FSE

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Chapter 11

As they slunk through the palace corridors, an idea struck Orrin. "We should change into our finery. That hotel has some very high standards for perspective patrons. They won't let us within a mile of the place dressed like this."

"Good thinking. Tim dodged behind a statue to avoid a passing mouse. He lowered his voice to a serpentine hiss. "Go get changed. Meet me at the front gate. Hurry!"

Orrin nodded and high-tailed it back to his quarters.

Werill awaited in the sitting room. "Count Trivus has called on you, sir. Thrice."

"Count- oh bugger!" Orrin stripped off his commoner's attire, discarding each garment hastily to the floor. "Tell him I have very urgent business and am unable to make it." With the memory of Trivus, came another realization. "Werill, we've got quite a lot to discuss, but there simply isn't time. I will let Rowann fill you in. Please bring me a nice attire and a fresh coin purse. Make it a large one. I shall most certainly need it."

Werill disguised any curiosity he had with perfect professionalism. "Very well, sir. I just hope it is not something that goes against your orders."

"It's not." Orrin pondered the question some more. His orders were quite vague, and what he was about to do was definitely both in Aarya and Tilmar's best interests. Finn might not think so, but he would come to understand. "Now hurry!"

Werill bowed and retreated to his master's room. He returned with a fresh outfit and a look of total indifference.

Orrin accepted the clothes and hurried to enrobe, pausing only to transfer his newly-purchased lock picks into the waistcoat pocket. He worked deftly with each garment, remembering that a sloppy appearance at such a reputable hotel was not an option. Finally dressed and satisfied, the raccoon stole a peek into a nearby mirror, buckled on his rapier and hurried outside.

Expectedly, Tim was not there when Orrin arrived. Also expectedly, when the squirrel did show up, he looked more gaudy than usual, wearing a betasseled outfit of blue and red with a gold trim. "Oh, I did so miss proper clothing. Commoners must just be utterly miserable to dress so plainly all of their lives."

Orrin stifled a giggle with a quick bite of his tongue. "I am sure they are. Distraught, even."

"Just because you have no fashion sense, Lord Orrin, it is no excuse to berate those of us who do." Timmin turned with a huff, his tassels swinging merrily as he did.

The rebuttal coupled with the outfit made Orrin bite his tongue even harder. But the laughter still came. He followed behind the squirrel doing his best to apologize amidst loud guffaws. "Tim, I- hahahaha! I'm- hahahaha! I'm sorry, mate!"

Try as he evidently did, Tim couldn't stay sullen for long. For the second time that day, the pair walked along to the tune of their own laughter. That laughter ceased as the towers of Hotel Delate came into view. Orrin had heard much about it - a very exclusive establishment, housing only the wealthiest visitors. Anyone without a peerage or enough money to substitute for its lack was shown out immediately.

Orrin eyed the two towering wolves on guard at the door. "So... Plan?" He glanced warily at another pair of guards making their way on patrol around the building's perimeter. The first step seemed to be finding the guard chain's weakest link, but not one of those hulking behemoths looked even the very least bit weak.

Tim took the raccoon's paw. "Let's get a room for the night, shall we. We can speak more once we are inside." He pulled Orrin close into a passionate kiss. "They're watching."

Orrin played along with the kiss. He ran his paws down the squirrel's trim waist as Tim explored his muzzle with his tongue.

Finally, the squirrel broke up their embrace. "Yes, a room for the night sounds fantastic!" He sauntered merrily towards the front doors.

The wolves on post examined the new arrivals thoroughly before opening the doors with an elaborate bow. "Welcome, sirs!"

Orrin sighed with relief at another obstacle passed. He smiled at each of the wolves in turn and proceeded inside, paws linked with his compatriot.

A lithe weasel, dressed perhaps even more gaudily than Tim, who'd been flipping laggardly through a stack of papers behind the counter, dropped his work and dashed immediately over. "Good evening, my lords. My name is Derris. How may I be of help?" He bowed low - lower even than the most try-hard servants Orrin had ever seen.

The raccoon produced his coin purse and looked, puzzled, in Tim's direction. "We would like a room for the night, please. Err..."

Finally, Tim picked up the conversation. "Yes, we would. Is there anything available on the third floor?" He leaned in close, almost touching the weasel's ear with his short muzzle as he spoke. "Something nice and even, y'know. Lots of threes and even. Three hundred and six, three hundred and twelve, three hundred and eighteen, maybe?"

Derris smiled without the slightest hint of confusion, clearly quite used to strange and eccentric requests. "I'm afraid none of the latter rooms you've mentioned exist, sir - three hundred and ten is the last room on the third floor. However, room three hundred and six is currently available."

"Oh, that would be marvelous!" Tim embraced the weasel with a sob of relief. "I have a very complex relationship with numbers, you see. Some of them do tend to scare me. Thirteen, for example." He shivered violently at the word. "Disgusting! Uneven, ugly, filthy number!"

Derris nodded, keeping whatever judgements he no doubt had perfectly concealed. "Oh, completely understood, sir. We shall put you up in room three hundred and six for the night." He graced the pair with another elaborate bow. "Please accompany me to the counter, and we shall take care of the paperwork and get Your Excellencies on your way to some restful sleep."

Tim stifled a cough. "Oh, I don't know how much sleep we will be getting tonight, but thank you." He winked at Orrin.

Derris giggled. "Oh, completely understood, Your Lordship. Shall I have a flask of oil sent up?"

"Yes, please do." Tim snaked an arm around Orrin's waist. "And we are not to be disturbed at any point thereafter, of course."

"But of course." Derris let the giggles be the last of his unprofessional behavior. His expression returned to one of someone perfectly stoic, and he resumed his place behind the counter. "Now, let's see, room three hundred and- oh my." His eyes widened ever so slightly, but to the point where Orrin was sure something was wrong. "Excuse me for a moment, won't you, sirs." With a swift bow, he shut the ledger and padded over to another weasel who stood at the far end of the counter. The two held a brief whispered conversation, and Derris soon returned. "My Lords, I regret to inform you that room three hundred and six was just lent to a gentleotter some several minutes ago. Ordinarily, I would move him, but he's err... Waiting for someone. He said the arrangements have been already made. I do apologize." He straightened the papers on the counter with a polite cough. "I can still put you into room three hundred, if you would like. Nice and even but with the number three in it."

Tim had been quite an actor that night, but his disappointment was entirely real. "Ah. Well, this is certainly unfortunate. Yes, very unfortunate. But very well. I suppose three hundred will have to do." He plopped his loaded coin purse onto the counter with a weary sigh. "Please make the necessary arrangements."

"Absolutely, Your Lordship." Derris snatched the purse with all the speed of someone all too familiar with how quickly fickle lords change their minds. He pulled open the drawstring and counted out the necessary payment. "There you are, sirs. Would you like one key or two?"

Tim shrugged. "One-"

"Two, please." Orrin gave his companion a gentle nudge. Slowly, a plan had been coming into fruition in his fertile mind. Finally, it all clicked.

Derris nodded and reached underneath the counter, producing two identical keys. "Here you are. Enjoy your stay."

Tim thanked him and collected the keys. His eyes lingered briefly on Orrin. "Thank you Derris." He tossed the weasel several gold coins and pocketed the keys. "Let's adjourn." He spoke no more until the two of them were well out of earshot of any potential snoops. "I should guess that you have a plan, then?"

"Hopefully." Orrin let the nervous clump at the pit of his stomach settle down before resuming. "We need that otter's room, that much is clear. And I think I know how we might acquire it."

"Aye, get in quietly and pick the lock." Tim rolled up his sleeve and removed one of the betties from its purchase within the vembrance. "Yes, that will certainly be easy enough. I am far more worried about what will happen once we are inside." They ascended three flights of stairs, all clad in rich crimson velour and trimmed with gold.

Orrin mulled over the idea some more. "Well, we will just have to wait until that otter falls asleep. Then, it's all about keeping things quiet. You wouldn't happen to have any sleeping draught with you, would you? I-" He'd been paying so much attention to the squirrel that the way ahead lay completely unnoticed. With an 'Umph!' Orrin bumped into another squirrel. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright." The chap was dressed a good deal below the unspoken cutoff for hotel standards. His clothes were quite form-fitting too.

But none of those factors perturbed Orrin quite as much as a certain familiarity of face and scent. The raccoon racked his memory for where he could possibly have seen this particular squirrel before. And then it hit him. "Sorry, you wouldn't happen to be from the Silk Peony, would you?" He caught up with the squirrel just one door down from room three hundred and six.

"I would, yes." The squirrel bowed. "Min, at your service." His eyes explored Orrin's form without bothering to hide even the smallest smidgen of their lust. "If you would like, sir, I would be more than happy to render you my services some other day. He flashed Orrin an adorable, buck toothed grin and turned back towards the door.

"Hang on." The raccoon placed a paw on Min's shoulder. "Ten gold if you leave right now and go have a good time somewhere in town. He stammered. "I- I- would like to visit you tomorrow... Err... Fresh."

"Ten gold?" The squirrel's eyes lit up with a greedy and gleeful fire. "Hmm, I think I can make the exception." He ran a paw down Orrin's taut stomach. "Yes, I definitely can. I shall have to find a replacement from the peony, then. Count Muss does not like to be kept waiting."

"Don't worry about that." Orrin winked at Tim, whose eyes showed, at last, that he'd gotten the plan. "We shall take care of that. I know someone. Now go. I shall pay you a visit tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" Min pecked the raccoon on the cheek and danced off towards the stairs.

Orrin watched him disappear from sight, and then turned to Tim. "Well, there's our entrance. Assuming this Count of ours has never seen you before."

