Luck in the Shadows

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,
    "Soora, friend hound."
    Not seeming to mind the mixed translation, the dog obliged immediately, padding off into the darkness without a backward glance. Alec was up the tree and reaching for the marble balustrade almost before he realized he was moving again.
    Dry leaves had collected in little piles on the balcony. Stepping over these, he inspected the two windows that flanked an ornate door leading into the house; the door was locked, the darkened windows covered with heavy shutters.
    With a silent nod to Illior, he set to work on the door. Sliding a wire along the edge, he found three separate locks. Moving on to the larger window, he found two equally stubborn mechanism there.