The Black Bouquet

by Richard Lee Byers

  She plucked a pellet of guano and sulfur from one of her pockets and swept it through a cabalistic pass, meanwhile whispering a rhyme. Ordinarily she much preferred spells of shadow and darkness to any that conjured fire, but she was pragmatist enough to use the most effective tool for the task at hand.

  A male voice, shrill with excitement, shouted, “Stop that!”

  She turned her head. One of the Gray Blades, a muscular young man who’d tried with scant success to grow a beard, had spotted her and pointed a crossbow in her direction. She’d thought Aeron an imbecile to conduct his business in the lawmen’s vicinity, and there was the proof.

  As soon as he saw her face, the Gray Blade shot his quarrel. Something in her expression must have panicked him. She slapped the missile aside, but in so doing, spoiled her mystical gesturing and thus her spell.

  The young man’s eyes widened in amazement when she deflected the bolt, but he was game. With a rasp of metal on metal, he pulled his broadsword from its scabbard and charged. She spun a chakram at him and caught him in the throat. He staggered two more steps, then fell.

  It had only taken a moment to deal with him. Yet she suspected it was a moment too long, and when she wheeled back around, it was clear that she was right. Kesk and the wizard had shaken off the effect of the shadow blast and scrambled out of the ragged bulb of darkness. The edges of his battle-axe shining red as magma, the tanarukk charged her. The magician wasn’t doing much of anything yet. He didn’t react as quickly as his partner, but given a chance, he’d start conjuring soon enough.

  She sidestepped, thus interposing Kesk between the wizard and herself, and snap-kicked at the gang chieftain’s massive knob of a knee. To her surprise, he managed to jerk his leg aside, and the ball of her foot only grazed him. The axe plunged at her, a powerful yet subtle stroke she had to spring backward to avoid.

  Kesk leered at her and said, “Did you think you were better than me, bitch? You surprised me the first time, but now I understand how you fight.”

  Sefris did think she was his superior. She was confident she could defeat him and the wizard, too, but that alone wouldn’t be good enough. She needed to do it fast, so she could proceed to the next part of the plan before Aeron and Nicos were overwhelmed. She launched herself at Kesk, attacking furiously, whirling, leaping, punching, and kicking.

  Despite his bravado, Kesk gave ground, chopping at her as he backed away. He was fighting defensively, playing for time. She landed her share of strikes even so, but his thick hide seemed to blunt the force of her blows. Meanwhile the wizard maneuvered at a safe distance from the melee, obviously trying to reach a position from which he could target her without fear of accidentally hitting the half-demon with his magic.

  She risked dividing her attention to rattle off an incantation and thrust her arm at the arcanist in his elf disguise. Jagged lances of darkness leaped from her palm to plunge into his chest without tearing his garments or breaking the skin. He reeled, but didn’t fall, and his riposte came a moment later. Darts of blue light hurtled from his fingertips to pierce her own body in that same bloodless but still injurious manner. The cold pain was intense. Perhaps hoping the shock of the attack had paralyzed her, Kesk drove in hard, swinging the axe at her chest. She knocked it aside with both forearms, then followed up with a backhand strike that snapped one of his tusks and knocked him staggering backward.

  At that moment, he was vulnerable. She could have lunged after him and delivered the death blow, except that she felt a sort of charge in the air that could only be the wizard’s power enfolding her. Her sorceress’s intuition told her it was the same spell of sluggishness that had so hindered her before. She focused her will, resisting the magic, and felt it dissolve without catching hold of her. Unfortunately, that gave Kesk time to come back on guard.

  Precious seconds were racing by, and she still hadn’t found the moment she needed to save Aeron. Her foes were pressing her too hard. She had to dispose of at least one of them without further delay, and unfortunately, she wasn’t certain that any single attack at her disposal would suffice to cripple or kill.

  But maybe she could rid herself of the wizard another way. He didn’t want folk to know who Kesk’s partner was, and with luck, his nerves were still shaky from the shadow burst. It generally had such a lingering effect. Once again seeking to cast a spell and evade the relentless axe at the same time, dodging the deadly strokes by inches, she recited the incantation and swept her cestus-wrapped hand through the proper pattern.

