The Black Bouquet r-2 Page 18

  "I wish I'd never heard of the cursed book. Or you."

  "You won't say that when it makes you the richest, most powerful outlaw in the Border Kingdoms. Sefris's gems were just a fantasy, but the joyous tomorrow you and I are going to share is quite real."

  "It had better be." Short and burly as he was, the tanarukk only had to stoop a little to stick his wild-boar face close to Nicos's. "Now, old man, you're going to learn a lesson about speaking out of turn. What Sefris put you through is nothing compared to what I'm going to do."

  Nicos was pleasantly surprised to discover that, for whatever reason, he wasn't frightened.

  He sneered back at his captor, "Go ahead. It's like the Shar cultist told you. I won't have to endure it for long. My heart will give out under the strain."

  Kesk backhanded Nicos across the face. But only once, then he wrenched himself away.

  CHAPTER 12

  "I keep worrying about the hobgoblin," Miri said.

  Aeron asked, "How's that?"

  He scanned the crowd in the street ahead. Many folk had covered up their heads against the drizzle, which made the task of spotting Kesk's henchmen more difficult. Still, it appeared that all the people in the immediate vicinity were law-abiding sorts scurrying off to their jobs, and that made sense. Most of Oeble's outlaws slept in the morning. In fact, Aeron looked forward to doing the same, but he and Miri had one more stop to make first.

  "Will the creature really help the other slaves run away," she said, "or will it betray them? It is goblin-kin, after all. I'm sure it has no love for the civilized races."

  Miri had stayed awake as long and worked as hard as Aeron, but she still seemed relatively fresh. It was as if the rising of the sun, which generally made him yawn, had infused her with fresh vitality.

  He snorted and said, "Goblin-kin. Of course. I bet your fingers were just itching to shoot the creature, and never mind that it risked its neck to help me fight the mantis."

  "I didn't say it was inconceivable that it would keep its word. Nor do I relish killing, whatever you think. I certainly took no joy in shooting your friends."

  "I'm sure you didn't," he said sardonically.

  They swung around a mule-drawn wagon heaped with bags of flour, the product of one of the mills upriver.

  "I didn't," she insisted, "and… I'm sorry I didn't try to rescue your father when the Red Axes were kidnapping him. I shouldn't have let Sefris talk me out of it. It's this place. It makes me doubt my instincts. It even makes it hard to know right from wrong."

  He shook his head in puzzlement and asked, "Is Oeble truly so much fouler than other towns?"

  "You've never visited another?"

  "Not a big one, just little villages hereabouts."

  Miri took a long stride to avoid stepping in a puddle.

  "Well," she said, "Oeble is the worst I've seen. I'll admit, though, I've never visited a city that didn't make my skin crawl. They all have their dirt, crowds, and stenches. That's why I'm a scout."

  "Because cities spook you?"

  "Because as a ranger, you spend most of your time in the parts of the world that are worth living in: forests, mountains, rivers, the prairies, and the sea."

  He grinned and said, "Without a soft bed or a mug of beer to be had for leagues in any direction."

  She smiled back.

  "You don't miss easy living once you lose the habit," she said. "Not that I ever had it much, growing up on a little farm on the edge of the wilderness. Haven't you ever wanted to roam, and see wonders you could never even have imagined?"

  "Everything I want is right here in Oeble."

  It was true, but just for a moment, Aeron wondered whether he might discover something more to desire if only he opened up his eyes.

  Ombert Blackdale's thick-built brownstone drum of a tower came into view around the next bend, and the sight banished the peculiar, wistful thought from his mind.

  "That's it," he said, pointing.

  Miri peered at it and said, "I don't see any sentries."

  "I don't either, yet, but Ombert will have somebody keeping an eye out. He always does. Not that it matters."

  "True, considering that we're proposing to serve ourselves up to him on a platter."

  "You know," Aeron said, "you don't need to come inside. I can do this by myself."

  "I'll stick with you."

  "To help me fight my way out again if necessary?"

  "That, and to keep you from deciding our alliance is a mistake, and skipping out the back door."

  He chuckled and said, "You're finally learning to think like somebody who belongs in Oeble."

