The Black Bouquet r-2

by Richard Lee Byers

  "Well?" the tanarukk snapped through a mouthful of meat.

  "I haven't found him yet," Sefris replied.

  She ought to have been feeling a chill, but if so, Nicos saw no sign of it in her manner.

  "Well, he found us," Kesk said. "He stole some of my slaves, and killed the Red Axes who tried to stop him. Hurt and robbed two more whose job it was to collect protection coin along the docks. Burned a wine shop I operated onboard a barge. Didn't even try to steal the till, just destroyed the place."

  "He's sending you a message," Sefris said.

  Kesk trembled, and his eyes shone red.

  "That I have his father, but he can hurt me, too, by interfering with my business," said the tanarukk. "I understand. I'm not a fool. The question is what to do about it."

  "The same thing we have been doing. Hunt."

  "We've already seen how pitiful you are at that."

  If the taunt nettled Sefris, Nicos couldn't tell that, either. She remained as calm as ever, as composed as she'd been throughout the torture and the amputation of his finger.

  "Aeron only escaped me by a fluke," she said. "It won't happen again."

  "So you say. I never should have trusted an outsider."

  "I'm better able to handle this chore than are your underlings. You may recall that I proved that by defeating three of them at once. In any case, you still want the jewels, don't you? If so, let me break my fast and sleep for an hour or two, then I'll return to the search. I imagine we'll have Aeron in hand before we see another sunrise."

  "I don't want you relaxing just yet. Have another go at the old man."

  Nicos cringed, straining against his bonds. His chair rocked and bumped against the floor.

  "If he had anything to tell us," Sefris said, "we would have heard it already. His only use is as bait."

  Nicos prayed Kesk would believe her and relent. But everything he'd seen or heard about the outlaw chieftain suggested otherwise.

  And sure enough: "I don't care if he's got nothing to say. I want to hear him squeal. I promised Aeron we'd make the father pay for the son's treachery, and so we will."

  The monastic inclined her head.

  "As you wish," she said as she advanced on Nicos.

  Nicos fought the urge to squinch his eyes shut or twist his head away. Her fingertips wandered about his body, pressing here and there. She didn't seem to be straining or exerting any extraordinary force, yet the sensation was excruciating. Nicos prayed for her to ask some questions. That would stop the pain for at least a moment. When she didn't bother, he still cried out the lies he hoped would satisfy her. They didn't, though, and before long, he was screaming wordlessly instead.

  He didn't know how long the torture continued. Long enough for him to shriek his throat raw and reduce his already ruined voice to the thinnest of whispers. In his disorientation, he didn't know precisely when it stopped, just eventually realized that at some point, for some reason, it had. He sucked in a ragged breath, blinked the tears from his eyes, and peered about Sefris was backing away from him. By the looks of it, she meant to take up a position with a couple of the Red Axes who were loitering around.

  Nicos didn't understand it. Kesk didn't, either. He glowered at the slender monastic in her robe and hood, his stare demanding an explanation.

  Sefris provided one, in an ambiguous sort of way. She touched a finger to her lips, then pointed at the door.

  Kesk looked where she'd bade him. For a moment, there was nothing to see, and he almost seemed to swell with impatience, then a small figure sauntered into view. The newcomer wore a dark green camlet mantle, lightweight but voluminous, and a hood like the one Sefris used to shadow her features and cover her shaved scalp. He'd wrapped a knit lemister scarf around the lower part of his face.

  A law-abiding person might have thought the stranger a menacing figure, but Nicos had spent his life among folk who wore masks of one sort or another. To his eye, the newcomer, who didn't carry himself like a warrior or bravo, was, except for himself, the least fearsome person in the room. But Kesk and Sefris eyed the stranger as if they knew something their prisoner didn't, as if leery of the gold-knobbed blackwood stick in his clean, soft-looking hand. Maybe it was just a long cane, but it might also be a magician's staff. Indeed, as Nicos peered closer, the fact that the small man was entirely dry argued for the latter.

  "Shall I show my face," the newcomer said, "or do you know me?"

  He spoke like an educated man. Nicos didn't recognize the voice.