  Just as when she’d negated the sluggishness, her magic broke the wizard’s enchantment of disguise. The appearance of an elf wayfarer melted away, revealing a small man with a round-cheeked, boyish face, elegant silk and velvet clothes, and a long blackwood cane. He stared down at himself in astonishment, then pulled up a fold of his cloak to shield his face. He turned and ran. As Sefris had hoped, he truly was a wizard, which was to say, the kind of arcanist who needed to prepare his spells in advance. He didn’t have another charm of illusion ready for the casting, and thus had no choice but to flee if he didn’t want scores of onlookers to witness him fighting in concert with the Red Axes.

  “Curse you!” Kesk bellowed. “Come back!” He glared at Sefris. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still ki—”

  She smashed a roundhouse kick into the side of his head, shattering some of his fangs and knocking him stumbling off balance. As she whirled with the attack, she spotted Nicos and Aeron. They hadn’t made it very far toward the perimeter of the square, the idiot son had a bloody wound in his forearm, and the Red Axes were closing in. If she was to save them, it had to be right away.

  She spoke the words of power and made the proper gesture. As before, it only took an instant, yet once again, that was all the time Kesk needed to recover. When she pivoted back in his direction, the axe was already flashing at her body.

  Aeron hurled his last throwing knife and pierced a bugbear’s chest. That left him only the largest Arthyn fang, the cudgel, and plenty of Red Axes still eager to spill his and Nicos’s blood.

  His arm throbbing, he offered his father the club. The weapon wouldn’t save Nicos, but Aeron knew he’d prefer to go down fighting. The old man reached for it, and the air around them swam and thickened, giving birth to dank coils of thick white mist. In a moment, Aeron could scarcely see past the end of his nose. Elsewhere in the vapor, the Red Axes called out in dismay.

  Ever since Nicos and Aeron had broken away from Kesk and the wizard, and despite the distracting business of struggling to stay alive, the younger thief had kept track of his position and orientation in the square, and the location of the objects in his vicinity. Thus he was still able to hurry his father along toward where he wanted him to go.

  The Red Axe with the filthy, tattooed hands appeared in the mist, almost seeming to materialize like a phantom. His javelins expended, he clutched a short sword.

  Lunging, he shouted, “They’re here!”

  Aeron parried and thrust in his turn. The bravo hopped backward, out of range. Aeron knew he couldn’t afford to linger and fence with the Red Axe, for fear that the wretch’s initial outcry would draw other foes to the spot. He threw himself forward, risking a counterattack in order to close the distance.

  The reckless dive caught the tattooed man by surprise. Though he did attempt a stab, by then Aeron’s Arthyn fang had already pierced his chest. The short sword slipped from spastic fingers, leaving the red-haired thief unscathed.

  Aeron had only sprinted two long strides, but when he turned back around, he was, to all appearances, alone.

  “Father!” he whispered.

  “Here,” Nicos answered.

  Guided by the sound, Aeron scurried to the old man’s side. He had to hope that, despite the interruption of having to fight the Red Axe, he hadn’t lost his bearings. He led his father onward.

  Elsewhere in the mist, lightning crackled, the vapor diffusing the glare into a softer glow. Somebody screamed. Aeron hoped the victim was a Red Ax
e and not a non-combatant.

  The fugitives scrambled on for what felt like a long time, until Aeron was all but certain he’d lost his way. The trunk of an elm tree swam out of the fog. The bottommost branches hung low to the ground, and despite the season, still clung to most of their leaves.

  “Can you climb?” he asked.

  “A little, if I have to,” Nicos said.

  Aeron grabbed him by the belt and lifted him upward.

  “And hide?” the rogue asked.

  Nicos gripped a limb, and grunting with effort, dragged himself higher, relieving Aeron of his weight.

  The old man said, “That should be no problem.”

  “Then get above eye level and stay still until the Red Axes go home, no matter how long that takes. I don’t think they’ll find you as long as I draw their attention elsewhere, and without you slowing me down, I can get away.”

  “Mask protect you,” Nicos said.

