Amaranthe looked at Sicarius. Given how important this was to him, she half-expected him to take charge of the mission and start issuing orders.
“Understood,” was all he said. The others nodded as well.
The way they were all listening intently, trusting her to know what she was talking about, made her nervous. Too late to doubt yourself now, girl, she thought.
“Everyone, get your masks out. We’ll put them on here and get used to breathing through them. Be careful inside. If anyone punches you in the face or otherwise knocks your mask askew, you’ll be on the floor, snoring with the soldiers.”
Hands delved into rucksacks to withdraw the gear.
“We’ll take everyone down as quickly as possible,” Amaranthe went on, “but I’m sure the soldiers in the other cars will figure out something is going on as soon as the smoke fills the air in the emperor’s car. We’ll lock, and if possible jam, the doors as soon as we’re inside. That should delay reinforcements.”
Maldynado lifted a finger. “What if the doors are locked right now, and we can’t get in?”
Amaranthe dipped a finger into an ammo pouch on her utility belt and slid a small velvet bag out from amongst the crossbow quarrels. She upturned it, dumping two keys onto her palm, and handed one to Sicarius. “I had Books research the Navigator class train, including a visit to the smith who keyed the locks for this one.”
“See, that’s why we let you lead,” Maldynado said. “Women think of things like that. If it were up to us men to plan these missions, we’d end up having to hack our way in with axes.”
Amaranthe decided not to mention that Sicarius had first pointed out the locked-door possibility. She tugged her mask over her head and adjusted the straps. She slung her crossbow over her back, checked her short sword and knife, then untied the last item she would need from the outside of her rucksack, the kerosene-powered cutting torch. “Once everyone is tied or otherwise unable to give chase, and Sicarius has grabbed the emperor, find me. If there are soldiers trying to get in from both ends of the car, we may have to cut our way out through the roof.”
Sicarius eyed the tool for a moment, and Amaranthe thought he might object to something, but he nodded and said, “Ready.”
They piled the gear they weren’t taking into a corner where they could grab it on the way back to the locomotive, and it was time to go.
Akstyr had lain on his back in the dark for a long time. At some point, his wounds had stopped bleeding, though the leg and shoulder throbbed, competing with each other for attention. He’d tried to heal himself a few times, but he was struggling to concentrate through the pain. He thought about climbing out of the engine room and trying to find bandages, but it sounded like an excruciating trek. It was silly at his age-he was within spitting distance of eighteen, after all-but he wished he had someone there to take care of him. These were the times when he missed having a mother who cared.
Tears stung his eyes. He told himself it was from the pain, and not because he was feeling sorry for himself.
Besides, he would have someone to take care of him if he hadn’t messed everything up. Books would have helped him, but now that he knew about Akstyr’s stupid plan with the bounty hunter, Akstyr was lucky Books hadn’t pushed him back out the hatchway.
Akstyr couldn’t believe he had, even for a second, thought his mother might have changed. He wondered how much money she’d been offered to share the information on his whereabouts. What kind of person told bounty hunters where to find her own child?
“Maybe the same kind of person who would do it to comrades who’ve saved his life,” Akstyr muttered. He rubbed his face. In thinking of betraying Sicarius, he’d been no different than his mother. Did he really want to be someone who’d use people for protection and personal gain, then betray them? Maldynado and Basilard and the others were the closest thing to friends he’d ever had. His dead ancestors knew they were the first people he’d ever known who wouldn’t betray him for five ranmyas and a mug of cider. Even after learning about the deal Akstyr had tried to work with that bounty hunter, Books hadn’t kicked him off the dirigible.
Akstyr rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. Waves of pain radiated from his injured limbs, but he clawed his way up the ladder anyway. He found Books in the navigation cabin and plopped down in the co-pilot’s chair. He couldn’t tell if the ship had moved. The snow had stopped, but it was still dark outside with craggy snow-covered mountains looming all about.
