The Black Bouquet

Twisting at the hips, she performed a double-arm block that bounced the war club harmlessly away. She then punched the startled Orvaega in the snout, breaking bone and knocking the orc unconscious, and shoved her into Sewer Rat, which served to knock the runtish meazel backward, spoiling its frenzied attack. Floundering out from under the dead weight of its comrade, the black-eyed creature snarled and spat.

Sefris would have rushed Sewer Rat while the meazel was still off balance and encumbered, except that she knew enough time had passed for Presmer to have returned to the fray. She turned, and he swung his cape at her face, seeking to blind her. And stun her, too, perhaps, it the garment had weights sewn into the hem. She dropped into a squat, letting the cloak fly harmlessly over her head, and she simultaneously hooked his ankle with her foot. Presmer crashed down on his back.

Sefris sensed Sewer Rat pouncing. She turned, grabbed the meazel-immobilizing its raking claws in the process-spun it through the air, and smashed it down on top of Presmer. The impact snapped bones and stu

"There," she said.

He gave a grudging nod. If he had any concern for the welfare of the followers she'd just mauled, she could see no sign of it in his demeanor.

"I guess you probably do belong to the Dark Moon," the tanarukk said. "It still doesn't prove you have a king's ransom in jewels to barter."

"I'll produce them when the time comes. If I don't, simply sell the book to the person who first asked you to steal it."

"The fact of the matter is, he's promised more than coin."

"Do you trust him to keep his pledges," Sefris replied, "once he has the book in hand?"

Kesk spat. The gesture left a strand of saliva, which he didn't bother to wipe away, dangling beside the base of one tusk.

He said, "I don't trust anybody much."

"Rest assured, if it's a guarantee of future help you want, or even a genuine alliance, no one can offer more than the followers of Shar. We often make common cause with others who stand against the witless laws of men."

"I'll think about it," said Kesk. "Tell me how to get in touch with you."

"I'd hoped to stay with you for the time being."

The Red Axe snorted and said, "I still don't know what to make of you, human. Until I do, I don't want you ru

"But you may need me. We may need to work together to take possession of the book."

"I doubt it."

"I take it you're going to try two approaches," Sefris said. "The first will be to hope Aeron's father knows the location of the strongbox and torture the secret out of him."

"Do your worst," the old man rasped. "It won't matter. I don't know where the cursed thing is."

Sefris ignored him to stay focused on Kesk.

"The problem," she continued, "is that, as we can see from all those scars, somebody got to him before you and mangled him severely. He's fragile now, and elderly to boot. If you question him in some crude fashion, his heart is likely to stop. But a child of the Dark Moon understands the human body as a healer understands it. It's part of our secret lore. I can cause a prisoner excruciating pain without doing serious harm."

Kesk shrugged and said, "That could come in handy, I suppose."

"I can make myself just as useful if you need to trade the old man for the book. Because it may not go smoothly. Aeron may decide he'd rather be rich than regain his father. He may try to trick you. Or you may decide to deal falsely with him."

"The wretch broke our deal. I'm no longer obliged to keep any promises I give him."

"I agree, and the point is, I can help you catch him. I have my skills, and he won't know we're working together until it's too late."

The tanarukk, scowling, said, "You're not as special as you think you are, woman. We Red Axes have managed to run Oeble for years now without any help from the likes of you."

"But you haven't managed to catch Aeron sar Randal. He's still ru

Kesk glared and trembled. His hands clenched on the haft of his axe. For a second, Sefris wondered if she'd pushed too hard, and would have to defend herself against him and all his henchmen, too. She called the words of a spell to mind.

Then, however, he brought himself under control.

"All right, you can stay for the time being." He waved his hand at Aeron's father and added, "Let me see this light touch of yours."

Sefris smiled without having to feign satisfaction, because she'd accomplished her objective, and her new situation, dangerous though it was, afforded her several advantages. As long as she was working with the Red Axes, she wouldn't have to worry about their somehow laying hands on the book ahead of her. A gang of cutthroats could manage a prisoner more easily than could a lone monastic, and since Oeble was their city, they ought to have less trouble making contact with Aeron. When the time came, it would be challenging to snatch the prize and vanish from their midst, but she was confident of her ability to do so.

She rounded on Nicos, who, his courage notwithstanding, saw something in her ma

When Aeron slipped through the door of the cramped little shop, Daelric Heldeion was at his desk, whittling a chop from a piece of pine. The paunchy scribe was primarily in the business of writing and reading documents, but he'd made a profitable sideline of providing his illiterate clientele with a means of signing their names, or in the case of the budget-minded, their initials, to a piece of parchment.

Daelric looked up, realized who'd come to call on him, and his gray eyes opened wide. In light of recent events, that was all Aeron needed to see. He whipped out a throwing knife, cocked his arm, and Daelric froze.

"Are the Red Axes watching this place?" Aeron asked. "Are you supposed to give a signal?"

"No!" Daelric said. "But Kesk's ruffians have been around hunting you. The Gray Blades, too, though they don't know who they're looking for. Why in the Binder's name are you still in town?"

"I can dodge the folk who wish me ill. I always have before."

"If you say so. I wish you'd put the knife down."

Aeron returned the weapon to its sheath and said, "You'll see it again up close if you try anything foolish."

"What would I try? I'm a scribe, not one of you cutthroats," Daelric replied. He produced a linen handkerchief and blotted the sweat on his round, pink face. "What's that muck on your tunic? I can smell the stink from over here."

"Demon gore."

Aeron advanced to the desk, its surface littered with quills, inkwells, penknives, pine shavings, a stack of parchment, and lancets for those who insisted on contracts and promissory notes signed in blood. He cleared a space, brought the black book out from under his cloak, and set it down. Daelric goggled at it.

"This is the prize everyone wants so badly?" the scribe asked.

"Yes, and I need you to read enough of it to tell me why."

The scribe rubbed his thumb and fingertips together.

Aeron sighed. He set the rest of his coin atop the desk. Daelric regarded the copper and silver pieces without enthusiasm.

"Is that all you have?" said the scribe. "If the Red Axes find out I helped you, it could mean my life."

"I'll give you more-lots more-once I sell the book. Or, if that's not good enough, I'll find somebody else to read it, and not only will you miss out on the coin, you'll never know what all the fuss was about."