Page 8 of Fox of Fox Hall

A knot required more emotional and physicalinvestment than Fox would likely get with a stranger. Thepossibility tortured him anyway as the verses of the song got moreexplicit. He had knights and a thorough stuffing on his mind, and afar too tempting figure in his line of sight. So he barely let thatsong end before he moved on to another, something softer, sweeter,and easier on his throat to give himself a small rest.

More and more knights entered the tower as hewent on. One sat on Byr Conall’s other side, not slouching againsthim though their tails rested near each other on the bench betweenthem. Byr Conall didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back with his legsspread and his eyes closed, tired or bored or both, but nodded orquietly answered his friends when they spoke.

Fox wondered if their exchanges were about theyounger knights who sat nearer to where Fox stood, but who glancedback to their Dragonslayer often as if uncertain he approved. Theymight have been after more than his approval. Fox could hardlyblame them for that when his gaze strayed repeatedly to Byr Conalldespite his best efforts.

It was seeing him more relaxed, in a place whereexpensive clothing clearly did not matter because it wasn’t needed,with people who had lived similar lives to him, without Domvodathere to observe and remark and dozens of others to immediatelyfollow suit. Byr though they were, the knights were at ease, almostlike the regular people they insisted they were above. And amongthem, the watchful, quiet Dragonslayer had his eyes shut and asmile on his face while his friends or lovers whispered overhim.

Fox might as well have not been performing.

He switched intoThe Song of theDragonslayer, singing as well as playing, and without lookingat Byr Conall directly saw him flinch and straighten.

Several of the others turned to look at ByrConall as well, probably curious about his reaction to hearing hisdeeds sung to him.

Byr Conall looked ahead, to Fox.

The Fox bites, Fox heard in Domvoda’svoice, the one especially rich with satisfaction that Fox hadwounded someone. It made Fox shiver despite the sweat beneath hisclothes. He should have chosen an easier song after such a long dayof performing and should not have struck out at the one person whohad offered him help. Before the song reached the part of the talewhere Byr Conall was swept up into the sky, Fox melded the songwith a much older one about the chiefs and rulers who had beengiven land from the dragons in a past so ancient that it precededthe fabled empire. That past was probably just as imaginary, whichwas fortunate since the song mentioned contracts that had beenstruck with the great beasts, and the terms of those contracts wentunstated in the lyrics.

He got a few protests before the complainersrecognized the new song and whistled their praise for the smoothexecution.

Ithadbeen neatly done, Fox admitted,but was slow to glance to Byr Conall to see his reaction.

Byr Conall’s eyes were no longer closed and hewas turned toward Byr Rolfi with his tail still perilously close totouching that of his other friend. He did not even give Fox achance to worry over that again before he rose to his feet thenhelped Byr Rolfi do the same.

Fox was too professional to falter as the two ofthem headed out of the tower together. He played on, letting hisvoice soar where it might be heard even in the courtyard.

By the time the sky began to darken and someonestarted a fire for light in the central fireplace, several of theknights felt comfortable enough to call him Fox while asking forsongs. Fox had stopped singing a while ago, regretfully informingthem that he had to rest his voice in case it was asked forelsewhere. No one had made any jokes he could hear about whereverhis evening destination might be. The music might have lulled themas it had once lulled drowsy pigs to sleep, though Fox would neversay such a thing out loud to them.

They split off into pairs or small groups,talking quietly so they could still listen to his playing. Theywere nowhere near as rowdy as Byr Conall had said they would be,but the tournament was some days away, and the novelty of Fox’spresence might have distracted them.

The semi-quiet was peaceful, even Fox couldadmit it. The cooler night air carried the sounds of his lute,their murmurs, and the fire’s occasional crackles. Fox dropped hishead now that he was no longer the center of attention and slowedhis fingers.

No one came to call him to play during the mealat the great hall in Saravar, perhaps not knowing yet where he wasbut more than likely Fox had been forgotten once out of sight. Hedidn’t feel like thinking of it. He didn’t want to think ofanything. Unfortunately, a wily fox needed to stay sharp to keepone step ahead of his doom.

But he should get some rest first at least, andcould forgo dinner to go collapse in his new bed.

A shadow fell over him, bringing his head up. Herecognized the shape of the shadow quicker than he should have andstopped playing without bothering to properly end the song. Ifthere was a protest for that, he didn’t hear it.

Byr Conall stood in front of him, holding out asturdy mug and equally sturdy plate loaded with looked like bread,potatoes, and slices of fig. His gaze was difficult to see with thefire at his back, but his intent was clear, if confusing.

“Did I play enough to earn dinner?” Fox askedlightly without sending his voice across the room.

“More than enough, which you know.” Byr Conall’stone also did not tell him much. “For the future, if you needsomething to eat, the small kitchens are across the courtyard, nextto the ovens. You don’t have to sing for us. I didn’t invite youhere for that. You already perform all day.”

Fox shrugged and let Byr Conall’s shadow hideany color in his cheeks. “I like it. That is, I like to play to amore open audience. It’s been a while since anyone has enjoyed mymusic.”

A horrible, naked thing to say aloud, and tosomeone who likely did not care. Fox released his lute and pushedit to the side, letting the strap take the weight. He accepted themug first and only after a quick sip of cold, clear water, flavoredwith lemon, realized how thirsty he actually was. He gulped more sogreedily some ran down his chin.

“Perhaps you should wait to play until you areless tired?” Byr Conall suggested, even quieter than usual,steadily watching Fox pretend he wasn’t wiping water from hisface.

“Who says I’m tired?” Fox wondered, then paused,frowning at yet another humiliation. He probably looked like awilting flower, sweaty and sleepless, with a hoarse voice and hairthat was… falling from its former position and had been for a whilenow.

Byr Conall, distressingly polite, did notcomment on Fox’s pallor or damp armpits or any drooping ribbons.“If I didn’t bring you food, one of the others would have.”

Fox peered around the bulk of him in search ofByr Rolfi and didn’t find him.

“Whoever you look for,” Byr Conall continued,voice lower and ever so slightly rougher, “be careful.”

“Be…?” Fox didn’t finish the question, first toobusy trying not to sweep a look over Byr Conall and how much of himwas visible in his less formal clothes, and then trying not totouch the interesting patch of hair on Byr Conall’s chest. Hejerked his head up once he understood what Byr Conall wasnotsaying and had his mouth open before he remembered thatByr Conall didn’t need to know who Fox had been searching for.

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