The Black Bouquet

CHAPTER 10

Kesk disliked being awake before mid-afternoon. He disliked Slarvyn's Sword, too, even though the food was good and the decor-an eclectic collection of weapons, suits of armor, and the skulls and preserved carcasses of ferocious beasts-was to his taste. The problem with the dining club was the gauzy-winged sprites flitting about to maintain order. It rankled that the tiny fey, by wielding the slender wands with which the proprietor had equipped them, could paralyze even a tanarukk with a single burst of magic.

So, all in all, Kesk was in a foul mood, which soured still further when Aeron sat down opposite him. He quivered with the urge to leap up and swing his axe. The sprites would never stop him in time. But, unfortunately, such a tactic was unlikely to gain him the book, so he controlled himself.

"You're late," he growled.

"I had to look the place over," Aeron said, "to make sure you came alone."

From his calm demeanor, no one would have guessed he feared for his father's life, but Kesk thought that was a bluff and that the facade would crack soon enough.

"I did as the urchin you sent told me to do," said the tanarukk. "Where's the box?"

"The Black Bouquet, you mean."

Kesk sighed and said, "So you got it open."

"Yes, and now I'm ready to sell it. I was thinking Imrys Skaltahar might be interested. He has enough coin to pay a fair price, and he's so well established that he's one of the few people who doesn't need to fear you. Half of your own operations would fall apart if he wasn't involved."

Denied the satisfaction of an axe stroke, Kesk riposted with mockery of his own, "Let's not be hasty. Skaltahar can't give you your father back. Only I can do that, and I will, if we can come to an arrangement. For now, here's a little bit of him, as a show of good faith." He tossed a small bundle onto the tabletop. "Go on, look at it."

His hands trembling almost imperceptibly, Aeron unrolled the bloody rag to reveal the severed finger inside.

"You piece of filth."

"What did you think we were going to do to him," Kesk replied, "after you betrayed me?"

"He had no part in it."

"I couldn't be sure of that until we questioned him. Anyway, I needed a stick to beat you with, and, lucky him, he's it. Really, a chopped finger is the least of it. We've kept him screaming ever since we caught him. Nobody in the house can get any sleep. We're going to go right on torturing him, too, and snipping pieces off, until you hand over the book."

Aeron sat silently for a few heartbeats, then said, "I have to get something out of this."

"You get Nicos back."

"Yes, and that's as it must be. I love him. But… he's old and sick. He might not survive much longer in any case. I've got my whole life in front of me, and if I can live it as a rich man, I'm not going to let the chance slip away. Back in the water gate, we agreed on a new price."

"Back in the water gate, I didn't have Nicos."

"I'm telling you, he's not enough."

It irked Kesk even to give the appearance of yielding, but he felt that, all things considered, further resistance was a waste of time and effort.

"All right, damn you. You'll get the coin and poor old Papa, too."

"And peace thereafter. Give me your vow that you and the Red Axes won't hold a grudge."

"I swear by He Who Never Sleeps," Kesk said with a sneer, "and the Horde Leader that we won't hold this against you. But you'll run afoul of us again, and probably sooner rather than later. When that happens, I'll have your skull to make me a goblet."

"We'll see."

"So we will. Bring the book to my house. You have until sunset, and-"

Aeron snorted, then said, "Do you think I'm stupid enough to walk into the dragon's cave? Call me timid, but I have a hunch I wouldn't come out again. Come midnight, put my father and the coin on board that pleasure barge of yours. Row out under the central span of the Arch of Gargoyles and drop anchor. If I see any of your henchmen on the bridge, or any bows, slings, or javelins on the boat, then you won't see me."

"Agreed."

"Then we're done," Aeron said as he rose.

Kesk leered and said, "You're forgetting the finger. Don't you want it? If not, maybe I'll have the cook fry it up."

The human gave him a level stare, then, plainly thinking better of whatever it was he wanted to do or say, he turned away in a swirl of gray cape. Kesk watched, interested to see how Aeron would exit. Obviously, the thief had chosen the dining club because there were so many ways in and out. It was accessible through the Underways, at street level, and via Rainspans. It would be hard for even the most determined gang to lay a trap along every route.

Kesk hadn't tried. The trap, such as it was, was sitting just a few tables away, sipping tea, her cowl pulled up to cover her shaved scalp.

