Page 7 of Fox of Fox Hall

He could see into the tower itself, as it wasn’tclosed off but rather the focal point for the hall. It looked to bea gathering place for knights who didn’t want to sit in theirrooms. Several low-backed benches and chairs were centered around acircular fireplace, currently without a fire, and wide doors on oneside had been opened reveal the courtyard by the stables. Anotherset of wide doors on the other wall that made up the point wereclosed. Fox didn’t know what they led to; he’d never ventured tothat part of the grounds.

His room was on the second story and barelylarge enough for the bed, but with a window to let in light and anactual door. Fox left his small trunk on the bed and then went downto help carry the rest of his things up the stairs. He was leftuncomfortably sweaty but the servant was not the one to complain toabout it. Fox merely thanked them again and watched them go fromhis doorway.

From there, he could peer down into the tower oracross to more of the rooms. Two knights, or so he assumed, walkedthrough the open doors from the courtyard, each holding a platefull of food. They must have a kitchen nearby, probably a smallerone to provide meals for the staff who did not work or live in themain sections of the castle: stable hands, gardeners and the like.As Fox considered that, another knight slipped in through theclosed doors, naked except for a wet towel and short boots.

This drew no remarks from anyone, so Fox assumedthere was a bath of some kind in that direction, which was arelief. Fox would want to look fresh if he was called to entertainduring the king’s dinner tonight, but wasn’t sure what the knightshere thought of Fox’s presence among them. He might have to use thebath and kitchens in the rest of the castle—a pain, but perhapsmore diplomatic since he was already in the knights’ space.

He stayed in the doorway, hesitating as he wouldnot have in front of other nobles. The knights might be insulted tohear it, but they shared a strange status with him—they were notservants but they were there to serve, and they belonged neither inthe servants’ quarters nor with the rest of the byr. But they hadseen Fox arrive in Kaladas, and those who hadn’t would know of hispresence soon enough, so he should dosomething.

He went back into his room to exchange his courtslippers for soft boots, which were more suited to floors that ledout to the stables in addition to being more comfortable. He tiedup his hair at the top of his head, leaving his curls to fall downbehind him like a horse’s tail, then took his lute and the longerstrap that allowed it to hang from his shoulder before leaving theroom again. He’d unpack later or not at all.

There was a narrow, curved stairwell halfwaydown the line of rooms and another one at the end of them, leadingto the benches and fireplace. A large window lit the darkenedstairwell, heavy curtains thrown open as they must not be in thewinter. Fox noticed his tail was curled apprehensively around hiswaist as he reached the lowest step and forced it away from hisbody. Then he stopped dead, foolishly startled to see Byr Conallstriding in from outside.

Byr Conall was immediately greeted by some ofthe knights around the fireplace. He was also fully dressed and notwet, a fact Fox registered with an embarrassing sense of loss. Foxbarely had time to recover from that, or to realize he was staringat the energetic, happy swish of Byr Conall’s tail as he spoke tohis friends, because Byr Conall looked up and over at Fox withsudden attention.

Which was the moment Fox realized how brightlyand formally he was dressed compared to the knights around him,most in unbuttoned doublets to show their light shirts beneath andcertainly not attired to stand before the king.

Several of the others turned toward Fox as welland said something amongst themselves that made a few of themlaugh. Fox could guess what it was. So many tried to bed or werebedded by the king and yet Fox was the one they chose to mock forit.

Byr Conall looked at Fox, his pace and tailslowing, then inclined his head to acknowledge Fox beforecontinuing forward in Fox’s direction. Fox went still, regrettinghis easy hairstyle, how tired he must look, how incorrectly dressedhe was. He parted his lips to form a greeting anyway, hoping noneof that mattered to Byr Conall, only to frown when none of itdidmatter to Byr Conall.

Fox was not Byr Conall’s destination. Byr Conallsaid, “Fox,” his voice as warm as before, but passed Fox withplenty of space between them before heading up the stairs. Foxstepped quickly from the stairwell, his face burning, and tried notto turn to see which door Byr Conall went into although of coursehe did.

Any and all information could be useful to a foxwho had to be clever to earn his bread, but that wasn’t why Foxlooked.

Calling himself a fool again, he forced himselfonward and let the gathered knights notice him before he addressedthem all in a pleasant tone.

