Weasel Presents (6 page)

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Jherik waved as the fox left the room, and touched the repaired weapons rack again. “Amazing,” he murmured to himself.

Jherik stayed true to his word for the next three weeks. He endured the lessons with his father, became more involved in teaching the more advanced soldiers, had nightly sessions of spurting, sticky lust with Mishel, and taught Benton for two hours every night. He learned to take short naps during the day to keep his energy up, and once he asked Benton how he managed to keep a recruit’s schedule and still be awake for training sessions.

“Master Stephan lets me work at my own pace,” the fox said. “I go pretty fast on the simple jobs now, so I just finish my work and then sleep for the rest of the afternoon.”

“In the shop?”

“No.” The fox smiled, then whispered, “I sneak into your brother’s old quarters. Nobody’s there, and anyway, I used to live there.”

Jherik thought this was very clever, and said so, and Benton beamed, his tail wagging as they resumed practice until Jherik had to remind him that an out-of-control tail was a liability in a fight.

Three weeks to the day after he’d slept through the session with Benton, Jherik stomped into the practice room and grabbed a sword from the rack with such force that it sent a half-dozen other practice swords clattering across the floor. Benton, who’d stayed quiet since Jherik had entered, sprang to grab them.

“Sir,” he said softly, “you’ll wake everyone up.”

Jherik ignored him, taking ferocious hacks at the air with his practice sword. “We got the messenger today.”

“What...your brother?” Benton had gathered the fallen swords and was replacing them one by one.

“Yes,” Jherik hissed, stabbing at an imaginary foe. “There is no war. He’s coming back and he’s bringing Viana with him. They’re to have the formal wedding ceremony here in a month.”

“Oh.” Benton finished replacing the swords. “Sir, I know how you feel about your brother, but...”

Jherik whirled on him, brandishing the sword. “How do you know?” He made no attempt to keep his voice down.

Benton cringed, but didn’t back up. “I lived with him for most of the last seven years. I’ve seen him and you interact, and I’ve heard him talk about you...”

“You have?” Jherik lowered the sword. “What did he say? Did he talk about what a failure I am?”

“No!” Benton shook his head vigorously. “He loves you.”

Jherik threw his sword down. “Of course he does. That is the perfect answer and he’s the perfect brother.”

Benton’s ears lay down flat at the clang of the sword, and stayed down. He lowered his muzzle. Jherik sighed. “I’m sorry. You lived with him and I’m sure you like him. Just like everybody else likes him.”

“It’s not that,” Benton said. “He used to say he wished you could find a place for yourself.”

“Away from everyone else?”

“No, just...find out where you belong, what you’re meant to do. He really worried about you.”

“He could’ve helped me instead of just being better than me at everything.” Jherik’s bitterness was compounded by the fact that it hadn’t been very good with Mishel that evening; his preoccupation with his brother had left him frustrated and impotent, and the coyote had been solicitous but hadn’t stayed past the bed check bell.

“He’s not better than you at fighting.”

“Then why did
he
get to lead the army to war?” The capstone of his frustrations lay exposed now.

Benton lowered his muzzle again. “Maybe he’s better at leading.”

Jherik growled. “Why don’t you just shut up and go to bed?”

The fox looked for a moment as though Jherik had struck him. He slunk to the door, and paused there. “Why don’t you think more about what you’re good at, instead of what you’re not? Sir.”

He’d vanished before Jherik could think of a suitable reply. But Jherik remembered the expression on the fox’s muzzle, the look of betrayal in his eyes and the flattened ears, and he wondered all the way back to the manor why that single moment had made him feel worse than the entire rest of that miserable day put together.

He still hadn’t completely forgotten it ten hours later, standing beside his father at the doorway to the manor in his itchiest and tightest clothing. At the bottom of the hill, Marhik and Viana were paying their respects to the mayor and the merchants of the town, who had all turned out to welcome them. Jherik waited impatiently, ignoring the reproving looks his father gave him every time his lashing tail bumped the older cougar’s.

“Does he have to personally greet everybody in town?” Jherik muttered, but his father ignored him. A few minutes later, Marhik, Viana, and their escorts started up the hill to the manor.

“Father!” Marhik leaped off his mount and ran to them, throwing his arms around the older cougar, who returned his embrace gladly. Jherik sniffed. His brother was dusty and smelled as though he hadn’t had a bath in weeks, or at least days.