“Does Am’ranthe know?” Akstyr asked.
Books gave him a scathing look.
“That’s a no?” Akstyr asked.
“Oh, she knows. We found out at the same time. She wanted to give you another chance. More than that, she wanted to find a way to raise the money to send you to school on the Kyatt Islands so you’d no longer feel compelled to betray us for funds.”
“She did?” Akstyr tried to swallow, but a full feeling in his throat made it hard. Tears pricked his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if they were from pain or frustration or distress. Why was Amaranthe trying to do stuff like that anyway? It didn’t make any sense.
“Yes. And, no, I can’t fathom why she cares. Maybe she’s decided to make you a special project. Women do that.” Books reached into a box on the floor, pulled out a jar of ointment and a bandage, and threw them at Akstyr. Yes, threw was the right word. Akstyr would have had another bruise if he hadn’t caught the jar. “Wash your wounds before you bandage them,” Books said.
It wasn’t exactly like having someone to take care of him, but Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to feel indignant just then. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you going to tell her?”
“About these gang thugs that are after you?” Books asked. “Yes, she’ll need to know. When people attack you in the middle of one of our missions, it affects the whole group.”
“I meant about my mother. It’s not like the meeting with Khaalid. I didn’t mean to tell her anything about the group. I was just…”
“Negligent?” Books suggested.
Again, Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to bristle with indignation.
“Possibly a forgivable sin,” Books said, “but if you have even the tiniest speck of wisdom floating around in that young head of yours, you’ll apologize to Amaranthe for mucking up her plans. And, if I were you, I’d make sure I didn’t get caught alone with Sicarius any time soon.”
Akstyr gulped. “Does he know too?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I haven’t told him you’re targeting him with your schemes, and I don’t think Amaranthe has either. I suppose we all believe that Sicarius can take care of himself.” Books returned his focus to the control panel and shifted a lever an inch. “That said, he’s not a dumb man, and you’re not a subtle man, so you’d best assume he knows more than you think he does.”
“You think he’d kill me over…?”
“I don’t think he believes in special projects.”
“But Am’ranthe… he kind of listens to her,” Akstyr said. “Right?”
“I don’t know what their agreement is, but he’s his own man, and he seems to pay attention to her only insofar as it furthers… I don’t know what his reason is for being here, but I’m positive he has one. Some agenda against Forge perhaps. He’s shown that he’s perfectly capable of doing something of which Amaranthe would wholeheartedly disapprove.” Books gave Akstyr another dark look. “She never would have agreed to the mass assassination of dozens of businessmen and women in the capital.”
“All right,” Akstyr said. “I’ll heed your warning.”
Books muttered something that sounded like, “Doubt it.” Before Akstyr could respond, he raised his voice and pointed out the window. “See that precipice?”
“Barely. It’s dark.”
“Yes, that happens at night. I need you to bandage yourself up, then go down there and stand on it. It overlooks the railway about a mile away from the now-blocked pass. I’m going to hover below you in this canyon, so the dirig
ible won’t be visible from the tracks. You watch for the train. When it comes and it looks like the team is ready for us, signal to me, so I can come out and pick them up.”
“That’s kind of an important job,” Akstyr said. “I’m surprised you trust me to do it after… everything.”
“We abandoned the tattooed pilot, so you’re the only candidate. Hurry up, now. They could be coming along any time.”
Without objection, Akstyr went off to wash his leg and wrap the dog bite. For reasons he didn’t quite grasp, Books was giving him a second chance. Maybe Amaranthe would too. Sicarius… He’d hope to avoid Sicarius for the near future.
Akstyr was barely able to hobble on the leg hurt, but he did it without collapsing. If all he had to do was sit on a ledge and watch a canyon, he could manage. He had a feeling he should be on good behavior for a while.
He limped to the hatchway of the navigation cabin. “I’m going.”
Books waved at him without looking back.
