The Black Bouquet

Nicos didn't understand it. Kesk didn't, either. He glowered at the slender monastic in her robe and hood, his stare demanding an explanation.

Sefris provided one, in an ambiguous sort of way. She touched a finger to her lips, then pointed at the door.

Kesk looked where she'd bade him. For a moment, there was nothing to see, and he almost seemed to swell with impatience, then a small figure sauntered into view. The newcomer wore a dark green camlet mantle, lightweight but voluminous, and a hood like the one Sefris used to shadow her features and cover her shaved scalp. He'd wrapped a knit lemister scarf around the lower part of his face.

A law-abiding person might have thought the stranger a menacing figure, but Nicos had spent his life among folk who wore masks of one sort or another. To his eye, the newcomer, who didn't carry himself like a warrior or bravo, was, except for himself, the least fearsome person in the room. But Kesk and Sefris eyed the stranger as if they knew something their prisoner didn't, as if leery of the gold-knobbed blackwood stick in his clean, soft-looking hand. Maybe it was just a long cane, but it might also be a magician's staff. Indeed, as Nicos peered closer, the fact that the small man was entirely dry argued for the latter.

"Shall I show my face," the newcomer said, "or do you know me?"

He spoke like an educated man. Nicos didn't recognize the voice.

"I know you," Kesk growled, "and I told you to stay away. I'll handle this."

"As I recall," the stranger said, "you didn't want me to look for your rebellious hireling all by myself, for fear I'd find him, then decide to cut you out of the profits. It occurred to me, however, that if we locate him together, you won't have cause for concern. So here I am."

"What if somebody saw you come?"

"I'm wearing a disguise, and I left home stealthily, through the exercise of my Art. The same way I entered here, without the bother of persuading your guards to admit me. It will all be fine, and even if it's not, it's my worry more than yours."

"If something happens to you," said Kesk, "you won't be able to pay me."

"Nor will I should we fail to recover the prize. In that case, there won't be anything to pay for."

Nicos was still in so much pain that it was difficult to follow the conversation. Yet even so, he gradually figured out that the stranger with the cane was the rich man who'd hired Kesk to steal the coffer.

"I told you," said Kesk, "I'll find it."

"Will you? My sources inform me you can't lay hands on our quarry even when he's robbing one of your own enterprises."

Having figured out who the small man was, Nicos could think of one reason why Kesk wanted to get rid of him, and why Sefris had concealed herself among the common ruffians: The two of them had conspired against the stranger, and didn't want to give him the chance to find out.

The tanarukk looked as if the newcomer's last observation had so irked him that he scarcely cared any longer. He shuddered, and chucked away the remains of the sausage to grip his axe with both fists.

"Are you mocking me?" he demanded.

"Of course not," the stranger said, his mild, cultured voice steady. He seemed almost as unflappable as Sefris. "I'm simply pointing out that now, even more than before, it's in your best interests to let me assist you. I can think of several reasons why you'd be reluctant, but…"

As the man with the cane nattered on, Nicos had a sudden horrifying inspiration. He could ruin Kesk and Sefris's deception simply by speaking up.

The idea terrified him. After what he'd already suffered at their hands, the last thing he wanted to do was attract their renewed attention, let alone infuriate them.

Yet he despised himself for his dread. He yearned to defy it.

Would it do any good, though? He didn't understand enough to foresee the consequences of such an action.

He did, however, have good reason to fear that if matters continued as they were, Aeron was doomed. Apparently his son had enjoyed remarkable success in evading the Red Axes, then taking the fight to them, but it wouldn't last. A lone thief, no matter how cu

If so, he had to try, not only because he loved Aeron, but because it was his fault the lad was in danger. Oh, conceivably, Aeron might have become an outlaw anyway. He'd always had a taste for excitement and the tawdry life of the gutter and the Underways. Still, Nicos thought he'd sealed his son's fate by getting himself crippled. From that point onward, Aeron had become his family's sole support, and there had been no honest way for a boy so young to earn as much coin as was required.

Nicos screwed up his courage, then cried out to the man with the cane. Or rather, he tried. His throat was still so dry and raw, his voice so feeble, that it was inaudible even to him.

He swallowed and tried again. This time, he heard the frail little croak, but no one else paid any attention. In desperation, he thrashed, and the legs of his chair, bumping and squeaking against the floor, finally made some significant noise.

The other people in the room regarded him with some surprise. He understood why. Once ruffians bound, tortured, and seemingly broke a man down, they didn't expect him to do anything to assert himself thereafter. Such mistreatment typically left a victim as cowed and passive as a piece of furniture.

"Who's this?" asked the small man.

"Just someone who crossed me," Kesk said.

He didn't seem too upset that Nicos had stirred. He must not have any notion of what his hostage intended to do.

"Wizard," Nicos rasped, "if that's what you are, you have to listen to me."

"Do I?" The small man shrugged and said, "Then I'd better move closer. As it is, I can barely hear you."

Kesk's smoldering eyes narrowed. Perhaps he felt a sudden uneasiness, an inkling that Nicos could cause him some actual inconvenience.

"Surely," the tanarukk growled, "you don't need to hear the wretch grovel for his life. I'll have somebody shut him up so we can palaver in peace."

"Don't be hasty," the stranger replied. The ferule of his walking stick clicked on the floor as he ambled in Nicos's direction. "Perhaps it would be worthwhile to hear what he has to say."

"It will be for you," Nicos said. "Kesk has sold you out I overheard the whole thing."

The tanarukk sprang up from his seat and brandished his battle-axe at his captive.

"By the War Maker," he said, "hold your lying tongue, or I'll split your skull here and now!"

"Is it a lie?" said the man with the cane.

"Of course it is!" Kesk snarled. "Who would I sell you out to? Your rival? Why? He couldn't afford to give me as much as you promised. He definitely wouldn't pledge to make the Red Axes supreme over all other gangs in Oeble and keep the Gray Blades from troubling us ever again."

Sefris shifted just inside Nicos's field of vision, stepping so stealthily that the small man probably hadn't even noticed. Her change of expression was just as subtle. Her calm, inscrutable expression was essentially just the same as ever, yet something in her steady gaze conveyed the promise of hideous retribution if he continued on his present course.

It nearly intimidated him, but not quite. It felt too good to strike back at his tormentors, no matter what the eventual cost.

"Kesk is conspiring with that woman there." Nicos indicated Sefris with a nod and continued, "She's a Shar worshiper, a monk… or nun… whatever you call the women… of the Dark Moon. I imagine you know your treasure was plunder taken from one of the cult's hidden temples. They sent her to get it back."

"Liar," said Kesk. "She's just another Red Axe."