  "That's an insult, but I'll let it pass."

  They headed for the tower and climbed the three steps to the entrance, a high, arched oaken panel with a smaller door, scarcely taller than waist high, inset in the larger one. Aeron clanked the wrought iron knocker up and down, and they waited.

  After a time, Miri said, "Maybe they decided they don't want any part of our problems."

  "Or maybe," Aeron replied, "they need a couple minutes to ready their trap."

  She scowled and said, "If you actually think th-"

  The full door swung open, and a stocky man with waxed, upturned mustachios frowned out.

  "Get inside," he grunted

  Aeron stepped through, and Miri followed. Beyond the threshold was a gloomy, windowless anteroom.

  "Now give me your weapons," the stocky man said.

  "I'm here to see Ombert Blackdale," Aeron replied. "He knows me. We've pulled jobs together."

  "He knows who's come calling," said the tough, "and he told me either to collect your blades or send you on your way."

  Aeron sighed. He hadn't expected to win that particular argument, but it had been worth a try. He handed over all his Arthyn fangs except for one throwing knife he was currently carrying strapped to his forearm beneath his sleeve. By itself, it was a slim defense, but better than nothing.

  Glowering, plainly not liking it one little bit, Miri surrendered her sword, bow, quiver, and dirk. The ruffian hung everything on a pegboard, then led the visitors deeper into the tower. His heart pounding, Aeron waited for other outlaws to rush out at them.

  They didn't.

  The inhabitants of the well-kept, lavishly furnished spire eyed the newcomers speculatively, but made no effort to interfere with them. Most of the folk who were still awake were smaller even than gnomes like Burgell, smaller than many human children, and that was as Aeron expected. The Lynxes were notorious for being Oeble's preeminent halfling gang, though they did occasionally recruit a representative of another race. Like Kesk, they'd invited Aeron once upon a time, but unlike the tanarukk, hadn't taken offense when he declined.

  The stocky ruffian led the visitors up a flight of stairs. The climb felt awkward, because the risers were too low and shallow for long human legs and feet Still, Aeron managed the ascent without stumbling. At the top, they found the leader of the Lynxes seated at a halfling-sized table tucking into a breakfast substantial enough for a giant.

  Ombert Blackdale had the straight, shiny raven hair, luxuriant sideburns, and pleasant features characteristic of his kind. In his case, a round face and a sprinkle of freckles contributed to the general appearance of amiability. Despite the short sword lying ready to hand among his silverware and fine porcelain crockery, he scarcely looked the part of an outlaw chieftain, but anyone familiar with Oeble's criminal element could attest to the fact that he was almost as dangerous a felon as Kesk, though he lacked the latter's instinct for sheer viciousness.

  "Good morning, Aeron!" the halfling called. "Who's your friend?"

  "Miri Buckman of the Red Hart Guild," the ranger replied.

  Ombert frowned and asked, "The same guide who killed Kerridi and the others?"

  "Yes," Aeron said, "but I can't afford to care about that right now."

  "If you say so," Ombert said with a shrug. "They were your friends. Welcome to the both of you, then. Will you join me? I
like a good breakfast before I turn in, and I think Cook made enough for a couple more plates."

  The twinkle in his blue eyes said he understood very well that the kitchen had prepared enough eggs, toast, ham, bacon, and slices of apple and melon to feed a dozen.

  Aeron hadn't eaten since the start of the previous night, and the steaming food both looked and smelled appetizing. He opened his mouth to accept the invitation, and it occurred to him: What if something was drugged? That would explain why the Lynxes hadn't tried to overwhelm him and Miri by force of arms. They knew an easier way to take them prisoner.

  Yet he'd decided to gamble on Ombert. Otherwise, he and Miri wouldn't be there at all. It made no sense to go that far, then risk offending the halfling by declining his hospitality.

  Accordingly, Aeron said, "Thanks, we could use a meal. I'm afraid these cloaks are wet…"

  "Toss them anywhere," Ombert said. "Someone will come around to clean up after us."