Kesk didn't know what to make of Dark Sister Sefris. He certainly didn't trust her, any more than he would have trusted anyone who professed allegiance to Shar. Humans and dwarves called his own gods, the deities of the orc pantheon, evil, but in fact, they were simply powers who granted their worshipers strength, plunder, and pleasure, the things every sensible person wanted. In contrast, the Lady of Loss, from what the tanarukk vaguely understood, sought the destruction of the entire world, her own followers included. Only a lunatic would pledge himself to a patron such as that.

Still, Sefris plainly did have useful talents, exactly as she'd claimed, and just as importantly, Aeron had no idea who she was. With luck, she could deal with him, Kesk would deal with her, and he could acquire the fortune in gems-if it even existed-either by trading honestly or cheating. Cheating, most likely. If he murdered the monastic, he could follow through on his deal with his original partner, and make that much more coin. Maybe even one day control all the illegal activity in Oeble, entirely unhindered by the Gray Blades, assuming he could trust the little weasel that far.

When he thought about it that way, it seemed as if a splendid future lay in store, but the complexity of the current situation irked him. It almost made him wish he'd told Aeron the truth from the start. Maybe if he had, the job would be over already.

The funny thing was, he wasn't even sure why he'd withheld so much information. To avoid scaring Aeron off, or shave his fee? Possibly. That was what he'd told himself, but he suspected he'd really done it out of spite, simply because he didn't like the human. If so, the impulse had worked against him. But in general, it was his determination never to forget a slight or injury, to do his foes a bad turn at every opportunity, which had made him the most powerful chieftain in Oeble's underworld, so he supposed it was an acceptable trade off.

Aeron climbed the stairs to the second floor. Unless he was planning to double back down again, he was headed for the Rainspans. Sefris took a final sip of tea, laid a silver piece on her table, and rose to follow.

Sefris knew any number of tricks for tailing a man without being spotted. More valuable than any technique, however, was the instinct that warned her when her quarry was going to look around. When Aeron reached the door, she sensed it was about to happen.

Fortunately, the upper stories of Slarvyn's Sword, like the ground floor, were crammed with decorations selected to please the sensibilities of warriors, adventurers, and those who enjoyed imagining themselves in such roles. She sidestepped behind the stuffed body of a peryton. The trophy was a fine specimen, its aquiline body more than eight feet long, and the antlers curving forward from its purple, staglike head, sprouting eight points each. It smelled faintly of some bitter substance the taxidermist had used to preserve it.

One of the sprites, a blue-skinned grig with the antennae and long, folded legs of a cricket, swooped in front of her and hovered. Evidently it had noticed her ducking into hiding, while she, intent on Aeron, had missed spotting it. It pointed its rune-carved wooden wand at her face.

She was reasonably certain she could swat it out of the air before it could speak the word that triggered the weapon, but perhaps not without attracting the hostile attention of its fellows.

"I'm not going to cause any trouble in here," she said, keeping her voice low. "What happens outside is no concern of yours."

The grig regarded her for another moment, then gave a curt nod and flew away. In other places, the fey had a reputation for fighting "evil," but it seemed that in Oeble, even they thought twice about meddling in affairs that were none of their business.

Sefris stepped from behind the peryton. Aeron was gone. Through the door, presumably, though if he was as wily as his reputation indicated, maybe not. She strode to it and cracked it open.

It was all right. There he was, moving down the Rainspan. It wasn't necessarily the escape route Sefris would have chosen. If someone was chasing you, you could only flee in one direction. But by the same token, you only had to keep an eye out for foes straight ahead or directly behind.

Which meant Sefris couldn't afford to look like an enemy. She let him get a few paces farther ahead, then ambled out into the sunlight, gawking like a rustic to whom the towers and elevated pathways were a marvel.

At best, the pretence would fool Aeron for a little while. If he kept a sharp eye out, started and stopped, and doubled back as she expected him to, he was bound to mark her eventually. Her objective was to close to striking range before that happened, then drop him.

He paused as if to admire the view. She knew it would seem too much of a coincidence if she abruptly did the same, so she kept on strolling. Once she was close enough, her nerves fairly sang with the urge to strike him. Alas, other people were nearby. In all likelihood, it would be easy enough to kill them if they were so foolish as to intervene, but it was more sensible to be patient and wait until she and her prey were alone. She passed on by.

