The Black Bouquet r-2

by Richard Lee Byers

  Kesk stumbled around. Aeron and the female archer had crept up behind him. Apparently the lone-wolf robber hadn't sold her to Melder after all. The report to the contrary must have been another trick.

  It was immediately apparent from their level stares that Kesk had no hope of intimidating that pair of enemies. The woman was aiming an arrow. Aeron had his arms extended. After a moment-his eyes kept wavering in and out of focus-Kesk realized the red-haired rogue was wearing the lightning gloves that he himself had extorted from the wizard. It was quite possible that that same magic was going to kill him. The thought gave rise to a bitter mirth, and once again, he had to stifle a laugh.

  "Track me, did you?" he asked.

  "More or less," Aeron replied. "It was obvious where you'd try to go."

  "Where's the other bitch?"

  "We killed her." The human outlaw hesitated, then said, "If it was your axe that cut her shoulder, I guess the three of us did it together."

  "I'm glad of that, anyway. Now I suppose it's my turn to die. Do it, then. But if you do, you'll never know who my partner was."

  "I don't care who he was," Aeron replied. "You're the one I want."

  Kesk centered his attention on the ranger. He knew she was his only hope.

  "The wizard told me Dorn Heldeion wants to change how we live in Oeble," said the tanarukk, "by bringing in a new and lawful way to make coin."

  She frowned at the mention of the name of her employer, a prominent member of the Council of Nine Merchants, chief deputies to the Faceless Master. Kesk realized that she must have kept the secret of the rich man's identity from Aeron, and he'd given it away. If the lanky thief was even interested, he didn't show it

  "I don't want to change Oeble," said Aeron, "except for erasing you from the middle of it."

  "If you do want to make things different," said Kesk, still directing his words to the ranger, "you can't do it by killing me. Every city has somebody like me, and if you dispose of him, another just as bad pops up to take his place. The only chance to put Oeble on another path is for Master Heldeion's scheme to succeed."

  "I told you," Aeron said, "I like Oeble fine the way it is."

  "So does the wizard," Kesk replied. "He just wants to run it is all. In time, he will. He's clever and patient. He makes plans that take years to work themselves out. He's the one who sabotaged Master Heldeion's trading ventures and ran him into debt without Heldeion even understanding why everything was going wrong."

  "Why did he bother?" the ranger asked.

  "Dorn Heldeion has too much influence," said Kesk, clenching himself against another surge of pain. "When the magician has the Faceless Master assassinated, he wants to look like the only reasonable candidate to take over the job. That means ruining any potential rivals in advance. Though if Heldeion's gamble pays off, if he gets his hands on The Black Bouquet, he won't really be ruined. The coin-lenders will be happy to keep him afloat, knowing that in a couple years, the secrets in the book will rebuild his fortune many times over. So the wizard had to try to keep it away from him."

  "He failed," Aeron said.

  "At that scheme, yes," said Kesk, "but if you let him go free, he'll simply start over with a new one."

  "He must be a prominent member of the Council of Nine himself," said the guide. "It would be useless to accuse him without evidence, or at least a witness more reputable than the leader of the Red Axes."

  "I can tell you where to look for proof," said Kesk. "I can give you the name of the spy in Heldeion's house. Squeeze him, and he's bound to sell out the wizard to save his own skin."

  Aeron sneered and said, "Just like you."

  "The coward betrayed me first," said Kesk, glaring back at the thief. "He ran out on me."

  "As you betrayed Kerridi, Gavath, Dal, and me," Aeron replied. "And you know what, Pigface? I'm tired of hearing you oink."

  Aeron extended his arms straighter. A blue spark popped on one of his knuckles, and the smell of ozone filled the air. Kesk held himself steady. They could kill him, but they'd never see him cringe.

  "Aeron," the ranger said, her voice troubled.

  "No," he said.

  "If he's right, if we do need his help to give this sordid place a chance at a decent way of living…"

  "Are you both deaf?" Aeron spat "I said, I don't care about that. He tortured my father. He killed my friends."

  "I killed your friends," said the ranger.

  "I blame him, not you. Anyway, I don't dare let the vengeful bastard live. Father and I would never be safe."

  "I vow by the War Maker," said Kesk, "that I won't come after either of you."

  "Liar," Aeron said.

  The ranger reached as if to take her companion by the arm, then, to Kesk's disgust, thought better of it.

  "All right," she sighed, "I won't argue any further. It's your right to kill him if you want. In your place, I'd probably do the same thing."

  "Of course you would." Aeron glared down the length of his leveled arms until Kesk's nerves positively screamed with the waiting, then made a sour face, lowered his hands, and said, "Damn you, Miri, why did you have to prattle at me? Now I can't do it, and I don't even know why. Maybe I'm just sick of killing."

  Kesk felt lightheaded with relief. With nothing to lose by trying, he'd argued for his life, but had never actually expected his foes to heed him.

