Time to move on to another item, then. He'd get the dogs' "teeth" later in the evening. As he moved through the lovely home, admiring the Head Councilman's fine taste in art and furnishings, Deveren thought about the rhymes he'd memorized.
That first challenge, at least, was easy to figure out. The trick was in getting Vandaris to take him there.
He turned a comer, following the murmur of voices, and was rewarded by the sight of Lord Vandaris himself, chatting politely with his guests. Deveren felt a smile of satisfaction tug at his lips. The room was one of Vandaris's favorites, a smaller, more intimate, and more personal chamber than many in the Seat. The room was filled with the Head Councilman's hunting trophies. Like most of the landed nobility, Vandaris was an avid hunter. His one regret, he had told Deveren once, was that, now that he was Head Councilman, he couldn't escape from Braedon often enough to pursue his favorite hobby anymore.
The walls were covered with tapestries depicting hunting scenes. One, commissioned by Vandaris himself, showed the lord-a considerably younger, slimmer man-pursuing a unicorn. Not that such creatures existed, of course, but when the art was that lovely and dramatic, who could object?
Skulls of various creatures — deer, wolf, bear, and others-had been placed around the room. There was also a fine display of riding regalia and hunting bows, spears and other weaponry. Vandaris sat on a cushioned chair, chatting animatedly with two other members of the Council. Over in the corner, Damir, who had left earlier in order to have another private talk with Vandaris, was admiring a carving of a leaping stag. Pedric and Lorinda sat closely together on a cushioned bench. They had eyes only for each other, and found excuses to casually touch. Deveren had never seen Pedric like this before. He tried to brush aside his worry. In the end, when it counted, he knew Pedric to be a good man. And Lorinda, clearly, was a special woman indeed.
At last, Deveren found what he was looking for. He took a deep breath and prayed that his plan would work. If not, he would have tipped his hand.
Casually, he wandered over to what he had determined was the first "item" on his list for tonight. It sat on a small table, seeming to taunt him.
It was a riding cup, shaped like the slim, elegant head of a fox. Its purpose was to provide liquid refreshment to hunters on horseback. When so employed, it fitted neatly into a special place on the saddle, hooked in place by its slender muzzle. When the rider wanted a drink of wine, the head was turned upside down, revealing a hollow cup into which the beverage was poured. The Fox gives Fox a taste quite fine,/When out of his head you drink your wine.
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.