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The intrepid coyote clung to the stone wall of the Keep, wedging his fingers into the crevices thoughtfully left for him by wind and rain and poorly-mixed mortar. That same chill wind lashed at his ears, trying to batter him from his noble mission, or at least freeze his ears. But even though the rocky ground hundreds of feet below cried out for his blood, the heroic coyote clung tenaciously to the stone, working his way across the wall. The prince was in need of rescue, and it would take more than mere wind--or a wrenched claw, ouch--to stay this coyote from his goal.

One window passed successfully, and another, and then at the third--

The shutters clattered aside and the head of an otter in a foppish purple cap with a bedraggled feather in it leaned out. He rested his elbows on the sill, looking out over the forest, and exhaled. Then he turned to his left.

"Oh, hallo, Koris. What are you doing on the wall?"

I sighed inwardly and gave him my best smile and a middling lie. "Come to see you, of course, my dear Lord Fluvious."

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought we were meant to be meditating on the new lives we're about to begin."

"That's why I had to climb outside." My tail swung freely, wagging behind me. "Those blasted fire sprites are all over the hallways, and then there's Sponk."

"Sponk's out there." Fluvious pointed with a claw to the grassy ground some twenty feet below. "He's carrying something off into the forest. What are you after?"

I gave him my best coyote smile. "I was concerned about you."

He glared at me. "Don't fall," he said insincerely. A moment later, his window slammed shut.

***

In order to be admitted to Wizard Livingfire's "Dis-spell The Gay" Camp, all eight of we young male nobles had to swear and affirm that we, like Prince Pob, had an unhealthy predilection for sex with other males, which affliction our parents were paying Livingfire to cure us of. Amusingly, ironically, thiscrafty coyote was the only one whose oath was true, although none of the others suspected that. Their motives were far more sordid: to spend a few weeks alone with Prince Pob, forging alliances and friendships and positioning themselves for future success. I, too, wanted to spend some time alone with Prince Pob, but to much more enjoyable purpose.

Regrettably, my father's mere Dukedom had consigned me to spending my time with Deverly, the son of Duke Frenchen, while the sons of Lords monopolized the prince's time. After a few days of this, I grew rather frustrated, and when I found myself alone with the aristocratic Lord Fluvious, who had confided in me that he didn't know "how all this gay stuff worked," I must admit I took advantage.

"I was concerned about you," I told the wide-eyed otter from a plushly furnished velvet chair by his desk (the room I'd been given didn't even have a desk). "I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only person you asked. Did you forget you're supposed to be gay? Livingfire will have you out of here in a day or so."

"Pater will kill me!" he moaned. I nodded, the very picture of sincere sympathy. "Koris, what can I do?"

Well. I'm a coyote, and he's an otter, and so that conversation ended exactly as I'd hoped it would end, with me panting down at a kneeling Lord Fluvious, who had a hundred acres of farmland, a wife with two young kits, and a little trickle of my spunk trailing down his brown furry chin.

"Quite...commendable..." I panted. "I will be sure to let this 'slip' to the wizard."

"You do me now," he said, his paw resting on his pants.

The offer was not without some attraction, but I wasn't going to tarnish my victory. Anyone can get a blow job if they're willing to reciprocate. "My dear," I said, "what would be the point of that?"

He had such wide eyes--perhaps a little less innocent now. "Well," he said slowly, "otherwise they might think you aren't gay."

I reached down and brushed a finger along his chin, cleaning him up. "I just talked a handsome young male otter into performing a delightfully scandalous act upon my male person." I slid the sticky fingertip into my muzzle and licked it slowly clean. "I don't know anyone who'd say I don't need Livingfire's treatment."

"But..." He struggled with that, realization dawning on him. "I might've gotten you to do the same to me."

"But you didn't." I licked the finger again and then rubbed it on my pants as I pulled them up. "You wouldn't. And so there you are."

There he was, showing a bulge through his pants, which made me wonder if he was really as straight as all that anyway. He sat back on his thighs and stuck his tongue out at me as if reading my thoughts. "It's disgusting and foul."

"Careful, or you'll undo all the good work you've just done."

He crossed the room to a goblet--wine, by the scent that reached my nose--and took a long draught. "Get out, Koris."

***

One of the reasons I wasn't concerned that Livingfire could dispel my gay was a conversation with Deverly, the second day we were here. "It's all bunkum," he'd told me the second day we were here.

"Bunkum?" I'd arched an eyebrow. As a coyote, I should know from bunkum. Also scams, cons, trickery, and misdirection (see Fluvious, Lord).

"Smoke and mirrors. Charlatanism. Magic can't change who you want to bed."

One of the things I liked immediately about Deverly was the mouse's plain language. "Says the twice-failed apprentice."

He had an endearing snort that on a Lord would have been insufferable. "I know magic. I just can't do it. I know enough to know what's fundamental to our natures. It shouldn't work."

"Well, if it's so much bunkum, why haven't the other mages spoken out against it?"

"Some have. But Livingfire is powerful, and the people he sends back appear to behave better, and so he has the favor of the king. It is not wise to speak against him too loudly."

I'd ticked off two fingers. "Halbery of Dreadmarch and Cortian of Corruspice both swear it changed their lives. There were ten or fifteen others."

"'Friends' of yours?"

