Blood and Betrayal

by Buroker, Lindsay

  “We’re paying a visit to the mainland,” Amaranthe told Basilard. “Do you want to come with us or stay here with Maldynado and the others? They’re going to look for secret entrances to underground tunnels.”

  Basilard ran a hand over his scarred scalp. After that fight and that swim, he looked like a man who wanted nothing more than a nap.

  “Or you could rest,” Amaranthe amended.

  Perhaps, Basilard signed, I could make a hot meal.

  “That’s an option too.” One that instantly appealed to Amaranthe after days on the road, relying upon Sicarius’s questionable culinary skills. At least they’d run out of those awful travel bars early on. “I imagine the log palace on the hill has a comprehensive kitchen.”

  Basilard brightened.

  “Ready to go, Sire?” Amaranthe asked.

  “Just the two of us?”

  “Not exactly.” Amaranthe looked toward the beach where Sicarius was tying up prisoners. “The enforcers are aware that he’s in the area, and this crash might not have gone unnoticed. I’m not at my fighting peak right now, and it may behoove you to have someone along who can protect you.” And maybe Sicarius and Sespian could have a chat while rowing across the lake.

  “If they’re looking for him, that sounds like a good reason not to bring him,” Sespian said.

  “I’m not positive he’d let me go off without him right now. Actually, I’m not positive he’d let you go off with only me to keep an eye on you.” That was saying more than she should, but, now that Forge knew about Sespian’s heritage, he’d learn why Sicarius cared one way or another soon anyway.

  “Do you realize that he gave me that black dagger of his, and that Forge was able to track me because of it?” Sespian asked. “I was personally attacked twice because of it. They are determined to make their newspaper article a reality.”

  Chagrin weighted down Amaranthe’s shoulders. If Sicarius had given Sespian his knife, he’d surely meant it as a gift, one that might prove useful. He’d be horrified, or as close to it as he came, to learn that it had endangered his son. “He didn’t know,” Amaranthe said. “He couldn’t have. How were they able to track you?”

  Sespian dug in a pocket, fished out a black egg-shaped device, and handed it to her. “I haven’t been able to ascertain how it works. Brynia knew how to use it to locate other pieces of that ancient technology.”

  Amaranthe turned the seamless tool over in her hands. “I met the woman who probably taught her how to use it. I wonder if it’s how they located the Behemoth in the first place.”

  “The what?”

  “Oh, I named their craft before I heard the real name.” Amaranthe returned the device. “At least, if we have it now, they can’t use it to track the knife anymore. You do still have that, don’t you?” A jolt of alarm ran through her at the thought of Sicarius’s faithful dagger lost forever on the bottom of the river hundreds of miles back.

  “It’s in one of the cabins.” Sespian waved dismissively toward the upper decks.

  Amaranthe felt stung on Sicarius’s behalf. He would probably be too practical to care, but it hurt her to think of Sicarius making a gift of his most valued belonging, only to have the recipient shun it.

  “It’s a handy blade,” Amaranthe said. “If you’re not going to use it, I’m sure he’d like it back.”

  “I’ll get it then.” It was only in Sespian’s eyes that he said “good riddance,” but the words hung in the air nonetheless. “I don’t know why you worry about him, Am—Corporal Lokdon. About what he thinks. If you knew half of what he’d done, you wouldn’t choose to spend time with him. He’s heartless and inhuman.”

  Amaranthe wanted to argue Sicarius’s merits, but she doubted Sespian was ready to hear them. Instead she opted for, “Nobody’s born inhuman. But some people… the world sculpts with a cruel hand. Perhaps they’re the ones who most need us to spend time with them.”

  Sespian’s shoulders sagged, and Amaranthe sensed that she’d made him feel guilty. It wasn’t exactly what she wished to do, but perhaps it was a start down the right path.

  Chapter 20

  The oars rose and dipped in an easy rhythm that belied the tension that had to be lurking behind the rower’s mask. Amaranthe tried, every time Sicarius met her eyes, to give him significant now-would-be-a-good-time-for-your-private-conversation looks. She, Sicarius, and Sespian were the only ones in the boat. The craggy forest-shrouded rocks of Marblecrest Island were falling behind, and the beaches near Markworth had yet to come into sight. Soft raindrops splashed onto the lake surface, muting sound. There wasn’t a soul around to overhear Sicarius if he chose to broach a certain subject with Sespian.