"No, I have quite a good memory, especially when it comes to names. This must be one of those visiting peers. Probably here on business." Tim's breeches were already giving away the extent of his excitement. "Oh, now THIS is just the sort of spying I had in mind! Hope that Count Muss is a looker... Or at least big enough to give me a good time." He shivered. "Alright, time to play.

Orrin grabbed the squirrel's paw and pulled. "Not quite yet. Not dressed like this." He led Tim to their room for the night and shut the door. "There is bound to be a nightgown in the powder room. Change into that. Once you have done so, you will need to distract Muss long enough for me to run to Gerdill's and pick up some sort of sleeping powder."

"No need." Tim stripped alluringly out of his finery and dug through his coin purse. He opened its false bottom and produced a bottle of white powder. "Just a few grains into any liquid, and our lutrine friend will be sleeping like a dead one 'til morning. You just leave that to me. I AM a spy, after all." He padded into the powder room and reemerged some moments later clad in a luxuriant silk bathrobe. "Now, lets figure out what you are going to be doing."

"Pretty simple." Orrin chuckled dryly. "Well, the plan is simple. Executing it will be anything but. "I climb to room four hundred and six, unlatch the window, climb in, blackjack any guards and grab our new friend. Then - goodness, I do hope he is light - I lower him into our otter's room. We can change him into one of Muss's outfits and hopefully walk him out."

"Sounds alright to me." Tim tied the nightgown sash and straightened out the smooth, flowing fabric. "If we do this quickly enough, no one will notice." He spoke affirmatively, but his eyes betrayed the building nervousness. "But I will say this, it won't be easy. Best of luck, Orrin." He walked across the room and embraced his friend. This one was neither a passionate nor raunchy embrace - it was the embrace of two close friends on the edge of something dangerous.

Orrin returned this embrace wholeheartedly. "We'll be alright, you'll see. A few months from now, we will look back at all of this and laugh at how exciting it all was."

"I'd like that, yes." The squirrel kept both arms wrapped tightly around his companion. "Sounds good to me." He broke free of his daze and parted the embrace. "Alright, time to go to work. Once I am inside, get into the corridor and wait for me to open the door. Shouldn't be too long. Lets hope this count drinks before sex. Although..." His eyes turned wide and dreamy as the bulge in his pants grew even more. "I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of tussling fun."

"Oh, get on with it!" Orrin pushed the squirrel towards the door. "And remember what you're there for."

"Right, of course." Tim reached for the knob and pulled open the door, revealing a very startled Derris.

"My lords, I've brought the flask of oil you have requested."

"Ah, right." Orrin grabbed the flask and tossed the weasel another gold coin. "Thank you so much." He slammed the door and turned to Tim, his voice louder than usual. "Now, where were we?"

Tim leaned his ear against the door. "Aaaaaaaaaaand he's gone." He opened the door once more and stepped out. "And I'm gone as well. Give me about fifteen minutes and then follow suit."

"Yes sir!" Orrin winked. "Go work your magic." He closed the door quietly and leaned against it, listening to the squirrel's gentle footsteps against the marble floor.

A few moments later, Tim spoke. "Good evening, your excellency."

A soft, almost feminine voice responded. "Ah, hello there. You must be my friend for the night."

"That is correct, sir. Shall we have a glass of wine before we begin?"

"Certainly, yes. That is a wonderful way to start the night."

The door shut, and the corridor fell into silence once more.

Orrin waited in this silence until minutes began to feel like hours. He rested his back against the door and prepared mentally for the task ahead. Climb one floor - that was easy. But the raccoon felt at nothing less than a loss for what came after. That fear sped time right back up, and Orrin soon judged it right to return to the hallway.

He watched the door of room three hundred and six intently until it finally creaked open. A sigh of relief came when Tim's muzzle poked out. "Hurry!"

Orrin rushed over and stepped inside. The otter lay sprawled naked on the bed, snoring, a merry grin across his short muzzle.

Tim giggled sheepishly. "I managed to get a bit of fun in before he passed out. But how could I resist? That one is fairly good looking, you must admit."

"Orrin patted the squirrel affectionately on the shoulder. "I will take your word for it." He limbered up and unlatched the window. The third floor was quite high up, but that only made the raccoon smile. "Too high for street lamps. Should be easy. Lets hope our rat friend is not too heavy."

"Shouldn't be." Tim leaned over the window sill and craned his neck to see up to the fourth floor. "Lots of decorative bits and bobs to hang onto."

"Kind of do wish I had bought that climbing rope. Too late now, though." An idea struck, and Orrin retired briefly to the powder room, where he coated his paws in talcum. With each successive preparation, his heart beat faster. He'd done climbs that made this one seem like a walk in the park, but rarely did so much depend on the success of a single climb. The fate of nations hung in the balance. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it." Tim gave the raccoon's bottom a hearty spank. "Work well, don't take unnecessary risks. This whole operation is risky enough." His smile softened. "You can do it, Or."

Orrin nodded and swung nimbly over the ledge. Tim was right - the preponderance of decorative ledges and other such items made the climb much easier. Orrin also took a moment to silently thank the squirrel for choosing a room below the target rather one floor above. A climb up with a body slung over his shoulder would have been far from pleasant. Hardly had the thought elapsed, and the raccoon found himself hanging off the window ledge of room four hundred and six. He pulled himself up with a heave and peeked inside. As his eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom and the little ambient light that actually made it into the room, Orrin smiled. Whether they had lapsed in judgement or because they did not expect anyone to come in through the window, there was not a single guard in the room. Its only occupant was the familiar assassin, dressed in finery and passed out on the four poster bed.

Orrin withheld the smile of glee, however. Some inner voice told him that things were not quite right.

A whisper reached him just over the night breeze. "Or, trouble." Tim cupped both paws around his muzzle. "Just took a look downstairs. Quite a few of our agents nipping around down there. Leading the rat out like that won't work. Get him up to the roof. I'll change and meet you up there."

Orrin nodded and looked back into the room. He dodged his head underneath the window sill in the nick of time.

Finn stood facing the window. "Get him into walking shape and into my carriage. Time for that interrogation." He turned back towards the room and watched as two wolves got the rat upright and marched him out of the room. With one last look about the chamber, the squirrel also hurried out, slamming the door in his wake.

Orrin cursed under his breath and climbed back to Tim's room. "They got him."

"Damn." Tim pulled on the nightgown. "Well, now I understand why there were so many of ours in the lobby. I-"

A knock interrupted his answer. "Lord Timmin?"

Tim bit his lip. "Finn. Hurry. Climb out. I'll stall him. Follow that carriage. Whatever you do, do not lose it!"

Orrin nodded and clambered back out. He hung deftly from the window sill and listened.

"Timmin, what in King's name are you doing here?"

"Having sex. Well, was. I'm not now, obviously. How about you, sir?"

"We were... Never mind. Do you just have sex with everyone?"

"No, not everyone, sir."

"Very well. carry on, I suppose. Is Lord Orrin around?"

"No, he left about a half hour ago. He has a date."

"I admire his fidelity."

"As do I, sir. Good night."

"Indeed."

The door slammed and Tim hurried over to the window sill. "Follow that carriage. I will try and catch up."

"Done." Orrin climbed another floor lower and took a look around. Thankfully, only one carriage stood before the hotel entrance. Two familiar wolves emerged from the double doors, loosely leading the assassin in front of them while Finn brought up the rear. One by one, they climbed into the carriage.

Finn gave the driver whispered orders, and the brougham clattered off down the street.

A fresh burst of excitement flooded Orrin's veins. The young raccoon edged his way along the building's facade and then leapt onto the adjoining edifice. He sprinted along the edge, following the brougham and its progress. Fortunately, driving through the city at anything faster than a mild trot was impossible. The carriage rode lazily along the main and then turned a corner.

Orrin trailed it without pause. The adrenaline kept him sharp and the world in full focus. His mark turned several more such corners before finally slowing to a stop in front of a rickety boarding house some dozen blocks from Hotel Delate. Those pawful of blocks were sufficient, however, to turn the opulent palace district into a slum.

The carriage door opened. And Finn emerged. He padded up the porch stairs and knocked upon the door in a strange but steady rhythm. A similar knock answered, and the door inched open with a creak. A weasel poked his snout through the crack between the door and its post. "Bring him?"

"Aye." Finn turned to the carriage and nodded.

On his signal, the assassin was marched out, once again looking groggy. He allowed himself to be led into the building before the door slammed shut.

A tap on his shoulder made Orrin's weary heart beat staccato again.

"Jumpy, are we?" Tim gave his friend a buck-toothed grin. "Found some clothes among that otter's possessions of a similar size to mine. What about you? What have you found?"

"Only what you see for yourself." Orrin sighed and looked down at the door again. "A guarded building, and our friend is probably in the basement."

"Yes, waltzing on in there is not an option, that much is certain." Tim handed the raccoon a white mask made, no doubt, from the hotel nightgown. "Put one of these on. just in case." He tied his own around his eyes and looked about once more. "Hmm... Well, we can at least get in on one of the top floors and explore." He winked and swung over the ledge.

Orrin followed. They entered the house from the third floor.

Tim glanced about the room. "Oh my, this is a strange boarding house, certainly."

All around, crates and casks were piled. The squirrel pried one of them open with his dagger. "Lamp oil. Enough to flood a large lake, by the looks of it."

Orrin sniffed the viscous liquid. "Yes, it certainly is. Must be some sort of contraband house. This is Aaryan lamp oil, by the looks of it."

"You know your lamp oil, my stripe-tailed friend." Tim sealed the cask shut. And that certainly explains the entire lack of light in the vicinity. One spark and-" he clapped his paws together and rubbed them with glee. "Well, there's our answer. We may not be able to come in, but we can certainly get our friends to come out."

