"Vandaris and I will be in my room if you need me." Casually he touched Deveren's hand as he spoke. His face as nonchalant as his brother's, Deveren took the note. No one noticed the transaction. Deveren waited a few moments, excused himself from his guests and stepped outside. When he was certain he was alone, he unfolded the missive.
Fox -
The Fox is clever, the Fox is wise;
The Fox is getting a big surprise -
Because your Theft is not one, but three
If truly our Leader you wish to be.
We leave to you the how and when,
But the where must be the councilman's den.
The Fox gives Fox a taste quite fine, When out of his head you drink your wine.
The hounds will chase, the hounds will tear Your flesh, unless their teeth you bear.
And last, the Fox of his brush is proud — But Vixen and Vandaris might not allow The Fox to acquire his one, two, three But if you fail, a mere thief you'll be.
Deveren cursed softly to himself. He recognized the ornate, flowing script of his friend Pedric, and was willing to bet money that the feckless young man had been the one to both compose the poem and name the items. A few things about the note he would need to puzzle out later, but he'd guessed two things immediately. All the items were obviously in Vandaris's home-the words "councilman's den" made that clear. The phrase "might not allow" indicated to him that the objects had to be taken while the family was present. He reread the note, memorizing it, and shook his head. "His" thieves were clearly not going to let him off easily. He reached up to one of the lamps that hung outside the door and placed the parchment inside. A sudden voice at his ear caused him to start violently, almost burning his fingers as the paper caught and flamed.
"Well, Tomai," Damir said with a hint of humor in his smooth, cultured voice, "enjoy slaying the tiger in his own lair. I, of course, expect you to return the items as soon as you can." As Deveren sputtered his annoyance, Damir grinned wickedly and ducked back inside. As soon as the door had closed, Allika poked her head round a corner.
"He knew what to do, Fox!" she apologized as he glared at her. "He went right up to the window and stuck his hand out, and I knew your brother was in town, and I thought…" Her voice grew thick. She gazed up at him, remorse all over her face, Miss Lally trailing in the dirt.
Deveren squatted down to her level and smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, Little Squirrel. No harm done this time. But in the future, if you have notes for me, give them only to me, all right?" She nodded, and smiled again. Like a shadow, she vanished from sight.
When Deveren returned to the bustle of the gala a few moments later, he saw that Pedric was deep in conversation with the radiant Lorinda. More than that, he'd managed to get the girl to hang on his words as much as Pedric hung on hers. Deveren maneuvered himself close enough to catch the drift of their conversation.
Pedric's normal expression at a social gathering was that of a slightly bored aristocrat who had heard everything worth listening to. Deveren noticed that the youth looked now as he did during particularly dangerous "outings," his eyes sparkling and his face flushed with excited color. His normally controlled movements were large and effusive as he gestured excitedly.
"And then the Queen, clutching both bloodied daggers, cries out, 'Ah, gods! They were not my enemy's children- they were mine!' "
Lorinda, enraptured, gasped sympathetically. "The Elf-King tricked her into killing her own children? Oh, how awful!"
Deveren was not disturbed by the blood-drenched conversation. He recognized it as a scene from The Queen of All, a play that had just opened at His Majesty's Theater. Both he and Pedric were patrons of the show, and it was playing to a house that did not have a single empty seat for any of its performances.
"Yes!" Pedric yelped, thoroughly entrenched in his story. He plopped down beside Lorinda and continued. "And then there's a big flash and puff of smoke, and Lady Death appears. She's willing to make a bargain with the Queen for the lives of her two children, you see, and-"
"Pedric, Pedric!" Deveren admonished jokingly, laying a friendly hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It's one thing to give a play an enthusiastic review. It's quite another to spoil the plot for someone-you'll lose a sale that way, and that's bad for business!"
"On the contrary, Lord Larath," Lorinda responded. "I wish I could see The Queen of All more than ever! Do you know, I've never seen a theatrical performance in my life?"
"Goodness, how barbaric you servants of the gods are," said Pedric teasingly. Lorinda laughed. "Well, I will personally escort you to the next play that comes into town. Unfortunately for your theatrical edification, and not unfortunately for our purses, The Queen of All has no seats left for the rest of its run."
Deveren smiled. An idea had just come to him-a wonderful, perfect idea. "Well, at least not its public run," he said.
Lorinda turned her gorgeous eyes on him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the Councilman's Seat has a large hall, doesn't it?" Deveren was referring to the honorary domicile of the Head Councilman, the beautiful, sprawling building that was home to Vandaris and, now, Lorinda.
Pedric's eyes lit up even brighter as he comprehended what Deveren was suggesting. "Of course it does! Oh, Deveren, you clever fellow!"
"What?" Lorinda, the novice theatergoer, was confused.
"A command performance," Deveren explained. "Your father, as Head Councilman, has the right to invite any thespian or musician to perform exclusively at the Councilman's Seat. He could ask the cast of The Queen of All to do the play on Lisdae, a night they traditionally have off."
"That sounds wonderful!" Lorinda clapped her hands together in an unconsciously childlike gesture. "Would they mind? I mean, they might be looking forward to a night to relax…"
"We'll make it a celebration," suggested Pedric. Deveren grinned to himself. Only Pedric would have had the audacity to volunteer someone else's home-and a councilman's home at that-for a celebration. "It won't be as nice as Dev's, of course, but then, no one's festivities compare to Deveren's."
"I'd be inclined to agree," said Lorinda, gazing warmly at the young man. "After all, it's where you and I met."
Deveren glanced from one youthful face to the other. His heart sank. Much as he enjoyed being around young lovers, he knew that this was a bad match. Pedric might be the younger son of a nobleman, and titled in his own right, but his habits and temperament suited his true occupation-that of professional thief. And Lorinda was grounded in the highest morals, thanks to her time as a Tender, and was a councilman's daughter as well. No, it was bound to end badly. He only hoped it wouldn't end with Pedric's slim, aristocratic neck in a noose.
Lorinda's eyes left Pedric's long enough to register that her father and Damir were returning. "There he is! Let me go ask him right now. Oh, I do hope he'll say yes!" With the carefree enthusiasm of an adolescent, she gathered up the long, floor-length folds of her gown and literally ran to her father. Deveren heard Pedric gasp, softly and poignantly, as the younger man caught a glimpse of long, strong, tanned legs tapering to small, slipper-covered feet.
"You could break your heart over a girl like that," said Pedric quietly.
"Well, damn it, don't," Deveren warned. The words sounded hard; he changed the subject. "Thank you for giving me the idea about the play. The theater gathering will be a wonderful opportunity for me to complete my… job."
Vandaris and Lorinda were too far away for Deveren and Pedric to catch their conversation, but it appeared that the father couldn't resist his daughter's pleas. His face softened as he listened to her animated chatter, one gnarled, strong hand reaching to smooth a dark curl away from her high forehead in a gesture of paternal affection.