At the end of the bridge, steps twisted up and down around the outside of a spire built of crumbling brick, and a door led into the interior. She had no way to predict which way Aeron would choose, and therefore climbed to the start of another rickety Rainspan a story higher. At least from that vantage point, she could count on seeing where he went.

As he neared the tower, she reflected that she could spin a chakram down and hit him. She had a perfect shot, and the folk with whom they'd shared the bridge were entering Slarvyn's Sword. The only thing that deterred her was that the razor-edged rings were made for maiming and killing, not simply stunning a man helpless. Despite her skill, she might conceivably hurt Aeron so severely that he wouldn't be able to reveal the location of the book.

A spell, however, was a different matter. She plucked a pinch of sand from her pocket, tossed it into the air, and murmured the charm that would put a victim, or even several, to sleep.

A dimness seethed about her, the Shadow Weave manifesting itself even in the midst of the bright sunlight. Power whispered. But Aeron kept right on walking. He had a strong spirit, or was merely lucky, for somehow he'd resisted the spell, probably without ever even realizing he was under magical attack.

Well, she'd get him next time. When he reached the tower, he started down around the outside, in a moment disappearing around the curve of the rounded wall. As she headed after him, she saw a shaggy-headed ruffian skulk from the dining club. She assumed it was her own shadow. Kesk lacked subtlety, but had sense enough to try to ensure that she wouldn't get hold of The Black Bouquet and vanish.

The Red Axe-or Whistler, or member of some other gang beholden to the tanarukk-was of no importance at the moment. Sefris would kill or evade him when the time came. She had to keep up with Aeron, and she hurried down the side of the tower, knowing that until he came into view below her, he couldn't see her, either.

The problem was that he never did appear, not on the steps or on the ground underneath, either, and by the time Sefris reached the second story, she realized what was wrong. He'd noticed her magic after all, and was trying to shake her off his trail.

How, though? Had he sprinted to the ground and concealed himself? It was possible, but she hadn't heard his running footsteps slapping on the steps. It seemed more likely that he'd slipped through one of the doors leading into the tower.

She did the same, and found herself on a landing lined with doors. Interior staircases zigzagged up and down. Which way?

She was grimly aware that he could have gone anywhere. But a sorceress learned to heed her intuition, and hers told her he'd scurried upward, doubling back to the Rainspans. She dashed in that direction.

She threw open the door that led to the bridge she'd crossed a minute before. Kesk's minion was in the middle of it.

"Did you see where Aeron went?" she snapped.

He gaped at her, evidently amazed that she'd picked up on who he was and manifestly useless.

She raced on up the inside of the tower and plunged through the exit to the higher of the two Rainspans. Aeron sar Randal was scurrying along it. When he heard the door bang against the wall, he turned, saw her, and like-wise looked surprised, in his case surprised that she was still on his track and catching up so quickly. He shouldn't have been. Her training enabled her to run faster than any common thief.

Nobody else was on the bridge to deter her from attacking. She charged, and Aeron threw a dagger at her. It flew straight and true, and without breaking stride, she batted it out of the air.

The thief hurled a second knife. She ducked it. He spun, ran, reached the end of the Rainspan, and sprinted on down the long axis of a clay-tiled gable-and-valley roof, which the builders had made flat to create a narrow walkway. At the far end was the top of a spiral staircase that presumably corkscrewed all the way down to the ground.

Not that it mattered where it ended. Aeron wouldn't make it that far before she overtook him. Evidently he realized it, because he spun around to face her and reached under his cloak. Grabbing for another weapon, she supposed.

But she was wrong. He brought out The Black Bouquet itself. He'd carried the volume to his meeting with Kesk, the Dark Goddess alone knew why. He heaved it away, at right angles to the path. It thumped on the tiles and slid on down the steep pitch of the roof.

Sefris leaped off the bridge and dashed after The Black Bouquet, intent on intercepting it before it slid over the edge. If the old, crumbling book fell to the ground below, the impact could damage it severely.

She dived for it at the last possible second, indifferent to the fact that by so doing, she was also flinging herself toward the drop-off. She grabbed the tome, somersaulted to the very brink, and stamped down hard. The action shattered clay tiles, countered her momentum, and kept it from tumbling her off the edge.

She felt a swell of satisfaction, which ended abruptly when she took a good look at her prize. Viewed up close, it was a little too small and didn't have a title embossed on the front cover. It wasn't the perfumer's formulary after all, just a decoy Aeron had procured in case he needed a diversion.