"And they will no doubt have our assassin friend bound to some torture rack." The knot in Orrin's stomach loosened as the sheer hopelessness gave way to even this slightest possibility. "Let's hope they're cowardly enough to run and save their own fur before looking after that rat."

"I'm sure they will be. And then, they will claim that they were able to get nothing out of him and simply left him to die. Grab a barrel." Tim hefted a cask over his shoulder." Keeping these upstairs will not do nearly as much damage as if we'd spread them around a bit. Let's do this: I'll take care of the spreading, and you leak a bit of oil around to give the fire a nice path to follow."

"Alright." Orrin borrowed the squirrel's knife and used it to make a small hole in his barrel. "Ready." He padded after Tim, leaving a trail of oil in their wake. As the squirrel stacked barrel after barrel in each successive room, Orrin made sure to connect them all with a greasy web criss-crossing the floor. They made it through all three floors in record time and approached the basement. The pair of black wolves stood posted by the door, as expected. Tim and Orrin went as far as they could with their respective jobs, making sure to leave a nice path free of oil for the escapees to follow, and reconvened upstairs.

The squirrel wiped his brow with a sigh. "Let's hope this is the last bit of manual labor I have to do for a while. What next?"

"Well, that basement must have a window, right?" Orrin swished the last dregs of oil around his cask. "You start the fire, and I will stand by. Once our friends flee, I will climb in and grab the rat.

"I can do that." Tim produced a block of flint from his pocket and unsheathed a dagger. "I will count to one hundred and let this off. Get as far away as you can. Let's try to reconvene at Gerdill's bakery."

"If I can still remember how to get there." Orrin did not trouble himself much with those details. The first thing on his mind was simply getting away from the inferno. He was never afraid of fire, but dying trapped inside of a burning building was not an attractive way to go.

The two friends shared another hug, and Orrin sprinted noiselessly down the stairs, careful to avoid the oil. He left the house through the back door and circled around to a tiny window that looked into the basement.

Inside, by lamp light, three spies gathered around a torture rack. Two cranked the gears while Finn led the interrogation. "Let's try this again. Who sent you?"

The rat remained silent, a look of total defiance playing on his tired features.

With a nod from Finn, the rack was tightened some more.

But the rat only grunted and spat in the squirrel's direction.

"That rack is getting ever tighter, my friend." Finn ran a paw along the taut ropes. He let one twang with a dull note reverberating in the air. "I shall have to start with pulling out your claws next. You should really think about whether or not you value your worthless operation enough to keep your silence. They are not coming for you. They don't even know where you are. They-"

"Fire!" The two guards who'd been posted by the door ran inside, both panicked and jittery. "The whole building has gone up!"

Finn's eyes widened. "Blast! I told you to not smoke tobacco in here!" He cursed loudly. "Alright, get out! All of you, leave!"

The two guards ran out without a second glance, but the weasel and mouse accompanying Finn remained. "Hold on, we just need to untie him."

"No, leave him!" Finn ran for the door. "No time. There is nothing we can get out of him. Let the fire take him instead."

Alone, the weasel and mouse stood for a few uncertain moments more before sharing a silent nod and sprinting to the exit.

Orrin waited for the door to slam and then smashed the tiny window. It was a tough fit, but the raccoon managed to squeeze himself inside, only grazing his large tail against the shards of broken glass that still hung from the frame. He lowered himself to the floor and ran across the room

Already, the fire was licking at the wooden door, and smoke spread in black plumes beneath it. The rat struggled valiantly against his bindings, but the torture rack was not one to give easily. The creature tugged and pulled at his restraints, eyes staring at the fast approaching death.

His sense of smell was quite dead by that point, no doubt, because Orrin's approach caused the rat to start. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm here to save you." Orrin sliced neatly through the leather straps with his rapier and helped the rat to his paws. "Can you walk?" The answer was not the least encouraging.

Hardly had the rat put his full weight on his feet than he collapsed to the floor. "The drugs they gave me," he wheezed. "Not worn off yet."

Don't worry. "Orrin hefted the prostrate form across his shoulders and ran for the window. The rat was a good deal heavier than his scrawny frame suggested. Orrin grasped him with both paws and pushed, trying to get the barely conscious assassin out through the tiny basement window.

The smoke, meanwhile, grew thicker. It had crept all around the raccoon and rose higher and higher. Orrin took one last breath of fresh air and redoubled his efforts. Finally, the rat's torso made it out.

"Crawl." Orrin spoke with gasps, trying to waste as little as possible of his precious last breath. "Hurry."

Tears rushed from his eyes as the oily smoke stung and clawed.

"Hang on, mate." Tim's voice brought fresh life into Orrin's tired body.

The rat was pulled bodily upwards, and the way was finally clear. Orrin flexed his legs for one final jump and pushed off. He gripped the ledge, blinded entirely by the smoke. "Tim?"

"Gotcha!" The squirrel helped him through the tiny window. "Come on, mate. Best make a break for it. That fire isn't exactly unnoticeable. The street's already crawling. Only a matter of time before someone finds us."

Orrin turned to the rat. "Go on, lead the way. We wish to see your master."

The assassin stared long and hard at the raccoon before giving his nod. "Fine. I suppose I owe you that much for saving me." With Orrin and Tim helping him walk, the rat guided the way to a small building across town to an unassuming edifice. It must have been a blacksmith's shop in its time, but that time was long ago.

The rat knocked thrice upon the door and then thrice more.

"Yes?" The voice behind the door was surprisingly gentle. But after his last run-in with a female assassin, Orrin knew that it didn't mean much.

The rat gave his followers one last glance of doubt. "The sky burns green."

Three locks clicked, and the door creaked slowly open. A masked female rat stood in the threshold, her dagger drawn. "Oss, who are they?"

Oss shook his head. "It's alright, Sara, they saved my life. They wish to see the master. Our law permits me to break one rule if my life is owed. I shall take them to see him."

Sara swept back with a quiet nod. "Upstairs." She let the trio in and closed the door.

"Come." Oss ascended the stairs without a backwards glance.

Orrin followed, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness of the strange abode. Not a candle nor lamp were lit. The assassins lived in darkness. It made sense, of course. They worked in darkness as well. Light had become the enemy.

The second floor of the building was just as dark as the first, bathed in the sweet sent of burning incense.

Oss padded down the corridor, stopping by the second door on the left. He knocked. "Master?"

"Enter." The voice, dry and frail, sounded just as old and decrepit as the door behind which it originated.

Oss pushed the door open. "After you."

Orrin and Tim stepped through.

Before them, on a rush mat, sat an ancient rat. The silver of his fur shone even through the very thorough fur dye job. His drooping whiskers and jowls were even more apparent. "Ah, Lords Timmin and Orrin. To what do I owe this surprise visit? I am sure my son had very good reason to bring you."

Orrin stepped forward. "We pulled Oss out of a burning building. Figured you owe us some information after that."

"You?!" The rat's stoic voice rose along with his bushy eyebrows. "I cannot believe it. And let me guess, you were the ones who set the fire as well."

Orrin nodded. "We heard Oss was in trouble, so we figured we'd pull him out."

"That fire was not yours to set, Lord Orrin." The rat returned to his calm demeanor with a sigh. "This was our rescue operation. We even provided the oil." He shook his head mournfully. "But you have beaten my child to it, I see. No matter. What is this information you have come to seek?"

"We wish to know who hired you to kill the Royal Lord Secretary." Orrin watched the rat's every movement.

"Ah, that." The rat looked away. "I cannot tell you. We are sworn to protect the identities of our clients. Their names never leave the Fold."

The answer had seemed so near, so certain, that its absence robbed Orrin of breath. "But you owe us!"

"Yes, but much like with gold, favors come in amounts. The favor I owe you is worth nowhere near that."

Tim touched the raccoon's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Fine. Is there anything we can do to persuade you to part with this information?"

"Perhaps." The rat smoothed over his long, gray whiskers, his eyes growing sharp. "We could make a deal."

Tim nodded. "Go on."

"As you have probably seen, our guild has grown quite small of late." He gestured towards his son. "That is why we went to such lengths to save Oss. But contracts are piling up, and there just aren't enough of us to complete them. In the eyes of some, we are becoming selective. But others are beginning to see through to the core - we are no longer this shadowy cabal with infinite reach and numbers. Assuaging those suspicions is critical to maintaining our stature. That is where you two come in. You shall help us by hitting some of our outstanding contracts. Three, to be exact. Complete these jobs, and I shall consider you in the Fold. And those in the Fold are privy to our secrets - including the names of all contracts. I would not normally recruit like this, but you two have already seen far too much. Your only other option is to die."

Tim guffawed. "Well, there's one way to make your proposition more attractive. I suppose there really isn't any reason to even give you our answer at this point. Can we at least have your name?"

"My name is Milarn." The rat smiled. "And I could never have gotten to where I am today without my incredible persuasion skills." He rose. "Welcome to the Fold. I needn't tell you that any divulgence of what you have learnt here today to anyone outside the Fold spells death. Come see me tomorrow after sunset. Your work begins then. For now, leave us."

Orrin stifled a yawn. "At least it isn't tonight." The adrenaline had drained slowly from his veins, taking the spry energy along with it. All the raccoon wanted then was to lie down somewhere even moderately comfortable and sleep through what was left of the night and most of the day. "Goodbye, then." He followed Tim into the stairwell and shut the door.

The squirrel halted his friend with a silent wave of his paw, canting his ears back towards the door from which they'd just emerged.

Orrin did the same.

They listened to Milarn's whispered reprimands "First, you fail your assignment and get caught. Now, you bring these strangers to our home?!"

