"Why would I run when I need you? When I went to so much trouble to make contact with you in the first place?"
"Now that you've seen me close up, spoken with me, maybe you have second thoughts."
"No."
He'd finished those long ago-he supposed he'd reached his tenth or eleventh thoughts. But with only a few hours left before Kesk carried out his threat, he didn't have time to slip away from her, go into hiding, and hatch a more sensible plan.
Sefris asked, "Do you think Kesk will follow your instructions?"
"He'll come to Laskalar's Square, but not alone," Aeron replied with a grin. "His underlings will be lurking around, waiting to move in on my father and me as soon as the trade is done. Fortunately, they won't know you're sneaking around, too."
"You realize the tanarukk won't want to free Nicos until he has The Black Bouquet in his hands. But I can't allow you to give it to him."
"Don't worry, I won't even carry it to the meeting. If I did, you might be tempted to forget our bargain and take it away from me on the spot."
"Then how will you get Nicos out of Kesk's clutches, and even if you do, how can a lame old man hobble away quickly enough to keep the Red Axes from capturing him again?"
"Trickery," Aeron answered. "Tell me all the spells you can cast, and we'll figure it out from there."
Hulm had presumably finished his rounds before nightfall, but when Aeron passed from the Rolling Shields into Laskalar's Square, the Dead Cart was parked in front of Griffingate House. The gnarlbones presumably had personal business somewhere in the vicinity. The utilitarian wagon stood out in obscurely ominous contrast to the opulent gargoyle-encrusted facade of Oeble's most expensive inn. Aeron supposed a priest or philosopher of the proper persuasion could draw some sort of moral lesson from the scene. For his part, he only hoped it wasn't an 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.