  At the moment, Sespian, sitting on the bench beside Amaranthe, was busy rummaging in his pack. Sicarius observed the movement, and, a couple of times, he opened his mouth. She leaned forward, waiting for his words. Sespian spoke first.

  “Here it is.” He pulled out the black dagger and extended it, hilt first, toward Sicarius.

  “You did not find it useful?” Sicarius asked.

  “It almost got me killed.”

  Sicarius didn’t let any surprise show on his face, and continued to row without a hitch in his stroke, but he did glance toward Amaranthe, and she sensed the question there.

  “Forge had a device that allowed them to track the ancient material,” she said.

  “Yes,” Sespian said, his tone cold. As the rowboat continued to glide across the lake, he detailed an incident in a park where numerous men had attacked the group and tried to kill him. He gave a terse list of everything else that had happened since Amaranthe had been taken from the team. It was probably a sign of questionable sanity, but she wished she’d been with them for the adventure. Then again, maybe it was perfectly sane; if she’d been with them, she wouldn’t have been with Pike.

  Sespian finished by looking Sicarius in the eye and saying, “I thought you might have set me up.”

  For the first time, the oars faltered. A long moment passed—Amaranthe imagined the shock and horror that lay beneath Sicarius’s expressionless facade. How else could he feel? After all he’d done to protect Sespian, what he’d intended to be a magnanimous act had almost gotten his son killed.

  “No,” Sicarius finally said. “Nobody ever tracked me through the blade.”

  “Well, I’d rather not take a chance that it’ll happen again.” Sespian leaned forward and, keeping a wary eye on Sicarius, set the dagger on the bench beside him.

  “I see.”

  That was the last thing Sicarius said. He returned to rowing. Faster than before. A couple of times, Sespian turned toward Amaranthe, as if he meant to start a conversation with her, but each time he glanced at Sicarius and ended up not saying anything.

  Amaranthe was mulling over ways to start a conversation of her own, one that might entice both men to speak, preferably to each other, when smoke on the shoreline caught her eye. Moving smoke.

  “Did you notice any steam vehicles in Markworth when we ran through on our… tour?” Amaranthe asked.

  “No.” Sicarius took a long look over his shoulder.

  “Think the enforcers called in backup?”

  Sicarius handed her his collapsible spyglass and adjusted his route, angling for a rocky beach with trees sheltering it. Too bad the rain had chased the fog away. Someone gazing out at the lake now could easily see their rowboat.

  With the spyglass to her eye, Amaranthe searched for the source of the smoke. Three black vehicles rolled along the waterfront road, winding in and out of the trees. Enforcer vehicles. After spotting Sicarius, the local headquarters must have called for backup. Or maybe this had something to do with the stolen steamboat.

  “This could be a problem,” Amaranthe said. “Sire, I don’t suppose you’d like to abandon your incognito ways and give a few orders to the lieutenant or captain in charge over there? Something like, ‘These aren’t the outlaws you’re looking for, so you can all go home now.’?”

&nbs
p; “I would,” Sespian said, “but the enforcers we’ve encountered lately have been under the impression that I’m an emperor-look-a-like leading a band of riverboat pirates.”

  Amaranthe lowered the spyglass. “You didn’t mention that when you were sharing the week’s events, Sire.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “There are numerous people around the research warehouse.” Sicarius had his head craned over his shoulder again. His tone held a hint of reproach, as if to say he’d given Amaranthe the spyglass so she could scan the shoreline, not chat with Sespian.

  Abashed, she lifted it again. “Enforcers. There’s a vehicle parked out front, and there’s our friend, Pabov, talking with them.”

  “Our friend?” Sicarius asked.

  “Ah, yes, he was more attached to me than you, I think.” Amaranthe lowered the spyglass again. “Maybe we should turn around and forget the underwater vehicle. We won’t be able to get it anyway, not with all those people around the warehouse.”