One of the other things I'd liked immediately about Deverly was that he had figured out that I alone of the nobles' sons really was gay. And he, probably alone of the other nobles' sons, didn't care. "I had an evening with Halbery once. Didn't want to once he came back. Cortian's just a loudmouth about how his life was changed."

Deverly had set his book aside and folded his paws into his lap, peering at me. "So why did you come?"

My tail had wagged as I'd leaned back in my plain wooden chair. "Apart from Father plunking down the gold for a three-week vacation to 'spur my interest in politics'? It's a challenge. He has a mysterious 'magic' that only he can do, intended to ruin lives like mine. Honestly, I smelled bunkum before you confirmed it. And if he's using trickery..." I'd rubbed my paws together. "He's got no chance against someone born to it."

***

So that was whythe heroic coyote was not too worried as he continued to climb across the wall. Whatever we were being prepared for tonight, it was likely going to be more of the same meditative malarkey we'd been fed for three weeks. As trickery went, it was decidedly sub-par. Oh, Livingfire had taken fur from each of us, and had assigned us a familiar that slept with us for the entire second week (if you fancy getting to sleep with a spiny lizard jabbing your side, then have I got the perfect camp experience for you) to "absorb our properties," and, well, the lizard had turned a very satisfyingly coyote shade of brown, but there were no signs that it was any gayer than it had been to start. I mean, it didn't make advances on me or anything, unless thwacking my balls with its tail was meant to be foreplay.

I got past the last window and to the curve of the tower opposite the one Deverly and I were sharing. Prince Pob had this one all to himself, of course. I'd figured I would let the prince know that he wasn't alone, that there was another here who shared his preferences and thought he was knee-weakeningly handsome. The idea was to let him know that being gay was just fine, and if he needed tangible proof of that, I would be more than willing to supply it.

But every evening so far, we'd either had those familiars following us everywhere (which we suspected Livingfire could watch us through) or the prince had been occupied talking to one Lord or another, or Livingfire had cast sleeping spells on us to give us appropriately sexy dreams (it was a strange feeling, to be dreaming about sex with a female, but I admit I enjoyed it).

Tonight, Livingfire had instructed us to meditate alone. Hah. This was my last chance, and I was by the Moon going to take advantage of it. I clambered around the curve of the tower wall, made my way to the first window, and hung there. My legs hadn't been tired when I'd gotten to Fluvious's window, but they were feeling it now. "Prince Pob," I said to the stone inches from my nose, "your meditation is about to get a whole lot better."

Putting on my winningest smile, I slid around the window ledge and beamed into--an empty room.

I stared around it in disbelief. There was a writing-desk, a small table with a plate and goblet still on it, and a chaise longue. No trace of a bed. I craned my neck back and looked up at the window ledge above this one. "He has a suite?"

The muscular coyote could easily have scaled the wall, but the window was right there. A slip of the dagger and a quick check for magickal traps later, the clever thief stood in the midst of princely luxury looking for the stairs.

As I'd hoped, there were no magical fire-sprites guarding the stairs within the suite, so I hopped on up to the bedroom, after visiting the shiny marble-floored necessary--which answered at least part of the question of what Livingfire did with all the money our parents paid him.

Heroic coyotes do not give up so easily. But the bedroom, too, was empty. I padded to the bed and took a sniff--young male lion, and yes, I could smell that he'd had some dreams as well. Nothing else to indicate where he'd gone.

It was on my way out of the room that I turned up a clue. When not eager and pulled up by the demands of my cock, I detected the unmistakable odor of elephant in the stairwell.

Which meant Sponk had been here. And Fluvious had seen him carrying something into the forest. The prince?

Well, how about that. Maybe he really did need to be rescued.

***

"Deverly." I tapped on his window.

He had his nose in a book, but looked only mildly startled when he saw me. Without even a question, he came over and opened the window. "Coyote meditation is somewhat different from the traditional kind, I see."

"Oh, stuff it. You weren't even meditating; you were reading. Anyway, this is important. Ow, my legs." I bent to rub my thighs.

He pushed the glasses up on his nose. "You climbed ten feet and your legs are sore?"

"I climbed over to the prince's window and back."

"I see." He eyed me. "So, sore from kneeling?"

"The prince is gone. And I saw Sponk carrying something into the forest." I didn't feel the need to credit Fluvious with the observation. "Something...person-sized."

He snapped his book shut almost before I'd finished talking. "Really?"

I nodded. "Can you get us past the fire sprites?"

"I told you, I can't do magic." He reached for his drab leather jerkin and shrugged it on. "Can you carry me down the wall?"

My legs expressed their opinions of that thought in no uncertain terms. But hell, Deverly was a mouse. "How about I climb down and then I'll catch you?"

There was that sardonic smile. "How about you go by yourself?"

I leaned down to rub my thighs. "Sorry, fellas. I tried."

***

His heels dug into my sides, his arms around my throat. "We're on the ground," I coughed. "You can jump from here."

"S-sorry." He unclenched himself from around me and landed on the grass outside the keep, staggering, but at least keeping his balance.

I grimaced. "When I've had a guy on my back for fifteen minutes, I expect to be sore in other places. Also a lot happier."

"You can tell me all about it on the way. Or better yet, don't. How long ago was it?"

I calculated in my head. Window, Fluvious, prince's window, back, mouse, ground. "Probably about half an hour."

"If Livingfire is doing any really complicated magic, we might still have time." He brushed off his jerkin, looking as though he'd just strolled down the wall by himself.

