Imrys started drifting about, idly contemplating this heap of plunder or that, pulling the lid off a crate to look at the ivory tusks inside. Aeron's mouth went dry. Somehow, when he'd conceived the plan, it hadn't occurred to him that the fence might simply wander through the warehouse until he inevitably stumbled upon the intruders.
Aeron assumed that together, he and Miri could overpower Imrys, but that wasn't the point. Any confrontation would ruin the plan, and even if matters were otherwise, he had no desire to raise his hand to a man who'd always treated him relatively well.
Fortunately, before it could come to that, someone rapped on the door. Imrys unbarred it, and a wagon, drawn by a white horse and a black one, rolled inside. Tharag the bugbear held the reins, and an orc cradling a crossbow served as guard.
Imrys shut the door behind them. After the three exchanged a few words, the Red Axes hopped down and unloaded some barrels from the back of the cart. From the ease with which they accomplished the task, it was plain the kegs were empty.
They had to shift them, however, to more easily raise a hidden hatch of their own. The wagon bed was hollow, deeper than it looked, and held the actual shipment cloth bundles that clanked or clattered when they lifted them out and set them on the floor.
Imrys crouched to unwrap one, and a pungent scent of oil filled the air. Inside were gleaming sword blades. Evidently nobody had sharpened them yet, for he had no difficulty flexing one without cutting his hand. Poking with his index finger and muttering under his breath, he counted them, then turned his attention to the next bale, which proved to contain spear shafts.
Tharag and the orc looked on as Imrys conducted his inspection, responding, as best they were able, to the fence's shrewd observations regarding short counts and deficiencies in workmanship. Aeron was grateful to the older man for keeping the Red Axes occupied. It was the only reason his plan, which, since the moment had come to try it, looked harebrained even to Aeron, had even the slightest chance of working.
He gave Miri a nod, and they glided forward, keeping low, using every available bit of cover. He was glad she moved as silently as any burglar he'd ever known. He supposed rangers had to master stealth to stalk game and goblin-kin through the woods.
Imrys liked to cook for the patrons of his tavern, and was renowned for his tangy stews. Aeron's path led him nearly within arm's reach of the fence, so close that the scent of spice clinging to Imrys's hands and clothes tickled his nose, and for a moment, he was afraid he was going to sneeze. He didn't, though, and he and Miri reached the wagon without anyone looking up. Nor did the draught horses, stolid beasts of burden that they were, do anything to give them away.
Aeron managed to crawl into the cramped interior of the wagon bed without making noise. Miri did almost as well, though once, when she'd squirmed most of the way in, the tip of her scabbard softly thumped the wood. Aeron winced, but Imrys and the Axes didn't react.
Aeron and Miri lay in the claustrophobic space like corpses in a coffin built for two, and he wondered how they could defend themselves if discovered. He'd just about concluded it would be impossible when Imrys completed his inventory and declared exactly how much he was willing to pay.
Tharag objected in a desultory fashion, even invoked the threat of Kesk's displeasure, but then accepted the offer. The fact was, even the Red Axes found Imrys too useful to risk alienating him over an everyday sort of transaction.
And to a thief operating outside the gangs, the fence's good will was all but indispensable. If Imrys ever found out Aeron had used him as an unwitting tool in a quarrel with Kesk, the consequences could be severe. Yet with his father's life in jeopardy, and schemes for rescuing him in short supply, he hadn't seen another choice.
Tharag laboriously counted Imrys's coin, and the orc slammed the hatch shut without looking inside. The boards above Aeron's face groaned a little as the Red Axes reloaded the empty casks. Then, axles creaking, the wagon began to roll. The wood was hard against the thief's back, and felt harder still when the cart's progress bounced him up and down.
Miri's voice murmured from the darkness, softly enough that the Red Axes wouldn't hear it over the noise made by their horses and conveyance, "Suppose they don't bother to unload the barrels when they get back to the mansion. How are we supposed to climb out of here without jostling them around and making a lot of noise?"
"I don't know," Aeron answered. "I knew about the trick wagon, but I kind of forgot about the kegs."
"How clever of you."
'We'll manage, all right? If you don't like this idea, what was your cunning plan?"
She was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry. You're right. Barrels or no, this is a better scheme than any I was able to devise, and I shouldn't find fault."
"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to attempt it alone, and glad you know how to creep. You have the makings of an able cutpurse or housebreaker."
She snorted and said, "Thanks so much. I imagine someone could make a passable woodsman of you. If you were willing to stop depending on all those little knives and invest the time and effort to learn to use real weapons."
"I guess if I learned to draw a bow, I could kill people from a long way off, when they had no way of fighting back."
"I told you, I took no joy in shooting your friends."
"I know," he said with a sigh. "You were only doing your job, and they knew the risks. I just miss them, is all."
"I understand. I've lost my share of comrades."
"Who knows, maybe I've already lost my father, too. He's frail. If Kesk tortured him the way he said, he may have killed him without even meaning to."
Groping in the blackness, Miri found his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
"Don't dwell on such thoughts," she said. "Focus on practical matters: how to accomplish the task at hand, and what to do after."
"Right. Once we get him out, he'll probably need a healer. We can take him to Ilmater's house, but I don't think he or I should spend another night there. When someone's after you, it's often safer to keep moving around. I have one more person I trust. Her name is Naneetha Dalaeve, and-"
"And she owns the Talondance," finished Miri, in the tone of one reluctantly delivering bad news. "She gave up your name to Sefris. It was how we traced you to your garret."
"Shadows of Mask, why would she do that?"
"It's not important. What matters is that your friendship is no great secret, and if someone could make her betray you once, the same thing could happen again. If I were you, I'd find somewhere else to hide, or another way to be safe. Let me help you with that, too."
"You mean, you'll ask the same rich bastard I robbed in the first place to protect me?"
"By all accounts, he's an honorable per-"
" 'By all accounts,' " Aeron broke in. "You've never even met him, have you?"
"Well, no, only his representatives, but…"
"Thanks, anyway, but Father and I will take our chances on our own. You just keep your mouth shut about exactly who stole the Bouquet, or helped you recover it, for that matter."
After that, the conversation lagged, and Aeron felt a black mood coming on. Even sweet, unworldly Naneetha, who doted on tales of chivalrous heroes and pure damsels faithful unto death, had sold him out. It was even more of a shock than Burgell's treachery.
But Miri was right, it was not the time to brood about it. He struggled to shake off the hurt and concentrate on his immediate concerns, on how he and the scout would locate Nicos, then escape Kesk's stronghold alive.
The wagon accelerated and slowed, turned periodically. Aeron found it impossible to judge how much time had passed or how far the conveyance had traveled since the Red Axes drove it out of the warehouse. His discomfort and trepidation made it feel like hours. Finally, though, the cart rumbled to a stop. He listened as, judging from what he could hear, Tharag and the orc climbed down from their seat and unhitched the horses. After that, everything was quiet.