This had to be it. Picking it up, he examined it, as if he hadn't seen dozens like this before. 'This is quite nice, Your Lordship. May I ask who the maker is?'
As he had hoped, Vandaris warmed to the subject. He rose and went to Deveren, taking the little stone shape from him. 'That, Lord Larath, I purchased from an obscure stone carver in Kasselton a few years ago. Can't recall his name. It's a bit crude, here-' he pointed at the slightly uneven eyes '-and it's too small. Barely holds enough to moisten your throat. That's why I've consigned it to display rather than putting it to use.'
'I like the crooked eyes,' said Deveren. 'Gives the little fellow personality, don't you think?' Jokingly, he mimed petting the fox between the ears.
Deveren could feel the gazes of Pedric and Damir boring into his back. He ignored them and continued.
'Flamedancer stepped on mine, and I'm without one at the present moment. I rather like this one-don't suppose you'd be willing to sell it?'
Vandaris shook his head, and Deveren's heart sank. Now he'd be forced to steal it, and everyone would remember that Deveren Larath had made much of the small object…
'Goodness, no, Deveren, take the thing if you like it so much. It's been sitting here collecting dust for-well, more years than I care to remember.'
Triumph burned in Deveren's heart. 'Thank you, sir! It's much appreciated, I assure you. I'll just leave it here and pick it up on my way out.'
He had wanted to buy the thing outright. The rhyme had said 'take,' not 'steal,' and Deveren wanted to show his thieves that, on occasion, it wasn't necessary to filch something. Sometimes, all one had to do was ask. He heard a muffled cough from Pedric and successfully fought a grin.
A servant appeared at the door and cleared her throat. She dropped a curtsey. 'Beggin' your pardon, milord, but the performers have sent word that they're ready.'
'Excellent!'' exclaimed Vandaris. 'Well then, let us go. When actors are ready, I'm told, making them wait sours the performance. Isn't that right, Deveren?'
They were big, the dogs that Vandaris kept to safeguard his private grounds. Alone in the darkness, Deveren stared over the stone wall at them. The wall was roughly ten feet high, but Deveren had been able to scramble up far enough to get a good look at the true deterrent to would-be burglars. Silvered by moonlight, the large, shaggy beasts stared back. The milky radiance caught their eyes, making them glow eerily. Black flews drew back from powerful yellow teeth as one of them growled at the sight of Deveren.
There came another glint from the shadowy beasts — a glint of metal at the throats. Deveren recalled the second task he'd been set: The hounds will chase, the hounds will tear/Your flesh, unless their teeth you hear.
Leather collars, with sharp metal points embedded in them. Any intruder who thought to hold the beasts off by choking them would have been in for a painful surprise.
The would-be thief leader waited until the growling stopped as the beast tried to catch his scent and failed. His muscles quivered from the strain, but he held his position. The dog cocked its head to one side and made a crooning, puzzled sound. The pine soap had done its job. Satisfied, Deveren dropped quietly down to the earth.
Quickly, he glanced around. He was indeed alone; the guests were engrossed with the performance, and the guards were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were busy dallying with the serving girls. He took a deep breath, and opened one of the pouches. Carefully removing the false bottom, he felt for the chunks of raw meat he'd smuggled in along with his thieves' tools.
Deveren had taken the sleeping tincture purchased from Rabbit and had mixed the entire bottle with a cupful of lamb's blood. He'd cut up chunks of raw lamb and let them soak in the concoction. Now he fished one out, climbed back up, and tossed it over the wall.
One of the great dogs jumped up and caught the meat in midair, its teeth clicking. It dropped back to the earth, licked its chops, and cocked its head.
Heartened, Deveren shifted his position, found more meat chunks and began to feed the other two. They ate happily, and Deveren wondered if the rules required him to explain how he had accomplished his Grand Thefts. He didn't want to put the idea of poisoning into the head of someone less scrupulous than he.