  The little chairs were hopeless for full-grown humans. Aeron realized that he and Miri would do better sitting or kneeling on the floor. She looked entirely comfortable in that attitude. He supposed scouts were used to taking their meals without the benefit of any sort of furniture.

  The food was delicious, and nourishment seemed to push back his weariness a little. That was good. He wanted his wits sharp for the conversation to come.

  Ombert let his guests eat in peace for a while, with only the clink of their forks on their plates to break the silence.

  Eventually he said, "Well, my friend, it seems you're the most popular man in Oeble. Everyone is looking for you."

  "Including the Lynxes?" Aeron asked

  "Of course," Ombert said, his voice as serious as could be. "When I clap my hands, a net will fall from the ceiling." Miri glanced upward, and the halfling grinned. "I'm joking. The tanarukk is offering a considerable bounty, enough to tempt most anyone, but I'm inclined to let the Red Axes do their own dirty work."

  Aeron said, "I was hoping you still hated him."

  Ombert smiled, but his eyes were cold.

  "Hate's such an ugly word," said the halfling. "Let's just say that he and I have been trying to pick many of the same plums for quite a while now."

  "As I recall, he made a couple attempts to kill you."

  "I survived, and sent a warning. It's old news now. Let's talk about your adventures. What was in the lock-box you stole?"

  Aeron saw no point in giving that particular piece of information away.

  "I don't know," he said. "It's warded, and I haven't been able to crack it."

  "If you don't even know what it is, then why didn't you hand it over to Kesk as agreed? It's not like you to break a deal."

  "Kesk knew the box would be well protected. He didn't warn me, and Kerridi, Dal, and Gavath died. What's more, the Red Axes were planning to murder whichever of us survived the job."

  "So no one could trace the coffer to them. Fair enough, that certainly relieves you of any obligation. Though it doesn't explain why you're running around with the same guard you robbed in the Paeraddyn."

  "Kesk took my father hostage," Aeron said.

  Ombert frowned and said, "That's a breach of the code, as I see it. Nicos was one of us in his time, and always dealt fairly with his fellow thieves. He earned the right to live safely in his retirement."

  "When has Kesk ever truly cared about the code?"

  "You have a point."

  "Anyway, Miri offered to help me rescue my father. In return, I'll give the strongbox back to her."

  Shifting his gaze to the scout, Ombert arched an eyebrow.

  "Wouldn't it be easier just to knock this rascal over the head when he isn't looking," the halfling asked Miri, "tie him up, then torture the location of the coffer out of him?"

  Miri glared at him and said, "I gave my oath."

  "Of course," Ombert said. "Forgive me, I meant no offense. So, it's the two of you against the Red Axes and all the lesser gangs who truckle to them. I'm afraid you're still facing some long odds."

  "You Lynxes could improve them," Miri said, "by joining forces with us."

  "Why," said the halfling, "would we do that?"

  "If you hate Kesk," she replied, "this is a chance to spite or maybe even kill him."

  "Outlaws don't prosper by indulging such passions," said the halfling. "The successful ones concentrate on gold and silver."

  "If that's the case," Miri said, "the man to whom the lockbox rightfully belongs will reward you."

  "How much will he pay?" Ombert asked. "Enough to warrant risking my entire operation in another blood feud with the strongest gang in Oeble? It seems unlikely."

  Miri drew a deep breath, evidently to calm herself, then said, "Look. You spoke of following a code. Well, if the coffer doesn't reach its proper destination, a good many innocent folk will suffer. Lord Quwen and the people of Ormath need the gold the sale of it will bring."

  Ombert poured himself some tea from a silver pot.

  "I've never been to Ormath," he said, "but I've heard tell of the place. The proudest, most warlike city on the Shining Plains, ready to attack its neighbors at the twitch of a cat's tail. If they're currently enduring hardship, perhaps they brought it on themselves."

  Miri blinked. Plainly, Ombert's knowledge of faraway lands had taken her by surprise.

  She pressed on: "Let's talk about Oeble, then. I can't tell you what's in the strongbox. It's not my secret to give away. I will say that in the right hands, it can bring prosperity to a good many folk."