Oss matched his master's tone. "Father, I did not fail. The last key provided did not fit. The client tried to double-cross us, it seems."

"But of course." Milarn stifled a low growl. "That slime. The death he truly needed has been done, and his lies about the King got you imprisoned so he could cut a deal with us. I shall have words with him tomorrow." The floor creaked as the ancient rat stood.

Orrin gasped and pulled the squirrel along. Together, the two spies hurried to leave the assassins' nest and found their way home.

Tim stopped by his door and turned, breaking the silence that had followed them through the city streets. "Well, it looks like I was too hasty to disprove my theory. They are after the King after all. We shall need to keep alert for any signs of another assassination attempt. But that will come later." He surveyed the raccoon's features. "Orrin, I know you're not a killer, but we will get through this. You have my word. I won't let anything happen to you."

Orrin stood swaying groggily. The warmth of Tim's words made him smile more broadly than he had all day. "Thank you." He embraced the squirrel, and the two parted for the night.

Chapter 12

The dreams receded, and Orrin came awake with the late morning sun shining intrusively over his eyelids. His one plan for the day was to not leave bed, however. "Werill!"

The door opened and Werill padded softly in, as if he'd been waiting just outside the entire time. "Sir, the higher ups are looking for an explanation. We haven't got a complete picture for what transpired last night, but we suspect that fire was not an accident."

"No, it wasn't." Orrin yawned, cracking his jaw. "But it was necessary." He recounted the night's events in detail, watching the servant for any reactive emotion.

But Werill remained stoic. "And asking Finn to give up the prisoner was not an option?"

"No." Orrin tried not to picture what the squirrel would do next, or how much he would go through to find the prisoner. "We had no time for any of that. We needed that rat in exchange for information. Finn might have resisted. And if he did, he would know we were coming and double his defenses. We would never have succeeded then. Besides, this made things look more natural."

"I suppose you are right." A thin smile hovered over Werill's muzzle. "Interestingly enough, Finn has not mentioned his involvement in the fire. Either he has something bigger cooking, or he is far too ashamed of his blunder and cowardice. I will let you know if that changes. Mind you, despite working alongside his ring, we owe them nothing in terms of honesty. As such, denial is the best policy, if any inquiries are made."

"I like that plan." Orrin yawned once more and collapsed back into bed. "Anything on the agenda for the day? I would like to relax as much as possible to be awake tonight."

"Well, Count Trivus was quite disappointed that you were unable to meet him last night. He has already called on you this morning to see if you were feeling well." Werill met his master's gaze. "You should go see him. You've not been as attached to him as you should be. Not your fault, of course, but he needs to be kept track of, and you are by and far the best candidate for the job."

"You're right." Orrin hopped out of bed. Get the powder bath ready. I will go see him immediately." Whatever grogginess he had a few minutes ago was gone. The raccoon followed his servant to the powder bath and cleaned up as quickly as he could. He let Werill help him into a freshly-starched outfit of blue and hurried to Trivus's quarters.

The fox was taking tea in his sitting room when Orrin arrived. He all but forgot about any of that the moment he saw Orrin. "Hello there!"

Orrin padded across the room and embraced Trivus, feeling the warmth of his fur and the delicate scent. The fox's innocent affection gave Orrin a hard twinge of guilt, but he reminded himself of the job. There was no time for guilt. "I am so sorry I missed dinner. How about-" he remembered the coming night's endeavor. "How about we spend the day together? Unless you are busy, that is." He looked away, trying to mimic the fox's adorable aura of shyness.

Trivus answered with a great deal of reluctance. "Well, I was supposed to go and investigate a certain occurrence, a fire on the other side of town. We received a tip that it might be related to the spy activity at the palace... But I suppose it can wait a day. If there is anything left in those ruins, it isn't going anywhere."

Orrin lit instantly up. "Great! What shall we do?"

"How about a nice trip out into the bay?" Trivus swelled proudly. "I've been learning how to sail. I have a boat in the harbor. Maybe we can take some food along and spend the day exploring."

"What a marvelous idea!" A brief flash of fear passed through Orrin's body. "I'd never been sailing. Never been to the ocean at all, in fact." And for good reason. Fortunately, the thought of spending the day with the fox was enough to make Orrin overlook his immense phobia of large bodies of water.

Trivus needed no second bidding. He grabbed the raccoon's paw and pulled him briskly along. "Come, then! We've much to do!" He led the way to the kitchens, where he had the cooks prepare a large box of food and supplies. Under Trivus's instructions, a pair of servants took the box down to the carriage loading area. There, the Count's personal growler was summoned. It was a gilded affair. "A gift from His Majesty." The fox patted the carriage proudly. "Quite luxurious."

"Yes, it very much is." Orrin opened the door and gave the fox a teasing peck on the muzzle. "Shall we?"

Trivus climbed in quickly after, and the carriage clattered off towards the harbor.

Orrin settled back in his seat. "So, how goes the investigation, Count? Any signs of that spy?"

"None." Trivus sulked his head with a resigned sigh. "I've probed around, I've listened. Nothing. There have been a few events we could attribute to the spy - that fire, for instance - but they could just as well have been someone else's doing." His credulous green eyes met Orrin's. "I feel like I can trust you. But promise me what I say will not be heard outside of this carriage.

Orrin held his right paw aloft. "I promise."

"Very well." No second thoughts, no questioning. "The Secretary did not die of natural causes, Lord Orrin. He was murdered."

Orrin feigned every droplet of shock he could muster, careful not to overdo it. "Goodness!"

"It gets ever stranger." The fox looked nervously about, as if the carriage walls themselves had ears. "I am certain it was an inside job."

There was no need to feign surprise. Orrin gasped. "Why do you think that?"

"The Secretary's window was locked from the inside, the bars were still in place. The same goes for all of the other windows of the King's Chambers. Whoever did this, had to have entered and left through the door, and that means going into the palace. As you may well imagine, this makes me incredibly nervous. This assassin could very well be among the palace denizens as we speak. We haven't the faintest clue who it is."

"Could you conduct questioning?" Orrin wasn't sure if he should be helping, but the fox's earnest demeanor made him want to at least try.

"Oh, heavens no!" Trivus threw up his paws, as if the raccoon's suggestion was about to be carried out right then and there. "We must make the killer think he got away with it. If they flee - that is, if they haven't fled already - we lose all hope of catching them." He collapsed back against his seat. "Honestly, I am losing hope. A small lead here, a maybe there. Perhaps I am not cut out for this, after all."

"Nonsense!" Orrin smiled as encouragingly as he could being one of the very targets the fox was after. "You were brought here for a reason!"

"I was brought here because I am the King's nephew." Trivus focused his gaze upon the carriage floor, no doubt blushing hard beneath his auburn fur. "I may be fairly intelligent and a capable fighter, but spy hunting was my uncle's idea. He said I'd be amazing, a natural... and I just fear I will prove him wrong."

At last, Orrin understood the reason for the fox's innocence and naïveté. Trivus was not the fearsome professional he'd been expecting. The fox was as new to this game as he was. Something about it touched the raccoon even more. All of his superiors knew of Orrin's inexperience. With Trivus, everyone expected true greatness.

His logical side, however, told Orrin to be happy. With someone so novice squaring off against him, things were truly looking up. And so, the raccoon smiled and continued his smalltalk.

Their carriage passed through the harbor gates within some twenty minutes of setting off.

Trivus drew the window shade and pointed towards another, even more imposing set of gates. "That's the Royal Harbor. Heavily guarded day and night from the scum who usually dwell around here."

The driver guided their carriage in that direction, stopping as a towering bear approached them. "Papers, please."

Trivus produced both his palace certification and the rights to his ship. "Here you are."

Between the gilded growler and her well-dressed occupants, the bear barely looked at the papers. "Please, proceed." He returned the documents and gave the gate guard a wave.

The massive, steel-reinforced doors opened, and the carriage drove quickly inside. The entire atmosphere changed. The ships were all top of the line, and the jetties were made of granite and polished to a dull sheen, much like many of the palace floors.

They stopped by a sleek, twin-masted craft and disembarked.

Two otter sailors appeared as if having lain in wait. They unloaded the supplies and marched them aboard the ship.

Her captain, a stout beaver in white uniform, waddled importantly down the gangplank and shook paws with Trivus. "Your Excellence, we are ready to set sail."

"Fantastic, Captain Tam!" Trivus clapped the beaver warmly on the back. "We shall be boarding shortly."

Orrin marveled at the endless efficiency. "You never have to wait for anything if you have a royal title, do you?"

Trivus shrugged. "Usually not, I suppose. But we've typically many other problems to tend to. Anyway, welcome aboard the Ocean Star!" He stood neatly aside to let the raccoon admire the ship.

Orrin knew little of sailing, so he merely smiled. "Looks great!" He kept his eyes on the ship, on Trivus - anywhere but the churning water.

The fox stood expectantly, watching his friend. He cleared his throat. "After you."

"Oh, thank you." The gangplank was nearly twice as wide as he was, but that gave Orrin little comfort. The sea still moved beneath it. An infinite mass of water, shifting and turning beneath his paws.

"Is something wrong, Orrin? Orrin?" It took several cautious taps of the shoulder for Trivus to get his friend's attention.

Orrin recovered as quickly as he could and shook off the drowsiness. "Everything is fine." He focused his gaze on the main mast and padded quickly up the gangplank. Once aboard, the raccoon willed himself to relax. There was a large and sturdy ship between him and the depths. This was no true comfort, but it sufficed.

Trivus shot his friend occasional looks of concern, but he never broached the subject.

Four more otters emerged from the hold. They scaled the masts and lowered the sails. The ship swayed in silence before a powerful gust of wind blew through the sails and pushed her along.