  Aeron strode away. After a few moments, he stumbled on the spot where a tinker in a patched cloak had set up shop. The thief snatched up a copper pot awaiting repair and banged it with the pommel of his fighting knife.

  “We’re here, you bastards!” he yelled. “Catch us if you can!”

  He dropped his makeshift gong and rushed onward.

  He wondered how Sefris was faring. Plainly, she’d still been alive when she finally conjured the fog as planned. Having performed that final service, the Red Axes were more than welcome to kill her. But actually, Aeron was sure it wasn’t going to be that easy for him, just as he was certain that he and Nicos couldn’t evade her for long. He had to dispose of her. He just hoped the last phase of his plan, the part she presumably knew nothing about, would do the job.

  He felt more than saw the imposing mass of Griffingate House before him. He stalked along the side of the inn, heading for the alleyway where he was supposed to rendezvous with Sefris, and his luck deserted him again.

  Unable to see it in the blinding fog, the small wizard tripped over the guy line of a vendor’s tent and fell heavily to the ground. Perhaps the impact knocked the panic out of him, for when he raised his head, he felt better able to think.

  Frightened or not, he still had no intention of letting half of Oeble witness him fighting in concert with the city’s most infamous outlaws. He had to slip away, but before he did, perhaps he could cast a final spell to help his accomplices deal with Aeron sar Randal.

  He hoped that despite the disorienting turmoil of the past couple minutes, including the alarming discovery that Aeron and Sefris were working together, the Red Axes still meant to capture the lone-wolf thief, not kill him. Otherwise, they’d likely lose The Black Bouquet forever. Yet even if they did, it would be better than if it somehow reached its rightful owner, and the magician found that, rattled and frustrated as he was, he’d actually come around to Kesk’s point of view. It was time to put an end to the business, and to the redheaded nuisance who’d so complicated it, in whatever way it could be accomplished.

  Plainly, Aeron and Nicos hoped to sneak away from the square under cover of the mist. If the small man could wash the muck from the air, perhaps Kesk’s men could still catch them.

  He didn’t know whether it was possible. Sefris had dispelled two of his enchantments, whereas he’d never tried to cancel one of hers. It was entirely possible she was the superior spellcaster, for after all, he was primarily a merchant. He simply studied thaumaturgy in private when he could find the time, to give himself a secret edge.

  Yet one of his teachers had told him that any wizard had a chance of unmaking the mystical creation of any other, so long as he performed the banishment perfectly. Accordingly, the trader picked himself up, took a deep breath, and gave it his best effort, enunciating the words of power as clearly and sweeping his cane through the passes as crisply as possible.

  It worked. Power groaned around him like a note from a giant’s cello, until the air suddenly cleared. The small man felt a pang of delight in his own prowess, cut short by the realization that, with the fog gone, he was once more in danger of being recognized. He shielded his face with his cloak and scurried on toward the edge of the square and safety.

  It was too late to block the battle-axe. Not even the Dark Father Abbott of Sefris’s monastery could have managed it. She flung herself backward, and it saved her life. The mighty cut, which would otherwise have cleaved her shoulder and plunged on deep into her vitals, simply ripped flesh and tore free in a shower of blood.

  It was a bad wound anyway, and Kesk realized it. Grunting like a maddened boar through his broken fangs, pressing the advantage, he drove in hard. The axe leaped at her again and again.

  For a moment or two, as shock threatened to overwhelm her, it was difficult for Sefris to parry or dodge and almost impossible to strike back. Her training braced her, carried her to a place beyond pain, weakness, or fear, into a cold, clear state of mind vaguely suggestive of the perfect peace that would endure forever once all vile created things passed into nothingness. Strength and agility surged back into her limbs, and she hooked a punch into Kesk’s side. A rib cracked. She was in too close for him to chop at her, so he lifted the axe high and rammed the end of the handle down at the top of her skull. She slipped the blow and whipped an elbow strike into his jaw.

