The Black Bouquet

"Easy," Sefris said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

The thrall sobbed.

"Really," Sefris added. She took the blonde's chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned her averted face until they were eye to eye, compelling the other woman to take note of her own compassionate expression. "I'd never hurt a slave. I was a slave myself, once upon a time."

"I'm not a runaway!" wailed the thrall.

"It's all right I'm not a slave catcher, and I'm not interested in returning you to your master."

The blonde said, "I have to go back. What else can I do? But they'll blame me. They'll whip me to death."

She was afraid to seize the opportunity Aeron had given her and even try to be free. The realization gave Sefris another twinge of disdain, even though she knew that, ultimately, liberty was as foul as bondage or any other condition or thing to which one could put a name.

In any case, if all the thrall cared about was escaping punishment, then that was the lever Sefris would use to pry some sense out of her.

"If you mean to return to your master," the monastic said, "then maybe I can put in a good word for you. Help you convince him it wasn't your fault."

The blonde snuffled, "You'd do that?"

"I follow the Broken God, and he teaches us to help those in need. The only thing is, I won't be able to persuade another of your i

"All the other slaves were doing it. I was afraid they'd hurt me if I didn't let them break my chains, too. I went off with them for the same reason, but sneaked away as soon as I could. By the time I got back, though, some more of the masters were already here, loading the dead bodies into a wagon. They'd seen everyone was gone, me included, so I was scared to approach them. I hid until they drove away, then came into the shed to try and figure out what to do."

"Well, that explains it to some extent," said Sefris, "but you'd better tell me the whole story from the begi

"He rang the bell. Or she did, the woman who was with him. When Master Durth went to answer, the man shoved through and clubbed him."

Sefris nodded. Durth, the half-orc Aeron had knocked unconscious but left alive, had only a cloudy memory of the attack, but thought he recalled a woman. The ruffians the thief had ambushed along the docks likewise had a vague impression that Aeron hadn't acted alone, and it certainly seemed unlikely that he'd defeated five Red Axes and an enchanted construct unaided. Sefris had already concluded that he'd found an accomplice foolhardy enough to stand with him against the gang.

"Master Evendur came out to see what was going on," the thrall continued, "and the man and woman killed him. Afterward, they fetched the tools to strike the chains off, and told us to run away. I said it was madness, but nobody would listen to me."

"Then the other Red Axes-the masters with the big metal insect-came to investigate the noise?"

"Yes. I thought that then, everything would be all right I didn't have my shackles off yet, so they wouldn't punish me. But the man, the woman, and Yagan-a hobgoblin, one of us thralls-killed the masters. The man threw knives. The woman shot arrows, then fought with a broadsword and buckler. Yag-"

"Hold on," Sefris interrupted. A sudden suspicion took hold of her. It was ridiculous, of course. The world was full of archers, and even if it wasn't, no one but a magician or highly trained monk could have survived the fall from the top story of Aeron's tower. Still, she had to ask. "This woman. Was she a good shot?"

The blonde cocked her head as if puzzled by the question, but answered willingly enough, "She never missed."

"Describe her."

"Tall and slim, with curly brown hair chopped off short. She had on leather armor, and when she went into the shed, and the lamplight caught her, I saw it was dyed green."

Sefris felt astonished. She'd never been more certain of a kill, yet she had no doubt it was Miri the thrall had seen. Somehow, the guide was still alive and had joined forces with Aeron. If Sefris had examined the Red Axe corpses and recognized the arrow punctures for what they were, she might have suspected sooner.

Yet what sense did it make? She assumed Aeron's goal was to put so much pressure on Kesk that the tanarukk would be willing to undertake a fair exchange of Nicos for The Black Bouquet in order to put an end to the harassment. Miri presumably still wanted to deliver the formulary to whoever had bought it from Lord Quwen. How, then, could they possibly work together?

When the answer came to Sefris, she couldn't help smiling a fleeting but genuine smile, because it solved her problem. She didn't need to scour the city looking for Aeron. She knew where he'd turn up sooner or later.

Her companion cringed from the momentary change in her expression.

"What is it?" whimpered the thrall.

"It's fine." Sefris rose. "You told me what I needed to hear."

"Are you leaving?" asked the blonde. "You said you'd help me. Please, take pity on me."

"No," Sefris said. "Shar teaches that nothing in the world deserves our pity, neither others nor ourselves."

Still, what she was about to do would be mercy, the only true mercy any being ever received. It was the thrall's good fortune that her deliverer didn't want her repeating their conversation to the Red Axes.

All it took was a simple front snap kick. The ball of Sefris's foot slammed into the blonde's delicate chin, breaking her neck. She was dead before her yellow-haired head touched the floor.

Despite the ease with which she'd managed it, Sefris found the kill particularly satisfying. She wasn't sure why.

CHAPTER 13

Aeron peered at the crack between the wide double doors, then lightly pressed one of them with his palm.

"Can you open it?" Miri whispered.

She looked odd, and it wasn't the olive pigment they'd both smeared on their skin to make themselves resemble half-orcs. He couldn't see the color amid the darkness of the narrow cul-de-sac. Rather, it was the absence of a bow, quiver, and her distinctively dyed armor, which had seemed as much a part of her as her hands and feet.

"No," he said. "It doesn't have a lock for me to pick, just a bar on the other side. However, the place does have a skylight."

He prowled along the warehouse wall, looking at a spot where the brick was cracked and pitted enough to provide some decent handholds. When he found it, he swarmed upward onto the slanted roof, where a night breeze wafted. The cool air felt strange on his newly shaved chin.

It was easy to work a knife between the skylight and frame and pop the latch. The hard part would come after he slipped through. It was a thirty-foot drop to the floor. He'd had good luck lately surviving long falls relatively unscathed-it was about the only good fortune he'd enjoyed-but it would be mad to risk another u

In other circumstances, he would have lowered a rope, but even if he'd had one, he wouldn't have been able to leave it hanging down for someone to discover. So he gripped the protruding underside of a rafter. Clinging by the sheer strength of his fingers, Aeron inched along it until he could swing himself over the railing onto the loft that ran around the walls.

He found the long hooked pole used to manipulate the skylight and swung it closed then skulked down the stairs. The warehouse was more empty than otherwise, a testimony to Imrys Skaltahar's ability to move stolen goods quickly, but stacks of crates sat here and there, providing places to hide.

Aeron unbarred the door, and re-secured it once Miri slipped inside.