“Brave knights, it appears I will be among youfor the foreseeable future.” No point in pretending otherwise. “Idon’t wish to get in the way, especially before the tournament, soif I overstep, please let me know.” He had his tail halfway up tothe familiar Daffodil position before he realized that no one inthe tower was doing anything with their tails except idly flickingthem to chase away a few flies. He dropped his tail and bowed alittle. “But, if you like, I thought perhaps I might sing or playfor my supper?” He raised his lute as he asked and smiled widerthan he would have in the receiving rooms. The knights’ quarterswere not a tavern or the front room of an inn, and he was notrequired to play to be fed or housed, but Fox also didn’t want tooffend them by assuming his music was wanted or by not offering ifit was.

“You want to play for us?” He didn’t know theknight who spoke, although the knight clearly knew him. “Don’tthink we can pay what the king does.” The knowing gleam in theknight’s eyes was better than a smirk, but not by much.

“Watch your boots,” another called, one of theones Byr Conall had spoken with. “We might have tracked some horseshit in with us.”

Honestly, Fox had faced worse comments in hisgrowing years before he’d ever set foot in the capital.

“Oh,” he answered lightly, still smiling, “Ididn’t realize that the only difference between the byr who attendthe king and the byr who fight in his tournament was horse shit.How silly of me to have expected byr sworn to nobly protectcitizens to behave better.”

He did his best to seem unaffected by the suddenstillness in the room and turned his attention back to the firstknight. “As for the other matter, as I said, my payment would befood. If you’d rather I go to Saravar for my meals, I can. But themusic goes with me, I’m afraid.”

“I believe Rolfi’s remark about the shit was agenuine warning.” Byr Conall’s familiar voice came from behind Fox.Fox turned to watch him enter the tower. Byr Conall had changedinto more comfortable clothing and was now wearing long breeches, asimple shirt, and a belt, with no weapon, which Fox found vaguelyfascinating—a knife for court but no knife here. He sat down nextto his friend, Byr Rolfi, who immediately slouched against ByrConall’s side as if he had the right to. Fox moved his gaze awayfrom the press of their shoulders and did not bring it back evenwhen Byr Conall added, “The meals in this part of the castle willbe simpler, but I suspect that will not bother the Fox.”

“It will not.” Fox stared at the empty place onthe bench next to Byr Conall for a second too long, then at wherethere should have been space between Byr Conall and Byr Rolfi. Hestartled to see some hair visible on both of their chests, althoughByr Rolfi did not have a beard.

No gossip in all of Fox’s years at court hadmentioned anything of the Dragonslayer and a lover. Maybe ByrConall had many lovers, so it was not worth mentioning. Maybe hislovers were among the knights, so the rest of the court did notcare.

Fox rolled each wrist before he tied the longerstrap to each end of the lute and pulled that over his head. Thenhe raised his lute to his chest. He spoke as if faintly amused. “Iam not byr. I have eaten fallen fruit and stale bread. I’vesnatched up what was left on the plates of strangers. I have alsoeaten at a king’s table.” He finally looked up, noting anotherknight had stopped in the doorway from the courtyard to observe thescene. “You will please note that I am a performer of the highestquality. I have played near pigsties to coax the animals to slumberand sung for hours in the capital’s fiercest taverns. I’ve enteredcompetitions at fairs and won them too. And yes, I have performedfor the king—I love to play for an appreciative audience.” Hedarted his tail out from between his legs in a quick, crude jokethat made the rudest one of them snort out a surprised laugh. ThenFox swept his tail back to the floor.

“Then if you’re not tired,” Byr Conall spokebefore anyone else could, “you could sing for them.”

Not for him, it seemed. Fox chose not to dwellon that in the moment or to meet those unfairly warm eyes. Hemerely nodded. “Is there a request?”

The first request was forDry Well, afavorite of all classes, although usually only asked for after alot of spirits had been consumed. The song was not permitted to beplayed in some inns, although most taverns had no objections. Somebyr pretended not to know it, but the song had likely been aroundfor centuries and had different additional verses depending on theregion. All verses went into great detail about the originalsinger’s difficulties in the bedroom and desperate search forsomething to get their waters flowing again.

Fox suspected the request had been meant to testhim. He responded by singing one version, then a few of theadditional verses he’d learned over the years.

He discovered quickly that knights could blush.Well, some of them. Especially when Fox looked them in the eyewhile he deliberately chose the added verses about the originalsinger propositioning a company of knights on the side of the road.For a song about someone trying yet failing to find pleasure, thesinger had certainly seemed to enjoy that encounter.

It did sound interesting, Fox had to admit. Heimagined taking that many knots in the right circumstances wouldalmost feel like a mating. Or what he thought a mating would feellike, his body throbbing at the very idea. It had been too longsince Fox had last been filled; Domvoda had been ignoring him andeveryone else either detested him or were afraid to get close. Hecould try to convince one of the visitors to fuck him, although hedoubted it would end in a knotting.

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