"Not a lot." I pointed up at our two windows, where, in contrast to the steady light coming from the other rooms, a reddish light flickered. Like animated fire. As we watched, a flame appeared at my window.

"Go," I told Deverly, pulling a waterskin from my belt as the fire sprites snapped through the window and leaped to the ground in lines of light that seared a path across the darkness. "I'll catch you."

"But--"

I shoved him and turned, ears flipped back so that I could hear him running while I picked at the tie on the waterskin, paws behind my back. I might not want to confront the fire sprites, but I was by the Moon going to be ready if I had to.

They slowed, crackling, circling. "You got me, boys," I said. "Come and get me."

Their bodies undulated and glowed in the dark night. I could barely see anything else around them. I didn't really need to, though.

I gave them a charming smile. "All right, then," I said. "I'll come to you."

***

It was fairly easy to find Deverly in the forest. He only made about as much noise as a small carriage with uneven wheels, and when I came up behind him and hissed his name, he jumped. "How did you get rid of the fire sprites?" he asked when he'd calmed down.

"Turns out they don't like water." I tried not to act too smug about it. "When it's been treated with a certain powder that it took me a week to get."

"You got Devil's Root powder here?"

"So it would seem." My attempt to not act smug was failing, so I gave it up and sniffed the ground. "Sponk did come this way. If you couldn't tell."

"There's only the one path," he pointed out sourly.

When it did branch later, I theatrically put my nose to the ground to determine which way the elephant had gone. After two branches and one pause when Deverly tripped over a root and fell into a mud patch, we were just coming around a large oak tree when Deverly gripped my arm.

"What?" But I saw it as soon as he pointed, a glimmer of light in the distance. I pushed aside a tree branch and held it as damp soaked into my fur. "Think that's where we're going?"

"Unless there's more than one hidden laboratory in this forest. Or unless that's an illusion. Neither of which I would discount."

"Laboratory?"

He nodded, moving forward more slowly. "Lots of wizards keep their laboratories remote. In case something goes wrong."

I let the branch go, spraying us both with water, and looked behind. The moon cast reflections on the leaves and water that looked like eyeshine watching us. "Personally, I wouldn't want my fire experiments to go wrong in a forest," I whispered.

"Livingfire works on people, too. Maybe he wants a place where his...failed experiments can live." He turned, his glasses catching silver light. "Heard he's got like a leper village of people whose minds he screwed up trying to heal them."

"Or maybe people he caught spying on him." I shuddered.

"That's no way to think, heroic rescuer."

"I can think however I want. I just have to act heroic."

The laboratory was a squat stone affair, so nondescript that I wondered if Deverly hadn't been mistaken and we had perhaps stumbled upon a woodsman's cottage. Well, a woodsman who had clearly done quite well for himself, putting in a gabled roof and several additions on his one-story cottage. Smoke pumped out of a chimney near the back, and the door at the front hung invitingly ajar as we crouched behind a bush at the edge of the clearing that surrounded the laboratory.

"Don't go in the front door," Deverly said.

"Who's the thief here, anyway?" I snapped. "I know--"

At that moment, the front door in question swung open, and Sponk emerged. He had to duck his head to make it through the normal-sized doorway, and turn sideways a bit, bending at the knees. Then he was out and seemed to expand, turning his knobbly head back and forth while the end of his trunk curled and sniffed.

Deverly started to say something. I clamped a paw over his mouth and fairly leapt into the underbrush, crouching there and holding him tightly enough to keep him from moving. My thighs screamed, but I held the position, trembling, as Sponk crashed along the path. Branches snapped, twigs rained down on us along with water droplets. I flattened my ears but kept otherwise still.

He hesitated opposite us. I held my breath. That trunk curled along a branch I'd been holding, and the head turned our way.

Under my paw, Deverly gave a tiny squeak. My coyote ears barely picked it up. I hoped Sponk's big flaps of ear were not so sensitive.

The big lummox turned again, then let the branch go. Another shower of rain and twigs. And then he was stomping back along the path.

Deverly squirmed free, and I had to sit down, rubbing my legs. "I'm going back," he announced.

I grasped the mouse's thin wrist. "Look," I said. "Then you'll have to explain how you got out. And besides, Sponk is gone. We're past the dangerous part now."

That was the opposite of what you're supposed to tell yourself as a thief, although honestly, my skill at thievery was about on par with Deverly's skill of magic: a lot of theory and little practice. But I knew that as a thief you should always be telling yourself that this next bit is the one that might do you in. Same goes for a con game. Stay alert, always.

For Deverly, though, reassurance was in order. "You realize," he said, "that whatever Sponk brought the prince here to do, he probably went to fetch the rest of us."

"Of course." I applied my charm. "And he'll be carrying them one by one, starting with the important boys. So actually, the best place for you to be is right here with me."

He breathed in and out, and calmed down a bit. "You've already dragged me into the bushes," he said. "Clearly we're beyond the flirting stage."

"Come on, then." I stretched my legs, promised them no more crouching or climbing, and set off. Deverly followed me around the edge of the clearing until we were opposite the corner of the laboratory.

The building extended even farther back than I'd imagined. Probably, at a guess, it was a nice little six-to-eight room cottage, depending on how large the living area-slash-laboratory was. And this side showed more promise: two lighted windows, no doors. Moss grew all over the walls on this side, and nothing moved.