She spun around. The ridge walkway was clear. The thief had disappeared, but where?

As before, Sefris could think of several possibilities, but she knew that at that point, in Aeron's place, she would have tried to reach the ground as quickly as possible, which meant he'd bolted down the stairs. She could use them herself, but despite her skills, would waste precious seconds clambering back up the slanted roof. It would be far quicker to descend via the controlled plummet she'd learned during her training.

She swung herself off the brink and dropped, grabbing at protrusions and depressions, the merest unevenness sometimes, in the timber wall with its flaking white paint. Many of these handholds could never have borne her full weight, but even so, the fleeting contacts served to slow her down a little.

She landed in a snowy flurry of dislodged paint chips, executed a shoulder roll, and vaulted to her feet uninjured. The gable-and-valley configuration of the roof existed at street level as well, which was to say the whole building was cross-shaped, and positioned behind one of the projecting arms, she could no longer see the spiral steps.

She dashed around the structure until they came into view. Her quarry didn't. Assuming she'd correctly guessed his intentions, he'd already made it down to the teeming street, where a good many humans, orcs, goblins, halflings, and gnomes were bustling about.

She pivoted, peering into the crowd, and abruptly spotted a flash of copper in the bright, warm autumn sunlight. Aeron had pulled up his cowl to cover his red hair, but when he glanced back, no doubt checking to see if she was still on his trail, it didn't quite hide his goatee. The thief was striding toward a staircase that, at first glance, looked like it led down into someone's cellar, but which she suspected was actually an entrance to the Underways.

She didn't want him to reach the steps. He probably could elude her down in the tunnels. She couldn't hit him with a chakram, not with so many people milling around between them, but her magic might work, and at that point, she didn't care who saw. If anyone took exception to her actions, she'd deal with him.

She gestured, and the shadow of a brown-and-white horse standing in the traces of a parked hay wagon lengthened and deformed into a tentacle, which then reared from the ground. The animal whinnied and shied, and people nearby cried out in alarm. Aeron turned, saw the length of darkness lashing in his direction, and tried to dodge. He wasn't quite quick enough. The tentacle spun around him and held him fast. He thrashed, struggling to squirm free. Agile as he was, with that skinny frame, he might actually do it, but it wouldn't save him. By that time, Sefris would have closed to striking distance. She raced forward.

Broadsword in hand, a Gray Blade scrambled out of the crowd to bar her path. With his slender frame, ivory skin, and vivid green eyes, he looked as if he might possess some elf blood.

"Hold it!" he said. "I saw you ca-"

Sefris drove her stiffened fingers at the half-elf's solar plexus. He had excellent reflexes. He jumped back in time and brought his round target shield up to block. His sword leaped in a head cut. She shifted in so close that the stroke fell harmlessly behind her. Sefris rammed the heel of her palm into his jaw, snapped his neck, and raced on toward Aeron.

Maddeningly, a second Gray Blade-middle-aged, stocky, and entirely human-lunged at her. Apparently he'd been hurrying toward Aeron and the tentacle, but had spied his partner's fate and turned back around to avenge him. His sword point streaked at her face. She sought to deflect it with a press, and avoiding the block, it dipped down to threaten her midsection. She had to retreat a step and twist at the hips to keep it from piercing her guts.

She gave him a roundhouse kick to the knee. Bone snapped, and he fell down. She stamped on his chest, breaking ribs and rupturing his heart.

She ran on. People scurried to get out of her way, which afforded her a good view of the conjured tentacle. It writhed and shifted from side to side, clenching and unclenching, its coils empty. The Gray Blades had delayed her long enough for Aeron to wriggle free.

She dashed down the steps into the Underways, cast uselessly about, chose a direction at random, and sprinted that way. After she passed a couple intersections, she realized further pursuit was futile. The thief had escaped her for the time being.

But not forever. She'd eavesdropped on Aeron's conversation with Kesk, and was convinced that the tanarukk was right about his fellow rogue: The redheaded thief would keep on trying to liberate his father. That meant she'd have another chance to catch him, and surely he couldn't be so lucky twice in a row.

Miri woke feeling sore, yet drowsily contented. Judging from the warm covers and medicinal smells, her comrades had carried her to the healers' tent, and she was going to be all right. She could feel it, and in any case, the important thing was that she hadn't disgraced herself.

