Vixen Hunted

by Christopher Kincaid

  The abbess regarded the men for a long moment. She drummed her fingers against her cheek.

  "East."

  "We will be going east."

  "The man rode northwest," the abbess said.

  "Valador will be east. He has an almost supernatural ability to track his target. I just pray we will find the girl before he does." The Jesuits turned to leave.

  Tera felt paralyzed. She knew what she saw. How could they not care about a demon?

  "Do stay and rest the night. We have rooms aplenty," the abbess said.

  "We leave immediately," Balwar said.

  "Take me with you!" Tera grabbed the man's robes.

  "Tera!" The abbess's voice cracked like a switch.

  "Take me with you! I know what I saw! I can serve. I was meant to serve rather than rot here."

  Mother Mae stepped around the desk. "You will—"

  "It seems Valador took a liking to this sister," Guillermo said.

  "It is unusual if what she says is true. Valador is a wolf. In any case, she is certainly a lively one. She might enjoy a road ministry."

  Tera looked up. Hope spilled down her cheeks. "I want to be about the Lord's business."

  Balwar shrugged. "We can take her along. It wasn't long ago I was dewy eyed."

  Guillermo chuckled. "And you are not now?"

  The abbess hesitated. "She is young and not even a full year into her vows."

  "It is her choice, is it not, abbess?" Balwar asked.

  "I will go!" Tera kissed Balwar's hem.

  The abbess sighed. "I won't stop you, deary, if this is what you want."

  "I do. I will expose your lies!" Tera rose to her feet. "I will bring in that fox demon."

  "Take whatever you need, deary. You will always have a place to come back to here."

  "Be quick about it. We leave in an hour." Balwar bowed his head. "This has been…an interesting meeting, abbess."

  "It has, Brother Tren, Brother Ruz. May God watch over you on your journey."

  Mother Mae glided toward Tera, and the young nun stiffened. It was not fair that the woman could have so much dignity and be a liar.

  The abbess wrapped her arms around her.

  "May God bring you back safe."

  Chapter 10

  "That is a beautiful rock. Where did you get it?" Kit asked.

  A girl in a brown coat far too big for her held several polished stones in her hand. The variegated stones glittered. Her mother stood nearby with a basket of clothes perched on her hip.

  "There are many over there in the stream." She pointed with a thin finger to a cluster of trees off the road. "You should find some for the festival. They are pretty and good luck."

  "Let's go, Grisald," the girl's mother said. "These people have better things to do than look at rocks."

  "But Ma—"

  "I think I will find some. Thank you, Grisald." Kit ruffled the girl's mousy hair.

  "Since when did you like children?" Timothy asked.

  "So you know all about me now?"

  "I know that you are planning something." He pulled his cloak closed against the wind. Cat leaned against his leg.

  "The girl mentioned a festival. That gives me an idea." Kit snagged Timothy's hand and dragged him into the copse of trees.

  "And let me guess. You won't tell me."

  "You know me a little."

  Timothy shook his head and let her tug him toward the crisp sound of water. Cat rustled beside them. The stream meandered through the trees. Stones of all colors glittered just under the clear rushing water.

  "Give me a pouch." Kit tossed her cloak on a fallen tree. She pulled off her shoes and stockings and then stripped off her skirt. As she rolled her leggings above her knees, her tail swished. Cat chased a butterfly that fluttered like a drunk leaving a tavern.

  "What if someone sees you? Why do you want a bunch of rocks anyway?" Timothy glanced toward the road. They were deep enough into the woods that no one could see, right? What if Grisald returned?

  "It is a wonder your hair isn't white from worry."

  "I didn't worry until I met you."

  Kit crossed her arms. "Give me a pouch, shepherd."

  "Fine." He emptied the money purse into his hand and stuffed the coins in his coat pockets. Kit wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  "I thought your fur would keep you warm." Timothy held out the purse.

  "Give me that." Kit swiped the purse from Timothy and pushed her knapsack to him. She waded into the water. Her tail bristled. "Cold!"

