Page 6 of Fox of Fox Hall

Fox swallowed the lump in his throat, whichmight have been the apology he still could not make. “You’d thinkthey’d do better for their hero than a small room with a bunch ofnoisy ruffians.”

The smile that curved Byr Conall’s pretty mouthstole Fox’s breath and Fox could not pretend otherwise. Thankfully,Byr Conall didn’t seem to notice as he hadn’t come here to studyFox’s every reaction. He had come here to make an offer out of…still very likely pity, but perhaps compassion that felt like pitybecause compassion had become unfamiliar.

“You’re the only one to think so,” Byr Conallanswered, the smile lingering. “Or at least, the only one tosayso, even if you do make it sting.”

The Fox did not flounder for words. If he did,he might as well start packing up his things now. But he also couldnot think of what to say to that.

“Don’t apologize,” Byr Conall added, his smiledisappearing at last. “The truthshouldsting,sometimes.”

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” Fox told himimmediately with a tiny, mean grin. “Why should I?” he added in atone much cooler than how he currently felt.

Byr Conall blinked, then gave him a glance. Astudy more than a glance, really. A glance which became athoughtful, steady stare that Fox had felt on him before and whichDomvoda had experienced earlier. Fox wondered if even Domvodatrembled and warmed inside and worried about what that study meant.If he did, Domvoda would never admit to it.

Fox had warmed and trembled and worried under itwhen standing there in the hall outside Domvoda’s chambers with theDragonslayer looking at him and surely seeing how Fox, who shouldhave known better, had been in the king’s bed for so long he’dstarted to believe that he was special. That he had a place.

Byr Conall had been at court for more than adecade. He had probably witnessed such scenes many times. Even Foxhad seen several new favorites come and go, although he had neverpersonally watched them make fools of themselves outside the king’schambers. But even if they had, they would have been byr. Notsilly, jumped-up street musicians who really, really ought to haveknown better.

That was why Byr Conall treated Fox as he did,and Fox, with no friends but the odd servant or two, should havebeen grateful.

He wanted to sneer instead. Although not at ByrConall. Other people deserved it more.

“Clever Fox,” Byr Conall began, hesitant, andFox met his eyes for one startled second before looking away againto the open doors and the nobles he could now see beginning theirslow return from the garden.

“Just Fox,” Fox told him quietly, arranging histail to Disdainful Queen and checking the strings of his lute. Heshifted, trying to find a way to stand that did not hurt hisfeet.

“Fox,” Byr Conall agreed in a voice to make Foxworry and wonder more.

“You should get to your quarters,” Fox respondedwith his head down. “Enjoy the peace before it’s taken from you.There will not be much of that to be had soon. I hear there arestorms coming.”

When he looked up again, Byr Conall wasgone.

Someone so large really should make more noisewhen he moved.

ChapterThree

Byr Conall’s ability to remain quiet and yetspeak boldly when necessary plagued Fox’s thoughts for the next fewhours, though they shouldn’t have. Perhaps because the byr hadgrown even more tedious once Domvoda stopped paying attention tomost of them and Fox had preferred to think of something moreinteresting, or perhaps because he was tired and his mind was proneto wandering. Or perhaps that was simply the effect of a hero onone’s senses. After all, Byr Conall could rattle even the king.

When Domvoda left the receiving rooms entirelyand the talk instantly turned to the difficulty of securingadequate space in the castle and many curious glances were sentFox’s way, Fox stopped playing and at last went in search offood.

In the kitchens, doing his best not to hobble onhis sore feet, Fox encountered the guardian of the estate, and,swallowing a hard crust of bread along with his pride, inquiredabout the quarters where the knights stayed and if space wasavailable.

Considering that, for the moment at least, Foxhad a room and a bed to himself and the guardian knew it, hersurprise was brief. The understanding that followed was notobvious, but she didn’t ask questions or leer at him as one of thecooks did. She merely looked thoughtful, absently tightening theribbons in her hair as she waited for the servant she summoned toappear, then sending them off to ready a space for Fox in KaladasHall.

The hall, which like the two main wings ofSaravar was almost a castle of its own but on a smaller scale, wascalled Kaladas—which Fox had heard meant ‘sword’ in the ancienttongue but wasn’t sure he trusted the source. The hall’s shapewasroughly like the point of a sword, with a short,triangular tower at the end of a long, narrow, two-story buildingthat was more or less dedicated to the knights and soldiers whomight be required to live there in times of danger. Probably forthat reason, the tower portion was near the stables and armory. Theinterior probably resembled a combination of those things.

But no matter what it was like inside the homeof Saravar’s temporary and permanent knights, Fox was certain hehad stayed in worse places. And it did make a small difference thatit was his choice to go there before being told to or left to fendfor himself. So he finished his meal and then went to the tiny roomthat was no longer his to pack up his belongings with slightly lessdismay than he’d expected.

Unlike most of the visitors to Saravar, all ofFox’s possessions had come with him. He didn’t like to leave thingsbehind, especially not knowing what he would be facing, and anyway,he didn’t have that much to take compared to them.

Regardless, he was proud of his trunks andgrateful he had not removed much from them in his haste to dressthat morning. Packing was familiar, quick work. He tried to let itdistract him, taking the most care with the trunk full of hisinstruments, music sheets, and the books he studied in private.

It was not enough to have taught himself toread, he had to keep up with his reading to reach what the byr hadbeen taught as children, and learn to write so that words flowednaturally. He had larger trunks for the clothing and shoes he’dmanaged to squirrel away, keeping even the items no longerfashionable because he couldn’t simply toss out clothing like thebyr, and another smaller case for brushes, creams, oils, potionsand medicines including what was necessary to prevent him becominga bearer, his collection of jewelry and ribbons, and the stash ofcoins that he didn’t allow himself to spend.

Familiar or not, the actions did not grant himmuch peace, and when a servant knocked on the door with a cart tomove Fox’s trunks for him and lead him to his new accommodations,Fox carried the smaller trunk himself and spared a coin to pay theservant for the extra trouble… and for not offering any commentaryon anything except the prickle in the air that evidently meant itwould be a wet summer.

That didn’t grant peace either, but Foxappreciated the warning. Worrying over the weather was a nicedistraction while they journeyed through the main part of Saravarin full view of servants and any byr who happened to be around.Their turn would come, Fox reminded himself as he and his trunksentered Kaladas. Probably once the storms began.

Kaladas was older than one of the wingscurrently packed to the brim by anxious byr. So much older that Foxsuspected it was either part of the original castle that had stoodbefore Saravar or was the original castle itself. In the winters,the hall might be freezing, all the windows to let in the lightalso letting in wind and cold. But it was clean, and instead of anysort of barracks, was full of rooms with either wooden doors orthick curtains in the doorways. How Fox hoped some byr would end upin a room without a true door.

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