Orrin grabbed the deck rail and held gamely on, as if he were hanging from some window ledge a hundred floors above the ground.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Trivus put his arm around the raccoon's waist and drew him close.

The warmth and comforting presence served to soothe Orrin slightly more. He returned the affectionate gesture. Somehow, holding the fox felt safer than holding on to the ship. And so the raccoon did. He even gathered up the courage to watch the ocean, its picturesque blue waters trimmed with cresting white rollers. "Yes. Yes, it is beautiful."

The ship sailed smoothly clear of the harbor under her captain's watchful guidance. The beaver tied down the helm and stepped down to the main deck. "Where to, sir?"

Trivus scanned the water, squinting at the sun and its reflection. "There seems to be some sort of island over in that direction. Can we visit?"

At that, the beaver turned distinctly twitchy. "Err... I would not advise that, sir. He pointed to the jutting landmass with a shaky webbed paw. "That there is a known smugglers' haul. They aren't always around, but it would truly be testing fortune's good graces to venture there."

"Oh my." Trivus rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, let's at least sail close by and watch it from afar. "What do you say, Lord Orrin?"

Orrin sighed with relief. "Yes, let's do that." Strangely, it was not the island that scared him, but having to row over on a tiny dinghy, always a mere second or two from flipping over.

"So, it is settled. We sail by the island." The captain saluted. "Consider it done, sir." He cupped both paws around his stubby muzzle. "You heard the Count, lads! Set course for the Isle of Streri'id!"

A chorus of ayes followed, and the crew sprung into motion. They turned sails with almost mechanical precision to catch the wind, and guided the ship on a friendly breeze towards the small island.

Upon his request, Trivus took the helm. He barked out commands with no less fervor or professionalism than the captain, and the crew always followed them precisely. Captain Tam may have been the one in charge, but the fox was the one paying the gold that kept them all fed.

By the mid afternoon, the Ocean Star had drawn a good ways from her point of origin. The island ahead grew bigger and soon covered most of the view ahead.

With Trivus nearby, Orrin had relaxed almost entirely. He stayed near the fox, his paw resting on Trivus's waist. For the first time ever the endless ocean didn't look all that threatening.

"Ship ahoy!" The cry rang high above their heads. "Port bow. Coming in fast!"

Orrin turned with everyone else and watched the caravel approach. The raccoon did not know much about seafaring, but he knew the Jolly Roger when he saw one. The fear of the sea flooded back. He was in the middle of the ocean with a corsair ship closing in. "What do we do?"

Around him, the deck erupted in commotion. Sailors ran to and fro, trimming sails and trying to get the ship turned around.

Trivus leaned upon the port railing, his spyglass drawn. "Looks like they are well-armed. Lets hope this means they're slow."

The captain sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid they aren't. Just look at how fast she's coming. We can try and run, but we are unlikely to make it very far."

Trivus folded his glass shut with an angry click. "We must try!"

Another shrill cry rang overhead. "They ain't after us, Captain! They're running. Navy frigate. Port bow!"

Again the group turned to watch. What had been a barely-noticeable speck on the horizon turned out to be a large vessel - this one flying the colors of Llyra's Royal Navy. Due to its size its going was markedly slower; but the corsairs knew, no doubt, that if they were caught, the fight would be incredibly short. Their cannon were limited and likely of far shorter range. Orrin's eyes widened. "Hostages."

Trivus turned. "What's that?"

"The corsairs want to take us hostage." Orrin watched the caravel close its distance. "It will be their only protection from the navy."

Tam slapped his own forehead. "Of course! And we are flying peerage colors, too. This is like an open invitation for them." Again, he cupped both paws around his muzzle. "All sails, lads! But keep your weapons at paw. This may come down to a fight."

The otters each checked their cutlasses and daggers before resuming work.

But their efforts were not to be rewarded. Within minutes, the corsairs had pulled up alongside the Ocean Star. Her cannon trained upon the royal ship's port side, and a low bass boomed from the deck. "Prepare to be boarded. Resist and we sink you. We have no time for games or any sort of slowdown.

Boarding hooks whizzed across the water, each one biting into the Ocean Star's wooden railing. When all eight were secure, a group of wolves and cougars shimmied across. They drew their cutlasses and pointed them at the crew. "Weapons down"

Tam sighed. "They've got cannon, lads. Do as you're told."

The otters dropped their weapons and raised their paws aloft.

Another cougar, this one over a head taller than the rest, boarded the Ocean Star. "I am sure you are aware of what we are about to do. You will be the bargaining chip to ensure that frigate lets us sail away unharmed. Tie them up!"

With a nod to their leader, four of the corsairs produced ropes, with which they bound the crew and then Trivus and Orrin.

The raccoon didn't struggle. His only solace was not having been sunk and forced to stay afloat in the ocean. "Let's hope these negotiations are quick."

Trivus kept his gaze on the bandit leader. "These pirates need to be captured."

Orrin spun to face the fox. "And you are willing to sacrifice our lives for this?" He thought of more to say, but fear took over, and the raccoon returned to silently assuring himself that things would be over quickly.

"We will find some way out, I'm sure." Trivus smiled encouragingly.

They sat and waited in silence until the navy ship caught up. Her captain, a portly wolf who was the sort to wear all of his medals on routine patrols, strolled out onto the deck. "Surrender yourselves, scum! What cargo do you carry?"

The cougar spat into the water. "None of your business, mutt. And you won't find out, either. Because either you let us sail, or we start taking the hostages and throwing them overboard one by one. Those who can swim well, we'll weigh down with something. And there are at least two peers aboard!"

The wolf squinted at the ship's crew. "You are bluffing."

"Am I?" The cougar grabbed Orrin roughly by the scruff and dragged the raccoon to his feet. "Here's one. Tell him your name, mate!" He pulled Orrin to the railing and held him over the side.

Orrin averted his eyes from the churning, dark waters below. "Lord Orrin of Vintaa." He tried to sound brave, but his phobia robbed him of all ability to do so.

The wolf shrugged. "We do not negotiate with pirates. Surrender now. You've no chance at escape."

"Sorry, mate." The cougar's amber eyes met Orrin's. "Nothing personal, but we have to let him know we mean business. We'll use your fox friend to bargain once you are gone." He sighed and shoved Orrin over the side.

Chapter 13

Ever since he'd first learned to climb, Orrin loved falling. The rush of wind and sheer, untempered excitement was a thing unparalleled. Even when the landing was tricky, it didn't matter. For those fleeting moments, he felt free. Falling into a dark and endless ocean, however, was an entirely different experience. The feeling of freedom and flight was surrendered entirely to a blinding fear. Before the raccoon could even say a prayer to the gods in whom he hardly believed, he hit the water with a splash. The cold and darkness consumed him. He tried to kick and stay afloat, but his soggy clothes and heavy tail pulled him down while the ropes held his paws and feet firmly. The water's surface drew further away, and every struggle only seemed to expedite the doom. His lungs burned, and every impulse turned to one: breathe. Breathe.

Orrin allowed his eyes to close and opened his muzzle. It was time.

But he did not get the chance to breathe out. A powerful pair of paws seized him and pulled him upwards. At that point, Orrin didn't care who his rescuer was. The sea would not claim him that day, and that was all that mattered. Still, the raccoon chanced a look up.

Trivus had both paws wrapped tightly around the raccoon as he kicked forcefully upwards. A thin streak of crimson wafted like red smoke from his shoulder. Despite the overwhelming odds, the fox had risked his life to save him.

Orrin smiled.

When the water's surface was within grasp, Trivus sunk below Orrin and pushed the raccoon upwards. Orrin surfaced with a gasp, sucking greedily at the fresh air, heedless of the smell of fish that lingered all about. Trivus broke the surface behind him. "Got you." He took Orrin in his arms and kicked slowly towards the Ocean Star.

"What happened over there?" Orrin craned his neck around in an effort to see the ship.

Trivus chuckled. "Your cougar friend was so busy with you that he didn't notice me get loose. I got Captain Tam untied, fought the cougar down and got him lying at swordpoint. Then I dove after you."

Orrin smiled at such a fortuitous turn of events. "What about your shoulder?"

"Just a scratch, really. That cougar certainly wasn't going down without putting up a fight. Come on, let's get you aboard." He swam up to a rope ladder lowered over the edge and then stripped the cords that bound Orrin's wrists and ankles. "After you."

"Thanks." Orrin climbed faster than he ever had before, glad to finally be free from the water's clutches.

On board the ship, the tide had turned dramatically. The corsairs sat bound in the deck, with the otters and Captain Tam now in the role of guards.

The beaver saluted Trivus as the fox approached. "That was some incredibly impressive swordplay, Your Excellence. We owe you our lives."

Trivus patted the captain's shoulder. "No trouble at all. What contraband did they find aboard their ship?"

Tam looked towards the corsair vessel, now crawling with soldiers. "Nothing. So far, anyway. They will take it into port and search more thoroughly, but at first glance, the thing is clean. Not like that cougar will be getting away scot-free. He'll probably hang."

"Good riddance." Trivus turned to Orrin. "Looks like we will have to cut our trip short. My apologies."

"Oh, it's quite alright." Orrin stripped off his shirt and wrung it dry. "Are we free to sail?"

Tam nodded. "Aye, and we will set off immediately."

Trivus put an arm around the raccoon. "Let's go into the cabin and find you something to wear.

"Yes, please!" Orrin felt quite alright without a shirt, but removing the wet breeches that clung heavy to his fur was beyond even his loosened sense of modesty. He walked alongside the fox towards the ship's cabin.