"There," I pointed, and hurried forward before Deverly could say anything, to the closer of the two windows.

He caught up to me just beside it. "Don't abandon me in the woods," he hissed.

"I did tell you to 'come on.' " I edged around the window and peered inside.

The room was fairly spare, without curtains or shutters on the window, with no furniture save for a single desk and chair, and the edge of a bed on the near side.

"Well?"

"Even this room has a desk," I muttered, moving to see the rest of the room, and then froze.

Lying stretched out on the bed, in the light of the candles on the side table--a really nice side table, too, polished oak with gold trim and beautifully carved legs, just a really classy piece--was Prince Pob.

I tried to mime this to Deverly, and got as far as "prince" and "asleep," but I couldn't figure out how to mime the last thing. "And he's naked," I whispered. "And he's gorgeous."

Deverly tried to get around me to look, but I stopped him. "You stand guard out here. I'm going to go in and rescue him."

" 'Rescue.' " He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes."

"And what am I supposed to guard with? I can't do magic, remember?"

"Er." I reached down and picked up a stone off the ground. "Here. If someone attacks you, throw this at them."

"Koris..."

"Shh!" I was already reaching for the window, twisting the dagger around between sash and frame.

"What if there's a magickal guard on it?" He gestured at the window.

It popped open. I grinned at him. "Be right back. Don't look in."

I insinuated myself into the room, letting the window down slowly. The prince didn't wake, so I got a chance to look at him. Younger than me by a year, but more muscular even accounting for his lion's frame. About two inches taller, and even though his mane was just an adolescent ruff, it added another two inches to that easily. Spread out around his sleeping muzzle like a halo, it was still the same color, more or less, as his tawny body fur. His ropy tail flicked, the tuft on the end of it dancing across the bed, but otherwise he lay motionless, paws clasped on his ivory-white stomach just above...

I inhaled. His sheath lay exposed, a line of ivory fur running down the middle of it to his balls.

No matter what I'd told Deverly, I'd really intended just to rescue the prince. I mean, yes, I wanted to strip down and lie next to him, or on him, or under him, but not in a wizard's laboratory. The stillness in the room gave me the illusion of privacy, but my keen coyote mind reminded me that it was no more than that.

Still, I did have to wake him, and nothing said it couldn't be as pleasant for me as it would be for him. So I leaned down and traced a paw over his chest. By the Moon, he had nicer muscles than you could see through his clothes. And his fur was so soft. "Your Highness," I whispered.

No response. Perhaps he was ensorcelled. Or just meditating very deeply. I brushed the bottom of his ribcage, just above where his paws were clasped together. "Your Highness," I whispered, more loudly. "I'm here to save--you!"

The last word was gulped out as his paw lifted, lightning-quick, and snared my wrist. His eyes flew open, and his other paw moved to cover his sheath while he stared up at me.

I didn't struggle against his hold. "Don't be ashamed, Your Highness. I like you. I mean, I am like you. But I'm not here to touch you. Unless you want me to. But no, I'm here to save you."

The eyes, deep brown, locked on mine. "I take no enjoyment from your touch, nor your presence."

"Well," I said, using chatter to hide my disappointment, because I'd definitely gotten a different impression earlier in the week, "my information was wrong then, but in any case, you know, we should be getting out of here." I did tug at my wrist then, not in an insistent way that might be interpreted as challenging his authority, but in a pleading sort of I-would-very-much-like-to-stop-causing-you-trouble-sir kind of way.

It didn't work. He kept hold of my wrist and sat up in the bed. "I was told you would be female," he said.

"Er." Now, what was a brave heroic coyote supposed to make of that? I didn't know where to begin. "Who told you?"

"I did, Sir Koris."

My ears turned toward the doorway before my muzzle did. I didn't have to hurry; I knew what I would see there: A short squirrel in some kind of dreadful monochromatic robe, wearing a silver necklace and an annoyed expression.

I coughed and tugged once again on my wrist, to no avail. "So sorry to have interrupted your work, your wizardness. If you'll tell the prince to let me go, I'll be on my way. No need to tell anyone, of course."

"Sir Koris." The wizard sounded amused. "So impatient. Your turn is coming, little coyote."

I started to turn then, to point out to him that it was hardly sporting to call someone "little" when you were a full foot shorter than they were, but as I turned, the floor tilted and the ceiling swayed and then they seemed to change places and converge on my poor head with a great crack, and the last thing I remembered was thinking, the prince is still holding my paw.

***

"You're an idiot."

I chanced cracking my eyes open. Two round moons shone over me. They tilted and vanished, to be replaced by glasses framing Deverly's irritated eyes.

"Thanks." I reached up to rub my head. It was sore, but not as bad as I'd imagined. "It's traditional to say, 'Thank the Moon you're awake' when someone who's been assaulted wakes up."

"I pray to the Black Father, and anyway, you were only under a sleep spell."

Behind Deverly's head I could see rows of wooden boards: a ceiling. I appeared to be stretched out on something similarly hard. My tail was trapped beneath my legs, and my shoulder hurt. I know that brave coyotes are supposed to carry on no matter what, but it really hurt. Like I'd been dropped on it.

I struggled to sit up. My head said that was a bad idea, but it got used to it. "Deverly. He did it. Somehow he did it."

He frowned. "The sleep spell? It's pretty easy. I almost learned it. Almost."