Akstyr hesitated. “Books?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to be like my mother.”
Akstyr left before Books could say anything pedantic or sappy. He wanted someone in the group to know. That was all.
Chapter 14
The roofs of the passenger cars extended over the balconies, meaning that less than three feet of open air lay between them, but making that long step when the train was rattling along at full speed wasn’t so easy. Especially when everyone was carrying weapons and had to be careful not to make any noise that might be heard inside. Amaranthe let the men go first and, when they crossed the gap from coal car to passenger car without incident, steeled herself and followed.
A side wind gusted as she stepped across, upsetting her balance. She managed to recover without flailing overly much, though she grimaced, expecting a wisecrack from Maldynado. Nobody spoke. They simply nodded their readiness.
Sicarius took the lead. He used a light, sweeping step so there would be no footfalls to hear below. Amaranthe and the others emulated him. Slowly and carefully, they eased from roof to roof.
Here and there, windows were open, and laughter spilled out. Occasionally the scent of some officer’s pipe smoke escaped as well. Good. That meant the soldiers were still relaxed. Just men passing the time on the tail end of a weeks-long journey. Maybe they’d be busy playing Tiles or nodding off to sleep, and no one would be paying attention to what was going on in the fourth car.
When the team reached that fourth car, Amaranthe’s heart rate jumped into double time. Maybe triple time.
Easy, she told herself. We’ve done dozens of crazy missions, some far more dangerous than this. In trying to convince herself, she thought of the makarovi they’d fought at that secret dam. That had been pure insanity. Here they’d only be dealing with human beings.
Somehow those thoughts failed to help. Maybe because the stakes were different. The potential for reward was higher-Sespian could remove their bounties and turn them into trusted allies of the empire with a wave of a pen-and the price of failure was greater too. Before they’d been risking their lives, but now they were risking the emperor’s as well. If everything fell apart, and bullets starting flying, what if Sespian were hit? Amaranthe couldn’t imagine how Sicarius would react if he survived and Sespian didn’t.
“Ready?” Maldynado asked.
Sicarius and Basilard had crossed the gap and reached the end of the emperor’s car. Basilard lifted a questioning hand, waiting. Amaranthe gave him a wave.
“Ready,” she said.
She knelt and poked her head over the lip of the roof. Unfortunately, the doors had windows in them, meaning anyone inside could glance out and see her and Maldynado dropping onto the balcony. Fortunately, the lanterns burning in the third car had been turned down for the night, and the soldiers she could see were in their seats, facing away from the back door. She and Maldynado ought to be able to swing down to the balcony without being spotted, at least from that direction.
Lights burned more brightly in the emperor’s car. Instead of rows of identical seats running from end to end, it had the feel of a clubhouse for the wealthy, with sofas, gaming tables, and even a kitchen area. She glimpsed the back of Sespian’s head. His short, light brown hair wasn’t distinctive, but he and the woman were the only people not in military uniforms.
One of the emperor’s hulking bodyguards strode toward the door’s barred window, his broad form blocking the view. Amaranthe yanked her head out of sight. Her mask caught on a rough corner, and she almost lost it.
“Problem?” Maldynado asked.
“Yes, but I’m hoping it’ll move in a moment.” Amaranthe looked toward the other end of the car. Sicarius and Basilard had already disappeared over the edge of the roof. “Or we could go in anyway,” she muttered.
No choice. Everyone had to go in together, whether a soldier was staring out the window or not.
Amaranthe took a deep breath to steady herself, then placed the door key between her teeth, turned sideways, and dropped between the roofs. She thrust her legs sideways and swung onto the balcony, landing in a crouch.
The bodyguard was still at the door.
Before Amaranthe could think of using the key, the door swung inward. The big guard filled the entry, and he was already whipping out a pistol.
Amaranthe grabbed her canisters of smoke and knockout gas, yanked the tabs, and threw the spewing devices between the guard’s legs. Before she’d finished, Maldynado swung down from the roof, both of his heels slamming into the guard’s chest. His momentum carried them both inside.
