The Black Bouquet

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 fu

Aeron climbed the stairs to the second floor. Unless he was pla

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-ski

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.