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"Right, then. Why don't you put that away, and I'll put this away, and we can both forget about sticking each other."

The fox laughed, a short, sharp bark, and lowered his knife. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Should I?" Helfer stared, his erection subsiding slowly.

"It's only fair," the fox said. "I didn't recognize you, at first. But how many oversexed weasels can there be in the nobility?"

"None," Helfer said. "I have precisely the amount of sex that Weasel bestowed upon me." He was aware that the tugging down of his tunic reduced the dignity of his words somewhat. Who was this fox, and why was he so familiar? The only foxes in the nobility that Helfer knew at all were Volle and... "Oh," he said, staring at the fox's muzzle. Yes, a little wider than Volle's, the ears shorter, the smile not as kind. He dredged up the name from his memories. "Dewry?"

"It has been five years," the fox said, "though you haven't changed all that much. Apart from having less pants than when I last saw you."

"You've grown," Helfer said. "Good Weasel, I thought something had happened to you."

The fox's muzzle twisted into a smile that didn't reach to his eyes. "Something did," he said. "My father married."

"Oh." Helfer's tunic kept him modest without any tugging now. He let his paws fall to his sides. "I can't believe I never made that connection."

Dewry shrugged. "It's not your life. Not like we were best of friends or anything."

Helfer looked the fox up and down again. "You've been keeping yourself well, it looks like."

"Starvation becomes me?"

"I didn't mean that." His gaze fell to the purse in Dewry's other paw. "I mean, you've got yourself a nice business going...or something."

The fox's ears came up again, that coiled alertness closer to the surface in his body language. "My father should be able to provide for me one way or another," he said. His paw didn't move toward the purse, but his fingers did twitch.

Helfer had more than a suspicion that stealing was involved. Did he want to ask more? After all, this was just politics, really, of a different sort than usual. While he was deciding, Dewry glanced once more down at his thighs. "Speaking of providing," he said with forced lightness, "is it the new fashion in the palace to go without trousers?"

"I would hate to see Ullik or Alacris if it were," Helfer said, and that brought a more genuine smile to the fox's muzzle.

"So what did happen to you?" he asked. His shoulders relaxed, and his ears cupped forward.

"That," Helfer said, "is rather a long story."

He told it anyway, in true Weasel fashion. He left out the bit with Dicker and Hensley, because he thought it might be a delicate subject considering the recent scene he'd overheard, but he made a great deal out of his sneaking around the palace. Dewry smirked at that, but when Helfer got to the point of the story where he couldn't avoid mentioning Stark, the tension in the fox's body returned. "Stark? You met Stark?"

"Well, more than just met," Helfer said. "I mean, he's the one who's still got my pants."

Dewry laughed. "Stark? I never knew...well, I suppose the subject never did come up."

"Who is he?"

The fox fingered the handle of his knife. "He's someone important."

"He's not a noble."

Dewry laughed, bitterly. "Not everyone who is important is a noble. Not all nobles are important." He gestured to himself.

Helfer scratched his muzzle. "Are you a noble?"

The fox's eyes met his. His body went very still. After a moment, he said, "I don't really know, Hef."

"Sorry." When they'd been cubs, sharing a tutor, they'd joked about it. It was clearly easier to joke about something you had than something you hadn't.

Dewry broke the silence. "So, in the name of our friendship, can I trust you not to mention this little meeting to anyone?"

Helfer looked again at the knife, then up at the fox. "It really doesn't seem quite weaselish enough for me," he said. "I'm inclined just to let it be, on one condition."

Dewry's ears flicked, eyes narrowing. "What condition?"

Helfer tugged his tunic down again. "Can you please help me get some pants?"

The fox laughed. "Done. Just let me--"

He stumbled forward as the door swung open behind him. A familiar snout poked through. "Hey," Dicker said, "what's takin' you..." He spotted Helfer. His mouth twisted into an ugly grimace as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "What's he doing here?"

Helfer saw Dewry's look of alarm. "I only just came in," he said. "Through the window. I, uh, lost my pants."