  The stream rushed just below her knees. She rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hand into the flowing water. Timothy glanced back through the trees. Orange, gold, and brown-edged leaves hid them from the road, but he was tired of surprises.

  "Are you going to tell me what you are planning? How are rocks going to help us?"

  "You will see."

  Timothy rubbed his forehead and settled on a log, setting their packs beside him. He watched the direction of the road and Kit at the same time. Cat drank from the stream and munched on whatever caught her eye. Autumn had descended with vengeance since they had left Aunt Mae. Timothy hoped she was well.

  Kit waded from the stream about an hour later.

  "Did you leave any rocks?" Timothy asked. Kit ignored him and dressed. Her bushy tail refused to fit under her skirt.

  "Summer left in a hurry." Kit smoothed her skirt. "Here, take a look."

  He opened the bulging purse. River stones, polished by water to resemble gems, gleamed. "Pretty but what did you—"

  "You will see. I am not sure if it will work, but I heard of a merchant…" She trailed off with a shiver. "Cold! I will be a noble in our story yet. Let's go before I freeze."

  The road was much closer to the stream than Timothy first thought. Busy as well. Maybe Kit was lucky.

  They walked for two hours. Kit, for once, said little. She occasionally shook her head and mumbled something Timothy could not hear. He watched the fields and people pass as the flat land gave way to rolling hills and pasturage. Getting a flock up some of those hills looked to be a day's work. A lone shepherd stood out against the sky on one of the tallest, white shapes milling around the silhouette. The road climbed a hill almost as tall as the one Timothy watched. At least a shepherd could see anything coming his way from up there.

  "We made it." Kit tugged his sleeve.

  A walled city erupted into view as the pasture and fields ended at thick stone fortifications. People flowed from several roads in a steady stream of colors. Yellows mixed with vibrant reds. Greens clashed with orange. Couples walked with hands locked. Children darted between creaking carts. The city hummed like a beehive.

  Timothy smoothed a hand over his serviceable but drab coat. Kit's ears pressed against her headscarf, and Timothy bet her tail was twitching under her skirts. He hoped no one looked too closely. Her red hair drew enough attention.

  A passing buxom woman caught Timothy's eye and smiled.

  Kit sniffed.

  "I don't know why human males like big ones like hers. In just a few years they will be down here." Her hands pendulumed near her waist. "Her back must hurt. I like mine. They are perfect, don't you think?"

  Timothy laid a hand on Cat's head. The lamb's head bobbed to each group of children, her tail beating against Timothy's leg. He peered at Kit's chest and stroked the stubble on his chin, glancing at the buxom woman and back to Kit. "I agree. Small is best. Although, it looks like you are a little cold."

  Kit looked down and crossed an arm over her chest. "I am perhaps a little cold." Her face flushed enough to match her hair. She closed her cloak with her other hand.

  Timothy smiled. He finally managed to fluster her!

  "Aw, look! A lamby!" A blond girl skidded beside Cat. The lamb's tail was a hummingbird against Timothy's leg.

  "Her name is Cat." Timothy patted Cat's head.

  The golden-haired girl's smile was as radiant as it was gap toothed. "Cat? That is a sill
y name!"

  "She likes to be petted." Kit shifted her cloak so it covered the rest of her.

  "Really!" The girl reached out a tentative hand. Cat nudged her head under the hand and rubbed against it.

  "So soft!" The girl cooed. Cat bleated.

  "Where is everyone going?" Timothy asked the girl.

  "There is a festival. A Founder's Festival, Grannie said." Cat leaned into the girl's hand.

  "A festival?" Kit tugged at Timothy's sleeve. "It must the same one the other girl was talking about."

  "Yeah! Dancing and even a castle! Oh! That's Grannie calling me." The girl patted Cat and darted away. The lamb bleated good-bye.

  "Sounds like fun!" Kit clapped her hands together.

  "I doubt anyone will be looking for us in a town this full." Timothy gazed over the ramparts. Colored banners that put the most garish bird to shame snapped in the cold wind. The gate gobbled the stream of human color.

  "You worry too much about things. Let's have some fun! Besides, the festival will make it easier for what I plan!"