Once they were safely inside with the door shut, Trivus turned towards the raccoon once more. "You do not like the ocean much, do you? Even before almost drowning, I mean."

Orrin thought the phobia over. "You know, I'm not quite as afraid as I used to be.

Trivus elevated an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

Orrin put his arms around the fox and drew him close. "Because I know you will be here to protect me." No seduction, no ulterior motives. For once, he meant every word.

Trivus sniffled and tenderly kissed the raccoon's neck. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." They shared the warm embrace, neither willing to let go.

A barely audible rustle made Orrin turn. "What was that?"

"Oh, you're hearing things." Trivus put a finger to his muzzle and pointed towards the bed. Rapier drawn, he padded silently to the bed and swept aside the sheets with a flourish. "Don't move!"

Orrin squinted into the darkness, but the corsairs he had been expecting weren't there. Instead, a pair of otters cowered pitifully in the corner. The raccoon sighed with relief. "You may come out. We will not harm you." He placed a paw upon the basket of Trivus's rapier.

Slowly, the two otters emerged. They were almost a head shorter than Orrin. One clutched a sleeping cub in her arms. "Please don't turn us into the authorities, sir."

She drew her shawl tighter around herself, while the male lay a comforting paw on her shoulder. He sighed. "Our fate is in your paws.

Trivus sheathed his sword. "How did you get here?"

He padded to the dining table and pulled a chair. "Please, sit."

The otter sat down obediently. The male sighed once more and began his story. "We are refugees from Aarya. There was a coup there, and anyone even remotely related to the king was slaughtered. I am not sure if it has been quelled, but one thing is certain: we escaped by the fur on our claws."

Orrin sat across from him. "And what relation have you to the King?"

The otter straightened proudly. "I am Dardell, Duke of Aarya. Although, not anymore, I suppose. We bought passage with that smuggler. When we heard the commotion, we climbed out of the ship and sneaked aboard yours. Had we stayed with the smuggler, our fate would have been certain. This was our only chance."

Trivus smiled. "Well then, we shall take you to the King. I am sure he will be happy to assist."

The otter shook his head vigorously in protest. "You mustn't, sir. The Aaryans have spies and agents everywhere. They probably have orders to kill. No, we shall disappear and live among the streets until such a time that we might return home. It may not be in my lifetime, but young Samrin might live to one day take back his rightful title." He smiled proudly at the little cub, still fast asleep in his blanket.

"So be it, then." Trivus extended his paw. "We shall drop you off in port with some gold, and fairest of fortunes to you. No one will know of your being here."

Dardell spoke through sobs and happy tears. "Oh, thank you, sir. We are indeed saved!" He embraced his wife and their cub. "I told you we would make it somehow."

Orrin watched them, a broad smile on his muzzle and a pleasant warmth in his chest. They had truly done something wonderful. That cub deserved far better than what he had. Maybe one day, he would have it.

Trivus, meanwhile, crossed to a wall safe and deftly unlocked it. "There is close to a thousand gold here, all yours. Be sure to spend it wisely."

"We will, sir. Thank you!" Dardell accepted the gold with a grateful bow. We truly are forever in your debt. I

am not sure how we could ever repay you, but if we ever can, know that we will."

"You are compassionate." Trivus smiled. "I know you would have done the same for Lord Orrin or myself. Now, help yourselves to any of the food in the larder. We should be landing shortly." With that, the fox busied himself selecting an outfit for Orrin. He managed to find a set of silk shorts and a shirt of a fitting size. "Try them on."

While the otter family busied themselves with sharing probably their first decent meal in weeks, Orrin stripped off his salt-saturated clothes and slipped on the ones Trivus had provided. "Oh, much better. Although, I could certainly go for a good bath after this."

"You and I both." Trivus ran his claws through a patch of russet fur on his arm, now matted and crusty from the excess salt.

"Oh my goodness, your arm!" Orrin hurried to look at the fox's wound.

Trivus merely shrugged it off. "A scratch, as I said. And I think the salt helped." He unbuttoned his shirt and gingerly removed it.

The wound, indeed, was quite shallow. Orrin dabbed it carefully with his old shirt. "Yes, dried blood, mostly."

"Told you I'd live." Trivus smiled gallantly and gave the raccoon's nose a teasing lick.

With a fresh set of clothes each, the pair joined their impromptu guests for dinner. Thankfully, the cooks had been overzealous when they packed, and everyone ate their fill. Outside, the sun hovered precariously over the horizon and then slowly sank.

A timid knock sounded upon the cabin door. "Captain Tam, here. We have landed."

Trivus rose from the table and wiped his muzzle in a napkin. "Please, come in, Captain."

The door opened, and the beaver waddled in. His eyes fixated immediately upon the family of otters. "Guests?"

Trivus met his eye and nodded. "Guests. See to it that they get into town safely, as a favor to me."

"Of course, sir." The beaver bowed. "You saved our lives out there today. I could do nothing less." He extended his paw. "Please, follow me. We will go in my private carriage and drop you off anywhere you like."

The otters rose and followed. On the threshold, Dardell turned around one last time. "Thank you. For everything. Fairest of fortune to you both. If we are ever in a position to do anything to help you, you've only to ask." His eyes shone with a brilliant light of hope. He smiled and walked off to join his family.

Orrin couldn't help but also smile, as he watched the otter go. "We did a good thing today."

"We sure did." Trivus walked up behind the raccoon and snaked his arms around him. "Let's hope they make it."

Orrin nodded. "Let's."

They disembarked soon after and boarded the waiting carriage.

With the harbor behind them, Orrin lowered the window shades. "That's about a twenty minute ride ahead of us, right?"

"Approximately, y-" Trivus didn't get to finish.

The raccoon settled himself upon the fox's lap and kissed him deeply on the muzzle. The logical side of him wrote it off to seduction, but Orrin knew better. As he snaked his paws down Trivus's muscular back, he was certain that there was not another place in the world where he would rather have been.

Trivus had likely shared that sentiment. He pulled the raccoon close and leaned deeper into the kiss. All of his shyness vanished in a trice, and the fox displayed for his lover every ounce of passion that coursed so strongly throughout his body. His maleness rubbed hard against Orrin's bottom, each bump in the road eliciting a throb and a quiet moan from the fox.

Orrin wanted to ask if his lover had brought any oil. He wanted to joke about the bumpy carriage ride. Instead, he just held on. Trivus's selflessness - his willingness to jump into the roaring waters without another thought - made the raccoon's chest burn with a pleasant fire. The guilt he had felt about leading the fox on had vanished; because at that moment, Orrin knew he felt the same. All of the potential repercussions and consequences tried to force their way in, but it was easy to push them back and ignore them. They were all maybes and possibles. What he had now was definite, and the raccoon knew he was willing to fight for it, to the last, if need be.

In his lover's arms, the carriage ride passed far too quickly. But when the brougham stopped, Orrin knew it was time to put this life on pause. "I must go. Much to do tonight." Lying hurt. "Tim has some crazy scheme cooked up for us." His arms lingered around the fox. "But maybe we can meet up for breakfast tomorrow. I want to see you again as soon as I can."

Trivus licked the raccoon's nose, his eyes brimming with a soft, happy glow. "And we shall do just that. You have made me boundlessly happy today, Orrin."

"Trust me," Orrin gave his lover one last kiss, "I've made myself very happy as well." With a sigh of sheerest reluctance, he parted the embrace and climbed out of the carriage.

Tim was already waiting outside. "Oh, thank goodness. I'd hoped you hadn't forgotten. I-" Upon seeing Trivus emerge from the carriage, he trailed off and quickly switched to a different topic. "Go change. You look frightful. But hurry. I'll wait out here."

"Alright, I'll be quick." Orrin cast one more eye towards Trivus before setting off to his quarters.

Werill waited patiently in the sitting room, his master's clothes already set out on a nearby divan. He rose when Orrin entered. "Good afternoon, Your Lordship. I trust your day was productive."

"You could say that." Orrin told him briefly of Trivus's confession and their capture by corsairs - he kept his promise, however, leaving the Duke and his family firmly out of the picture.

Despite his stoic facade, a small smile broke through. Werill nodded. "That is some discovery, indeed. And it certainly does well explain why we had so little intelligence on Count Trivus. He was not important enough to keep track of before. Despite all of this, you have seen how bold and cunning that fox is. None of what you have said is cause enough to dismiss him as harmless."

"You're right, of course." Orrin disrobed and slicked down his matted fur as well as he could. "But all of this does demonstrate how enraptured with me that fox must be. This is not something he shares lightly, I would wager."

Werill helped his master into the close-fitting waistcoat of a dark blue. "I would wager this much as well, sir. Your infiltration technique is truly improving by leaps and bounds. And now, you are in a most advantageous position. Use it, if you must. As heartless as it may seem, the affection of others is a fantastic tool."

"Yes, I suppose it is." And Orrin swore then to never use this fantastic tool on the fox, not even if there was absolutely no other way. There were things in life not worth a victory. The raccoon buttoned up his waistcoat, accepted a pair of daggers from his servant, and took a few moments to apply scent muter to his fur. "Assassination, eh? Feels strange. I may have signed on easily to the whole spy thing, but I'd only done so because I wanted a reprieve from the boredom of the palace. The life of a spy felt strange and possibly deadly, but it had a romantic side which intoxicated me. But killing... It still feels strange."

"I know, Your Lordship, but that is the sacrifice one must make to get the job done." He gave the young raccoon's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "And I am always here, if you wish to talk. I must say I'm immensely proud of all that you have accomplished so far. I have a son of my own - he lives with his uncle in the city - and if he turns out anything like you, I will be the happiest father alive."

"Thank you, Werill." Orrin smiled and embraced his servant warmly. "I've never really had a father, but your words mean much. As with Trivus, parting the embrace was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was time. "Wish me luck, Werill."