"So I see. Where's your little friend?"

Dewry turned to the rat. "You know him?"

"Not, like, know him, but sure, we met. He promised me a brandy."

"I haven't really had time to deliver it," Helfer pointed out.

Dicker looked down, fingers twitching as Dewry's had, but toward the pocket of his trousers, not his knife sheath. Dewry looked from Helfer to Dicker, then back to the weasel. "You left out that part of your story."

"You only asked what I'd been up to lately." Helfer watched Dewry carefully, willing him to understand that he didn't have any ulterior motive for not mentioning Dicker. "I didn't really have time to mention everything I've been doing."

"Story?" Dicker was looking a little more alert. "How long has he been 'ere? I only been gone a few minutes."

"I don't know," Dewry said. His paw had closed around his knife handle. "He may have heard something. He told me he didn't."

"I didn't," Helfer said, trying to keep his voice steady. They were between him and the door, and the window was still closed. "Really, you would not believe the day I've had. No weasel should have to endure it. I just want to get my pants and go home."

"We can't really do anything to 'im," Dicker said.

"What if he turns us in?" Dewry said.

Helfer folded his arms. "I don't even know what you two are talking about!"

"Hold up," Dicker said. "We could do somethin' to his little friend, eh?"

"What, Vin?" Helfer said. "If you find him, you could get my pants back."

"I thought you said Stark had your pants," Dewry said.

"Vin was with him," Helfer said.

Dicker shook his head. "I'm 'avin' some trouble followin' all this."

The door swung open again, letting a short fox into the room. He was only a little taller than Helfer, dressed in a pale green vest over a tunic, carrying a large wooden bowl. "Oh," he said, stopping in surprise as he saw the three already in the room. "Sorry. I just came up for some beans."

"Go 'head," Dicker said. The little fox walked across the room to one of the boxes and dipped the bowl into it, but all the while his eyes lingered on Helfer. Specifically, they lingered on the bottom of the weasel's tunic. Helfer shifted uncomfortably, especially when the fox seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to fill the bowl.

"All done there, Rikky?" Dewry asked.

"Oh! Sure." Rikky hefted the bowl and started to walk back slowly. "Say, if your friend needs a place to stay tonight..."

"Not our friend," Dicker said.

"...or for the next couple hours," Rikky said, without hesitation, "y'know, I have a little room..."

"Out," Dewry said. "You're as bad as he is." He ushered the little fox out and closed the door.

"I doubt he's that bad," Helfer said, trying to lighten the mood. "He's only a fox."

Dewry snorted. He leaned back against the door and took his knife out again. "Maybe you'd better tell us both why we should trust you."

"For Weasel's sake," Helfer said. "Aren't you listening? I don't care what you two are doing. I don't care why I keep running into you, or about anything else in this city except getting my pants and papers back and going home. I thought I would have a bit of fun with Vin and it's turned into this whole tiresome scene."

The fox and rat looked at each other. Dicker shrugged. "'Less we're prepared to dump him in the river, I don't see what choice we got. You trust him?"

Dewry tapped his knife against his claws. "No," he said, "but I know where to find him if he does betray us. And trust me," with that he looked down and smiled nastily, "if you do mention anything, I will find you before the Bashers find me."

"I believe you," Helfer said sincerely.

"Right. About those pants, then..."

Dicker inclined his muzzle. "What about pants?"

"I kinda need some," Helfer pointed out.

"I don't quite see 'ow that's my problem," Dicker said.

Dewry gestured with his knife toward the door. "I told him I'd help him. Go on, wait for me downstairs. Won't be a moment."

"Don't be long this time," Dicker said. He turned to Helfer. "Hope I don't see you again. No offense."

"I won't forget the brandy," Helfer said. Dicker grinned as he left, but Helfer thought from the scent that it wasn't a nice grin.

"Now," Dewry said, "I hope you don't prove me a liar. So what can I do to get you some pants?"

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