The Black Bouquet

Nicos was pleasantly surprised to discover that, for whatever reason, he wasn't frightened.

He sneered back at his captor, "Go ahead. It's like the Shar cultist told you. I won't have to endure it for long. My heart will give out under the strain."

Kesk backhanded Nicos across the face. But only once, then he wrenched himself away.

CHAPTER 12

"I keep worrying about the hobgoblin," Miri said.

Aeron asked, "How's that?"

He sca

"Will the creature really help the other slaves run away," she said, "or will it betray them? It is goblin-kin, after all. I'm sure it has no love for the civilized races."

Miri had stayed awake as long and worked as hard as Aeron, but she still seemed relatively fresh. It was as if the rising of the sun, which generally made him yawn, had infused her with fresh vitality.

He snorted and said, "Goblin-kin. Of course. I bet your fingers were just itching to shoot the creature, and never mind that it risked its neck to help me fight the mantis."

"I didn't say it was inconceivable that it would keep its word. Nor do I relish killing, whatever you think. I certainly took no joy in shooting your friends."

"I'm sure you didn't," he said sardonically.

They swung around a mule-drawn wagon heaped with bags of flour, the product of one of the mills upriver.

"I didn't," she insisted, "and… I'm sorry I didn't try to rescue your father when the Red Axes were kidnapping him. I shouldn't have let Sefris talk me out of it. It's this place. It makes me doubt my instincts. It even makes it hard to know right from wrong."

He shook his head in puzzlement and asked, "Is Oeble truly so much fouler than other towns?"

"You've never visited another?"

"Not a big one, just little villages hereabouts."

Miri took a long stride to avoid stepping in a puddle.

"Well," she said, "Oeble is the worst I've seen. I'll admit, though, I've never visited a city that didn't make my skin crawl. They all have their dirt, crowds, and stenches. That's why I'm a scout."

"Because cities spook you?"

"Because as a ranger, you spend most of your time in the parts of the world that are worth living in: forests, mountains, rivers, the prairies, and the sea."

He gri

She smiled back.

"You don't miss easy living once you lose the habit," she said. "Not that I ever had it much, growing up on a little farm on the edge of the wilderness. Haven't you ever wanted to roam, and see wonders you could never even have imagined?"

"Everything I want is right here in Oeble."

It was true, but just for a moment, Aeron wondered whether he might discover something more to desire if only he opened up his eyes.

Ombert Blackdale's thick-built brownstone drum of a tower came into view around the next bend, and the sight banished the peculiar, wistful thought from his mind.

"That's it," he said, pointing.

Miri peered at it and said, "I don't see any sentries."

"I don't either, yet, but Ombert will have somebody keeping an eye out. He always does. Not that it matters."

"True, considering that we're proposing to serve ourselves up to him on a platter."

"You know," Aeron said, "you don't need to come inside. I can do this by myself."

"I'll stick with you."

"To help me fight my way out again if necessary?"

"That, and to keep you from deciding our alliance is a mistake, and skipping out the back door."

He chuckled and said, "You're finally learning to think like somebody who belongs in Oeble."

"That's an insult, but I'll let it pass."

They headed for the tower and climbed the three steps to the entrance, a high, arched oaken panel with a smaller door, scarcely taller than waist high, inset in the larger one. Aeron clanked the wrought iron knocker up and down, and they waited.

After a time, Miri said, "Maybe they decided they don't want any part of our problems."

"Or maybe," Aeron replied, "they need a couple minutes to ready their trap."

She scowled and said, "If you actually think th-"

The full door swung open, and a stocky man with waxed, upturned mustachios frowned out.

"Get inside," he grunted

Aeron stepped through, and Miri followed. Beyond the threshold was a gloomy, windowless anteroom.

"Now give me your weapons," the stocky man said.

"I'm here to see Ombert Blackdale," Aeron replied. "He knows me. We've pulled jobs together."

"He knows who's come calling," said the tough, "and he told me either to collect your blades or send you on your way."

Aeron sighed. He hadn't expected to win that particular argument, but it had been worth a try. He handed over all his Arthyn fangs except for one throwing knife he was currently carrying strapped to his forearm beneath his sleeve. By itself, it was a slim defense, but better than nothing.

Glowering, plainly not liking it one little bit, Miri surrendered her sword, bow, quiver, and dirk. The ruffian hung everything on a pegboard, then led the visitors deeper into the tower. His heart pounding, Aeron waited for other outlaws to rush out at them.

They didn't.

The inhabitants of the well-kept, lavishly furnished spire eyed the newcomers speculatively, but made no effort to interfere with them. Most of the folk who were still awake were smaller even than gnomes like Burgell, smaller than many human children, and that was as Aeron expected. The Lynxes were notorious for being Oeble's preeminent halfling gang, though they did occasionally recruit a representative of another race. Like Kesk, they'd invited Aeron once upon a time, but unlike the tanarukk, hadn't taken offense when he declined.

The stocky ruffian led the visitors up a flight of stairs. The climb felt awkward, because the risers were too low and shallow for long human legs and feet Still, Aeron managed the ascent without stumbling. At the top, they found the leader of the Lynxes seated at a halfling-sized table tucking into a breakfast substantial enough for a giant.

Ombert Blackdale had the straight, shiny raven hair, luxuriant sideburns, and pleasant features characteristic of his kind. In his case, a round face and a sprinkle of freckles contributed to the general appearance of amiability. Despite the short sword lying ready to hand among his silverware and fine porcelain crockery, he scarcely looked the part of an outlaw chieftain, but anyone familiar with Oeble's criminal element could attest to the fact that he was almost as dangerous a felon as Kesk, though he lacked the latter's instinct for sheer viciousness.

"Good morning, Aeron!" the halfling called. "Who's your friend?"

"Miri Buckman of the Red Hart Guild," the ranger replied.

Ombert frowned and asked, "The same guide who killed Kerridi and the others?"

"Yes," Aeron said, "but I can't afford to care about that right now."

"If you say so," Ombert said with a shrug. "They were your friends. Welcome to the both of you, then. Will you join me? I like a good breakfast before I turn in, and I think Cook made enough for a couple more plates."

The twinkle in his blue eyes said he understood very well that the kitchen had prepared enough eggs, toast, ham, bacon, and slices of apple and melon to feed a dozen.

Aeron hadn't eaten since the start of the previous night, and the steaming food both looked and smelled appetizing. He opened his mouth to accept the invitation, and it occurred to him: What if something was drugged? That would explain why the Lynxes hadn't tried to overwhelm him and Miri by force of arms. They knew an easier way to take them prisoner.