  The way the tanarukk’s head sat atop his massive shoulders, he scarcely seemed to have a neck. Otherwise, the blow would probably have snapped it. As it was, the fire in his scarlet eyes seemed to dim, and when he tried to retreat and give himself room for another axe stroke, he stumbled. She leaped into the air and thrust-kicked him in the center of the chest. He fell on his back and lay motionless while she stamped on him.

  That ought to have killed him, even as tough as he was. In other circumstances, she would have paused to make sure, but she wanted to start after Aeron without further delay. She didn’t think he’d tried to lose her, not with his father still up a tree in the middle of the square, readily available for recapture, but she wasn’t certain. The rogue was too tricky for her to feel confident of predicting his every move.

  When she turned, her fog was gone. Though the wizard was nowhere to be seen, he’d evidently dispelled it before fleeing. A good many of the Red Axes had disappeared as well. They must have groped their way out of the square. Maybe they’d been afraid the mist would make them sick, like the poison vapor the magician had conjured back in the mansion, or perhaps they’d seen little point in stumbling around in the murk until the Gray Blades arrived in force, an event which was sure to happen eventually. In any case, even though Sefris would have taken a certain satisfaction in striking them out of her path, their departure ought to make life easier.

  She sprinted toward the mouth of the alley where Aeron had promised to meet her. Up ahead in the darkness, a man cried out.

  Bow in hand and an arrow on the string, Miri crouched in the shadowy gap between two snarling gargoyles on the gabled roof of Griffingate House. She peered at the thick white fog in Laskalar’s Square and the folk who periodically stumbled out of it and fled down the alley. She strained her ears in an essentially futile effort to interpret the confusion of shouts and other noises emanating from the midst of the cloud.

  Where was Aeron? Her nerves were taut with waiting, and it seemed to her that it was taking him forever to appear. True, the mist had materialized as he’d said it would, which indicated a part of the plan had gone off properly, but it didn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t come to grief.

  The vapor disappeared. She scowled in dismay until Aeron dashed down the passage. For a moment she imagined everything was all right, then a man and a limping orc came chasing after him. They’d apparently spotted him when the fog vanished, just scant seconds too soon.

  Miri’s fingers fairly itched with the urge to draw her bow, but Aeron had told her that no matter what happened, she wasn’t to do anything that would reveal her presence prematurely. She was still hesitating when the human Red Axe whirled a sling and let the bullet fly. Ae
ron didn’t duck or dodge, maybe hadn’t even realized that the cutthroats were behind him. The lead pellet slammed into the back of his head with a thud audible even high above the ground, and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees.

  When Aeron had first hatched the scheme of using Sefris to rescue his father, Miri had thought him insane, but gradually he’d talked her around. She still wasn’t quite sure how, except that he was right about one thing. As a sorceress and expert practitioner of the Dark Moon’s esoteric style of combat, Sefris possessed capabilities they lacked. Moreover, Kesk and his wizard partner wouldn’t expect the monastic to join forces with Aeron, which gave her a good chance of taking them by surprise.

  One difficulty with recruiting Sefris, however, was Aeron’s alliance with Miri. It was inconceivable that the Shar worshiper would take anything the rogue said at face value if she believed the partnership was still in effect. An even bigger problem was what to do with her once she’d outlived her usefulness. Aeron and Miri were both able combatants with their respective weapons, but even so, they doubted they could defeat Sefris in anything even vaguely resembling a fair fight. The monastic simply outclassed them.

  Aeron conceived a single ploy to solve both dilemmas. He contacted Melder, with whom he’d had some sort of shady dealings in the past, and bribed him to take part in the charade of Miri’s capture and imprisonment. Despite her partner’s assurances, she herself participated with considerable suspicion and reluctance, for after all, the innkeeper actually had sent the yuan-ti slavers after her. But Melder kept his part of the bargain, making no effort to molest her or detain her when it was time for her to go.

  That left her free to climb to the top of Griffingate House and lie in wait for Sefris to appear. For all the Dark Moon agent’s prowess, surely a well-aimed arrow could kill her if she never even saw it coming. Miri didn’t much like the idea of striking down a sister human being in such a fashion, but she accepted that it was necessary. Sefris deserved extermination as much as any goblin or troll Miri had ever battled in the wild.