"No, I mean...he turned the prince straight."

"What?" He stopped mooning over his lost wizarding career. "I told you, that's not possible."

"Then he's a really good actor." I gave up on the shoulder and pressed a paw behind my ear where it hurt. "He said he wasn't turned on by me at all."

Deverly's alarm faded into sympathy. "Now, Koris, I know it's a blow, but you're not as young as you used to be..."

"Lick my balls, bookworm. He was waiting for a female. He wasn't gay. And Livingfire said I'm next."

His smile did not have as much sardonic power as usual. "Well, good for your wife, I guess?"

"Oh, be quiet. We have an arrangement. And the point is, he just did what you said was impossible."

"It should be impossible. Magic can change what a person does, or how they look, but not what they are. If he's changing behavior like that, then it's a spell he has to maintain and keep casting, and that's--well, I won't say 'impossible,' but no wizard has that much energy or time. They just don't. And he's got, what, fifteen, twenty 'cured' patients? He couldn't be controlling all of them."

"I know what I saw and heard. Pob was always nice to me, and flirty, too. He was different."

He shook his head. "It could be a temporary spell."

"Whatever it is, I'm not waiting around. I'm getting out of here." I scanned the room.

There was not much for a heroic coyote to work with. The window beckoned invitingly, but just beyond the glass, two fire sprites half my height looked in at us, leaning insolently on the ledge and spitting sparks at the glass when they saw me looking at them. Their heads burned brighter and flared when they laughed, and their arms retracted into the main body of their flame and their eyes disappeared sometimes so they looked just like a normal fire. Nice trick. Wish I could pull that off.

"So what are you going to do?" Deverly pulled his jerkin around himself more tightly, though the window was warm with the fires against it. At least they were outside, probably because of the wooden floor.

The door I didn't have to check; I knew it'd be barred or locked. The walls, solid stone, probably offered no more options, though it'd be worth investigating the mortar. My supporting paw, the one not rubbing my head, was pressed down on grit and wood, and while I could probably pry up one of the boards, I didn't know what that would get me.

That left the ceiling, and the layers of boards did look promising. Beneath a gabled roof, there would be space that an enterprising, industrious coyote might be able to wedge himself into.

It would have to be in one of the corners adjacent to the window, so the fire sprites couldn't see what I was doing. I chose one and hobbled over to it. "I need to sit up against a wall," I told Deverly loudly.

The sprites followed my progress but didn't pursue as I moved out of their sight. Deverly followed me to the corner. "Sit against a wall. That's your plan?"

"Shh." I scanned the boards, looking for a crack. "Keep talking as though I'm talking back to you. Walk around in sight of the window if you can."

He leaned forward to catch my whisper and then nodded. "Since you asked," he said, "the theory of magic that allows a wizard to control your behavior..."

Under his chatter, I pushed myself to my feet. "Sorry," I murmured to my legs, and lifted one foot to the wall.

Ow ow ow. But after the first blaze of sore muscle, it was over. I took care to keep my wrenched claw out of the mortar cracks, and climbed up the wall.

The wizard had taken my sheathed dagger, but not the one I kept in the lining of my vest. Shortly, I had one ceiling board loose enough to push up into the ceiling space and aside, and then I gripped the edges of the adjacent boards and wedged myself up into the hole I'd made.

The stealthy coyote slithered along the boards, trying not to get splinters--ow, not entirely successfully--until he judged he was far beyond the walls of the room he'd been imprisoned in. Then it was a simple matter to listen at the boards until a silent room reached his ears.

But the first place I listened, I heard "uh, uh, uh!" A female, having a very good time, probably the one the prince had been waiting for. I hesitated--I really wanted to escape--but if I waited, I could maybe help the prince escape with me. I could turn on the charm, convince him he'd been ensorcelled. And if, while waiting for him to be done, I had to be a bit of a voyeur, well, these were the burdens of being a heroic, inquisitive coyote.

So I loosened a board and lifted it a crack to peer down. There was a female sheep on the bed, on her back, but the guy getting her to make those sounds wasn't a lion. He was a coyote, stylish tan fur with a dark tip at the end of his tail, and very fetching shading to brown at the paws and feet and ears. What's more, he had a nice lithe build, although honestly he was a little thicker around the middle than usually I like.

There was nothing wrong with the gusto with which he was giving it to the sheep, though, really thrusting in hard like it was his first time, his handsome tail arched over his butt (which was also nice, a little padded, but there's nothing wrong with that). I'd given it to my wife once or twice like that, when we were first married, and seeing this brought back some fairly pleasant memories. As I watched, he came, back arched, hips shoved all the way forward, buried balls-deep in the sheep, and he lifted his head to moan, and I nearly dropped the board.

Because the tone of that moan was one that I'd known all my life. And the muzzle I could now see in profile bore an uncanny, even magickal, resemblance to the one I saw in the polished glass every morning. The shading on the paws, the black tip of the tail--now I knew why those patterns were familiar. It was because I looked at them every day in the bath. I'd never seen them from ten feet up, but once I noticed one thing, everything else snapped into place and there was no denying it. This coyote was me, a living duplicate.

A living duplicate who was straight. And a little more pudgy.

And that meant that the prince I'd tried to seduce--er, awaken--had probably been a straight duplicate too. Whether Livingfire was taking existing straight people and changing their appearance, or somehow creating doubles, his plan was now perfectly clear to me. Neither the prince nor I was ever meant to leave his land.