  "I know you," Kesk growled, "and I told you to stay away. I'll handle this."

  "As I recall," the stranger said, "you didn't want me to look for your rebellious hireling all by myself, for fear I'd find him, then decide to cut you out of the profits. It occurred to me, however, that if we locate him together, you won't have cause for concern. So here I am."

  "What if somebody saw you come?"

  "I'm wearing a disguise, and I left home stealthily, through the exercise of my Art. The same way I entered here, without the bother of persuading your guards to admit me. It will all be fine, and even if it's not, it's my worry more than yours."

  "If something happens to you," said Kesk, "you won't be able to pay me."

  "Nor will I should we fail to recover the prize. In that case, there won't be anything to pay for."

  Nicos was still in so much pain that it was difficult to follow the conversation. Yet even so, he gradually figured out that the stranger with the cane was the rich man who'd hired Kesk to steal the coffer.

  "I told you," said Kesk, "I'll find it."

  "Will you? My sources inform me you can't lay hands on our quarry even when he's robbing one of your own enterprises."

  Having figured out who the small man was, Nicos could think of one reason why Kesk wanted to get rid of him, and why Sefris had concealed herself among the common ruffians: The two of them had conspired against the stranger, and didn't want to give him the chance to find out.

  The tanarukk looked as if the newcomer's last observation had so irked him that he scarcely cared any longer. He shuddered, and chucked away the remains of the sausage to grip his axe with both fists.

  "Are you mocking me?" he demanded.

  "Of course not," the stranger said, his mild, cultured voice steady. He seemed almost as unflappable as Sefris. "I'm simply pointing out that now, even more than before, it's in your best interests to let me assist you. I can think of several reasons why you'd be reluctant, but…"

  As the man with the cane nattered on, Nicos had a sudden horrifying inspiration. He could ruin Kesk and Sefris's deception simply by speaking up.

  The idea terrified him. After what he'd already suffered at their hands, the last thing he wanted to do was attract their renewed attention, let alone infuriate them.

  Yet he despised himself for his dread. He yearned to defy it.

  Would it do any good, though? He didn't understand enough to foresee the consequences of such an action.

  He did, however, have good reason to fear that if matters continued as they were, Aeron was doomed. Apparently his son had enjoyed remarkable success in evading the Red Axes, then taking the fight to them, but it wouldn't last. A lone thief, no matter how cunning or deft with a knife, couldn't oppose Oeble's most powerful gang for long. But maybe, if Nicos sabotaged relations among the boy's enemies, his chances would somehow improve.

  If so, he had to try, not only because he loved Aeron, but because it was his fault the lad was in danger. Oh, conceivably, Aeron might have become an outlaw anyway. He'd always had a taste for excitement and the tawdry life of the gutter and the Underways. Still, Nicos thought he'd sealed his son's fate by getting himself crippled. From that point onward, Aeron had become his family's sole support, and there had been no honest way for a boy so young to earn as much coin as was required.

  Nicos screwed up his courage, then cried out to the man with the cane. Or rather, he tried. His throat was still so dry and raw, his voice so feeble, that it wa
s inaudible even to him.

  He swallowed and tried again. This time, he heard the frail little croak, but no one else paid any attention. In desperation, he thrashed, and the legs of his chair, bumping and squeaking against the floor, finally made some significant noise.

  The other people in the room regarded him with some surprise. He understood why. Once ruffians bound, tortured, and seemingly broke a man down, they didn't expect him to do anything to assert himself thereafter. Such mistreatment typically left a victim as cowed and passive as a piece of furniture.

  "Who's this?" asked the small man.

  "Just someone who crossed me," Kesk said.

  He didn't seem too upset that Nicos had stirred. He must not have any notion of what his hostage intended to do.

  "Wizard," Nicos rasped, "if that's what you are, you have to listen to me."

  "Do I?" The small man shrugged and said, "Then I'd better move closer. As it is, I can barely hear you."

  Kesk's smoldering eyes narrowed. Perhaps he felt a sudden uneasiness, an inkling that Nicos could cause him some actual inconvenience.