  "A plan you neglected to tell me."

  "You will find out very soon! Maybe we can find out more about my home."

  Timothy's hand rose to his pocket. He needed to tell her soon.

  "I'm sure a merchant has heard about it. We will find something," Kit said.

  The flood of people washed them into the town. Color dripped. Timothy had to close his eyes against the onslaught. It looked like an illuminator sneezed into his paints. Banners of every hue flapped from the rooftops, and the giant banner stretched across the street proclaimed the Founder's Festival. Street performers put on plays for crowds of people pressed into rainbow throngs. The jugglers' garb looked mundane compared to the slashed and dotted clothing the audience wore. Street stalls crammed every possible space, and merchants sat between stalls with their wares on rugs bright enough to make a blind man look away. The press of bodies, the smell of meats, breads, tarts, beer, and less pleasant things overwhelmed Timothy's senses. He and Kit rubbed their noses in unison.

  "It does smell pretty bad."

  "It does, but I am still hungry. These look wonderful!" Kit stopped at a street vendor selling honeyed apples.

  "They are only a half silver for three, good sir." The elderly women looked at Cat. Her wrinkled face folded with curiosity.

  Timothy hesitated, and Kit frowned at him. "You never did apologize for your last trick on me."

  "They are expensive. Too expensive, and you never apologize for your tricks"

  "Perhaps I should find a man who will appreciate me being cold?" Kit turned to walk away.

  Timothy huffed. "I doubt you would let me off that easily." He dug out the coin from his coat pocket and handed it to the old shop keeper.

  "Thank you, sir. Happy Founder's Day," the shop keeper said.

  Kit held an apple for Cat and took a bite out of the other two.

  "Someone is greedy today." Timothy forced his mouth not to betray him.

  Honey dripped down Kit's chin. "These're good."

  "Baa!"

  "It is going to be hard to find a room. And expensive," Timothy said. Kit grabbed his arm and he stopped. "What do you see now?"

  "I want to go in there." She pointed to a clothing shop. Timothy shrugged and took a step toward the building.

  "At least we can get away from the people for a bit," he said as Kit stopped him again. "What?"

  She rubbed her face on his sleeve and Timothy groaned. She bounced ahead of Timothy and leaned in. "Am I presentable?"

  "You still have a few freckles, and you still look cold."

  "And you can't look away from my chilliness, can you?"

  "Well, I do like small girls." He cleared his throat.

  "Pff. You still need practice," Kit said. "Your red face is cute though."

  Kit grabbed his arm and pressed her side against his.

  "Stay out here." Timothy told Cat.

  The shop's silence welcomed Timothy. Rich clothing dyed with soothing colors lined the walls, all folded just so. Fur-lined coats hung from a strange iron frame Timothy had never seen before. Kit wandered over to run her hand over the coats' fabric.

  "How may I help you today?" The shopkeeper's clothes matched the show: simple but expensive looking. The simple blacks and grays complemented his impressive mustache and gray eyes. He wore a white cloth wrapped around his head. The odd hat made the man's head look larger than it was. Timothy tried not to stare.

  "Oh! I'm sorry, dear sir. I…I was only looking." Kit shot a look at Timothy. He swallowed a groan.

  "I know you are up to something. What is it?" Timothy whispered.

  "Hush and watch."

  Suddenly she started crying.

  Timothy took a step toward her before he realized what he was doing. She skewered him with a glare as the merchant glanced from her to Timothy. Shock and surprise opened the man's dark face.

  "I…I'm sorry sir. It is just that…I only have a week before I am sold. I…I wanted to buy something for my new husband"—she waved at Timothy—"to show him how happy he has made me these last few months."

  "Sold?" The man produced a handkerchief and shot Timothy a murderous look.

  "Y…yes. His father has a huge debt." Kit hiccupped. "My husband is to be sold to the slave caravans to pay it off." She looked at the shopkeeper with flooded eyes. "But as you can likely see, he is a good-natured boy. I just cannot bear the thought of him going." She collapsed into the shopkeeper and fanged a smile in Timothy's direction.

