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Helfer considered the fox. He knew he should've told Dewry everything to start with, but who would've thought that Dicker would walk back in on them? That's what he got for trying to keep things uncomplicated. "Why don't we go next door and see if we can track down Vin?" he said. "I'd rather get my own pants back, with my papers and all."

Dewry nodded. "I know Stark, and you've described Vin. Why don't you just wait here and I'll go over. Saves the trouble of explaining why you're not wearing any pants."

Helfer had to admit that sitting and relaxing sounded much more appealing than going back over to the brothel. "What if someone comes up here?"

Dewry shrugged. "Unless they're a fox, you're pretty good at hiding. And Blair doesn't employ any foxes."

"All right." Helfer waved to the door. "But hurry up."

Dewry waved and slipped out, so silently that if Helfer hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have known the fox had gone. He sighed and wandered over to the window, opening it.

Fresh air definitely helped. He leaned on the windowsill, watching the alley below and thinking about Dewry. It had been years since he'd thought about the fox, a realizations that made him feel vaguely guilty now. It wasn't as if they'd been the best of friends, but they'd certainly spent a good deal of time together. When Dewry had left--well, the kids in the royal tutoring often dropped out of classes or got taken back to their family seat for formal schooling. Helfer'd just assumed something like that had happened to Dewry and that he would hear eventually. When he hadn't, well, there had been a lot going on around that time of his life, and the fox had slipped his mind.

Of all the people to run into, though, he certainly hadn't expected to find him again here, in a seedy tavern in what Helfer was beginning to classify as one of the less desirable neighborhoods of Divalia. Though if Dewanne's marriage had effectively cut off his illegitimate son from access to the palace, Helfer could see how it wouldn't be a far reach to fall in with some unscrupulous people. If Helfer had been rudely deprived of all his comforts...

He stretched and grinned. He was a weasel, and he would've adapted to what was available or found something else to do. Dewry, though, seemed to regard his position as a birthright snatched unfairly from him. The fact that he was dressed as a noble would indicate that he'd been in or around the palace recently, or at least using his knowledge of palace life to gain access to places or merchandise he normally wouldn't have. And which others would pay for.

A mouse scurried down the alley, clutching something to his chest, and was gone. Helfer watched idly, and decided to let Dewry be. Whatever he was doing, he'd been mistreated enough in life, and he was smart enough not to do anything that would call undue attention to himself. As long as he got Helfer's pants and papers back, Helfer would be content to forget all he'd seen.

Something came shuffling along the corridor, loudly, accompanied by occasional squeals. "...can't imagine why you'd get me a bowl of peas when I specifically asked for beans," a deep voice rumbled.

Helfer shot a look at the door, then slid through the window and hung from the sill, feet scrabbling to find a hold. He heard the door open, the deep voice getting louder. "Now, let me show you what I mean when I ask for beans."

"I know!" Rikky's voice came high and breathy. "I was just, Dicker and that fox were in here with a weasel and I got dis--mmf!"

His words were cut off by a muffled rustling. "Those are beans," the deep voice said. A moment later, Helfer heard gasping and spitting.

"Yes, sir," Rikky said.

"Good," the bear said. "Now fetch a bowl and get back down before I do."

Helfer heard lumbering footsteps, and then the bear said, "Listen, you can't use our storeroom to meet. We got perfectly good tables downstairs."

Dewry's voice replied. "We don't plan to make a habit of it."

"See you don't."

The bear's heavy footsteps faded. Helfer listened while Rikky and Dewry said a couple words to each other. When the smaller fox departed, Dewry said, "Hef?" He was about to lift himself up through the window again when he saw a silhouette above him, a wolf's muzzle, and Stark leered down at him.

"He's out here, Dewry," he said. One large paw reached down towards Helfer's wrist.

Helfer jerked his paw away and teetered for a moment on the wall. Stark swiped further down and Helfer lost his balance completely. For a moment, air rushed around him as the lupine muzzle above him receded, and then the ground came up and met him.