  "Surely," the tanarukk growled, "you don't need to hear the wretch grovel for his life. I'll have somebody shut him up so we can palaver in peace."

  "Don't be hasty," the stranger replied. The ferule of his walking stick clicked on the floor as he ambled in Nicos's direction. "Perhaps it would be worthwhile to hear what he has to say."

  "It will be for you," Nicos said. "Kesk has sold you out I overheard the whole thing."

  The tanarukk sprang up from his seat and brandished his battle-axe at his captive.

  "By the War Maker," he said, "hold your lying tongue, or I'll split your skull here and now!"

  "Is it a lie?" said the man with the cane.

  "Of course it is!" Kesk snarled. "Who would I sell you out to? Your rival? Why? He couldn't afford to give me as much as you promised. He definitely wouldn't pledge to make the Red Axes supreme over all other gangs in Oeble and keep the Gray Blades from troubling us ever again."

  Sefris shifted just inside Nicos's field of vision, stepping so stealthily that the small man probably hadn't even noticed. Her change of expression was just as subtle. Her calm, inscrutable expression was essentially just the same as ever, yet something in her steady gaze conveyed the promise of hideous retribution if he continued on his present course.

  It nearly intimidated him, but not quite. It felt too good to strike back at his tormentors, no matter what the eventual cost.

  "Kesk is conspiring with that woman there." Nicos indicated Sefris with a nod and continued, "She's a Shar worshiper, a monk… or nun… whatever you call the women… of the Dark Moon. I imagine you know your treasure was plunder taken from one of the cult's hidden temples. They sent her to get it back."

  "Liar," said Kesk. "She's just another Red Axe."

  "Fair enough," said the man in the green cloak. "I suppose, then, that she wears your brand?"

  "She just joined," the tanarukk said. "We haven't gotten around to it."

  The stranger reached into one of the pockets of his mantle, produced a copper piece, and made it vanish and reappear like a mountebank performing on a street corner. He murmured an incantation behind his scarf, and magic sighed through the air.

  "Well, now," the wizard muttered.

  "What?" Kesk asked.

  "I'm listening to other people's thoughts. The prisoner's. Hers. Yours."

  The tanarukk jerked, as did his axe, and he said, "How dare you…"

  "Oh, calm down. I'm the one with a legitimate grievance, because it's all true. Dark Sister Sefris is an agent of the Dark Moon, and you and she have been plotting behind my back. The only reason I'm not more upset is that you haven't yet decided which of us you truly mean to betray. I'm afraid the time has come to choose. I can't continue our arrangement until I'm sure I can trust you."

  "If I decide against you, merchant, you won't leave this house alive."

  "I assumed as much. You could have killed me back in my study, and you were alone then. I'm certain you, your henchmen, and the Dark Sister working together can manage the job. But I'm still willing to press the issue to see it resolved."

  "So be it," Sefris said. "Kesk, I've told you what I offer. A fortune in gems, and the guarantee of future aid from a secret society feared the world over for its power and guile."

  "Show me the jewels," the tanarukk said. "Show me just one of them."

  "I don't have any of them on my person," Sefris said, "but they're real enough, I assure you."

  "She's lying," the wizard said. "I can see it in her mind."

  Kesk snorted, a nasty, porcine sound. Slobber, brown from the sausage, dripped down his chin.

  "What else would you say," the tanarukk challenged, "when you're trying to turn me against her?"

  "Well," said the mage, "consider this, then. I may be a scoundrel by some people's standards, but I'm not lunatic enough to worship the Dark Goddess. She is. Which of us is likely to prove more dependable?"

  "I sought power," Sefris said to Kesk, "and took it where I found it. I don't believe we're so different in that regard."

  "Maybe not," the tanarukk admitted.

  "You differ in at least one way," said the man with the cane. "She's an outlander. She came to Oeble for The Black Bouquet, and when she has it, she'll leave. At that point, what becomes of any promises she made you? Why should she keep them, or spare you another thought? I, on the other hand, am like you. I live in this city. I've built something here, and will bide here the rest of my days to enjoy and protect it. That means it's in my best interests to deal fairly with you. If I don't, you can always find me to retaliate."

