"That's the problem," said Kesk. "He wasn't exactly one of mine. He was someone I hired."

"I was under the impression that you had your own little army of ruffians to attend to such chores. Why would you seek help elsewhere?"

"Different reasons. The thing is, the bastard hasn't handed over the box yet."

"Whyever not?"

"He wants more gold than we agreed on."

"Perhaps you'd better give it to him."

"I can't let a little rat like him change the terms of a deal on me," Kesk said. "It would make me look weak."

"Forgive my selfishness, but I can't help feeling more concerned with my objectives than your reputation."

"You'll get your cursed treasure."

"Will I? I hope so, but I have the disquieting feeling there are things you're not telling me."

How right he was. But he might not appreciate hearing that Kesk had complicated the plan by scheming to seize the prize and settle an old score at the same time. Or that the tanarukk had lost his temper at exactly the wrong moment, lashing out at Aeron and scaring him off when he should have done all he could to allay the trickster's misgivings. Or… well, quite a bit of it, really.

"Is it so bad?" Kesk asked. "The way you explained it, our victim has already squandered a lot of coin and wound up with nothing. You can still ruin him, can't you?"

"Suppose I move prematurely, and he then recovers the Bouquet? He'll survive my little coup knowing just what a committed enemy I actually am, which will surely prompt him to retaliate. That's unacceptable. I don't intend to make my play until the box is in my hands and I know for certain he's defenseless. Also, of course, the musty old thing is virtually priceless. You don't want to throw away all the riches it represents, do you?"

"Like I said, I'll get it."

"I never doubted it for an instant. Still, perhaps we can resolve the matter more expeditiously if I take an active role. What's our recalcitrant thief's name?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll deal with him."

"Please, indulge my curiosity."

"Are you going to make me say it outright?" Kesk asked, scowling.

The man on the couch cocked his head and replied, "Apparently so."

"I know I'm not the only knife on your belt. Maybe, if I give you the name, you'll find the thief without any help from me. Then you might figure that just proves you don't need a partner after all."

"What a sour, suspicious turn of mind you have. Of course I need a partner. Can you imagine me traipsing through the Underways, trafficking with your Red Axes and their ilk? Would they trust me or even take me seriously? Not without a great deal of effort on my part, and I have other, more congenial work requiring my attention. Now, please, give me the name. Otherwise, much as it would pain me, I'll have to start questioning your integrity."

"Sorry."

The human heaved a sigh and said, "Oh, very well, have it your way. I was just trying to expedite matters, but…"

As he blathered on, his hand slipped toward the pocket of his robe.

Kesk sprang forward. The man in the robe lifted his hand, stray grains of glittering blue powder leaking from his palm. About to fling the stuff, he registered the fact that the outlaw was already poised to swing his battle-axe at his neck, and faltered.

Kesk was so angry that the human's hesitation almost didn't matter.

"You'd cast a spell on me?" the tanarukk demanded.

The rich man opened his fingers and let the colored sand spill harmlessly away.

"It wouldn't have hurt you," he said. "It would merely have inclined you to trust me."

Kesk grinned and said, "Not much hope of that now."

"Come, now. You don't truly wish to hurt me. Think of that rosy future I promised you: the Red Axes doing absolutely anything they please without fear of the Gray Blades, the rest of the underworld either paying homage to you or driven out of Oeble altogether. You'll never achieve that paradise without me."

"Don't be so sure," Kesk said, but he lowered the axe.

The human smiled and rubbed his slender neck as if making sure his head was still attached.

"Thank you for your forbearance."

"No," Kesk spat, "thank you for reminding me you're a wizard. You want to help me find the Bouquet? Fine. Let's turn out your drawers and closets and see what kind of talismans you've got."

"How much farther?" Miri asked.

Her guide glanced back over his shoulder. The wavering light of his upraised torch stained one side of his smirking face yellow while leaving the other in shadow.

"We're almost there," he replied.

"Almost where?" she demanded. He'd led her into what almost seemed an abandoned section of the Underways. No one else was prowling or loitering about, nor had anybody provided a source of permanent illumination. The stink of sewage was stronger there, and puddles of scummy water filled the low spots on the floor.

"Almost to the hideout of the man you're looking for," her companion said. "The thief who was friends with the drunken mage."

"You'd better be right."

"I am. You'd just better pay me what you promised." He tramped on, and she followed, until, without any warning whatsoever, he dashed the torch in one of the filthy pools, extinguishing it instantly.

Miri had discovered the denizens of the Underways retired to their beds around dawn, at the same time decent people were getting up. She'd reluctantly done the same, catching some fitful slumber at the Paeraddyn, then resuming her search in the afternoon. Eventually it led her to the Talondance, a subterranean tavern catering primarily to goblin-kin, lizard men, and creatures even more feral and less welcome in law-abiding towns. A menu scrawled on a chalkboard offered chops, stews, and kabobs prepared with the flesh of humans, gnomes, and elves, and she was far from certain it was a joke.

Yet even so, a few representatives of her own species had chosen to patronize the place. One of them had claimed he could guide her to the rogue she sought, only to lure her down a quiet tunnel and abruptly take away her light. Most likely he himself possessed a means of seeing in the dark.

Reacting instantly, Miri nocked and loosed an arrow. Even though she was shooting blind, the shaft thunked into something solid. A second later, water splashed.

The senior scouts of Miri's guild studied a limited system of magic in addition to their martial skills and woodcraft. She herself had only commenced that phase of her training a year before and proved to possess no extraordinary aptitude for it. Still, she'd mastered a few spells, and when she'd realized she needed to venture underground, it had been obvious which she ought to prepare for the casting.

She recited a rhyming couplet and swept her hand through a mystic pass. Motes of white light leaped from her fingers like sparks rising from a fire. Glowing without heat, they winked out after a moment or two, as new ones sprang forth to take their places. In the aggregate, they shone about as brightly as a candle.

The light sufficed to reveal her treacherous guide lying dead in the puddle beside the torch. As intended, she'd shot him before he could move off the spot where she'd seen him last. She started to relax, then glimpsed a shifting in the darkness, beyond the point where her light began to fail.

Her heart pounding, Miri thrust her sparking hand out as if it was a torch itself. The glow revealed only the earthen walls of the tunnel. Had she only imagined that something was slinking about?

No. The Forest Queen knew, the odious city and the frustrations of her search were wearing on Miri's nerves. Yet even so, she was no timid tenderfoot to start at shadows. Her guide had lured her toward one or more confederates waiting to waylay her-scoundrels who were lurking still, despite the fact that, for whatever reason, she was having trouble seeing them.