“You must’ve ridden all night,” he said when Marhik turned to him.

His brother grinned and wrapped him in a surprisingly powerful hug. “I did,” Marhik said. “I couldn’t wait to be home again and to show Viana what a lovely place she’ll be living in.”

Viana turned from their father to Jherik at the sound of her name. She was not as tall as either brother, but her eyes were a deep, unusual violet, and her fur was meticulously groomed. She wore a brown dress with golden trim and had a gold chain around her neck as well as golden earrings. Unlike Marhik, only the faintest whiff of dust on her would have told Jherik that she’d ridden for most of the morning. Jherik hadn’t remembered her being this beautiful.

“You must be Jherik,” she said. “You’ve grown even more impressive than Marhik told me.”

He knew it was just a pleasantry, but he couldn’t keep his retort back. “I’m surprised he told you anything about me.”

Her smile faltered only for a second, but Marhik’s didn’t waver. “Jherik is pleased to meet you,” he said. “If he weren’t, he’d be much more polite. Little brother, I have some wonderful news for you, too. I’ll tell you after lunch.”

“You’re going away for good?” muttered Jherik under his breath, but he was already caught in his old dilemma. He was glad Marhik was back, and he couldn’t wait to be out of his presence.

After lunch, an interminable affair with no fewer than four speeches (his father, Marhik, Viana, and his father again) and rich food that he couldn’t eat because his stomach was already straining against the belt and lacings of his formal clothes, Jherik stalked back to his room, claws extended, using all the self-control he had to keep himself from shredding his velvet finery on the stairs. He ripped the lacings free and threw off both shirts, the vest, the collar, the cuffs, and the heavy silver pendant before attacking the complex fastenings of his pants.

“Jherik?”

He turned and saw Marhik in the doorway. His brother grinned. “Hours to put on and only a few seconds to remove.”

“Hi, Marhik.”

Marhik padded in and sat down on the bed. “I missed you, little brother.”

“Sure you did.” Jherik threw on a loose tunic before stripping off the silver-trimmed pants.

“No, really! And hey, here’s the great news I promised you. When I was in Caril, I went to check on our regiment of the city guard. It turns out that Mikhra was anxious to come home, but he was waiting until we had someone to replace him. So Corrif stayed on in his place, but only temporarily.”

“So your great news is that Mikhra’s coming back?” Jherik vaguely remembered him, an old fox who had run the city guard in town before being selected to go to Caril five years ago.

“No. My great news is that Corrif, Dad, and the head of the city guard in Caril all think you would be a perfect choice to command the regiment there.”

“Me?” Jherik stared ahead, stunned. Command a regiment?

“Sure!” Marhik stood up again, obviously excited. “You should’ve seen how the men reacted when I showed up. They love the idea of a cougar of noble birth leading them. And the head of the city guard is the prince’s cousin, and he’d be the only one above you in the chain of command. It’s just the most perfect situation! There are three other nobles who are heads of regiments. I talked to one of them while I was there. He said he loves it. It’s not just a desk job, you really have to go out and take care of business, but the camaraderie is terrific and you get to live in Caril! Oh, Jherik, wait ’til you see it! It’s like...like if our town was the moon, Caril is the sun. It just goes on and on, and the river is huge! I wandered through the market for two hours and didn’t pass the same stall twice. You’re going to love it.”

Jherik’s initial response was fading, and his bitterness surfacing again. “Why didn’t you stay to command, then? They liked
you
.”

“You know I have to be here.” Marhik’s voice became softer. “I thought you’d be excited.”

“To leave? So you wouldn’t have me around all the time any more?”

“To have someplace to go,” Marhik said quietly. “Look, you don’t have to take it. We can send someone else. I just thought it’d be perfect, is all.”

“I’ve got news for you,” Jherik sneered as Marhik padded out of the room. “Not everything you do is perfect.”

His brother just looked back at him silently, and then he was gone. Jherik sat heavily on the bed and covered his muzzle in his paws. He was trapped now. He wanted to go to Caril, but not on his brother’s terms. But if he turned down the offer, he would be stuck here forever.

He heard the click of claws on the floor outside his room and looked up. “Marhik, listen...”