  Most likely the scout would never have cause to regret it. She'd vanish into the wilderness, never to return. Aeron, however, was a different matter. When the time was right, Kesk would avenge this humiliation on the lone-wolf rogue and his father, too. Surely offering up a pair of human hearts would appease the War Maker for a false oath sworn in his name.

  CHAPTER 19

  Miri was aching and bone-weary by the time she and Aeron reached the riverfront. Despite her rudimentary training in the mystic arts, she didn't truly understand how Sefris's bolts of darkness could cause genuine harm without breaking the skin, but it was obvious they had. Otherwise, she wouldn't feel so punchy and weak.

  It didn't matter. The fighting was over, and the long search, nearly so. In another hour, she'd deliver The Black Bouquet to Master Heldeion, then she could return to Ilmater's house for healing and the use of a bed.

  With his wounded arm and head, Aeron would benefit from the priests' attentions as well. She turned to tell him so, then gaped in horror. The rogue was no longer walking at her side.

  She spun around. Except for herself, the narrow, trash-choked alley, foul with the stink of rotting fish and produce, was deserted. Aeron hadn't simply lagged a step or two behind. Somehow, he'd slipped away.

  She cursed herself for a dunce. Once Nicos was safe, and Sefris dead, she should have known better than to take her eyes off Aeron for so much as an instant. But it was her nature to trust a comrade with whom she'd faced so much peril, and thanks to that gullibility, she'd probably lost the formulary forever.

  She snatched an arrow from her quiver to hold ready in her hand, then started to run back the way they'd come. She knew how unlikely it was that she'd spot the liar skulking through the dark, but she had to try.

  He called out to her, "Hold on."

  She whirled back around, and Aeron stepped from the shadows.

  "I'm right here," he said, "and so is this." He hefted a heavy, black-bound volume. "I kept it behind some loose bricks in a wall down thataway."

  She peered at him quizzically and asked, "If you meant to give it to me, why did you disappear?"

  "I don't know," he said with a smile. "A joke? Maybe I wanted you to know I'm turning it over because I want to, not because I'm afraid of your bow and sword. That I do keep my promises to the right people."

  He placed the book in her hands.

  When she opened the cover, a sweet scent wafted up. Holding the book close to her face, squinting against the gloom, she was just able to make out Courynn Dulsaer's handwriting. It was the real Bouquet, not simply another decoy. Aeron chuckled to see her check the book.
<
br />   "I said you were learning to think like one of us Oeblar," he said.

  "Thank you," she replied. "For the Bouquet, not that remark. It's still an insult."

  He smiled a crooked smile and said, "From that retort, I take it you're still eager to go back to the woods. I'll miss you… at least a little."

  It seemed the perfect opening for Miri to propose the notion she'd been mulling over.

  "You don't have to," she said. "You could come along. I'd sponsor you for membership in the Red Hart Guild, and train you, too."

  "Now you're playing a joke on me."

  "No. I've seen the better side of your nature, and you're too good a man to live out your days as a sneak thief in this wretched place."

  "This wretched place is about to reform, or so I'm told."

  "Over the course of years, maybe, if everything goes according to Master Heldeion's plan," Miri replied. "I'm offering you the certainty of a new life, a useful, honorable one, right here and now."

  "I can't abandon my father."

  "He can come, too. The guild provides a home for those of our kin who can't take care of themselves."

  He stood mute for several heartbeats, seemingly pondering the offer.

  At last he said, "Thank you. I'm flattered you asked, but no. I just don't see myself sleeping on the ground."

  Though it was the response she'd expected, it disappointed her nonetheless.

  "So be it, then," said the ranger. "I guess you'll have to settle for a bag of Master Heldeion's gold as a reward."

  "For recovering The Black Bouquet?" Aeron said with a snort. "Not likely. Remember who lifted it in the first place, triggering disturbances across the city that even left some Gray Blades dead. You may have a high opinion of Heldeion, but I don't know him, and I don't trust him not to string me up. He's a merchant and one of the city fathers, in other words, an outlaw's natural enemy."

  "Well, as you pointed out yourself, he doesn't ever have to see you or know your name. I promised you gold when we sealed our pact, and I'll fetch it to you."

  "Again, thanks, but no. I only asked for a reward to persuade you to trust me. I took the same tack when I talked to Kesk in Slarvyn's Sword. People are usually inclined to believe you're speaking honestly when you say you want coin.

  "The truth is, I don't take rewards from fat burghers for returning what's rightfully theirs. That's not my trade. If Heldeion gives you a bonus, keep it for yourself."

  "Then you come out of this with nothing."

  "I've got my father back, that's what matters, and these lightning gloves are worth having as well. Come on, I'll walk you to Heldeion's house before we go our separate ways. You may find it difficult to believe, but some people think the streets of Oeble are unsafe."

  When the servant opened the door for him, Oriseus Forar stepped out onto the porch of his mansion, took a breath of crisp morning air, and tried to take pleasure in the start of a new day.

  The gods knew, he had sufficient excuse for a glum mood. After his panicky flight from Laskalar's Square, his alliance with the Red Axes was surely at an end even if Kesk had survived his confrontation with Dark Sister Sefris. Oriseus still didn't have The Black Bouquet in his possession, and he doubted he ever would.