  “Too late.” Sespian pointed toward the research facility. The enforcers had stopped their conversation and were running out to the dock. “I think they’ve already seen us.”

  • • •

  Rain splattered on the brim of Maldynado’s hat with an enthusiasm that would have impressed a faucet. Or a waterfall. He and Akstyr strode down a sandy beach on the east side of the island, eyeing the hillside for cave entrances or anything that might indicate a secret passage. Maldynado had explored the beaches and forest thoroughly as a boy, so any such features would have to be new additions.

  “How long do we have to search?” Akstyr shook his head like a dog, flinging water out of his hair. The boy needed a decent hat.

  “Until we find something,” Maldynado said. “Or someone rings the dinner bell.” The rain had grown harder in the last few minutes, and he caught himself casting longing gazes at the log home. Yara and Basilard were already up there, searching for passages and preparing a meal. Maldynado had yet to escape the drizzle. He and Akstyr had stuffed the captured enforcers into the steamboat’s cramped brig, then headed out to circle the island. They’d left Books to guard the prisoners, though he’d shown more interest in salvaging his research materials from the soot-covered engine room.

  “There’s something.” Akstyr pointed to the beach ahead.

  An egret standing in the shallows flapped away at Maldynado and Akstyr’s approach. They stopped before a set of fresh tracks in the gray sand. This side of the island hadn’t seen any action during the steamboat fight—and crash—so the sand ought to have been undisturbed. Maldynado set his own foot next to one of the prints.

  “That’s either a woman or a child,” he said, though he already had an idea as to whom the tracks belonged.

  “Brynia?” Akstyr asked.

  “That’s my guess.”

  The sand made the prints easy to follow. They started at the waterline and led to a log where it looked like Brynia had sat down. Maldynado expected the tracks to head into the trees above the beach, but they veered back toward the water.

  Akstyr scratched his head. “She climbed out of the water, rested, and decided to take another swim?”

  “It seems that way.”

  “It’s a long swim back to the mainland. I would have hidden here until I could steal a boat, but woman are funny.”

  Maldynado grunted, but he was busy thinking that Brynia might not have had any intention of returning to the mainland. Maybe she was looking for something beneath Marblecrest Island, like the entrance to her colleagues’ secret underwater hideout.

  “Should we keep looking?” Akstyr pointed up the beach.

  “No, I don’t think we’re going to find anything on the island. We better hope that Amaranthe really does know somebody with an underwater vehicle and that she gets back soon.”

  • • •

  Shouts echoed through the trees and drifted across the lake. Amaranthe, Sespian, and Sicarius hunkered in a thicket, being stabbed and scraped from all sides by thorny vines, as they waited for a pair of enforcers to jog past. If the enthusiastic shouts were anything to go on, someone had found the recently abandoned rowboat.

  “We’ll be shot if we try to cross back to the island in anything but an underwater vehicle,” Amaranthe whispered.

  “They might not shoot us,” Sespian whispered back. “They might follow us to the island so they can shoot everybody.”

  “Everybody on our team anyway. They wouldn’t bother the Forge people. I doubt they’re doing anything that’s technically illegal at that meeting. In the law’s eyes, those people are stalwart citizens, while we’re… ”

  “Outlaws and steamboat pirates?” Sespian suggested.

  “So it seems.”

  “A plan, Lokdon,” Sicarius said, in a tone that implied that if she didn’t come up with one, he would. “We did not have time to hide our tracks well. They will find us.”

  Though the closest pair of enforcers had disappeared from sight, snapping foliage promised many more remained in the area.

  “I know where Pabov keeps the keys to the vehicle,” Amaranthe said. “If you can provide a diversion that lures the enforcers away from the warehouse… ”

  “Very well.” Sicarius parted the leaves.

  “No killing,” Sespian said.

  “And no lighting the entire town on fire,” Amaranthe said, remembering the incendiary nature of some of Sicarius’s past diversions.

  He paused, eyeing each of them in turn, and she could only guess at his thoughts. Maybe that his job would be twice as difficult now that he’d be nagged on two fronts.