But the figure at the door had a red, bushy tail, and an expressionless muzzle. He was wearing a plain linen tunic, cinched at the waist with a brown leather belt. The sight of him drove Marhik from Jherik’s mind. “Benton?”

The fox held out a piece of wood, as long as his arm. Jherik took it and examined it. “A practice sword? Why isn’t the blade finished? Is it a new style?” He looked up and saw the fox’s ears down again. “I’m sorry--it looks beautiful. I love the handle and the line.”

“I thought you might like to see it. I don’t know if I’ll have time to finish it now.” Benton’s voice sounded oddly flat.

“You got the shape of my paw perfectly, and the weight is...a little off, but once the rest of the blade is trimmed down, it should be close.” He looked cautiously up. “Is it for me?”

Benton barked a short laugh. “Of course it is, sir. I had to give you something back for all your kindness.”

“Well, thank you, Benton. It’s wonderful.” He wanted to hug the fox, but he settled for an apology. “Listen, I’m sorry for how I spoke to you last night. I know you were only trying to help.”

“It’s all right, sir.”

Jherik shook his head. “It isn’t. You know, you’re about the only friend I can talk to about my brother?”

“I’m sorry about that. I wish you could see how he feels. I wish it wasn’t so hard for you.”

“Sometimes I think I make it hard.” He sighed and ran his paws along the blade again, feeling the rough spots and lumps on one side that hadn’t been smoothed out. “No, I know I do. Why did you say you wouldn’t have time to finish this?”

Benton shuffled his paws. “I heard some of what your brother said. I guess you’re going to Caril.”

“Maybe.” Jherik set the sword down and put his muzzle in his paws again. “I would like to, but I told him I wouldn’t. And it would be a great opportunity, but I’d miss everyone here, all the soldiers and the army and all.”

“You shouldn’t let that stop you,” Benton said softly. “You deserve great things. It sounds like it would be wonderful there.”

Jherik heard a trace of emotion in the fox’s voice, and looked up. Benton was trying hard to maintain the earnestly neutral expression on his muzzle.
He’s worked so hard
, Jherik thought,
at being a soldier, and I feel so comfortable talking with him. I should give him a hug...but he might misinterpret it.
He felt a surge of emotion himself; the thought that he would leave here and not see Benton again was alarming, for reasons he didn’t really understand. “You know what I’d miss most of all?” he said, wondering at what he was about to say, and wondering if he should say it or just let it go. But when Benton shook his head and looked at him with those amber eyes, definitely shiny now, he spoke from the heart. “You.”

Benton swallowed. “M-me?”

Jherik nodded. “I’ve never met anyone who made me feel good so easily. Look, fifteen minutes ago I was ready to strangle my brother, and now I just feel sad.”

“Sad is good?” Benton clamped his muzzle shut as his voice cracked.

“It’s better than furious, anyway.” Jherik stood up and smiled, walking towards Benton, who cringed inexplicably. He thought he might put the fox at ease with a little joke. “You know, you really have a way with people. I think you’ll make some vixen a lovely husband someday. It’s too bad you don’t go for males, or I might chase you myself.”

Benton’s eyes grew wide as saucers. He stared at Jherik and then stepped forward, put a paw on the cougar’s tunic, and in one quick motion, rose up on his toes to kiss the cougar on the muzzle.

Jherik stared back at him. Benton took a step back, his ears lying flat, and then he bolted from the room.

“Hey!” It took Jherik a minute to realize what had happened, another minute for him to realize that the exploding confusion of feeling and sensation was a good thing, a
very
good thing, and still another minute for him to tell his paws to wrench themselves free from the bedroom floor and run out into the corridors.

Unfortunately, it took him several minutes to realize that he had never put any pants back on.

His tunic saved him from complete embarrassment, but the noticeable protrusion of his sheath just under the belt that was holding the tunic in place drew stares and giggles from several servants before he gave up the search and hurried back to his rooms. The fox’s scent hung heavy in the air, but at the bottom of the stairs it had vanished into the haze of scents of the manor, and Jherik’s nose wasn’t keen enough to let him trace it.

Fully dressed, he jogged down to the barracks and looked all around there before it occurred to him that Benton would most likely have gone to the woodworkers’ shop. He returned to the manor and asked Master Stephan, but the squirrel said he hadn’t seen Benton since earlier that afternoon, when he’d come to pick up the practice sword he’d been working on.