The Black Bouquet

"You still couldn't count on picking that fellow off without him making some noise," Aeron said. "Maybe we can find a back way in. A big room in a rich man's house is likely to have at least two doors, one for the masters and one for the flunkies."

She gave him a nod and said, "Lead on."

It didn't take long to find the servants' stairs, spiraling up and down in a claustrophobic shaft. The risers were narrow, the way all but lightless, and the trapped air was stale. Aeron wondered how many maids and valets had taken a nasty tumble back when the house was young. He caught his first glimpse of the chamber at the top, and it drove such casual speculations from his mind.

The long hall was a solar, one wall a continuous row of windows intended to admit sunlight and provide a panoramic view of the Scelptar. Nicos sat tied in a chair, his eyes closed and his head lolling. His chest rose and fell, reassuring proof that he was only unconscious, not dead. In fact, apart from the mutilation of his hand, he didn't look as badly injured as Aeron had expected.

Unfortunately, the prisoner wasn't alone. The big gilded chair in which Kesk no doubt liked to sit was currently vacant, but Tharag, the orc who'd accompanied the bugbear to Imrys's warehouse, and a human outlaw were hanging around. Moreover, one of the glass panes had shattered, and a small man with a wool scarf masking the lower portion of his face stood before the breach, evidently because it afforded a clearer view than the cracked, filthy windows that remained intact. Gazing through a brass astrolabe, he alternately scrutinized the night sky and scratched his observations on a slate. A green mantle and gold-knobbed blackwood cane rested on a little table beside him.

Aeron wondered if the astrologer was also a magician, and had supplied the Red Axes with the metal mantis and potion of invulnerability that had nearly cost him and Miri their lives. If so, he was likely to prove more clever and dangerous than the common ruffians.

Miri tugged on Aeron's arm, and they sneaked back down the steps a little way, where they could whisper without fear of being overheard.

"How fast can you throw your knives?" she asked.

"Not fast enough to kill four men before one of them yells for help. I think it's time to test these disguises."

She stared at him as if he'd gone mad. Maybe he had.

"I figured that at best, they'd only work at a distance," the ranger said. "I mean, I've seen half-orcs. We don't look right."

"Close enough, maybe, if no one peers too closely," Aeron replied. "A disguise is half attitude and the way you carry yourself. We have the advantage that the Red Axes never expected us to sneak in here. I'm sure of that much. Besides, if they recognize us, and we wind up having to fight, it won't be any worse than if we started out that way."

"Yes, it will. We'll have lost the advantage of surprise." She frowned and continued, "Still, Nicos is your father, and it was your tactics that got us this far. If you're sure you want to try it this way, I'll follow your lead."

"Thanks. Let me do the talking."

They climbed back up the stairs, making no particular effort to do so quietly. The risers creaked.

When the Red Axes glanced in his direction, Aeron felt a split second of panic, of certainty that the greenish pigment on his skin, the black dye in his hair, and the absence of his goatee wouldn't fool anyone. He slouched on into the room anyway, praying that his cowl cast his features into shadow. Kesk's operation was large and varied enough to make it unlikely that all his minions knew one another well, but it was possible they'd all laid eyes on one another at least a time or two.

Aeron grunted one of the orc greetings he'd picked up over the years then ambled to Nicos with Miri following along behind. He crouched beside his father's chair and started untying him. The old man came awake with a start.

"Hey!" Tharag said. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" Aeron replied in his best imitation of a surly goblin-kin voice.

He kept his head bowed over his work.

"It looks like you're undoing the rope," Tharag said.

"I knew you could figure it out if you strained hard enough," Aeron replied. "Look, Kesk's sick of having the old man up here all the time. He wants us to stick him somewhere else. You don't think we're going to carry him and the chair, too, do you? Not as long as he can walk."

The hulking bugbear blinked its green, red-pupiled eyes and asked, "Kesk's back?"

"He couldn't give orders if he wasn't, now could be? He said he'll be up here in a minute, soon as he checks something that came in through the Underways."

The last knot yielded, and Aeron jerked Nicos to his feet. Miri grabbed hold of the hostage's forearm, and they wrenched him around toward the servants' door.

For a couple of steps, no one protested, and Aeron felt a surge of exultation that he and Miri were actually getting away with it.

Then a mild baritone voice said, "Please, hold on for just a moment."

It had to be the astrologer. No one else in the room would speak in that educated accent. For want of a better idea, Aeron and Miri ignored him and kept on moving.

"Excuse me," said the man in the scarf, raising his voice a little.

Brilliant white light blazed through the room. Startled, the Red Axes shouted and cursed. The intruders spun around, only to discover they didn't need to defend themselves. The flare of light had been simply that, not a sign they were under mystical assault. Not yet. It had been a warning the wizard could attack them if they refused to heed him.

"What?" Aeron growled.

"Do any of you fellows know these two?" the small man asked. "Look closely."

At some point over the course of the past couple minutes, he'd tossed his cloak over his shoulders and picked up his cane.

"We rob travelers along the river," Miri said, making her voice coarse. "We don't get into town much."

"That may be," said the magician, "but I'm going to ask the same thing of you that I did of Dark Sister Sefris. Show me your brands."

Aeron pulled back his sleeve to display the false scar he'd shaped from crimson candle wax.

"Nice," the wizard chuckled through his lemister scarf, "but not quite convincing enough. You're the man himself, aren't you? Aeron sar Randal, even bolder than your reputation led me to believe. I thi-"

Aeron whipped an Arthyn fang from its sheath and hurled it at the arcanist's chest. The knife hit the target, but clanked and rebounded. The small man had some magical protection in place that kept it from penetrating.

A crossbow bolt streaked at Miri. She shielded herself with her buckler, then turned to face the human Red Axe, who was charging her with a dagger in either hand. She drew her broadsword and cut in a single motion, ripping open the outlaw's belly. His knees buckled, and he dropped.

"If you Red Axes have any of my talismans or elixirs,'' the astrologer shouted, "use them!"

He backed away, putting distance between himself and the intruders.

It was evidence the whoreson wasn't entirely impervious to harm, but Aeron was more interested in getting away than in trying to hurt him. He considered a leap out the broken window, but feared Nicos wouldn't survive the fall into the river, and that even if he did, he couldn't manage the frantic swim for safety afterward.

He shouted, "Down the stairs, Father! We'll follow."

Nicos spat an obscenity. Plainly, frail as he was, it still irked him to flee while other folk risked their lives to cover his retreat. But he tottered backward as quickly as his weakness allowed.

No doubt drawn by the commotion, the Red Axe with the long, matted beard appeared in the doorway at the far end of the hall. Half concealed behind Tharag, the wizard chanted, and swept whatever it was he held between thumb and forefinger through a mystic pass. Standing closest to Aeron, Miri, and Nicos, the bugbear and orc gulped the contents of tiny bottles.