Yilon stared down at her silver-furred paws, covering the purple blossoms, with his black fingers beneath. "That's what people say."

She put a finger to his lips. It smelled of the warmth of her kitchen, the fragrance of the blossoms. "You're a good cub, honest and true. Sinchon needs more friends like you. Will you take him with you?"

Yilon pictured taking Sinch with him, thought about how good it would be to have a friend along, and then he heard another scraping, a little different this time. His ears flicked toward the gate. What if it wasn't just a busy road? When Chiona lowered her paw, he caught another scent, one stronger than it would've been if the person on the other side of the gate were just passing by. Rat, he could tell, but not much more.

He tipped the blossoms into Chiona's paws and put his finger to his lips. Quickly, he yanked the gate open, just in time to see a light brown rat tail disappearing over the fence into the adjacent garden. In a second, he was across the alley, leaping for the top of the fence. He hung there, looking into the garden on the other side. Nothing stirred among the few ragged flowers, the pile of garbage by the house, or the overgrown weeds. The wooden door into the house was shut tight.

He debated whether to jump into the garden. Locusts buzzed overhead, but no other sound reached him. The smell of garbage overwhelmed any traces the rat might have left. Besides that, he was starting to remember the arrow on the roof top, and realizing how exposed he was hanging on top of a fence in a back alley of Divalia. He dropped to the ground.

"Sorry," he said, returning to Chiona's yard and closing the door. She gave him a curious look from the same spot near the flowery bush. "Your garden's really nice."

"Sinchon and the girls help me with it." She tilted her head. "Are you in any sort of trouble?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I think someone was listening outside the gate."

She frowned. "Listening at my gate?"

Yilon flicked his ears. "I don't know. Maybe it's just a coincidence."

Sinchon called through the open door, "I think it's done, Ma."

They both turned toward the kitchen. Chiona looked up at Yilon. "Please," she said. "He won't ask you himself."

He nodded. "If I can."

"Thank you." She made her way along the little stone path back to the kitchen. Yilon followed, his mind awhirl with thoughts of Sinch coming with him, the arrow on the roof, and the rat in the alley. He was too distracted to talk much to Sinch, or his sisters when they arrived home a short time later. Finally, Chiona shooed them off to bed, fending off their motions toward the delicious-smelling pastries.

"The cakes will be done in the morning," she said. "And you both have a busy day tomorrow." Her brown eyes twinkled as she hustled them up the stairs.

"What did she mean, we have a busy day tomorrow?" Sinch closed the door behind them.

Yilon leaned against the wall beside the window, tail swishing behind him. "I was thinking," he said. "How would you like to come with me to Dewanne?"

Sinch gaped, his head tilting. "I...with you? But..." He glanced at his door, looking downward.

"Your mom..." Yilon stopped. "Um, I asked her already. That's what we were talking about in the garden," he said, inspired.

"She said yes?" Yilon nodded. Sinch paced toward the small table, where he set down a paw on his pile of clothes. "And...you want me to come?"

"Of course." Yilon smiled. "It'll be more fun that way."

"Really?"

Yilon sat on the bed. "Didn't I just say that?"

"Sorry." Sinch's face spread into a grin. "I'd love to." He took two steps to the bed and knelt astride one of Yilon's legs. His nose bounced an inch from the fox's.

Yilon grasped his friend's arms and pulled him down to the bed. "All right," he said. "Then let's get some sleep. We both have to pack tomorrow."

The bed was small, but they were used to fitting together on it. Yilon squeezed back against the wall, and Sinch squeezed back against him. It was crowded and warm, but this late in the summer, the night brought a cooling breeze in through the open window. Yilon was more comfortable in Sinch's bed than he'd ever been in his own bed at the palace.