Amaranthe lunged through the door after them. She shut it behind her, sparing a glance for the other car. The soldiers over there weren’t charging toward her yet, but she knew they’d notice the trouble before long. Smoke already filled the air, and shouts echoed from the walls. Steel clanged against steel in the back-Sicarius and Basilard were in.
She found the lock on the latch and threw it, then looked around for something to further bar the door.
A piece of furniture flew out of the smoke toward her. Amaranthe dropped so low her butt bumped the floor. Wood slammed into the wall beside the door. It bounced off and landed in front of her. A chair. That would do. She snatched it and braced it under the knob.
When she turned, intending to help Maldynado, a man in black grabbed her by the throat. Before she had time to react, he jammed her against the wall, her legs dangling inches above the floor. His fingers tightened, bringing a burst of pain and cutting off her air. She grasped for his hands, trying to pry off a finger, so she could yank it backward and hurt him enough that he’d let go.
Those fingers were like wrought-iron bars. She couldn’t budge them. Hard unyielding eyes stared into her own, and the soldier’s grip only tightened.
Fear surged through Amaranthe’s limbs, and she had to force herself to think calmly, not to flail uselessly. She kicked out, trying to find his groin. The bottom of her mask and his thick arms blocked her view. She connected with flesh, but his grip didn’t lessen, and no pain bloomed across his face, so she must have hit his thigh.
The pressure on her neck tightened further, and heat rushed to her head. Her lungs urged her to find air, one way or another. Amaranthe tried another kick. It was less effective on the big man than the first. Black dots swam through her vision.
He drew back one of his arms to punch her or maybe to thrust a knife into her belly. She couldn’t dodge, not when he had her pinned by the neck, but she still had her arms free. She timed the blow and threw all the power she could into a block. The inside of her forearm struck his hand, deflecting the attack just enough. A knife sank into the door an inch from her ribcage.
The blade caught in the wall, and pulling it out distracted the soldier for a heartbeat. The grip on Amaranthe’s neck lessened a hair.
She used the door against her back to brace herself as she tucked her legs up to her chest, her knees bumping the undersides of his arms. She kick
ed out, this time with both legs, aiming higher than before. Her heels slammed into his solar plexus.
The blow would have felled a lesser man, but the big guard only grunted and stumbled back a half a step. It was enough. He lost his grip on Amaranthe’s neck.
Before he could recover, she grabbed one of his meaty hands in both of hers. She twisted it and pressed her thumbs into the backside, forcing it against the wrist joint. It worked for a second-he went down on one knee and his face contorted-but he yanked his arm back, pulling Amaranthe with it. She lost her grip and almost tumbled into him. She stopped by bracing herself against a table flipped onto its side. By now, the entire car was a jumble of overturned furniture.
Amaranthe skittered backward and yanked her crossbow off her back. The soldier’s glare seared her like flames, but he didn’t rise from his one-knee crouch. Surprised he didn’t lunge at her, she aimed the bow between his eyes.
“Stay,” she said.
Beyond the soldier, the shouts and clashes of steel had grown less frenzied. The knockout gas, Amaranthe realized. It was working. Good. All they had to do was-
Fierce bangs sounded behind her, and she jumped. On the other side of the door, armed soldiers crowded the balcony. More men waited on the balcony of the car behind them.
One soldier smashed the butt of his rifle against the door’s window. Amaranthe expected the glass to shatter into pieces, but the thick material held, at least under this first assault.
Amaranthe spun, thinking to find Maldynado and get his smoke grenade. The less those soldiers outside could see the better.
She almost tripped over her first attacker-he’d collapsed onto the carpet. A step past him, Maldynado knelt over a prone soldier, seemingly having the upper hand, but he was gripping a chair for support. His mask hung askew, leaving his nose exposed to the air.
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