  “Not even the pickle establishment?” Sicarius asked.

  Amaranthe blinked and almost asked him if that had been meant as “levity.” Sespian must not have seen it that way, for he scowled.

  “While the shopkeeper’s manner was almost deplorable enough to warrant such misfortune,” Amaranthe said, “I think she’s suffered enough, due to the decimation of her shelf system and inventory.”

  “I will seek alternatives,” Sicarius said, then, after checking for enforcers, slipped out of the brambles.

  Amaranthe planned to follow promptly, but a belligerent voice bellowed from the nearby shoreline.

  “I don’t care, just find him!”

  Branches broke and leaves shook as enforcers pounded through the woods to try and obey the order. Amaranthe sank lower into the thicket. Two new men ran past, this time heading in the opposite direction.

  “I wonder if that ‘him’ refers to me or the assassin,” Sespian murmured.

  “It’s usually Sicarius. The whole world wants him dead.”

  “Understandable,” Sespian said, then, as if anticipating a frown—or a lecture—from her, lifted an apologetic hand. “If it matters, I have a similar problem.”

  “You two share something in common then. Perhaps you should chat about it sometime.”

  Sespian snorted. At least she’d gotten the apologetic wave.

  When the uproar died down, Amaranthe whispered, “Let’s go.”

  They eased out of the brambles. She led the way before she realized she was leading the way. Was it presumptuous to take charge when one had an emperor in one’s party? Sespian said nothing, though, merely following in her wake as she eased past trees, around boulders, and between bushes. They had to stop several times to avoid searching enforcers, and Amaranthe worried Sicarius would put his diversion into action before she and Sespian reached the warehouse.

  Seconds after she had the thought, a boom echoed across the lake. A flurry of wing flaps came from a bush next to Amaranthe, and a flock of birds took to the sky.

  “What was that?” Sespian asked.

  “Our diversion, Sire.” Amaranthe tugged on his sleeve. “We need to hurry.”

  Two more booms and a crash sounded before Amaranthe and Sespian reached the warehouse. They stopped behind trees at the edge of the clearing. The air stank of scorched metal and burning wood. She had a feeling the enforce
rs would be walking back home. The wagon that had been parked in front of the warehouse was gone, and Amaranthe didn’t see anyone, not outside anyway. Good.

  “Do you want to wait here while I run in and get the keys?” Amaranthe whispered.

  “That seems… cowardly,” Sespian said.

  “Not if I get captured and you charge in and rescue me.”

  Sespian considered her for a moment. “Do you truly deem that a possibility, or are you trying to protect me by keeping me out of trouble?”

  “Yes,” Amaranthe said with a smile.

  She made a gesture for Sespian to remain behind the trees and jogged toward the warehouse. She doubted anyone would see her approaching through the dirt-crusted windows, but she stayed low anyway, hugging the building’s shadow.

  When she reached the front entrance, before her fingers could brush the latch, the door opened. An enforcer on his way out almost tripped over her. A crossbow dangled by his side, but he paused to look at her face, probably not expecting an outlaw to be wearing a hat birthed in the pastel section of a yarn basket. Amaranthe, on the other hand, did not hesitate.

  She launched the heel of her palm toward the man’s nose. He reacted, pulling his head back, but not quickly enough. Her strike caught him under the chin, which proved equally effective. As he stumbled back, Amaranthe kneed him in the groin and tore the crossbow from his startled grip. She shoved him into the building, using his body as a shield in case more armed men waited within.

  Only one other person stood inside though. Pabov. He’d yanked a knife out as soon as the enforcer stumbled backward. Amaranthe pointed the crossbow in his direction to discourage him from using it. She pushed the enforcer, who’d bent over, one hand to his groin, toward Pabov, so she could target either man.

  Pabov opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gaped past Amaranthe’s shoulder. Hoping it was Sespian and not a squad of enforcers, she stepped aside so she could check without turning away from the men.

  Sespian stood on the threshold. He gave her… hm, she hoped that was an appreciative smile, not an adoring one, and said, “Nicely done. You’re a very capable woman, Am—, Ms. Lokdon.”