  Yet the situation wasn't entirely bleak. As far as Oriseus knew, Dorn Heldeion didn't have the book, either, which meant the fool still faced ruin. Oriseus simply had to call in the debts his proxies had bought up. Even more importantly, neither Dorn nor anyone else of importance knew of Oriseus's criminal and treasonous designs. He'd emerged from the Bouquet debacle with his reputation unblemished, free to continue enjoying all the wealth and luxuries his station afforded while pursuing his clandestine efforts to bring the entire city under his sway.

  Or so he assumed. But as he descended the marble steps toward his litter, a handsome, crimson-lacquered conveyance with appointments of real gold, he spied the Gray Blades. They'd apparently been waiting in the street, inconspicuous among the scurrying crowds, for Oriseus to emerge. Their expressions hard, they advanced on him, and Miri Buckman strode along with them.

  Oriseus didn't know how it had happened, but he had no doubt the Faceless Master had ordered his arrest. He was equally certain of the grim fate awaiting him if he allowed himself to be taken. Struggling against terror, he told himself it needn't come to that. His magic would enable him to escape.

  He began reciting a spell, lifted a hand to sketch an arcane symbol in the air, and a fierce pain stabbed into his palm. His arm jerked, spoiling the pass. Amazed, he turned his head to discover the source of his distress. He had an arrow sticking through his flesh, the bloody, razor-edged head protruding several inches beyond his knuckles. If only he'd worn his green cloak with its enchantment against missiles! Unfortunately, he'd been worried that people had noticed a suspicious character clad in such a garment fleeing the scene of the battle the night before, and accordingly had left it in his armoire.

  He started conjuring with the other hand. Smiling, Miri shot an arrow through that one, too. He tried to finish the magic anyway, but fumbled. The Gray Blades grabbed him.

  Once the lawmen laid hands on Oriseus Forar, Aeron decided he and Nicos had seen enough. Muffled in their cloaks and hoods, they turned away, then squirmed and dodged their way through the mass of gawkers who had, as if by magic, assembled to watch the wealthy and prominent-and accordingly, envied and despised-merchant's downfall.

  Aeron's belly felt as hollow as a whore's flattery, and he was sure that after his ordeal, Nicos could use a hearty breakfast to rebuild his strength. He led the old man to an open-air food stand under a sagging, dilapidated awning. Behind the bar, eggs, battered bread, trout, and perch smoked and sizzled in cast iron frying pans, filling the air with appetizing aromas.

  "I don't know why Miri didn't just shoot Forar in the vitals," Aeron said as they claimed a pair of stools. "I doubt either the Faceless Master or Dorn Heldeion would have minded."

  Nicos smirked and replied, "She figured you were watching from somewhere close at hand, so she was showing off for you."

  "I knew it had to happen sooner or later," said Aeron, shaking his head. "You're finally going senile."

  "You could do worse than a lass like that."

  "Right, a woman who likes to sleep out in the rain and snow and thinks the point of life is to risk your neck serving others. Plainly, she and I are a match decreed by the Morninglord himself."

  "Well, when you put it that way…"

  A serving maid came to take their orders. After she finished, Aeron turned the conversation to more practical matters.

  "What items do you need," he asked, "to undertake a journey?"

  "A fresh supply of my medicines would be nice. Why, are we going somewhere?"

  "Away. I don't care how many oaths Kesk swears. I've twisted his snout too many times, and if I linger within his reach, eventually he'll put an end to me."

  "You don't seem too upset about needing to flee."

  Aeron shrugged and asked, "What is there to hold me here? All my best friends have either died or betrayed me, and anyway, this whole town is nothing more than a black bouquet."

  "What in the name of Baator does that mean?"

  "I don't know, but I'm looking forward to finding out. Lately it's occurred to me that the world's a lot bigger than this one town. I've never even seen the Lake of Steam, and it's just over the next hill. Well, so to speak."

  "Do we have the funds to pay for a journey?"

  "We will once I lift a few purses. Afterward, we'll wander until we find a city that suits us. Someplace I can go back to thieving as a regular thing if I take a mind to."

  "If you take a mind to…" Nicos chuckled. "If we want to eat, you may not have a choice."

  "Well, as to that…"

  Aeron stealthily opened his tunic just long enough for his father to glimpse the old, brown sheets of parchment he carried inside, then fastened it up again.

  Nicos lowered his rasping voice to a wh
isper and asked, "Pages from the formulary?"

  "Slit neatly from the center. Dorn Heldeion has plenty of recipes left. He'll never miss these few. But if the whole book is worth a vast fortune, then even a piece of it should sell for a small one, once we get it authenticated. So you see, unless we develop a yen for golden ruby-studded chamber pots and similar extravagances, we're set for a long time to come."

  Nicos grinned and said, "I always hoped to steer you toward an honest, upright manner of living. I'm starting to be glad it didn't work."

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  Document creation date: 30.01.2012

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