She snatched an arrow from her quiver to hold ready in her hand, then started to run back the way they'd come. She knew how unlikely it was that she'd spot the liar skulking through the dark, but she had to try.
He called out to her, 'Hold on.'
She whirled back around, and Aeron stepped from the shadows.
'I'm right here,' he said, 'and so is this.' He hefted a heavy, black-bound volume. 'I kept it behind some loose bricks in a wall down thataway.'
She peered at him quizzically and asked, 'If you meant to give it to me, why did you disappear?'
'I don't know,' he said with a smile. 'A joke? Maybe I wanted you to know I'm turning it over because I want to, not because I'm afraid of your bow and sword. That I do keep my promises to the right people.'
He placed the book in her hands.
When she opened the cover, a sweet scent wafted up. Holding the book close to her face, squinting against the gloom, she was just able to make out Courynn Dulsaer's handwriting. It was the real Bouquet, not simply another decoy. Aeron chuckled to see her check the book.
'I said you were learning to think like one of us Oeblar,' he said.
'Thank you,' she replied. 'For the Bouquet, not that remark. It's still an insult.'
He smiled a crooked smile and said, 'From that retort, I take it you're still eager to go back to the woods. I'll miss you… at least a little.'
It seemed the perfect opening for Miri to propose the notion she'd been mulling over.
'You don't have to,' she said. 'You could come along. I'd sponsor you for membership in the Red Hart Guild, and train you, too.'
'Now you're playing a joke on me.'
'No. I've seen the better side of your nature, and you're too good a man to live out your days as a sneak thief in this wretched place.'
'This wretched place is about to reform, or so I'm told.'
'Over the course of years, maybe, if everything goes according to Master Heldeion's plan,' Miri replied. 'I'm offering you the certainty of a new life, a useful, honorable one, right here and now.'
'I can't abandon my father.'
'He can come, too. The guild provides a home for those of our kin who can't take care of themselves.'
He stood mute for several heartbeats, seemingly pondering the offer.
At last he said, 'Thank you. I'm flattered you asked, but no. I just don't see myself sleeping on the ground.'
Though it was the response she'd expected, it disappointed her nonetheless.
'So be it, then,' said the ranger. 'I guess you'll have to settle for a bag of Master Heldeion's gold as a reward.'
'For recovering The Black Bouquet?' Aeron said with a snort. 'Not likely. Remember who lifted it in the first place, triggering disturbances across the city that even left some Gray Blades dead. You may have a high opinion of Heldeion, but I don't know him, and I don't trust him not to string me up. He's a merchant and one of the city fathers, in other words, an outlaw's natural enemy.'
'Well, as you pointed out yourself, he doesn't ever have to see you or know your name. I promised you gold when we sealed our pact, and I'll fetch it to you.'
'Again, thanks, but no. I only asked for a reward to persuade you to trust me. I took the same tack when I talked to Kesk in Slarvyn's Sword. People are usually inclined to believe you're speaking honestly when you say you want coin.
'The truth is, I don't take rewards from fat burghers for returning what's rightfully theirs. That's not my trade. If Heldeion gives you a bonus, keep it for yourself.'
'Then you come out of this with nothing.'
'I've got my father back, that's what matters, and these lightning gloves are worth having as well. Come on, I'll walk you to Heldeion's house before we go our separate ways. You may find it difficult to believe, but some people think the streets of Oeble are unsafe.'
When the servant opened the door for him, Oriseus Forar stepped out onto the porch of his mansion, took a breath of crisp morning air, and tried to take pleasure in the start of a new day.
The gods knew, he had sufficient excuse for a glum mood. After his panicky flight from Laskalar's Square, his alliance with the Red Axes was surely at an end even if Kesk had survived his confrontation with Dark Sister Sefris. Oriseus still didn't have The Black Bouquet in his possession, and he doubted he ever would.
Yet the situation wasn't entirely bleak. As far as Oriseus knew, Dorn Heldeion didn't have the book, either, which meant the fool still faced ruin. Oriseus simply had to call in the debts his proxies had bought up. Even more importantly, neither Dorn nor anyone else of importance knew of Oriseus's criminal and treasonous designs. He'd emerged from the Bouquet debacle with his reputation unblemished, free to continue enjoying all the wealth and luxuries his station afforded while pursuing his clandestine efforts to bring the entire city under his sway.
Or so he assumed. But as he descended the marble steps toward his litter, a handsome, crimson-lacquered conveyance with appointments of real gold, he spied the Gray Blades. They'd apparently been waiting in the street, inconspicuous among the scurrying crowds, for Oriseus to emerge. Their expressions hard, they advanced on him, and Miri Buckman strode along with them.
Oriseus didn't know how it had happened, but he had no doubt the Faceless Master had ordered his arrest. He was equally certain of the grim fate awaiting him if he allowed himself to be taken. Struggling against terror, he told himself it needn't come to that. His magic would enable him to escape.
He began reciting a spell, lifted a hand to sketch an arcane symbol in the air, and a fierce pain stabbed into his palm. His arm jerked, spoiling the pass. Amazed, he turned his head to discover the source of his distress. He had an arrow sticking through his flesh, the bloody, razor-edged head protruding several inches beyond his knuckles. If only he'd worn his green cloak with its enchantment against missiles! Unfortunately, he'd been worried that people had noticed a suspicious character clad in such a garment fleeing the scene of the battle the night before, and accordingly had left it in his armoire.
He started conjuring with the other hand. Smiling, Miri shot an arrow through that one, too. He tried to finish the magic anyway, but fumbled. The Gray Blades grabbed him.
Once the lawmen laid hands on Oriseus Forar, Aeron decided he and Nicos had seen enough. Muffled in their cloaks and hoods, they turned away, then squirmed and dodged their way through the mass of gawkers who had, as if by magic, assembled to watch the wealthy and prominent-and accordingly, envied and despised-merchant's downfall.
Aeron's belly felt as hollow as a whore's flattery, and he was sure that after his ordeal, Nicos could use a hearty breakfast to rebuild his strength. He led the old man to an open-air food stand under a sagging, dilapidated awning. Behind the bar, eggs, battered bread, trout, and perch smoked and sizzled in cast iron frying pans, filling the air with appetizing aromas.
'I don't know why Miri didn't just shoot Forar in the vitals,' Aeron said as they claimed a pair of stools. 'I doubt either the Faceless Master or Dorn Heldeion would have minded.'
Nicos smirked and replied, 'She figured you were watching from somewhere close at hand, so she was showing off for you.'
'I knew it had to happen sooner or later,' said Aeron, shaking his head. 'You're finally going senile.'
'You could do worse than a lass like that.'
'Right, a woman who likes to sleep out in the rain and snow and thinks the point of life is to risk your neck serving others. Plainly, she and I are a match decreed by the Morninglord himself.'
'Well, when you put it that way…'
A serving maid came to take their orders. After she finished, Aeron turned the conversation to more practical matters.
'What items do you need,' he asked, 'to undertake a journey?'
'A fresh supply of my medicines would be nice. Why, are we going somewhere?'
'Away. I don't care how many oaths Kesk swears. I've twisted his snout too many times, and if I linger within his reach, eventually he'll put an end to me.'