Below, the handsome coyote disengaged from the sheep, and I got a good look at his equipment. Well. Livingfire had gotten that right, at least, however he'd gotten his information.

As hard as it was for me to tear my eyes from that long, glistening member, I--well, no, I will be honest here. I just watched his cock and perked my ears as the sheep got up. She asked if he'd enjoyed it and he said (in my voice) that he very much had, and that she was the best he'd ever had. Smooth. Then she pointed to something on the bed and said, "Get yourself cleaned up."

She vanished from my view. The door opened and then closed.

Below, the coyote stretched. Nice muscles, and maybe he wasn't really that pudgy when you looked at him from the right angle. Then he reached to the bed and picked up a towel and began to wipe himself clean.

Above him, the skillful and dashing coyote he was modeled after hatched a plan, tested it, and put it into play, all in the time it took the duplicate below to finish cleaning and drop the towel back onto the bed. In that moment he was looking down, his ears caught a faint noise from above. He turned in time to see a coyote swinging down from the ceiling at him, but too late to avoid the impact.

I crashed into him and brought him to the floor. He struggled against me, and he had the advantage that his thighs had not been climbing walls and carrying mice for most of the evening, but I had the advantage of not having just emptied myself into a lovely sheep, and also the advantage of being on top. I'd expected to have the further advantage of not being surprised by an exact duplicate of myself, but he didn't seem in the least bit taken aback.

He fought with skill and determination, getting his knees up into my body and using his claws to good effect on my side just as I would have, if I didn't have my trusty dagger. I couldn't bring myself to stab--myself, so I tried to bonk him in the head.

I aimed for the spot where my best friend Jince had knocked me out ten years ago during a play sword fight. But the fellow kept moving, and squirming, snapping his jaws. The pommel of the dagger came down between his ears, behind one ear, above the cheek, and finally in the spot I was looking to hit, just at the base of the left ear. Whether that was the right spot or whether it was the accumulation of blows that did the trick, his struggles slowed and his eyes rolled up in his attractive muzzle.

"Next time anyone says, 'knock yourself out,' I muttered, getting up and stripping off my shirt, "I will tell them it's not so easy." Though it had to be said, straight-me had fought about as well as one would expect of a strong, brave coyote, even if Livingfire had overestimated his weight a touch.

In less than a minute, I had my clothes off, and after a short inspection of my midsection (Livingfire had definitely overestimated), I shoved them under the bed, along with my double. Then I looked around to find the clothes he was supposed to put on.

The door opened without warning. I looked up into the dim little eyes of Sponk, his trunk curling. "Come," he said.

I stood. He didn't seem at all discomfited to find me naked. And there weren't clothes in the room other than the ones I'd brought.

All right, then. I brushed down some out-of-place fur and walked toward the door. Sponk moved aside and I followed him out.

An awful lot of people were needing rescuing tonight. First the prince, then Deverly, possibly all the gay people in the kingdom, including, not least of all, a poor persecuted coyote trying his best to act straight as he walked behind the massive elephant. "Acting straight" when there are no females around is tricky. I chose to enact it via a cocky strut and an arched tail (there is a subtle distinction between 'raised' and 'arched') that would tell anyone watching--if there were anyone watching--that yes, this coyote is all about bedding the ladies.

And then Sponk opened a thick oaken door reinforced with metal bands and ushered me into Livingfire's laboratory, and my tail fell and the imaginary ladies vanished from my mind.

Shelf upon shelf of odd ingredients greeted me, stacks and shelves of books with uneven pages and bookmarks, moth-eaten cloth bindings and strange symbols on the spines, all lit by floor-set candlesticks with candles burning at head height--black candles, of course--that made the warped shapes in glass jars on the top shelf into near-living monstrosities. My nose twitched with the sizzling smell of burning without smoke over a dirty old paper smell. Compared to the rest of the rooms in this building, it was huge, taking up the entire back third.

In the center, in the middle of one set of circles, stood the prince. Actually, it was probably his double, because he was still naked. To the right, standing before a table with a candle casting a halo of light onto his book, the wizard Livingfire looked up and twitched his tail. "Koris," he said in his high voice, and for a second I thought the game was up, but he just said, "Stand beside Prince Pob."

I took up the indicated position, but I kept failing to look straight ahead. I mean, the prince was right next to me, naked, and still a little...ahem, excited by what I assume was a visit like the one my unfortunate double had enjoyed. Livingfire sent Sponk away with a whispered instruction and started droning on with some spell, I guess, and there wasn't much for me to do but look.

And, well, I'm only a coyote of flesh and blood and, as Deverly had observed, the immutable inborn property of appreciating similarly male figures. Especially ones standing a foot away, which were like masculinity sculpted out of tawny and ivory fur and which I'd been lusting after for the last three weeks.

No harm in looking, I told myself, until the prince's deep voice said, "Master Livingfire."

The wizard broke off his spellcasting. I stared straight ahead and lowered my, ahem, raised tail, the model of an obedient straight coyote who had definitely not been thinking about that leonine cock pushing up inside him. "What?"

"Koris is looking at me."

"Am not," I said quickly, but Livingfire was already walking out from behind his table, his dark robe obscuring the candle and rendering him temporarily invisible against the dark background. All I could see was the glitter of his eyes, looking down at my midsection.