  "My father managed to change the contract," she said. "I am to be sold in his stead. To work as a…So we wanted to spend our last week together. I wanted my…last…last memory of us together to be happy." She dabbed her eyes with the shopkeeper's handkerchief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to buy a nice coat for him to keep him warm when I cannot, but…but…"

  "It is quite a tale. One that I am sorry to hear. It is not uncommon in my homeland. My own grandmother had to work off my grandfather's debt." The shopkeeper patted Kit's shoulder. "She was stronger for it. So will you be too. Contracts are contracts."

  Timothy let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Just what was she planning?

  "Well, I don't think we have enough money for this coat." She gestured at it. "But…" She slung her pack from her shoulder and dug out the purse of river stones. "Will this help the difference? I am sure someone as successful as you look to be could do something with these."

  She poured out a handful of polished river stones. Their smooth, swirled surfaces gleamed iridescent.

  The shopkeeper frowned. "What could I do with rocks?"

  "They are gems to me. Each unique. We will also pay what we can. Please. I want my husband to have just one nice thing to remember me." Her lip quivered and her eyes teared. She was far too good at that.

  "Well, it is a holiday. I am sure they can sell for something."

  "So you mean—"

  The merchant sighed. "Yes. You can buy one coat for those stones and ten silver."

  Timothy choked. Kit looked at him. Don't you dare, her eyes yelled.

  She wrapped her arms around the man's neck. "Thank you! Thank you!"

  The man laughed. "You remind me of my granddaughter, miss. The name's Shefar Ealo. May I ask your names?"

  "I am Kit and this is Timothy Clarke," Kit said. Timothy coughed.

  "It was this coat, my dear?"

  "Yes, this one with the fur lining."

  "I will need to take your measurements, Master Clarke."

  Timothy dug the coins from his inner coat pocket and hand them to Kit after a moment's hesitation. He stripped off his coat. Shefar produced a measuring rope.

  "Do you know where to find a good room? Some place private?" Kit asked. She dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. "I want this week to remain in my memory when I have to…have to…work."

  "Most will be full with the festival." Shefar stretched the measure across Timothy's back. "But go dow
n Alenut Street to the Dapple Rose and tell Melanie I sent you. She and I have a good business relationship, so don't you go ruining it. You are poorer than my usual customers. But it is Founder's Day. The rich were once poor."

  "Thank you so much!" Kit said.

  "I will have the coat tailored by tomorrow. I don't have much work with the festival anyway."

  Kit pushed a large handful of river stones and coins. She stood on her toes and kissed Shefar's cheek. "Really, thank you!"

  The man shook his head and stared at the stones in his palm. His thick eyebrows knit.

  "That went better than I hoped," Kit said outside the shop.

  "She is so cute!"

  "Look at her tail!"

  "So soft."

  Children surrounded Cat. Her tail blurred. The lamb noticed the pair, and she bleated farewell, scampering away from the children. The children called and waved.

  "You are going to hell for your lies, you know," Timothy said.

  "It wasn't all a lie." Kit grabbed his hand. "I really am happy."

  "So why are you spending money on a coat?"

  "You looked cold." She smirked. "Ah! There is Alenut Street. I wonder if the ale is as good as the street makes it sound."

  "I do hope you don't plan on drinking the rest of the money away."

  "Only some of it. What use is money if you don't spend it? Money's value is only in what it can buy."

  "Without money, people starve."

  "You can't eat money, can you? Things are only worth what people agree they are worth. That coat we bought is worth some pretty stones and some shiny metal."

  "So what exactly are you up to, anyway?" Timothy asked.

  "Oh! You will see. We need money don't we?"

  "Especially now that you are spending it. And the rocks?"

  "Those are just pretty stones I've collected from a stream. I have a lot more of them." She patted her pack's strap.

  "I was there, making sure no one saw your tail."

  "You have grown jealous and possessive, book bug."

  "You can't think everyone will take rocks instead of money. Your tears bought that coat more than your rocks," Timothy said.

  "You didn't look at the man did you? He was interested in the stones despite what he said. I was lucky to find that shop. I did say I am a lucky fox."