"Good luck." The raccoon stood obediently by the door and watched his master depart. "Remember that taking a life is not the only way to complete the assassination. All you need is a swatch of their blood and for the target to never be seen by the contractor again." He winked. "But you are inventive enough to have figured that out for yourself."

"Maybe." The idea was an interesting one, but a single doubt kept it from being soothing. "What if they watch us to make sure we do the job properly?"

"That is a risk." Werill sighed. "I wish I could say something, anything, to make life simpler, Your Lordship. It is with a heavy heart that I drugged you when we first met. I knew you would be starting a strange, new stage of life, and that it was in no small part my fault.

"You were only following orders." Orrin put on the most encouraging smile he could muster.

"A coward's excuse. Your Lordship, if you are ever given orders with which you disagree strongly enough, know that the choice to act is always yours."

"Thank you, Werill." With one last nod, Orrin hurried to meet up with Tim and begin his queer new escapade.

Chapter 14

He found the squirrel pacing back and forth by the main palace doors. "Finally! Let's hurry! Don't want to keep our new employers waiting."

"Yeah, you're right." Orrin hurried after the squirrel, following the bushy, red tail through the winding city streets.

Like a true pathfinder, Tim led them to the correct address in record time. He knocked tentatively upon the door. "Let's hope they let us in without that ridiculous code. I've completely forgotten it. Something about green skies."

Fortunately, the assassins had been watching. With a click and a creak, the door opened. Oss stood on the doorstep. "We had begun to think you weren't going to show. Cold paws and all."

"Not us." Tim winked. "I'm always game for getting my paws dirty. Lead the way."

Oss shrugged and ascended the stairs, taking less care than usual, as each decrepit step creaked and groaned beneath his weight. He led them to the same room as last time. In fact it appeared as if neither the room nor its solitary occupant had changed or even moved since their last visit.

Milarn sat silently upon his rush mat, watching the new arrivals. "You're late."

"No, we are not." Tim faced the rat with a twinkle in his eye. "You said to come after sunset. You never mentioned how soon after. Next time you try and chide us for something, do your preparation work better. Savvy?"

The rat's gaze hardened, but he did not rise to the cheeky challenger. "Let us hope you are this assertive when it comes to killing." He reached into one of the cavernous pockets of his robe and produced a scroll. "Here is your first mark."

Orrin accepted the faded parchment and unrolled it. Inside was a detailed rendition of a weasel and a small patch of fur. "Wait a minute, is that-"

"Dill, yes. He is no mere guildmember thief, as he had no doubt told you. In fact, he is the current captain of the Thieves' Guild here in Llyra." Milarn's expression remained unmoving. "But as our contractor has told us, this one has become a dishonest thief. He takes uneven cuts and provides the best jobs to his friends. Someone in the Guild wants him gone. He can be found spending the nights in a lavish flat on the wealthy side of town. Sara will guide you there." He let out a piercing, bird like whistle.

The female rat Orrin had seen lurking around the building appeared. She bowed. "Master."

Milarn motioned for her to stand. "Before your assignment today, Sara, you shall take these two and point out the residence of Dill."

Sara bowed once more. "With pleasure, Master." She spoke without the slightest attempt at eye contact. "Follow me. Hurry."

Orrin did, but Tim paused at the threshold. "The pay had better be good."

"It will be." Milarn rose and shut the door behind them.

Sara exited the building through a rear door and broke into a steady jog without ever bothering to check if the other two had followed. She traveled via roof and alleyway, never once emerging into the street. Finally, she stopped by a gaudy edifice, whose rear alley was cleaner and better kept than most homes' facades. She pointed to a window on the top floor. "Up there. At least, that is what my intel has told me. If he is not, find him."

Orrin turned to say thanks, but the assassin had already vanished. He shrugged. "Well, they seem to have been telling the truth. This flat is certainly far too opulent for a so-called honest thief." He giggled at the queer combination of words. "I cannot say I am surprised that Dill has turned out like this."

"Yes, I suppose. He was certainly far from honest." Tim padded closer to the wall and examined it for climbing surfaces. "And the lights are out, so perhaps he is sleeping."

Orrin adjusted the daggers in his belt. "Too easy?"

"Far too easy." Tim limbered up and hopped onto the wall, hanging first from a door frame and then from the windowsill above. "I am betting that this is a test. They know we can climb, but they still need proof that we can kill."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Orrin followed the squirrel's example. His climbing ability was certainly not something the assassins needed to worry about. In less than the space of a minute, both he and Timmin were already on the last floor. In several seconds more, they stood inside a gorgeously-decorated room that would have been entirely fitting as something adjacent to the King's own chamber of the Royal Palace.

Tim placed a cautionary finger to his muzzle and pointed towards the bed.

Orrin nodded. He'd already seen the sleeping weasel, but just as Tim had said before, it was all too easy. Perhaps this was indeed merely a test to see if the pair had what it took to kill in cold blood. The raccoon watched Dill's chest rise and fall in a quiet, steady rhythm. "I- I don't know if I- I mean, if I hadn't seen him alive, spoken to him. I just-"

"I'll do it." Tim shrugged and drew a dagger. Like a wraith, he approached the bed without a sound and slew the target without pause. He wiped the dagger's edge upon a white 'kerchief and slipped the deadly weapon back into its sheath. "There."

Orrin saw no excitement in his eyes, just the hardness that came with knowing he'd done what he had to.

The raccoon drew the weasel's blanket over his head and padded back to the window. "That's that, I suppose." He looked at the roof of the adjacent house just in time to see a shadow vanish behind the facade's decorative trim. "You were right, Tim. Sara was watching."

"Well, she has seen what she needed to, then." Tim pocketed the bloodied 'kerchief. "Let's get out of here and see what the next job is. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can stop feeling like a monster again."

Orrin sighed. "I'm sorry you had to do it. I will do the next one."

Tim gave the raccoon a warm smile. "One of us had to do it. If I can't feel good about the killing, at least I can feel good for having kept blood off your paws." He swung himself over the windowsill and vanished from sight.

The climb down was even faster than the climb up had been. This time Tim was the one to release his grip and fall the final story, landing in a crouch on the street below.

Orrin chose to climb the rest of the way, his mind still processing the moral ground of what they had just done. He soon joined the squirrel, but the pair were not alone for long.

Sara materialized from a shadow behind them and approached. "Not bad. You slew him coldly and professionally. I will take that 'kerchief to Master." She extended her paw expectantly. "Come back tomorrow for payment and information on your next target."

Timmin tossed her the bloodied fabric. "All yours. Good bye." He and Orrin walked out into the street, leaving the rat standing by herself in the alley.

Neither of the two friends spoke the entire way home. The death, though seemingly insignificant and of a person who'd probably done more than his share of damage to the world, was still a death.

The wolf at the gate gave the pair only a cursory glance as they passed. "Evening, Lord Timmin."

The squirrel waved halfheartedly. "Same to you, Barris." His eyelids fluttered as he stifled a large yawn. "Well, no time like the present to call an end to this day."

"I couldn't agree more." Orrin gave his friend another warm embrace. "Thanks for being there with me."

"Likewise." Tim breathed deeply and squeezed the raccoon close. "We make quite a team, as it turns out."

"Yes, we certainly do." Orrin watched Secretary Riius walk by. The squirrel shot him a condescending stare and proceeded down the hallway. "I don't like that one."

"Neither do I, mate." Tim turned in time to see Riius's bushy tail disappear around the corner. "And we squirrels tend to stick together, which makes it all the more strange. But I'm certainly not prepared to ponder such things at the moment. I've got a lovely date with a feather mattress that I've put off for far too long today."

"Me too." Orrin bade the squirrel a pleasant night and walked off in the direction of his room.

Werill was still awake, busily scribbling something behind the writing desk. "Good evening, Your Lordship. How went the night?"

"First mark is dead." Orrin retold the perhaps less-than-exciting tale. "It was all a test, I suppose, to see if we were up to the task of taking a life."

"Indeed." Werill folded the parchment he'd been writing on into an envelope and sealed it with wax. "So the real work begins tomorrow, I suppose. Two more targets." He hid the letter within the desk and locked the drawers with a golden key. "I do hope this ordeal is worth the while when it is over."

"Well, those assassins certainly know something." Orrin unbuttoned his waistcoat and hung it up on a nearby chair. "And once we have the identity of their contractor, that will definitely bring us closer to solving this whole mystery."

"Indeed." Werill picked up his master's clothes and deliberately folded them. "Although, what truly matters to me here is the motive. Killing the King, after all, while a bold move, just seems like something rather poorly calculated by someone who has spent so long putting the pieces into place. But we shall see what answers your search will yield."

"Yes. And we most definitely won't be learning much more tonight. Orrin stopped by the door to his bedroom. "Any news on Aarya, by the way? The assassin had mentioned that there had been some turmoil there." Lying to someone so close hurt, but Orrin reminded himself of the promise he'd made. If those otters were caught because of him, their deaths would be on his paws.

"Yes, there has been quite some turmoil, indeed." Werill made sure the front door was securely locked. "A coup. The royal family has been chased out of the city or killed. I do not know much more than that. However, we only act upon orders of the King. Whoever the usurper may be, we are not bound to answer to him."

"And what if said usurper sends agents to murder members of the royal family who had fled?"

"Then, we are to protect them at all costs." Werill flashed his master a curious smile. "Would you happen to know of anyone like that?"

"No, I do not." Orrin walked into his bedroom and shut the door before Werill could begin reading his mind, like he somehow seemed to always do. He slipped out of his shirt and climbed underneath the warm, heavy blankets. Another strange day awaited, but that was tomorrow, and he had a whole night to not think about it. And so, the young raccoon closed his eyes and drifted peacefully off to sleep.

