inferred that they didn't know who they were looking for.
They had a description, however, flawed but still potentially useful, and they were plainly working hard to track him down. That wasn't good.
The Gray Blades had questioned Aeron on more than one occasion, and thus he knew how to recognize when such a session was winding down. As usual, it ended with a few final threats: if the lawmen found out the goblin had lied to them, they'd make it wish it had never been born, and other remarks in the same vein.
Aeron had nearly lingered too long. If he tried to scurry off quickly, the Rainspan would surely creak and bounce, giving his presence away. Instead, he swung himself over the railing and to the underside of the bridge, where he hung by his hands forty feet above the street
The Blades released the goblin and proceeded on their way, tramping over the spot where Aeron clung. If some folk deemed the Rainspans unsafe, they should have seen that one from his present vantage point. The lawmen's passage shook loose a veritable shower of scraps of rotten wood. The filthy stuff streamed down over Aeron, a goodly portion slipping inside his collar.
First the river and now this, he thought.
Aeron feared his clothes were ruined. It made him glad that, unlike most of the honest jobs for which he qualified, thieving paid well enough that he owned several other outfits.
He waited until the Gray Blades' voices faded away, then pulled himself back up onto the walkway. He skulked on, and in a few more minutes, he reached his home.
As he'd expected, his father had waited up for him. Nicos sat struggling to pluck the strains of a ribald tavern song about a priest and a dancing girl from the strings of his mandolin. He had no real aptitude for the instrument, but with his voice ruined, it was the only music he could make.
He looked Aeron up and down and asked, 'What in the name of the black mask happened to you?'
'What didn't?' Aeron replied, stripping off his shirt and tunic.
It gave him a twinge, the result of the two falls he'd taken that day, which had likewise mottled his torso with a livid assortment of bruises.
'Did you talk the tanarukk into a higher price?' his father asked.
'Not exactly.'
Aeron poured water from the pitcher into the bowl, picked up the wash rag, and scrubbed the itchy grit from his skin. It felt odd to wash twice in a single day. Some people said too often was unhealthy. He hoped they were wrong.
'What did happen, then?'
'Well…'
He toweled himself dry, sat down opposite his father, dragged off his wet boots, and told the tale.
When he finished, Nicos glowered at him.
'Blood and bone, boy, are you trying to die?'
Aeron grinned and said, 'When have the Gray Blades ever come close to catching me?'
'When did they try this hard? Why did you have to steal your cursed box inside the Paeraddyn?'
'Because I thought that no one would expect it to happen there, and I was right about that much, anyway. Besides, if the place had been standing in your day, you would have wanted to rob it, too, just to prove you could.'
'Perhaps,' Nicos sighed. 'That wouldn't have made it the smart thing to do.'
'Actually, I wonder if the law is hunting me with such zeal only because it was the Paer. Maybe the person who owned the box is pushing them.'
'That would mean you robbed somebody rich, powerful, or both.'
'Of something he valued highly,' added Aeron.
'Making it even more dangerous.'
Aeron shifted in his chair, trying to make himself more comfortable, and in so doing, discovered he was already stiffening up. He stretched and twisted in what would probably prove a futile attempt to forestall the process. His spine popped.
'Ordinarily,' he said, 'I wouldn't sweat over the Gray Blades. If they were my only problem, I could dodge them until they moved on to other matters. But avoiding them and the Red Axes at the same time… well, at least I won't be bored.'
'That's what's important,' said his father with heavy sarcasm. 'Still, it's a shame you couldn't reach an understanding with Kesk, though it's no wonder, after you sneaked onto his home ground and kicked two of his bravos around.'
'I only sneaked in a little way, and I imagine he thinks guards who let themselves get taken by surprise deserve their bruises. But you're right, more or less. Once Tharag let it slip that Kesk planned to kill my crew and me from the start, that pretty much wrecked any hope of us making a new bargain. I didn't really even want to. Deep down, I was too angry. He must have sensed it and thought the only way he was ever going to see the lockbox was to take me prisoner and force me to cough it up. Or else kill me and pay a necromancer to wring the location out of my ghost. People say that kind of magic is possible, and Kesk wouldn't balk at it if it is.'
'You're positive the bugbear told the truth?'
'Yes,' Aeron replied. 'I could feel it. If you'd been there talking to it, and Kesk, you would have, too.'
'Mask forbid that I ever come anywhere near that demon-spawn. Say he did want to murder you. Do you think it's just because you turned down his offer to join the Red Axes all those years ago?'
'That's probably part of it. He really seemed to want me after I stole that barge-load of spices. It plainly offended him when I said no, and he's the kind to hold a grudge. But I reckon there's more to it.'
'What is it, then?'
Aeron frowned, pondering, until an idea came to him.
'You said it yourself,' he said. 'I robbed someone rich, powerful, or both-so much so that even Kesk Turnskull is leery of his wrath. So instead of using members of his own gang to grab the loot, he hires a freelance operator he hates and plans to kill him and his partners when their work is done. That way, nobody can trace the swag to the Red Axes.'
Nicos nodded and said, 'That makes sense. What are you going to do now?'
'Sell the prize to somebody else. Imrys Skaltahar, maybe. They say he keeps plenty of gold on hand, enough to buy even the most valuable loot without the thief needing to wait on his coin. I think it may be wisest to dispose of the lockbox quickly, and I wouldn't sell it to Kesk even if I could figure out a way to make him deal fairly. I'm not so suicidal as to seek to kill him, but I can keep him from getting what he wants. That'll be at least a little revenge for Kerridi, Gavath, and Dal.'
'Skaltahar isn't going to buy the coffer just because you promise that what's inside is valuable.'
'You're right,' Aeron agreed. 'That's the difficulty. Warding spells or no, I have to get the cursed thing open.'
Wherever he went, Kesk liked to stride arrogantly, his head bare and sneering tanarukk face on display, his battle-axe in his hand, and several of his henchmen swaggering along behind him. He enjoyed watching the common herd blanch and scurry to get out of the way, relished it when even Gray Blades chose to give him a wide berth.
By the same token, he disliked creeping about muffled in a shabby cloak and hood, and he positively despised rapping on the little twin-paneled door at the rear of the great house, as if he was some sort of tinker, peddler, or beggar.
No one answered right away, which blackened his mood still further, if that was possible. He felt a growing urge to chop down the door with his axe, which he never relinquished even on those rare occasions when he found it necessary to wear a disguise. But then the portal cracked open. A human, only half dressed, his feet bare and his tawny hair uncombed, peered down at what he likely thought a peculiar shrouded figure, taller and even thicker built than a dwarf, but shorter than an elf, waiting in the alley.
'Yes?' the servant yawned.
Scowling, Kesk lifted his head, pushed back his cowl, and finally had the satisfaction of seeing someone flinch. Since it was the only pleasurable moment he was likely to experience on his visit there, he tried to savor it.