Standing behind the bramble barricades with the senior rangers and their allies, waiting for her first battle to begin, she'd been frightened she wouldn't be able to bear it, that she'd throw down her bow and run away. And when the enemy-orcs, ogres, and huge, shapeless, crawling masses of mold-appeared among the trees, it was as terrifying as she'd imagined. But somehow she'd stood her ground, loosing arrow after arrow until the foe overran her position, then frantically hacking with her broadsword. She cut down two orcs, turned, and saw an ogre swinging its club at her. The world went dark.

Evidently her side had won the fight. Otherwise, she wouldn't be lying in a clean, soft bed. She realized her throat was dry, opened her eyes fully, and looked about to see if one of the priests had left her some water.

She wasn't in a tent but a small, sparsely furnished candlelit room with bare whitewashed walls. A thin young man with a red beard sat watching her. The sight of him made her snatch for the sword that no longer hung at her side, even as it pierced her confusion.

It wasn't an ogre that had wounded her-that had happened years ago, in the Winterwood-it was a collapsing balcony in Oeble, after which, what? Had Aeron sar Randal found her and decided to make her his prisoner?

As if by magic, a long, heavy fighting knife appeared in the thief's hand.

"Calm down!" he said. "I don't mean to hurt you. If I had, I wouldn't have carried you to Ilmater's house for healing."

She sneered and replied, "Yet you pull a dagger on me, even though I'm injured and unarmed."

"According to the healer who attended you, you're only a little bit hurt at this point." He smiled crookedly and added, "Besides, this afternoon I found out just how tough an unarmed outlander woman could be."

"You met Sefris."

"I did if she shaves her head and moves like… I don't know what. A cat? lightning? Flowing water? Whatever you liken it to, it was scary."

"That's her."

"Who in the Nine Hells is she? How do you know her?"

"How do you? What happened?"

"I'm the one with the knife," said Aeron, "so I'm going to ask the questions."

She glanced surreptitiously around. Her weapons were nowhere in evidence, nor was there anything much she could grab and use for self-defense. Even the pewter candlestick was out of reach. Still, perhaps her plight wasn't all that desperate.

"If this truly is a house of healing," she said, "all I need do is shout, and someone will rush to my aid."

"Faster than I can stick an Arthyn fang between your ribs?" he countered. "Don't count on it."

"Are you ruthless enough? I don't see it in your eyes."

He sighed like a man with a headache and said, "I already said I don't want to do it. I'm just hoping you can tell me something to help me get my father back."

She felt a reluctant twinge of sympathy for him. She remembered how it had felt to lose her own parents, when the white fever took them both within a tenday of one another.

"I saw a gang of ruffians march him away with a sack over his head," she said. "One of them was a tanarukk."

"Right, the Red Axes. I know who kidnapped him, but did you overhear them say anything about exactly where in the house they're holding him, or how he's restrained, or guarded? Anything like that?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Curse it. Really, I don't even know what I thought you might be able to tell me, but I prayed there'd be something. What were you doing in my garret?"

"Looking for you and the strongbox."

"You can say 'The Black Bouquet.' I know what I've got. Sort of. Were you up there questioning my father when the Red Axes showed up?"

"No," Miri replied. "Sefris and I were just approaching the tower when the Red Axes and your father came out."

His eyes narrowed.

"Then you," he said, "this Sefris woman, and Kesk are all working together?"

"No. I mean, Sefris and I aren't on the same side anymore. It's complicated," Miri answered. She blinked when she absorbed the implications of what he'd just said. "Are you telling me Sefris has joined forces with the Red Axes?"

He frowned, considering, then said, "I assumed so at the time, but now that you ask, I guess I can't be absolutely sure. Anyway, I told you I'll ask the questions, and I think we're going to have to start at the beginning and go step by step for me to make sense of the answers. What is The Black Bouquet? A perfume maker's cookbook, I know that much, but what makes it so valuable? A secret message hidden somewhere inside?"

She hesitated, then decided that, since he knew so much already, it wouldn't hurt to tell him. In the course of interrogating her, he was likely to reveal things that she wished to know as well.

"No," she said, "it's just a formulary, but the formulary of Courynn Dulsaer."

Aeron looked blank.

"Until I got involved in this affair," Miri admitted, "I'd never heard of him, either, but evidently he's famous if you care about perfume. In fact, he was the most famous perfumer who ever lived. His concoctions weren't magical, but they might as well have been, for they delighted anyone who got a whiff. These days, when some lucky soul discovers an unopened bottle, it sells for thousands of gold pieces."