I covered my treacherous sheath with a paw. "I was just thinking about that sheep again and how much I want to bed her one more time."

Under the circumstances, I thought that was rather clever, but Livingfire narrowed his eyes. I was preparing another clever suspicion-defusing remark, but just then the door opened, and Sponk came in. "Koris is gone," he said in his slow, gravelly voice.

In the hallway behind him, in a traveling cloak and thick vest, stood a lion with a short halo of tawny hair. My eyes flicked between the wizard and the lion, and then I grabbed the candlestick nearest me and leapt for the door. Wedging myself past Sponk, I pushed the prince back down the hallway and brandished the pole with its three black candles at the astonished squirrel, the impassive duplicate lion, and the bewildered elephant. "Stay back!" I ordered, and then called over my shoulder, "Your Highness, run! I will hold them off."

"Koris?" Pob's voice sounded nonplussed. "What's going on?"

"He's made straight duplicates and he means to kill us and--ow!" The fire from the candles had blazed up the wooden pole and engulfed my paws. I dropped it immediately, where it fell into ash.

"Don't try to fight a wizard of fire with candles," Livingfire sneered, robe flowing around him as he stepped forward.

"And why are you naked?" Pob asked, behind me. "Not that I'm complaining."

I didn't take my eyes from Livingfire. "Run!" I said. "Warn the others!"

"Oh, for Flame's sake." Livingfire gestured again, and the flames from the candles sprang up as fire sprites.

I backpedaled and ran into the prince. He swept something around me--oh, his cloak. It smelled comfortingly like him, and it did cover me, but the fire sprites glowed menacingly. "Run!" I cried again.

"If you would both come in," Livingfire said, "I will explain."

***

"I wasn't ever going to kill you." The squirrel sounded peevish. "This last spell was going to link your duplicate to your mind, and then it would be able to function as you without your help. And you could always see what it's doing. Right now it's just animated by a simple autonomic spell."

I glanced at the naked lion, still standing near where Pob and I were sitting in chairs Sponk had fetched. Nobody seemed inclined to get him clothes, which I certainly didn't mind and Pob didn't appear to. I'm not sure Livingfire even noticed. Nobody'd fetched my clothes either, but I kept the prince's cloak draped over my front, and my bare rear was comfortably against a wooden chair. Deverly sat on the floor nearby, as quiet as...well, Deverly.

"And then you two would get to go live in a little village on the other side of the woods where you could be as gay as you wanted. Nobody will care."

My tail relaxed, swishing behind me. "Openly? We could hold paws, kiss each other out in the open?"

"If we felt that way about each other," the prince rumbled, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Of course," I said quickly.

"Among ten or twelve others, yes." Livingfire shook his paw in the air. "You two go away, and these duplicates live honorable, uncomplicated lives, and if you need to talk through them for political reasons, you can do that. It's a complicated magic to perform, but so far it has been very satisfactory. I've had no complaints."

"It sounds ideal," the prince said.

I eyed him. The clothed one, not the naked one. Well, mostly not the naked one. "But what about the others?" I asked. "Fluvious and the rest. Where are they?"

"They're not gay," Livingfire said reasonably.

I frowned. "Who told you?"

He started to answer, eyes meeting mine, and then he snapped his jaw shut and looked away, and oh, by the Moon, I knew then. "Nobody told you about them," I said. "Someone told you about me. Someone who wanted me 'fixed.' Was it Varissa? No." I watched his expression. "Father."

That was it. My paws clenched on the fabric of the cloak. Livingfire looked up and coughed. "He offered me twice my normal fee," he said in a small voice.

Well, it was a trick worthy of a coyote. Use my own cock against me, send me to be with Prince Pob and let me think I was so clever for spinning a story of politics and connections. Of course Father knew my nature and always had, and even though Varissa didn't care--she and I shared plenty of other activities and we liked each other--Father hated the salacious stories and disrespectful ditties that circulated about his unnatural gay son.

Prince Pob, unexpectedly, laid a large tawny paw on my wrist. "What does it matter?" he said. "We can go away from them."

"Why would I want to do that?" I snapped.

The prince's eyes blazed. I suppose he wasn't used to people talking to him in that tone. But before I could point out that I'd had rather a nasty shock dropped on me, and should be excused a very discourteous outburst, he'd gripped my wrist. "Because I'm tired," he said. "I'm tired of pretending I'm interested in ladies I'm not, and not interested in fellows I am. I thought it would be a relief to have this magic performed, and then I could just be tired of court politics. Like normal."

I let myself smile back at him. "Normal? Nobody's normal. Look at Deverly."

The mouse jerked his head up as everyone turned to look at him. "What?"

"He studied magic. He's read more books than anyone I know. Is that 'normal'?" I pointed at the wizard. "Livingfire makes people out of fire and claims to change the very nature of people--" I paused. "Their fire, you might say. I just got that. Very clever."

"Thank you." The squirrel inclined his head.

"Anyway, that's not normal either. And going to live in a village of gay people certainly isn't 'normal.' "

"Running away isn't a solution," Deverly said, unexpectedly.

We all turned his way, and he flattened his little ears under the scrutiny. "Well," he went on, "I mean, what happens when this village of gay people becomes too large? What if someone discovers it? And these duplicates, can they bear heirs?"

Livingfire drew himself up. "Of course they can. They bear all the blood and flesh and, er..." He glanced at the balls of the naked duplicate lion.

