Richard Byers: The Black Bouquet

"Suppose I came down here to do some business," she said. "Could you point me to the right person?"

He chuckled.

Miri felt a pang of irritation and asked, "What's funny about that?"

"Please, forgive me," Melder said. "It's just that one doesn't rush these conversations. The parties generally sample a drink or three, chatting of nothing in particular, acquiring a sense of one another, before anyone broaches the actual point of the discussion. I suspect you know better, you tried to play the game, but your impatience betrayed you."

She knew what he meant. Out in the wild, she would have been more circumspect. She'd once reveled with a tribe of centaurs for three days and nights, satisfying all their elaborate rituals of hospitality, before so much as mentioning the reason for her visit to their camp. But Oeble, and her current dilemma, made her twitchy.

"I haven't much time," she said, "or at least I fear I haven't."

"I understand," he said. "For all you know, the precious saddlebag has already left town."

Miri glared at him and said, "You knew who I was from the start."

Melder shrugged. "I didn't know your name, but people are naturally talking about a robbery inside the Paeraddyn and the ranger tramping around town trying to trace the surviving thief. What was in the pouch, anyway?"

"I don't know, myself."

He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in his swarthy face. A tiny green dragon settled on his shoulder for a moment, almost as if whispering in his ear, then flew away.

"You're a bad liar," he said, "probably because you haven't learned to enjoy it. If I knew what you're looking for, perhaps I could help you find it."

And maybe, she thought, you'd covet it for yourself.

Miri asked, "Are you willing to help me?"

"Well, it all depends. I make a tolerable living from the Door, and as you can imagine, my guests don't rest their heads here because I have a reputation for tattling. Still, it's conceivable you could persuade me to be of some assistance, comely as you are. Grubby from the road, of course, but a bath would fix that."

She made a spitting sound then said, "Apparently you haven't known many rangers, at least not of my guild. We don't pay for anything that way."

"A pity. If you exploited them properly, like a sensible lass, your charms could be a mightier weapon than that bow."

"Forget it. I am willing to pay a hundred Sembian nobles if you furnish information that leads me to what I seek."

"Perhaps some gold up front would serve to jog my memory or sharpen my wits."

"Ever since I started poking around," said Miri, "folk have been hinting they can help me, then they ask for coin in advance. Had I heeded them, my purse would be empty already. I'll pay you when I recover what was in the saddlebag, not before."

"And how, sweet Miri, do I know that I can trust you?"

"Because I swear it by Our Lady of the Forest."

He laughed and said, "Your vow. Delightful."

She glowered at him then asked, "Can you help me or not?"

"I assume you took a good look at the three thieves who died."

"Yes."

"Describe them."

She did, and based on his expression asked, "You recognize them?"

"I believe so, though I didn't know them well. Their names were Gavath, Kerridi, and Dal."

She felt a thrill of excitement.

"What gang did they belong to?" she asked.

Melder shook his head and answered, "None. They were petty operators, really, gleaning what the gangs don't bother to take."

"I don't see how four such little fish, working strictly by themselves, could have conceived an elaborate plan to steal the saddlebag as soon as it reached Oeble. They wouldn't even have known it was coming. Somebody must have hired them to seize it."

"That would be my guess," Melder said. "Have you any notion who that person might have been?"

Someone with a spy in place, Miri thought, either here or in Ormath, to report on what was supposed to have been a secret transaction.

Beyond that, she couldn't say. She spread her hands.

"Whoever it was," Melder said, "he has plenty of coin, or at least convinced the thieves he did. He wouldn't have tried to rob the Paer without a substantial fee in the offing."

"Did the dead outlaws have a particular comrade with whom they often worked? Someone thin, bearded, and around my age, green-eyed and skilled with a knife?"

"I fear I can't tell you. As I said, I didn't know them personally, and we have so many ne'er-do-wells skulking about Oeble-new ones every day. The river barges float them in, and the Dead Cart rolls them out."

"Well, presumably somebody knew them," Miri replied. "At least you've given me a place to start, and I thank you."

She gulped down the rest of her beer, laid a silver coin on the table, rose, and headed for the door.

Melder sat and watched the scout stride away. He generally liked his women with a little more meat on their bones and considerably more concerned with presenting a well-groomed and feminine appearance. But even clad in her dirty woods-runner's armor, breeches, and boots, she was a pleasant sight.

Vlint appeared at his elbow and gave a disapproving snort, a mode of expression admirably suited to his bulbous blue nose, though incongruously prissy for a hobgoblin. Melder sighed and turned his head to meet the hulking, shaggy bravo's sallow eyes.

"I take it you were eavesdropping," the human said, "and think me too garrulous."

"It's not for me to say," said Vlint, in a tone that conveyed his opinion with utter clarity. None of the Door's other guards would have expressed disapproval, but he'd been in his master's employ for a long while, ever since the days when Melder had been a thief in his own right instead of a quasi-respectable innkeeper, and was thus inclined to take liberties.

"I didn't give up any of our patrons," he said.

Something tickled Melder's wrist, and forked tongue flickering, a gray, wedge-shaped head slid out from under the cuff of his long, floppy sleeve. He caressed the restless viper with his fingertip, then coaxed it to slither back where it belonged.

"Come to that," Melder added, "I didn't even give up anyone alive."

"Still," said the bouncer and ruffian-for-hire, "it wasn't the kind of thing you generally do."

"Most thief takers aren't as pretty as that one, and it should serve to keep her wandering around here below."

Vlint scratched at his thick, flea-bitten neck and said, "You think that so long as she's nearby, she might decide to warm your bed after all?"

"Alas, no. The ranger's guilds shouldn't admit women. You let a wench worship a goddess who takes the form of a unicorn, and she's bound to place an exaggerated value on her chastity."

"Then you want to make a play for the saddlebag yourself."

"No. Those days are behind us. Though if it simply fell into my lap…What I think is that as pretty Miri blunders about, someone will decide to make some coin from her, and likely sooner rather than later. Put the word out to the slavers that if anybody catches her, I might be interested in buying. Or at least renting for a day or two."

As befitted his status as chieftain of the Red Axes, Kesk Turnskull lived with a certain style, in an expansive, albeit decaying, house on the river. In better times, the place had likely belonged to a prosperous merchant, who'd built both street entrances and a water gate to facilitate the passage of goods in and out. More recently, diggers had connected the cellars to the Underways.

Thus, Aeron thought, surveying the structure from the Arch of Gargoyles, centermost of the three bridges, he had his choice of ways in. The problem was making sure of a way out. Because it was one thing to resolve to gouge a higher payment out of Kesk and his pack of ruffians, and something else actually to accomplish it. He had to manage the discussion in a manner that would preclude the tanarukk's simply taking him prisoner and torturing him until he divulged the current location of the strongbox.