The lie reduced the hall to astonished, greedy silence for a moment, and then Kesk said, "I don't know you. Why should I believe in this treasure trove?"
Sefris hoped an admixture of truth would make her deception seem more plausible.
"I serve the Lady of Loss," she said. "like you Red Axes, our temple reaves plenty of wealth from those unable to defend it." She waited a beat. "Would it bother you to deal with us?"
Kesk, leering, said, "Do you know where the race of tanarukks sprang from? I'll trade with anybody, no matter what devil-goddess she worships, so long as I can turn a profit. And I'd guess that the secret strongholds of Shar, wherever they may be, do have plenty of coin. But can you prove you're one of the priestesses, or am I just supposed to take it on faith, like the existence of all these jewels you're going to give us?"
"Have you heard of the Dark Moon?"
Kesk's eyes, red and faintly luminous, like embers, narrowed.
"Of Shar's clergy," he said, "yet not. They're protectors and assassins."
Sefris inclined her head and replied, "Something like that. If you've heard of us, you know we study a certain unarmed fighting style. If I defeat a couple of your men at once, using only my empty hands, will that prove I'm who I claim to be?"
"It might," the tanarukk said, "and if they beat you down instead, well, we were already planning on some torture. We might as well question you and old Nicos at once. He can tell us where his son keeps the coffer, and you can give us the truth about all those gems. Presmer, Sewer Rat-you brought her up here, you deal with her. Orvaega, you help. You can bleed her and break her bones, but try not to kill her."
The tattooed man-Presmer, Sefris assumed-whirled off his short leather cape, dangled it in one hand, and drew his short sword with the other. The meazel-the monastic wondered if Sewer Rat was its actual name, translated into human speech, or just a nickname the other rogues had given it-simply hissed and crouched. Evidently it saw no need for any weapons other than its claws. Orvaega, a female orc, hefted a war club in both hands.
Sefris stood still as her opponents spread out to encircle her. Then, suddenly, she bellowed a battle cry, pivoted, and leaped into the air, kicking at Presmer. Startled, he recoiled, as she'd intended. She touched down, whirled, and Sewer Rat and Orvaega were lunging at her. That, too, was as she desired. She'd turned her back and feinted at Presmer to lure them in. Control what your adversaries did, and when, and you were well on the way to defeating them.
Twisting at the hips, she performed a double-arm block that bounced the war club harmlessly away. She then punched the startled Orvaega in the snout, breaking bone and knocking the orc unconscious, and shoved her into Sewer Rat, which served to knock the runtish meazel backward, spoiling its frenzied attack. Floundering out from under the dead weight of its comrade, the black-eyed creature snarled and spat.
Sefris would have rushed Sewer Rat while the meazel was still off balance and encumbered, except that she knew enough time had passed for Presmer to have returned to the fray. She turned, and he swung his cape at her face, seeking to blind her. And stun her, too, perhaps, it the garment had weights sewn into the hem. She dropped into a squat, letting the cloak fly harmlessly over her head, and she simultaneously hooked his ankle with her foot. Presmer crashed down on his back.
Sefris sensed Sewer Rat pouncing. She turned, grabbed the meazel-immobilizing its raking claws in the process-spun it through the air, and smashed it down on top of Presmer. The impact snapped bones and stunned the both of them, and Sefris's only remaining problem was resisting the impulse to go ahead and make the kills. A long, slow breath served to buttress her self-control. She inclined her head to Kesk.
"There," she said.
He gave a grudging nod. If he had any concern for the welfare of the followers she'd just mauled, she could see no sign of it in his demeanor.
"I guess you probably do belong to the Dark Moon," the tanarukk said. "It still doesn't prove you have a king's ransom in jewels to barter."
"I'll produce them when the time comes. If I don't, simply sell the book to the person who first asked you to steal it."
"The fact of the matter is, he's promised more than coin."
"Do you trust him to keep his pledges," Sefris replied, "once he has the book in hand?"
Kesk spat. The gesture left a strand of saliva, which he didn't bother to wipe away, dangling beside the base of one tusk.
He said, "I don't trust anybody much."
"Rest assured, if it's a guarantee of future help you want, or even a genuine alliance, no one can offer more than the followers of Shar. We often make common cause with others who stand against the witless laws of men."
"I'll think about it," said Kesk. "Tell me how to get in touch with you."
"I'd hoped to stay with you for the time being."
The Red Axe snorted and said, "I still don't know what to make of you, human. Until I do, I don't want you running around my house."
"But you may need me. We may need to work together to take possession of the book."
"I doubt it."
"I take it you're going to try two approaches," Sefris said. "The first will be to hope Aeron's father knows the location of the strongbox and torture the secret out of him."
"Do your worst," the old man rasped. "It won't matter. I don't know where the cursed thing is."
Sefris ignored him to stay focused on Kesk.
"The problem," she continued, "is that, as we can see from all those scars, somebody got to him before you and mangled him severely. He's fragile now, and elderly to boot. If you question him in some crude fashion, his heart is likely to stop. But a child of the Dark Moon understands the human body as a healer understands it. It's part of our secret lore. I can cause a prisoner excruciating pain without doing serious harm."
Kesk shrugged and said, "That could come in handy, I suppose."
"I can make myself just as useful if you need to trade the old man for the book. Because it may not go smoothly. Aeron may decide he'd rather be rich than regain his father. He may try to trick you. Or you may decide to deal falsely with him."
"The wretch broke our deal. I'm no longer obliged to keep any promises I give him."
"I agree, and the point is, I can help you catch him. I have my skills, and he won't know we're working together until it's too late."
The tanarukk, scowling, said, "You're not as special as you think you are, woman. We Red Axes have managed to run Oeble for years now without any help from the likes of you."
"But you haven't managed to catch Aeron sar Randal. He's still running around free with the strongbox, laughing at you."
Kesk glared and trembled. His hands clenched on the haft of his axe. For a second, Sefris wondered if she'd pushed too hard, and would have to defend herself against him and all his henchmen, too. She called the words of a spell to mind.
Then, however, he brought himself under control.
"All right, you can stay for the time being." He waved his hand at Aeron's father and added, "Let me see this light touch of yours."
Sefris smiled without having to feign satisfaction, because she'd accomplished her objective, and her new situation, dangerous though it was, afforded her several advantages. As long as she was working with the Red Axes, she wouldn't have to worry about their somehow laying hands on the book ahead of her. A gang of cutthroats could manage a prisoner more easily than could a lone monastic, and since Oeble was their city, they ought to have less trouble making contact with Aeron. When the time came, it would be challenging to snatch the prize and vanish from their midst, but she was confident of her ability to do so.