remember, my Lord, is that without the backing of Tecuma, the Acoma are just another small house. Consider this also: the Lord of the Anasati is aging, and Jiro has taken risks to let you know that his brother, the heir, may not share the father's sentiment for a nephew born to Mara.'
Desio turned toward Jiro, his face composed and smiling.
'I will take up your offer to see your dogs hunt, now.' He stepped down from the dais.
The Anasati son repeated his courtier's bow as Desio passed. 'As you wish, Lord Desio. For the display, we will need your practice field, and a dummy dressed in man's clothing.'
Desio's interest sharpened. 'Your beasts course after humans?'
'You shall see.'Jiro snapped his fingers, and the servant with the leashed dogs nervously commanded them to heel as Desio led them back out of the hall. 'They are bred from herd dogs in Yankora. But these I call Mankillers.'
At the first scent of fresh air, the dogs growled and barked. They strained at their leashes, yellow eyes quick to follow the movement of any passing- human. Slaves and servants backed away in fright, and the Minwanabi honour guard marched close on the heels of their master, lest some trickery be in, play.
Only Desio and Jiro seemed unfazed by the beasts'
ferocity as they reached the wide practice field where Irrilandi customarily drilled his soldiers. Two slaves were sent across a small gully to dismantle an archery target, and stuff the old robe of a slave with hwaet straw to make a dummy. Desio watched, eyes glittering, as his guest explained how such dangerous beasts should be handled.
'Do you see the gloves and the whistle?'Jiro pointed to the servant who managed the hounds, tugging now at their restraint, the muscles under their brindled hides quivering in high-strung eagerness.
At Desio's nod, Jiro continued. 'The leather has been soaked in bitch urine. These particular hounds have been trained to recognize that odour as belonging to their master.
These dogs were trained as a gift, so they answer only to the whistle. Once in the hands of their owner, they will come to know his personal scent as the smell on the gloves wears away, and eventually mind only his voice. The gloves and whistle allow them to be controlled in the meantime.'
'An admirable system,' Desio observed enviously.
Jiro did not miss the note of longing. He motioned magnanimously to the servant. 'Would my host care to course the dogs himself?'
Desio's face lit. 'I would be honoured, Jiro. And grateful.'
One at a time, the Anasati servant relinquished the gloves.
Desio shoved large hands inside, and grasped the leashes.
The magnificent dogs now eyed him with expectancy, and tugged against his hold. He laughed in a rush of elation.
Recklessly he stroked one brindled head.
The dog he fondled flashed him an impatient look, then resumed watching the men, servants, and soldiers who stood well clear on the practice field. 'Very soon, my beauties,' Desio soothed. He glanced across the gully, where the servants seemed slow in tying the robe to the dummy. He quivered, just like the hounds.
Incomo noted, and felt consternation. Thus had the past Lord, Jingu, appeared, when he pursued unwholesome pleasures. Jiro also saw, and the barest hint of distaste marred his veneer of courtesy.
Desio fingered the bone whistle. 'You,' he called to the slaves. 'Don't bother with those stupid targets. Run that way!' He gestured across the practice field. ~
The slaves hesitated, horror on their sun-browned faces.
Then, more afraid of the hanging they would receive if they dared to disobey their master's order, they let fall the robe half stuffed with straw and sprinted into the open.
They ran as if all the demons of hell were behind them.
A hungry smile curled Desio's lips.
With flawless politeness, Jiro finished his instructions.
'My Lord, one long blast on the whistle will order the dogs to hunt. Two short whistles will recall them.'
Desio savoured a moment of soul-deep anticipation. He felt the surge of the dogs against his hand, as they strained and whined to be cut loose. A moment longer he teased them, withholding them from their desire. Then he raised the whistle and slipped the leashes from their collars.
The dogs bounded forward, dark shadows against sunlit grass. 'Hunt!' murmured Desio. 'Hunt until your hearts burst.'
The hounds surged across the ground, reaching full stride within seconds. Their tails streamed on the wind, and their savage baying echoed off the hills. They ate up the distance that separated their fleeing prey in long, elastic