  Ombert waved his hand in a vague gesture that took in the spacious room, the gleaming table setting with its bounty of food, the thick carpets adorning the hardwood floor, and the vivid tapestries on the walls.

  "Oeble's prosperous already," he said.

  "For you reavers," Miri answered. "But how many other folk suffer as a result of your killing, stealing, and slaving? How many rot in poverty because they're too honest to join one of the gangs? It doesn't have to be that way. Given the proper opportunity, Oeble could make its gold lawfully."

  "Which doesn't sound like nearly as much fun," Ombert said, and he shot Aeron a wink.

  "It would be healthier," Miri said. "The rest of the Border Kingdoms scorn Oeble for the nest of robbers it is. Someday, one of your neighbors is going to clean it up. In other words, conquer, rule, and exploit you to suit themselves. Unless you mend your ways."

  Ombert added milk and sugar to his tea.

  "Mistress ranger," he said, "you have some interesting notions. But I must tell you, I don't aspire to be a god or even the Faceless Master, and I'm not prepared to take responsibility for the welfare of every wretch in Oeble. I have enough to do just looking after my own followers. And as for the threat of someone marching into town and taking over, well, I'll deal with it when and if it happens. The Gray Blades have never managed to stamp out the Lynxes, and I doubt that an outlander garrison would fare any better."

  Miri scowled and said, "Then you won't fight alongside us."

  "No," Ombert said, "certainly not. Aeron should have known better, even if you didn't."

  "I did," Aeron said.

  The halfling eyed him quizzically and asked, "Then why did you come to see me? Surely this isn't just a social visit."

  "Naturally," Aeron said, "you aren't going to wage open war against Kesk simply for my sake, or my father's. It's not in your interest." To his surprise, Aeron felt angry at Ombert, as if Miri's extravagant fancies about duty and honor had infected his own practical thinking. He strained to quash the irrational feeling. "But there is a way you can help us and yourself, too."

  "I'm listening."

  "Miri and I have been raiding Kesk's various operations," said Aeron. "You can do the same. Steal his profits and destroy ventures that compete with your own. Kill the Red Axes responsible for controlling particular pieces of territory, then move in yourself. You won't ruin Kesk, but you'll weaken him, and improve your own position."

  "How does
that differ from declaring all-out war?"

  "It's different if you make it seem like I'm the one doing all the damage," Aeron replied. "That way, it doesn't come back on you."

  "No, but rather on you," said the halfling. "However this business with the coffer turns out, Kesk will never forgive you."

  "It's already too late to worry about that. I just need him driven crazy, and all the Red Axes running around town hunting me even more frantically than they already are."

  Ombert shrugged and said, "In that case, I agree to your proposal, and I pray the Master of All Thieves will receive your spirit kindly when the half-demon sends it into Shadow."

  By midday, the rain had stopped, and the sun had broken through the clouds. As she prowled the streets, Sefris rather wished it were otherwise. A good many people were wandering around enjoying the warm golden light, and it would be inconvenient if someone recognized her as the same woman who'd killed two Gray Blades and worked dark magic in the vicinity of Slarvyn's Sword.

  She suspected she might have done as well to stay in her hideout until dusk, for after all, her quarry had likely gone to ground. Yet once she'd slept for a couple hours, she found it impossible to linger. She was too impatient to take up her errand once again. Her seeming lack of progress evoked an unaccustomed feeling of frustration.

  As the arcanaloth had promised, Miri had led her to Kesk, who had in turn brought her into contact with Aeron. Then, however, everything had gone wrong. The thief had eluded her, the wizard in green had subsequently turned the Red Axes against her, and as a result, she was more or less right back where she'd started.

  But obviously she couldn't let it rest there, couldn't fail the Lady of Loss and the Dark Moon. Born a slave in Mulhorand, Sefris had suffered the abuses of a master and mistress who used her cruelly. Finally she escaped their household, only to discover a life in the streets-picking through rotting garbage in search of edible scraps, freezing on cold nights, selling herself for coppers-that was equally terrifying and degrading. It was then that she truly learned to hate the world, to recognize all its bright promises of freedom and happiness for the lies they were.