"Because nobody knows how to make any more."

"Right Courynn never took on an apprentice, or taught anybody else his secrets, and The Black Bouquet disappeared mysteriously at the time of his death. That was three hundred years ago, and everyone thought the book lost forever. Recently, however, in Ormath on the Shining Plains, Lord Quwen's agents uncovered and destroyed a temple of Shar. They found The Black Bouquet with the rest of the cult's treasure."

"And it's truly valuable," Aeron said.

Plainly, the thief was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that anyone cared so much about perfume. Miri had had the same reaction when she'd first heard the story.

"I'm no merchant-thank the Forest Queen! — but I'm told that if the right person used the book to set up a perfume manufactory, he'd probably wind up as rich as a prince," the ranger continued. "Anyway, Ormath has had its problems recently. It's had to cope with three bad harvests in a row, fend off raiders, and fight an actual war or two with its neighbors. For that reason and others, Lord Quwen was more interested in selling the book and turning a profit quickly than going into the perfume trade himself. He put out the word that he had it…"

"And a rich merchant here in Oeble arranged to buy it," Aeron finished for her. "Which one?"

"That, I can't tell you."

He scowled and said, "Ranger…"

"Threats won't move me. Come at me if you want, and we'll find out if an unarmed scout of the Red Hart Guild can defeat a common cutpurse waving a knife."

"Oh, calm down," said Aeron. "Maybe it doesn't matter who wanted it, or maybe we'll come back to that point later. For now, go on with your story."

"At the buyer's insistence," she continued with a nod, "the negotiations were conducted in secret, Lord Quwen dickering with the merchant's factor in Ormath. Finally they struck a deal. The buyer made a down payment, the balance due when he took delivery of the book. Quwen undertook to get the volume to Oeble. Since that too was supposed to happen secretly, he didn't want to use his own troops to move it. Instead, he applied to my guild for an experienced guide-me-and I in turn hired a company of mercenaries. In addition, Quwen's court wizard cast spells of warding on the strongbox and saddlebag intended to hold the Bouquet."

Miri sighed and added, "You know the rest of the story better than I do. The sellswords and I carried the formulary all the way here, and you stole it mere minutes before I could hand it over. Because, plainly, the expedition wasn't a secret. How did you know we were coming?"

"Only because Kesk hired me to steal the coffer. My guess is, he knew because somebody asked him to get it. Kesk's a power to be reckoned with here in Oeble, but I doubt he has spies in faraway cities. Though he might have one in a rich man's household here in town."

"I take it he's the most dangerous scoundrel hereabouts."

Aeron shrugged and said, "One of them."

"I'm surprised you dared defy him."

"He held back information that might have kept my friends alive," Aeron replied. "It made me angry. Though why I turned on him, then saved you who actually killed Dal and Gavath with your own hands, is a puzzle."

"I killed them in a fair fight you outlaws started."

"Does that make them any less dead?"

"No, and if you feel the need to avenge them, come ahead."

"Maybe we'll get to that," Aeron said. "Tell me about Sefris."

"What do you know about the followers of Shar?"

Aeron frowned and replied, "Just what everybody knows. They're vicious, mad, and worship an evil goddess."

"I don't know a great deal more myself, but I have heard of a cult within the cult. Or that watches over the main cult. Something like that. They're called the Monks of the Dark Moon, and they learn a special, highly effective style of fighting. Sefris claims to be one of them, and I believe her. Evidently her order sent her here to recover the treasure Quwen plundered from their goddess."

Aeron cocked his head and asked, "So what were you doing wandering around with her?"

Miri felt her face grow warm.

"At first," she said, "I didn't know who she was. She tricked me into accepting her as my comrade. For some reason, she must have thought she'd have better luck getting her hands on the Bouquet if we hunted it together. In the end, she turned on me, because I wouldn't agree to help her take your father from the Red Axes and hold him hostage ourselves, and that was when she told me who she really is. We fought until your balcony collapsed beneath us. She managed to scramble off, but I didn't. It's a miracle I'm not dead."

"You didn't fall all the way to the ground," said Aeron. "You landed on a Rainspan partway down. If Sefris wants to take the book back to the cult, and Kesk wants it for some other reason, how could they work together?"

"I don't know. You're fairly certain they are?"