Chapter 15

The young raccoon dreamt of something strange, he knew, but by the time he was awake enough to realize it, the dream had fled his recollection entirely. Orrin paid it little mind, however. Whatever it had been, it was likely not important. "Werill!" He'd grown quite used to summoning his servant without leaving bed.

Strangely, it took several such calls to produce the desired effect. Werill stepped hurriedly into the bedroom. "My apologies on the wait, sir. I was merely investigating the extent of the situation in Aarya. No news so far. I am hoping that this coup was merely a flash - someone who had gotten enough soldiers together to raid the palace - but the truth of it remains to be seen. Our last orders were to continue aiding the Tilmarii, and we shall continue to do just that."

Orrin nodded through a large yawn. "Has Triv called? Err... Lord Trivus, I mean."

"He has not, no." Werill shrugged. "Busy on his hunt for spies, perhaps."

"I'll go see him." Orrin felt an unfamiliar tingle in his chest. "Need to keep him off the trail."

"I couldn't agree more, Your Lordship." Werill crossed the room towards the closet. "But you still have a bit of time for weapons practice. Also, you may want to bathe. Your admirable instinct for cleanliness seems to have diminished slightly." He disappeared behind the closet door before Orrin could reply.

By the time he emerged with a fencing outfit, Orrin had come to peace with another fencing class. Hate them as he may, they were a necessity. "Tell Lord Trivus that I shall meet him at the baths in one hour."

"Yes sir." Werill set the clothes out in a neat row at the foot of his master's bed. "Also, once you are dressed, I should like to show you your father's weapons cache.

"That's right!" Orrin hurried to enrobe. He tucked in the long-sleeved white shirt and hopped off the bed. "I'm ready."

Werill held open the closet door. "Through here." He waited for Orrin to pass by and then walked through himself.

An oil lamp was lit, but in its glow, Orrin struggled to see much more than row after row of immaculately arranged and very expensive clothes.

Werill squeezed respectfully past his master and approached the far wall. "Here we are." He gave the wall a hearty push. Some inner mechanism clicked, and a section of the wall swung out, revealing a glimmering array of weapons and infiltration tools.

Orrin stepped closer. "Oh my, this collection of betties puts mine to shame. "He picked up one of some dozen lock picks, admiring the incredible quality.

"I was planning to show you this earlier," Werill chuckled, "but I knew you would be like a cub buying sweets and perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the selection. But you are certainly ready now."

Orrin looked again over the array of weapons. "I honestly don't even know how to fight with most of these. The daggers, for instance."

"Just stab and try to not get stabbed in return." Werill took up a dagger in his left paw. "There is an art to fighting with these, sure, but parrying is well beyond the scope of most who wield them, believe you me."

Orrin, in turn, selected a well-worn, but no less deadly, rapier. "I suppose I'd better master this one, then."

"Oh yes, it was your father's weapon of choice." Werill replaced the dagger and shut the hidden door. "Now come, your trainer awaits."

Orrin nodded and headed to the practice room.

There, things went at their usual pace and then some. The sword master seemed to have taken some great offense at the raccoon skipping so many scheduled practices. He ran Orrin as hard as the raccoon's title would allow. Parries, dodges, attacks.

Strangely, Orrin was only happy for it. With the brutal treatment, came some genuine learning, and the raccoon was soon holding his own against the merciless onslaught from the cougar. Three hours later, the cougar hung up his sword. "You are quite gifted, Lord Orrin, but that is no excuse to miss practice."

"Will do my best to come tomorrow." Orrin sheathed his sword. "I intend to master this weapon."

"A good intention, to be sure." Tarris finally smiled - an act of which he seemed previously incapable. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow." Orrin left the practice room in far higher spirits than he had predicted he would. Those same spirits sank slightly when he realized he'd spent far more than the promised hour at practice. "Either Triv is a prune, or he'd long since left." Still, the raccoon headed for the baths, as planned. With the sea salt and sweat, his fur all but screamed to finally be washed and properly tended to.

Fortunately, Trivus was neither a prune nor gone when Orrin arrived. He sat beside the entrance to the Royal bath, clad in a green silk robe. "Good morning!"

Orrin shared a kiss with the fox. "I'm surprised you waited."

"Oh, I haven't been waiting long." Trivus chuckled. "I've trained with the Sword Master. I am well aware of the fact that an hour is his idea of a light warmup." He parted the velvet curtains. "Shall we?"

Orrin looked around. "But I thought this bath was reserved for the King-"

"And his family." Trivus beamed. "There are a few perks to having the relations that I do."

The thought of bathing in private with the fox had Orrin's member out of its sheath before the rest of the raccoon could even process the situation. He hurried through the doorway as quickly as his paws would allow upon the slippery marble.

"Excited, are we?" Trivus made little attempt of hiding his own bulge.

Orrin drew the curtain and gave the fox's growing knot a soft squeeze. "I'd say our excitement levels are about even."

Their clothes found home upon the poolside bench, and the two lovers submerged into the soothing water. They clung to one another just as the wet fur clung to their own bodies. In this tight embrace, Trivus seated himself on Orrin's lap, rubbing his rump alluringly along the raccoon's length, and leaving little doubt of what had been on his mind.

Orrin felt around the poolside until his paw landed in the bowl of scented oil. "Shall we?"

"Please." Trivus had closed his eyes, a blissful smile spreading across his features in, no doubt, recollection of their previous tryst.

Orrin wiggled out from beneath the fox and raised his member out of the water. He slicked it down with oil and allowed the fox to sit back down upon his lap. Before the oil had a chance to dissipate, the raccoon adjusted his member and inserted it with a gentle thrust into the fox.

Trivus rested his paws on the raccoon's shoulders and held Orrin's gaze lovingly. With rhythmic motion, he rode the length of Orrin's shaft, his face beaming in ecstasy.

Orrin sat back and allowed the pleasure to wash over him. Time and time again, he dimly contemplated switching positions, but one look at the gorgeous fox before him, and all he wanted to do was sit and watch. The fox's alluring member caught his attention next. It bobbed up and down tantalizingly within reach, its knot swollen and turgid. Orrin grasped the shaft and stroked it wit his left paw, keeping his right wrapped around his partner's lower back.

They shared a kiss and then one more, the water's surface boiling with their combined fervor.

Just as so many times before, the climax built unnoticed in Orrin's body until it finally hit. The raccoon felt the tingle spread from his loins and up through his spine. His heart raced. All he could think of was hurrying the release along. Tightly, he embraced Trivus and stood, hefting the fox up with him.

Trivus wrapped his arms around Orrin's neck and hung gamely on as the raccoon thrust to a powerful orgasm. Between the sensation of Orrin inside of him, and his own member rubbing forcefully against the raccoon's stomach, Trivus came at last. He growled softly and pumped against his partner, emptying himself all over Orrin's belly.

By the time the two lovers had finished, the entire bath smelt thoroughly of their musk.

Trivus allowed the raccoon to pull out and then sat upon his lap once more. "You know, I had considered being on the other end this time, but our last encounter was so incredible that I just had to do it again."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Orrin squeezed the fox's slowly-shrinking knot.

"Oh, enjoyed is quite the understatement." Trivus nuzzled a patch of dry fur on the raccoon's neck and inhaled deeply. "What should we do now? I had a matter that required my attention, but that was taken care of this morning. You were asleep, no doubt."

"Something about the murder?" Orrin forced himself back into the spy's mentality.

"Yes." Trivus turned his head towards the entrance. Satisfied to not have seen any prying eyes, he nodded again. "We are looking to compile a list of potential suspects next, and each one's alibi. I shall be busy with that tonight. I aim to diagram this until I discover the culprit, or at least sufficiently narrow my list."

"Quite." Orrin thought back to his own alibi. Tim and Rowann would surely corroborate his story, but would that be enough? The raccoon made a mental note to consult the squirrel as soon as possible. "Well, best of luck with that. As for the rest of our day together, how about we simply wander through the city? I've yet to actually explore it properly myself."

"That's a fantastic idea!" Trivus's tail swished to and fro beneath the water's surface. "Let's hurry and get dressed, then. We can eat on the way." He kissed Orrin gingerly upon the muzzle and clambered out of the pool.

Orrin also climbed out, entirely expecting to see Werill standing by the water's edge. Inconveniently, the raccoon was nowhere to be found.

Trivus pulled a velvet cord that hung by the door. "That ought to fetch someone. I did not expect my servant to be here, but yours seems possessed of some sort of sixth sense. I am surprised he hasn't arrived."

"As am I." Surprise mingled with worry as Orrin sat upon his bench and waited.

A pair of otters in servant uniforms arrived and brushed them, while two more were sent for fresh outfits. And still, Werill did not show.

Orrin adjusted his cravat. "I shall go up to my quarters and see to Werill first. This is not like him."

"I understand." Trivus gave each of the otters a silver piece and dismissed them. "I'll wait for you by the main entrance."

"I won't take long." Short of searching his chambers, Orrin was remiss to find another suitable course of action. Careful not to slip on the marble floor, he hurried towards his room.

The door was locked - a fact which garnered a small sigh of relief. Wherever Werill had gone, he had done so with purpose. "Werill?" Orrin knocked twice and then pulled the bell cord that hung next to the door. He did not recall a bell in his own room, so it had to have rung in Werill's bedroom. The raccoon waited a few minutes more, but his servant did not emerge.

In an effort to placate himself, Orrin decided that Werill had merely gone out on some secret business. "Horrible excuse, but it'll hold until tonight." With that resolve, the raccoon headed back downstairs.