"All right, then. You'd be our jilt. If any bears do show up, just be your sweet, innocent self, feed them everything we want them to know, and report everything they say back to me."
"But how would they get to me?" asked Alec.
"That won't be difficult. Lord Seregil's a social sort. His house in the Noble Quarter has already been opened and word's getting around. I'm sure the news will reach the right ears sooner or later. In a few days we'll throw a big party to introduce you to society."
Micum favored his friend with an affectionate grin.
"You scheming bastard! So what else did you get up to while we were gone?"
"Well, it's taken until today, but I think I've found our forger. You recall Master Alben?"
"That blackmailing apothecary you burgled a few years back during that business for Lady Mina?"
"That's the one. He's moved his shop to Hind Street since then."
"How'd you find him?"
"I was pretty certain Ghemella was our seal forger. Since she also buys stolen papers, I planted some of mine with her and last night she led me straight to him. It's only a matter now of finding his cache to see if there's anything useful to be had. If he is the one who forged the letter from me, then my guess is he's probably made a copy or two for himself just to hedge his bets. And if we can get our hands on those we can squeeze him for names."
"Is that the job tonight?" asked Alec, an eager gleam in his eye. "The sooner we clear your name, the better."
Seregil smiled. "Your concern for my tattered honor is deeply appreciated, Sir Alec, but we'll need another day or so to prepare for that one. Don't fret, now. Everything's under control.In the meantime, however, I think you'll find tonight's little exercise worthy of your new skills."
Wheel Street, a quiet, respectable boulevard of modest back garden villas, lay on the fringe of the Noble Quarter. Well dressed so as to attract no attention, Alec strolled along beside Seregil and Micum just after dark-three gentlemen out enjoying the night air.
The narrow houses were decorated Skalan style with mosaics and carvings. The ground level of some had been converted into shops; in the dimness Alec made out the signs of a tailor, a hat maker, and a gem dealer. The street ended in a small circular court in front of a public stable.
Riders and carriages bustled in all directions; the sounds of entertainment could be heard here and there as they walked past.
"That's ours, the one with the grapevine pattern over the door," whispered Seregil, indicating a brightly lit house across the way. "Belongs to a minor lord with some connection to shipping. No family, three servants: the old manservant, a cook, and the maid."
Several horses were tethered in front and they could hear the noise of pipes and fiddles being tuned.
"Sounds like he's having a party," whispered Micum. "Suppose he's engaged extra servants for the evening?"
"Those can be the worst sort, forever bumbling into places the regular staff can be counted on not to go," Seregil warned Alec. "And guests, too! Keep your ears open and remember, all we're after is a correspondence case. In and out, nothing fancy. According to my information, he keeps the case in a desk in his study, that room there at the left corner of the second floor, overlooking the street."
More carriages rumbled by, destined for houses up and down the cobbled street. "It's too busy out here," said Alec. "Is there a back way in?"
Seregil nodded. "The house backs onto a walled garden, and a common beyond. This way."
Crossing the street a few houses down, they went through a narrow alley into the little common. Such areas had been left open throughout the city to assure pasturage in time of siege. At the moment it was occupied by a flock of sleeping geese and a few pigs.
Creeping softly along, they counted gates until they found the one leading into the back garden of the house in question. The wall was high, the gate stoutly barred from within.
"Looks like you'll have to climb," Seregil whispered, squinting up. "Be careful going over; most of these places have the walls topped with spikes or sharp flints."
"Hold on!" Alec tried to make out Seregil's expression through the darkness. "Aren't you two coming with me?"
"It's a one-man job; the fewer the better,"
Seregil assured him. "I thought this is what you wanted, a first trial on your own?"
"Well, I—"
"Would I send you in alone if I didn't think you could handle it?" Seregil scoffed. "Of course not! Best leave me your sword, though."
"What?" Alec hissed. "I thought I had to be armed so I could do jobs!"
"Generally speaking, yes. But not this time."
"What if someone sees me?"
"Honestly, Alec! You can't just go hacking your way out of every difficult situation that arises. It's uncivilized," Seregil replied sternly. "This is a gentleman's house; you're dressed as a gentleman. If anyone catches you, just act chagrined and drunk, then claim to have stumbled into the wrong house."
Feeling a good deal less confident all of a sudden, Alec unbuckled his sword and started up the garden wall. He was halfway to the top when Micum called softly, "We'll meet you back here when you've finished. Oh, and look out for the dogs."
"Dogs?" Alec dropped down again. "What dogs? You didn't say anything about dogs!"
Seregil tapped himself sharply between the eyes. "Illior's Fingers, what am I thinking of tonight? There's a pair of Zengati hounds, snow-white and big as bears."
"That's a fine detail to forget," growled Micum.
"Here, let me show you what to do." Taking Alec's left hand, Seregil folded down all the fingers except the index and fourth, then turned the palm downward.
"There. All you have to do is look the dog in the eye, make we sign by snapping the little finger down-like this-and say Peace, friend hound' as you do it."
"I've seen you do that trick. That's not what you said," Alec remarked, repeating the hand sign.
"Soora thasdli, you mean? Well, you can say it in Aurлnfaie you like. I just thought it might be easier for you to remember in your own language."
"Peace, friend hound," Alec repeated, performing the hand sign. "Anything else I should know?"
"Let's see, the spikes, the dogs, the servants—No, I think we covered it that time. Luck in the shadows, Alec."
"And to you," Alec muttered, starting up the wall again.
The top of the wall was indeed set with spikes and thick shards of broken crockery. Clinging to the edge of the wall, he pulled his cloak up from behind and wadded it up on top of the sharp points in front of him.
Hooking an elbow over the thick material, he tugged the cloak strings loose from his neck.
The garden below appeared to be empty, though muffled sounds of the familiar kitchen variety issued from a half-open door at the back of the house. Hitching himself swiftly over the top of the wall, Alec lowered himself by his fingertips and dropped down the other side.
The garden centered on an oval pool. Graveled walkways showed pale in the darkness between planting beds and leafless trees. An especially large tree growing close to the carved balcony running the length of the second story looked to provide the easiest way in.
The shadows closed in around Alec as he stole toward the tree. He moved silently, careful to avoid the gravel paths. He was in reach of the trunk when something large stirred just beside him.
Hot, wet jaws closed firmly on his right arm, just above the elbow.
The white hound might not have been quite as large as a bear, but Alec was not about to argue the point. The beast did not growl or tear at him, but held him fast, regarding him with eyes that shone yellow in the dimness.
Fighting down the impulse to struggle or cry out, Alec quickly made the left-handed sign and croaked,