omen of his own impending demise.
Dotted with trees and the occasional pigeon-spattered bit of statuary, the square itself was as busy as he'd expected. The shops and kiosks were doing a brisk business. Storytellers, minstrels, jugglers, and tumblers vied for the attention of the crowd, and the aromas of frying sausage and fresh-baked sweet buns scented the air. Aeron knew that under other circumstances, the smells would have made his mouth water. He hadn't eaten since leaving Melder's Door that morning. But at the moment, he was too edgy to think about food.
As he drifted around, he tried to spot Kesk's minions without their realizing he was looking. He marked one hobgoblin reaver pretending to watch a lewd puppet show and a human ruffian seemingly examining a leather- worker's wares, but not the rest, not yet. It didn't bother him too much that he couldn't pick out all the Red Axes. It was more troubling that he couldn't find the wizard, who was surely hanging around as well.
Oh, well, he thought, if everything goes as planned, I'll flush the whoreson out of hiding.
If not, the magician was still likely to make his presence obvious soon enough, in one inconvenient fashion or another.
It was on the north side of the grassy rectangle that Aeron finally caught sight of Nicos and Kesk. The Red Axes had cleaned the old man up, probably so it wouldn't be obvious to any casual observer that he was in distress. Thus, he wasn't bound or leashed, and of course didn't need to be. The tanarukk could fell him in an instant if he tried to make any trouble.
Like Aeron himself, Kesk wore a cowl to obscure his identity, and in the dark, some folk could have mistaken him for an unusually short and burly orc if they failed to notice the crimson smolder of his devilish eyes. No doubt he carried his battle-axe concealed beneath his cloak. As he stalked along, the set of his enormous shoulders hinted at his anger and impatience.
Aeron took a deep, steadying breath and called, 'I'm here.'
Kesk and Nicos turned. The hostage gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. Aeron knew it was his father's way of warning him to flee while he still could. He wished he could somehow make Nicos understand that he realized Kesk intended to cheat, and had planned a ploy of his own. But if he attempted any sort of signal, the tanarukk might see it, too.
'Let's do this,' said Kesk.
'Not quite yet,' Aeron answered. 'Follow me, but don't try to catch up until I stop.'
He led Kesk and Nicos back in the general direction of the two Red Axes he'd already spotted. They'd likely remain where they were, but others might skulk after him so they'd be close enough to strike as soon as the trade was finished. That would give him a final chance to pick them out.
He noticed one outlaw trailing him with a javelin clutched in either grubby, tattooed hand, and marked something else, two Gray Blades buying battered tin tankards of ale from a rawboned woman who ladled the brew out of an open keg. A few more mugs lay in the wheelbarrow behind her. Probably she'd used the conveyance to haul the cask to the patch of ground she rented from whatever gang currently controlled that portion of the square.
Aeron hesitated for an instant. He hadn't included any Gray Blades in his scheme, and supposed that when trouble erupted, they were just about as likely to interfere with him as they were with the Red Axes. Yet they certainly had the potential to add to the general chaos, and he thought he might as well trust his hunches and his luck. If they failed him, he and Nicos were doomed anyway.
So he stopped just a few feet away from the officers, beneath the boughs of a chestnut tree. His feet rustled the dry fallen leaves on the ground. He held up his hand to halt Kesk when the gang chieftain and Nicos were still a couple paces away, which was to say, while Aeron was still beyond the reach of his enemy's axe. The tanarukk glowered at the Blades, then spat. They didn't notice.
'I'm not fond of them, either,' Aeron said, 'but maybe having them close by will help you remember to behave yourself.'
'Give me the book,' said Kesk.
'First set my father free.'
The tanarukk laughed and said, 'Don't be stupid. Hand it over before I lose my patience, butcher you and the old man, too, and simply take it. I don't know why I haven't done that already.'
Aeron grinned and replied, 'I imagine because you gave your solemn promise. Also, you'd hate to send me to the Lord of Shadows prematurely, then find out you haven't really gotten your hands on The Black Bouquet after all.'
Kesk's snout twitched, and saliva trickled around one of his tusks. It made Aeron want to take a step back, but he controlled himself.
'Show me the cursed book,' the half-demon growled. 'We'll start with that.'
'That, I'm willing to do.'
Aeron brought Miri's scuffed old saddlebag out from beneath his cape, unbuckled it, and pulled the steel strongbox out.
Kesk stared. For a second, he seemed less wrathful than perplexed.
'You locked it back in the coffer?' the tanarukk asked.
Aeron shrugged and said, 'I was worried the Gray Blades were looking for a thief in possession of an old black tome full of perfumer's formulae. The box is less distinctive. Merchants and couriers use similar ones all the time.'
'Well, open it.'
'I can't,' Aeron replied. 'Not without my tools. Not without hunkering down over it for several minutes and making it obvious to anybody walking by that I'm having to crack it. At that, I'd be leery of triggering the wards again. One makes a boom so loud the entire square would hear it. I assumed you could open it without any problem, seeing as how I was supposed to give it to you in the first place.'
'Set it on the ground,' Kesk growled.
Aeron obeyed, and Kesk brought his axe out from under his mantle. The edges glowed red as he activated the same enchantment that had enabled him to chop through the heavy chain so easily. Aeron caught an acrid whiff of hot metal, reminiscent of a forge.
'Are you just going to bash it open?' he asked. 'You might spoil the book, it's crumbling as it is, and the box truly is liable to thunder and break your arm. Maybe you should send for Burgell Whitehorn, now that he's on your side.'
'Just shut your hole.'
Kesk waved his massive gray hand with its coarse nails and patches of bristle. After a moment's hesitation, a slender figure approached. To all appearances, he was an elf, short as Kesk, ivory-skinned, green-eyed, and clad in sturdy traveler's attire. When he spoke, however, it was in the cultured tones of the anonymous wizard. He'd masked himself with illusion instead of a scarf. Aeron suspected the yew bow in his hand was actually the blackwood cane.
'I thought we agreed,' the magician said, 'that I'd keep my distance.'
'I'm settling this business now,' Kesk said, 'without another second of delay, and that means I need you to open this.' He gave the strongbox a little kick. 'Get to it.'
'Very well,' the wizard said. He dropped to one knee, inspected the coffer, and muttered a charm under his breath. 'The wards are gone.'
Kesk gave Aeron a suspicious scowl. The human outlaw shrugged.
'I'm no arcanist,' the rogue said. 'How could I be sure of that?'
'I suppose the important thing,' said the wizard, 'is what's inside.'
He removed a silver key from his pocket. The metal shimmered subtly in a manner that made Aeron suspect it was enchanted, like Burgell's skeleton key. He slipped it in the lock, twisted it, and the box popped open. The magician raised the lid completely and lifted out the musty black volume inside.
It wasn't The Black Bouquet, just another old, similarly colored volume Aeron had pilfered from the shop of a used book dealer. But neither Kesk nor his employer had ever laid eyes on the original, and shouldn't be able to tell until they looked inside. For the moment, they gazed raptly at what they took to be the prize they'd worked so hard to win. Anyone would have done the same.
Excitement, however, didn't turn Kesk completely stupid. He never could have schemed and murdered his way to ascendancy in Oeble's underworld if he was that easy a mark. He still kept a wary eye on Aeron, but