The world exploded into stars. Stark's muzzle disappeared with the rest of it, but didn't return a moment later when his vision began to clear. He pushed himself off the ground painfully and looked up the wall to the empty window. It was really getting tiresome, he decided as he staggered down the alley without any sense of where to go, this life outside the palace.

"Helfer!"

He turned and saw in his still-shaky vision the small figure of Vin running toward him. He braced himself against the wall and waited.

"Listen," the other weasel said, "'bout what happened..."

Helfer pointed. "If those are my pants," he said, and Vin cut him off before he could finish.

"Yes, yes!" He thrust the bundle of cloth at Helfer excitedly, then grabbed at his wrist. "Can't stay here," he said. "It ain't safe. C'mon, I know a place."

"What do you mean, not safe?" Helfer really wanted to get his pants on, but he remembered Stark and eyed the kitchen door. "Right. Is this place better than the other ones you know?" he asked, following Vin down the alley and into a narrow space between two buildings.

"Sure, sure," Vin said. "Friend o' mine keeps a li'l fabric shop 'round 'ere. He's a weasel like us. Got a back room." He turned again, keeping Helfer behind him, and started counting doors.

Behind them, Helfer thought he heard Stark's voice echoing along the alley. He pressed a bit closer to the wall.

"This 'un!" Vin said triumphantly. He took a small piece of metal from his tunic and jiggled it in the lock. With a click, the door swung open.

"I didn't just see that," Helfer said, following Vin inside.

"Oh, c'mon," Vin said, "you seen worse, an' you wouldn't turn in ol' Vin anyway, wouldja?"

"Depends on whether these are really my pants," Helfer said as he sniffed around a room full of cotton and flax, bolts and scraps of dyed cloth, and some oiled wood. Vin closed the door and latched it, leaving them in semi-darkness.

"They are," Vin said. "Wouldn'ta said so otherwise."

Helfer thought he had never been so happy to put on pants, not since that time when he was sixteen and Lord Mikintine had walked in on him and Lord Mikintine the younger (a cute but dim mouse who had quickly been whisked off to the family seat to be buried in attractive female mice). He fastened the trousers around his waist, grateful for the warmth around his sheath and balls, which had been feeling decidedly chilly since the wolf had appeared at the window. Pulling the trousers tight, he found a lump in one pocket and pulled it out.

"You got my papers too."

"Not your purse, though." Vin's ears flattened. "Look, I'd no idear Stark was fixin' to do that. I ain't never had much t'do with him, jus' know his name, y'know, everyone knows his name."

"It's okay," Helfer said. "It's only money." He unfolded the pieces of parchment, but the light in the storeroom wasn't good enough for him to make out more than the title "Right Of Passage" and his name and title on the first one. On the second, he could read his name and title again, but the smaller, crabbed text that described him for the guards' benefit was illegible. The King's seal appeared to be genuine on both, but again, in the dim light, he couldn't verify it for sure. Apart from the text, though, the documents felt real, the weight and texture familiar as he held them, so he put them away, satisfied.

"Stark didn't want the papers," Vin said. "I dunno why. Must be plenty val'ble."

"I think I do," Helfer said. Of course Dewry must already have papers to access the palace. Stark wouldn't need another set, especially if he didn't know and trust any weasel close enough in description to take Helfer's place. Not to mention that he would have to get rid of Helfer if he did that.

"Oh?" Vin's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

Helfer shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I got them back, I can get back to the palace now."

"Right," Vin said. "I reckoned you might want to." When Helfer didn't respond, he went on. "Don't worry 'bout ol' Vin. 'E can avoid Stark, no problem. Got as many hidey-holes as I got hairs on me body."

Helfer leaned tiredly against a bolt of cloth. Taking Vin to the palace would be troublesome. There would be questions, especially because he, Helfer, would be responsible for whatever Vin did while in the palace. He wasn't sure he could trust the weasel in the midst of such opulence, and he wasn't up for watching him every minute of his visit. But on the other paw, Vin had always seemed fairly self-assured, and for him to be so worried about Stark that he was protesting that he wasn't worried made Helfer a little uneasy. He looked through the dimness at his fellow weasel, as his stomach growled. He realized he didn't have to come to a decision right away. But he really wanted to get back to the palace.

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