I held up a paw. "Those are all interesting questions," I said, "but the real reason not to run away is because it wouldn't be any fun. And I'll be damned if I'll let my father win. Listen, Your Highness, I will be your friend, I promise. Together we can--"

"You cannot go back," Livingfire said, his arms folded, his attention back on us. "My reputation will be ruined."

I cast a withering look at him. "Your reputation is based on peddling bunkum."

He drew himself up, as much as a squirrel could. "I am not 'peddling bunkum.' I am offering noble families the chance to salvage their honor. And for the sake of all the families who still suffer under the burden I can relieve them of..." He gestured to the door, where fire sprites sprang up and danced. "I am afraid I must insist that you accept my generous offer."

I stared around and then back at the prince, afterimages dancing mockingly behind my eyes. "It was a nice thought," Pob said, resting a paw on my thigh. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Koris."

The prospect had its appeal. Already, the young lion had relaxed, and the warmth of his fingers spurred all kinds of interesting thoughts about how well he might get to know me. I had to adjust the positioning of the cloak on my lap.

But by the Moon, it would always, always, get under my fur if Father won. He'd tried to curb my life more times than I could count, and while I hadn't gotten the better of him every time, I thought I'd won enough that he'd given up. A lifetime of indolence with the prince--and Halbery and Cortian, among others--would only satisfy part of my nature. All you want to do is whore around with your boyfriends, Father'd said, but faced with the opportunity to do just that, my coyote nature rebelled. If ever I needed the Moon's sly shadows and tricks of light to show me the way out, it was now. And the proximity of the two lions, one naked, the other touching me, was not helping me be receptive to the Moon's help.

"Philosophically," Deverly said as I struggled to focus, "it won't work. You can't just brush people you don't like under a carpet. And practically, people will figure it out. You'll need hundreds, thousands of pounds of animatable clay."

The naked duplicate lion reached down to scratch between his sheath and thigh. I wondered whether I was more aroused by the prince's maybe-innocent paw on my leg because I was looking at what was basically his sheath and balls. Then I told myself to focus on finding a solution to the problem.

"I have a supplier." Livingfire had gotten that smug squirrel look on him again. "I can get a thousand pounds if I need it."

"You could've used twenty less this time," I said irritably, and then my ears went straight up because the Moon had been showing me the answer all along and I'd only now understood, as if I had been looking at shadows and now saw clearly the shapes casting them. The squirrel started to say something indignant, but I cut him off with an upheld finger.

"What if I could assure you a permanent, continuing stream of gold coming into this laboratory? Would you declare your 'dis-spell the gay' program a failure and let us go back to the kingdom?"

Prince Pob's paw tightened on my thigh, which didn't help my concentration any, but I kept most of my focus on the wizard, whose eyes had narrowed. His tail flicked jerkily back and forth. "How can you assure me of that? Don't try to trick me."

I gestured to the naked lion. "It is a trick. But it's one we'll help you play. Look at this lion."

He did, and so did Deverly. Pob didn't, but he whispered, "Did you have to?"

"Trust me," I whispered back, and then raised my voice, talking to the wizard. "How many people do you think would pay good gold for the chance to bed that duplicate?"

Deverly's eyes widened right away, and Pob hissed with an indrawn breath. Livingfire took another second. "That's--that's disrespectful! And immoral."

"And very lucrative." I sat up straighter, and then had to adjust the cloak again, because if there's one thing more exciting than a sexy prince's paw creeping up my thigh, it's a brilliant idea. "We would of course spread the word for you, maybe gather fur samples from other nobles...female or male...think of it. 'A discreet night with the noble of your dreams.' Who could resist? You'll have to make them, er, non-fertile, but you'll have more gold than you know what to do with."

Well, it was a coyote against a squirrel, so that conversation ended about as you would expect it to, with Livingfire getting down on his knees to thank the brilliant coyote for making his fortune.

All right, it wasn't quite that dramatic, and he didn't actually get down on his knees (I wouldn't have let him anyway--rodents have those nasty front incisors). But he dismissed the fire sprites and Deverly went off with him to help plan, and they took the lion duplicate with them, leaving a very relieved coyote slumped in his chair next to the prince.

Who returned his paw to my thigh, this time definitely nearer my groin. I swallowed and smiled at him. "It looks like the heroic coyote rescued the handsome prince after all."

"I should be quite upset." He wasn't smiling back. "You've sold my likeness out to anyone with a pawful of gold."

"But I saved you," I pointed out.

"Yes," he said, and he was still touching my thigh, even though he looked upset. Perhaps this was his attempt at being tricky. "I'm sure Livingfire will give you a free night with my double there."

"Why would I want that?" I asked. Softly this time, not snapping. "He's not..."

I hesitated, to get him to say, "Gay?" Which he did.

I smiled and shook my head. "Sweet. And thoughtful."

Now he returned my smile, and his paw kneaded my thigh. "Well, when you put it like that... Would you care to walk the prince back to his room?"

His paw's pressure made me adjust the cloak yet again. "Er. Perhaps in a moment? My...er, legs are quite exhausted from the night's activities."

He leaned closer and purred. "I would prefer not to wait." His paw slid up to my hip. "Perhaps the heroic coyote would permit himself to be carried?"

Well.

The heroic coyote allowed as how that might be all right. Just this once.