  "That makes sense," said Kesk. "But this is twice you've tried to muck around inside my head with magic. I didn't like it either time, and I do like emeralds and ghost stones."

  Leering, he lifted his axe, then suddenly pivoted and struck at Sefris.

  She skipped back out of range, and the weapon whizzed harmlessly passed her. Her foot snapped out and caught Kesk in the chest. Despite the squat massiveness of him, the attack slammed him staggering backward.

  "Get her!" the tanarukk roared.

  The Red Axes snatched out their knives and swords and rushed in.

  Nicos wouldn't have imagined that anyone could survive such an onslaught, but Sefris dodged and sidestepped unpredictably. When the Red Axes veered to compensate, they stumbled into one another's way. Somehow her hands and forearms deflected sharp steel without being cut, while her punches, elbow strikes, and kicks thudded home to stun or injure one orc, bugbear, or human assailant after another. As she fought, she gradually retreated toward the row of windows. In her place, Nicos would have done the same. It was the best escape route available.

  She was nearly there when the small man reached inside his mantle, produced a silver dirk, brandished it, and chanted words of power. Another knife, this one made of blue light, shimmered into existence, floating in the air before him. At first it was so vague and ghostly that Nicos could hardly make out what it was supposed to be, but it became more clearly defined, somehow more real, by the second. Nicos surmised that in another instant, when it was substantial enough, it would fly at Sefris and attack her.

  The monastic simultaneously ducked the swing of a scimitar, rattled off a rhyme, and swirled her hand through a mystic pass. The floating knife blinked out of existence like a puffed-out candle flame.

  She then shifted in close to the Red Axe with the scimitar, grabbed him by the sword arm, pivoted, and flung him at the row of windows. The outlaw crashed through one of the panes and plummeted out of sight

  Kesk had been maneuvering frantically, trying to bull his way past his own men and get at Sefris. When she tossed the swordsman through the glass, she finally cleared a path. The tanarukk charged in and swung his axe. Nicos was sure that if the weapon connected, it would kill her, her sorcerous and combat skills notwithstanding. Even a warrior in plate armor couldn't have withstood that mighty c
hop.

  Her expression as calm as ever, Sefris swayed backward like a reed in a breeze, and the stroke missed. She hooked Kesk's ankle with her foot and jerked his leg out from under him, staggering him for a moment. She used the time to scurry to the broken window, where a few triangular shards of glass still hung around the frame. She dived through the opening headfirst. Nicos assumed that, agile as she was, she managed a safe plunge into the river below.

  For a second, the Red Axes and the wizard in green simply stared at the shattered window as if unable to believe Sefris had truly succeeded in escaping.

  Kesk roared, "Useless! Useless, the lot of you!"

  Spit flew from his mouth. His men quailed before his anger-or rather, most of them did. Sefris had kicked one skinny fellow in the head early on, after which he'd lain insensible on the floor. That one lifted himself up on one elbow and rubbed his temple.

  "What?" he mumbled, drooling a little. "What happened?"

  "You let her get away!" Kesk replied. "Just like Aeron! Just like everybody!”

  He charged. The battle-axe hurtled down and split the human's pinched, petulant-looking face from scalp to chin.

  The tanarukk wrenched the weapon free, spattering blood and brains in the process.

  "Find them!" the tanarukk commanded. "Aeron sar Randal and that monk-bitch, too!"

  Most of the Red Axes, even those still dazed or in pain from Sefris's attacks, hastily exited the room.

  "It's unfortunate the monastic escaped," said the man in green, "but the important thing is that we kept our partnership from foundering."

  Kesk spun around to face him and grumbled, "You miserable… You're supposed to be a wizard, but you were just as worthless as the rest of them."

  "I'm sorry about that, but I'm not a battle mage. Just a dilettante, when you get right down to it I don't have any experience fighting other spellcasters, whereas Sefris manifestly does. She dispelled my sending before I could, ah, send it. If need be, I'll do better next time. Meanwhile, we mustn't lose sight of the fact that our objective is still to lay hands on the Bouquet, not chase a Shar worshiper around town."