The Black Bouquet

The Red Axe hacked at him repeatedly, and whenever Aeron could, he used a variation of the blond boy's counter. He ducked or dodged his opponent's blade and slashed or thrust at his extended arm. Before long, the man in blue became accustomed to the pattern, to an adversary who fought as he did, with a single weapon, and that was when Aeron surreptitiously slipped a second knife into his off hand.

He flourished the big Arthyn fang, locking the Red Axe's attention on it, then threw the smaller dagger. The knife plunged into the older man's throat. He made a gargling sound, pawed at the hilt for a second, and collapsed.

The Red Axe's death left Aeron feeling vaguely disgusted, but it was not the time to dwell on it. He inspected the gash on his forearm. He'd guessed right, it wasn't bad enough to require expert attention, not immediately, anyway. Employing his fingers and teeth, he knotted a kerchief into a makeshift bandage, then crouched to check the yellow-haired lad.

It occurred to him that it would be just his luck if he'd accidentally killed all three Red Axes, but in fact, the boy was breathing. He gripped him under the arms and dragged him into a recessed doorway, which might at least hide them from the casual notice of passersby. He kneeled down in front of his prisoner, then slapped and pinched him, trying to rouse him.

It took a while-long enough for a couple of garishly painted whores to wander down the alley, discover the corpse of the man in blue and the still-unconscious gnoll, and steal their purses and other valuables. Finally, though, the blond lad moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. Aeron poised an Arthyn fang at his throat, and he cringed.

"Don't fight, stay quiet, and I won't hurt you," Aeron said. "Otherwise, I'll stick you and talk to somebody else."

"You're crazy," said the youth, sounding more indignant than frightened. "Attacking us in broad daylight in the middle of the street? What if the Gray Blades had come along?"

"In case you haven't noticed, recently the law has been the least of my problems. At the moment, it's the least of yours, too."

"I'm not giving you any trouble, am I? What do you want?"

"For you to carry a message to Kesk. We're going to make the exchange, the treasure for my father."

"Good, let me walk you to the house. That will stop any other Red Axes trying to kill you."

Aeron gri

"Out in the open, with people wandering all around?"

"You just said yourself, witnesses tend to discourage us outlaws from slaughtering one another. Not always, but some of the time."

"Kesk won't like it."

"Or my next requirement, either. He's to bring my father by himself. If I spot any other Red Axes-or magicians in scarves-you won't see me."

The blond lad sneered, "If you don't show up, your father dies."

"Better him than the both of us," Aeron replied. "And we both die if I let Kesk make the rules."

"Well, he won't let you make them."

"Deliver the message," Aeron said, "and we'll see."

Aeron rose and edged away. The Red Axe clambered to his feet and hurried off with many a wary backward glance. He hesitated over the gnoll as if pondering the advisability of trying to help the long-legged creature, then left it where it lay.

"That was sloppy," Sefris murmured, "letting him cut you."

Startled, Aeron jerked around. The willowy monastic in her cowl and robe was standing right beside him.

"I told you to hang back," he said.

"The Red Axes didn't see me," she replied, "and I didn't want you to think you had the option of slipping away from me. If I had to chase you down again, it would only be a waste of our time and energy."

"Why would I run when I need you? When I went to so much trouble to make contact with you in the first place?"

"Now that you've seen me close up, spoken with me, maybe you have second thoughts."

"No."

He'd finished those long ago-he supposed he'd reached his tenth or eleventh thoughts. But with only a few hours left before Kesk carried out his threat, he didn't have time to slip away from her, go into hiding, and hatch a more sensible plan.

Sefris asked, "Do you think Kesk will follow your instructions?"

"He'll come to Laskalar's Square, but not alone," Aeron replied with a grin. "His underlings will be lurking around, waiting to move in on my father and me as soon as the trade is done. Fortunately, they won't know you're sneaking around, too."

"You realize the tanarukk won't want to free Nicos until he has The Black Bouquet in his hands. But I can't allow you to give it to him."

"Don't worry, I won't even carry it to the meeting. If I did, you might be tempted to forget our bargain and take it away from me on the spot."

"Then how will you get Nicos out of Kesk's clutches, and even if you do, how can a lame old man hobble away quickly enough to keep the Red Axes from capturing him again?"

"Trickery," Aeron answered. "Tell me all the spells you can cast, and we'll figure it out from there."

Hulm had presumably finished his rounds before nightfall, but when Aeron passed from the Rolling Shields into Laskalar's Square, the Dead Cart was parked in front of Griffingate House. The gnarlbones presumably had personal business somewhere in the vicinity. The utilitarian wagon stood out in obscurely ominous contrast to the opulent gargoyle-encrusted facade of Oeble's most expensive i

Dotted with trees and the occasional pigeon-spattered bit of statuary, the square itself was as busy as he'd expected. The shops and kiosks were doing a brisk business. Storytellers, minstrels, jugglers, and tumblers vied for the attention of the crowd, and the aromas of frying sausage and fresh-baked sweet buns scented the air. Aeron knew that under other circumstances, the smells would have made his mouth water. He hadn't eaten since leaving Melder's Door that morning. But at the moment, he was too edgy to think about food.

As he drifted around, he tried to spot Kesk's minions without their realizing he was looking. He marked one hobgoblin reaver pretending to watch a lewd puppet show and a human ruffian seemingly examining a leather-worker's wares, but not the rest, not yet. It didn't bother him too much that he couldn't pick out all the Red Axes. It was more troubling that he couldn't find the wizard, who was surely hanging around as well.

Oh, well, he thought, if everything goes as pla

If not, the magician was still likely to make his presence obvious soon enough, in one inconvenient fashion or another.

It was on the north side of the grassy rectangle that Aeron finally caught sight of Nicos and Kesk. The Red Axes had cleaned the old man up, probably so it wouldn't be obvious to any casual observer that he was in distress. Thus, he wasn't bound or leashed, and of course didn't need to be. The tanarukk could fell him in an instant if he tried to make any trouble.

Like Aeron himself, Kesk wore a cowl to obscure his identity, and in the dark, some folk could have mistaken him for an unusually short and burly orc if they failed to notice the crimson smolder of his devilish eyes. No doubt he carried his battle-axe concealed beneath his cloak. As he stalked along, the set of his enormous shoulders hinted at his anger and impatience.

Aeron took a deep, steadying breath and called, "I'm here."

Kesk and Nicos turned. The hostage gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. Aeron knew it was his father's way of warning him to flee while he still could. He wished he could somehow make Nicos understand that he realized Kesk intended to cheat, and had pla