"I palavered with Kesk today. Sefris stalked me when I left and tried to capture me. How did she know to find me there unless that pig-faced bastard told her?"

"If she tried to catch you, you were lucky to get away. As lucky as I am to still be alive."

"I realize that. The first time she threw a spell at me, it didn't take, but I felt a kind of tickle in my head. I glanced around and spotted a woman standing in a wriggling blot of shadow, or twilight, in the middle of the sunshine. It only lasted a second. If I'd looked a heartbeat later, I wouldn't have seen anything funny. I might have decided the tickle was just my imagination, and not known I was in danger until it was too late."

Miri stared at him and asked, "Sefris threw a spell?"

"Yes. You didn't even know she was a sorceress? Shadows of Mask, you are thick."

"She didn't cast any spells when we were together. Magic must be the secret weapon she likes to hold in reserve."

"Maybe."

"I assume Kesk offered to ransom your father for the formulary?" Miri asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going to do it?"

"I don't see how I can. I figured that if I tried, he'd play me false. Seize the book, take me prisoner, and kill both my father and me. He's like that mean, treacherous, and vengeful. But I wasn't sure of it, so I arranged a meeting in Slarvyn's Sword to feel him out. After what happened, I'm positive I can't trust him. Though maybe if I'm clever enough, I can set up the exchange in such a way that he has no choice but to keep his word."

"You sound doubtful," Miri said, "as well you should."

She decided she was tired of sitting up in bed like an invalid, so she pushed back the covers, and swung her bare feet to the floor. Someone had dressed her in a white linen shift sufficient for modesty.

"Why don't we do the sensible thing?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Go to the authorities," she continued, "and report that the Red Axes abducted your father. If you have the kind of reputation I suspect, they might not take your word for it, but the Red Hart Guild is known far and wide as an honorable fraternity, and I'll back you up. I won't even tell them you're the thief who committed the outrage in the Paeraddyn and escaped to tell the tale, and in exchange for my help and forbearance, you'll return The Black Bouquet."

Aeron chuckled grimly and said, "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"First off, I'd have to trust you, and all I know about you is that you killed my friends, and stood and watched as the Red Axes kidnapped a sick old man. I didn't think 'honorable' rangers were supposed to behave like that."

The barb evoked a rush of shame in Miri, which she did her best to hide.

"I've seen a hundred cruel and depraved acts since I came to this cesspool of a city," the ranger said. "I couldn't interfere with all of them. Anyway, who are you, a miserable thief, to lecture me on my duty?"

He shrugged and said, "Nobody, obviously, in your eyes. Anyway, there are other reasons I don't want to go to the Gray Blades. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them are in Kesk's pay, or beholden to the person who hired him to get the book. Even if they're not, they're as leery of the Red Axes as the gang is of them. They wouldn't want to break into Kesk's stronghold just on our say-so. They do know I'm an outlaw even if they've never been able to hang anything on me, and while your guild may be known the world over as honest and true, you're still an outlander, which means you don't count for much."

"The rightful owner of the book does. If I can convince him to speak up…"

"It's still not a sure thing. Look, my father was a notable robber in his time. The law hasn't forgotten, and it doesn't love him, either. But let's say we could convince the Gray Blades to raid Kesk's mansion. Do you think they'd find my father alive? The house surely has secret rooms, and sits on the river to boot."

"So the only answer is to out-trick Kesk?" Miri asked. "And his henchmen? And Sefris?"

"I imagine."

"In that case, let me help you, and when your father is safe, you'll return The Black Bouquet to me."

"Right," Aeron said with a snort, "and as soon as I turn my back, you knock me over the head, tie me up, and torture the location of the book out of me. Or hand me over to the law and let them do it."

"I swear by the Hornblade that I won't."

"Oh, well, that changes everything."

Miri felt a surge of anger, and quashed it as best she could. In his world, perhaps it wasn't a deadly insult to doubt the sanctity of another person's oath.

"Look," she said, "neither you nor I are a match for Sefris and the Red Axes by ourselves. But if we work together, we might have a chance."

Frowning, he thought it over for a moment.

"At the end," he said, "when I turn over the book, I want a reward."

"We're talking about your father's life."

"Even so," the thief replied. "Think of it as wergild for my friends."

"All right I can arrange it. Where are my clothes and weapons?"

"Your clothes and armor are in the chest at the foot of the bed. We'll have to buy you a new sword and bow."