At last, all the meat that Deveren had brought had been eaten. Grinning, Deveren again jumped down, replaced the false bottom, glanced around again to ensure that he was alone, and waited.
It didn't take long. When next he poked his head over the wall, he saw that the dogs' alert poses had begun to droop. They yawned, and their attempts to continue patrolling their master's ground became staggering shuffles. At last, one by one, they surrendered to the drug and sank down onto their bellies. They placed mammoth heads on large paws, whuffed a time or two, and fell asleep.
Deveren waited, wanting to be sure, then carefully, quietly, began to climb over the stone wall. A movement from the house caught his eye. It was one of the guards, leaving the private grounds, coming out for a perfunctory inspection of No, damn it, it was Captain Jaranis. Deveren mouthed an oath. He was seated astraddle the wall now, one leg already over into a trespasser's territory. Even if he jumped back down to the ground now, the movement would certainly catch the sharp eye of the captain of Braedon's guards, and Deveren would be forced to explain what he was doing out here. The dogs' lassitude would be noted, and Nothing else for it, Deveren decided. He hoped desperately that Rabbit's concoction had had enough time to render the dogs completely unconscious. If not, well, there might not be enough of him left for Telian Jaranis to put into prison. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he eased himself down on the opposite side of the stone wall. He plastered himself against its smooth coldness, sought refuge in its shadow.
A low growl came by his right foot. Deveren froze, fear jolting through his system. He didn't even dare look down at the beast, for fear the eye contact would be regarded as a challenge. Instead, he closed his eyes and wished desperately that he'd brought a dagger with him tonight.
He felt one of the great canines snuffling at his knee, felt the warm breath and cold nose even through his breeches. From the other side of the wall, he heard the crisp, firm sound of booted footsteps approaching.
Deveren held his breath, afraid that his nervous, rapid breathing might give him away, both to the animal that sniffed him with drowsy confusion and the extremely efficient captain who was on patrol just a few yards away.
The dog's nose moved to the other leg, continued sniffing. The booted footsteps came closer, closer, until they were right where Deveren stood huddled in the cold embrace of the wall's shadow. They did not pause, but continued purposefully on, fading into the distance as Jaranis's route took him away from the thief who stood, heart pounding, on the other side of the wall.
The sniffing stopped. The big dog snorted, irritated and baffled by this thing that looked human but smelled like a tree. The warm breath went away. When Deveren chanced a look down at the beast, he found it flopped over on the grass, breathing deeply and regularly.
Deveren closed his eyes in relief, the tension flooding out of him. Then, taking a deep, steadying breath, he knelt down beside the unconscious animal and gently unfastened its collar. The other two were equally insensible and offered no protest as he relieved them of their symbolic 'teeth.'
Stuffing the three studded collars into his pouch, Deveren cautiously climbed up and peered over the wall. Remarkably, his luck still held. No one was about. Quickly he scrambled back over the wall, landing softly on the grass.
'Be careful, Deveren Larath,' came a deep, musical, feminine voice behind him.
Startled, Deveren whirled. He stood inches away from a beautiful young woman who smiled enigmatically at him. At once he knew who she must be; her clothing gave her identity away immediately. She was dressed head to toe in a figure-hugging gown of dark black. She carried a carved staff, which he knew to be made out of rosewood, and the jewels embedded in it glinted in the moon's light. Her head was bare, and her long hair was parted in the middle and fell in a cascade of white down her back.
White? Deveren thought for an instant. Bleached, clearly. She’s taking this resemblance to her goddess a bit far. For of course he knew the woman to be the Blesser of the goddess Death. All Blessers would have been invited; it would have been an unforgivable breach of etiquette for Vandaris not to have extended an invitation. But most Blessers didn't take advantage of such social gatherings- and he'd never before heard of Death's Blesser ever appearing at such an event.
He opened his mouth to greet her politely, telling himself that it was her dark clothing that had enabled her
