Though evening had come, the sun still shone,offering few shadows to cloak the alley. The idea of heading alongthe broad waterfront street and over the wide canal bridge madeAmaranthe uneasy. This was part of her old patrol route, and anyenforcers she ran into here would recognize her.
“It’s not going to be a trap,” Maldynadosaid. “I know this fellow. We used to fence together back before hetook a spear in the hip at Amentar. He earned a medal of valorbecause he was leading the attack to save some border town andrisked his life to save a bunch of children. He’s a good, nobleman.”
“Good, noble people are the types who feelobligated to turn in outlaws,” Amaranthe said, drawing an approvingnod from Sicarius.
“He’ll expect you to come in through thefront,” Sicarius said. “I’ll see if there’s another entrance.”
He went down the alley instead of walking outthe front, presumably choosing a route that would keep him out ofsight.
“He’ll probably find us a third-story windowto crawl through,” Maldynado muttered. “Look, I’ve had brandy withDeret twice since I became an outlaw. He hasn’t turned me in yet.And he doesn’t look down on me because I’m disowned. He’sone of the few who don’t.”
“I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,” Amaranthesaid. “We’re just being cautious.”
While they waited for Sicarius to return, thetraffic leaving the front of the building dwindled. A pair ofenforcers strode along the timeworn cobblestone street lining thecanal, and Amaranthe eased deeper into the alley. An ordinarypatrol, she told herself. Nothing that suggested they wereconveniently around to play a role in a trap being sprung.
She nibbled on a finger, wondering if she wasletting Sicarius’s paranoia get to her.
“This way.” Sicarius appeared at hershoulder.
Maldynado was the one to jump. “Alwayssneaking up on people,” he muttered under his breath.
Without a word, Sicarius led them through thealley and around the building to a ladder leading down to a ledgealong the canal. Keelboats and cargo rafts floated up and down thewaterway, but nobody paid attention to Amaranthe’s team. The pilotswere too busy navigating past houseboats, skiffs, and each other towatch the foot traffic.
Sicarius stopped at the base of one of thecity’s newer steel bridges and gripped one of the support beams.Legs dangling, he swung from handhold to handhold, like a monkeyskimming through the treetops.
Amaranthe and Maldynado exchanged incredulouslooks.
“Is he joking?” Maldynado asked. “Why can’twe walk across the bridge?”
“Training?” Amaranthe guessed.
Sicarius, midway across, paused and peeredback over his shoulder. “The top of the bridge is visible fromThe Gazette’s upper windows.”
“So?” Maldynado said.
“It would be unwise to let them see uscoming.” Sicarius returned to the climb, apparently considering thediscussion over.
“Does he truly believe someone is sitting ata window, watching the bridge for your arrival?” Maldynado asked.“I didn’t tell Deret you were that cute.”
“Thanks,” Amaranthe said dryly.
Sicarius had already reached the other side.Glad she had rejected Maldynado’s suggestion that she wear a dressfor the night, Amaranthe hopped and caught the girder. A couple ofkeelboats were coming; she had best not delay.
The smooth, cool steel did not make the mostideal handhold, but she navigated it without trouble. Sicarius’sfrequent obstacle-course runs had given her experience with awkwardmoves that relied on upper body strength, and she could perform asmany pull-ups as the men. As many as Books and Akstyr anyway.
She landed with a grunt on the other side,and Maldynado soon plopped down behind her. Sicarius jogged a fewmeters and stopped above a storm-water-runoff grate on the canalwall beneath the ledge. Thanks to the recent dry weather, nothingflowed out of it. When he crouched to wait for the river traffic todwindle, Amaranthe groaned.
“We’re not going in there, are we?”
Sicarius dropped to his belly, fiddled with alock, and opened the grate. He rolled off the ledge, twisting toland on his feet inside a tunnel that led inland from thecanal.
“I think you’re right,” Maldynado said. “He’sdoing this because he can’t pass up a chance to torment, er, trainus.”
“Come,” Sicarius said, his voice soundinghollow in the concrete passage.
Amaranthe was starting to get the feeling hehad a reason for this circuitous route, so she slithered off theledge and into the tunnel without answering Maldynado. Aftersighing dramatically, he followed her. Sicarius closed the gratebehind them and jogged into the darkness.
“I forgot to bring a torch,” Maldynado said.“I wasn’t aware you’d preface your date with a spelunkingexpedition.”
Amaranthe headed up the tunnel at a slowerpace, keeping one hand on the cool cement wall for guidance. Thoughdry, the surface sported frequent lumps of indeterminate fuzzy orsquishy-or fuzzy and squishy-growth. She wiped her handoften, wishing she had a glove.
Fortunately, their subterranean trek did notlast long. Light appeared ahead-Sicarius lifting an access cover.He slithered out before Amaranthe could ask where they would comeup. Trusting him to guard the top, she jumped, caught the lip, andpulled herself out.
Sicarius crouched in the shadow of a steamlorry stamped with the newspaper’s name. The travertine of the oldGazette building rose behind it. They were on the back siderather than the front, and no windows gazed out upon the alley.Closed loading bay doors loomed nearby, but nobody was shippingpapers out this time of day.
Maldynado clambered out of the tunnel, andSicarius closed the manhole cover.
“We did all that just so we could go inthrough the loading bay?” Maldynado asked.
“No.” Sicarius pointed at a vent under theeaves of the four-story building. Before they could debate withhim, he grabbed a ceramic drainpipe and started climbing.
Amaranthe shook her head in bemusement. “Andyou thought he’d settle for a window.”
Maldynado groaned. “You did tell himthis isn’t one of our morning training sessions, right?”
Amaranthe headed for the drainpipe, wonderingif she should put her foot down and say this was too ridiculous andthat they would go in through the loading bay. Then something hardpoked into the bottom of her shoe. She lifted her foot to check fora chunk of gravel. It wasn’t a rock that had prodded her though; ashiny metal rifle ball rested in the groove between twocobblestones. A dark, fine powder sprinkled the ground. She swipedher finger through it and sniffed. Black powder.
“You’re right.” She picked up the rifle ball.“I don’t think this is a training session.”
Within city limits, firearms were forbiddento all except the military. Though it was true that gang membersand criminals risked enforcer ire to carry pistols now and then, itwas rare to see evidence of their use.
“Attic entry it is,” she said, grabbing thepipe.
Maldynado issued another dramatic sigh.Sicarius had already unfastened the vent and disappeared inside.Amaranthe clambered up, amused that what would have once seemed animpossible climb did not cause her to break a sweat. She did haveto perform an acrobatic lunge to launch herself from the pipe tothe vent opening, but she had mastered the art of not looking downsome time ago. She shimmied through and landed on a dusty, woodfloor littered with owl pellets and rat droppings. Grimacing, sheremoved a kerchief from a pocket and wiped her hands.
Sicarius waited inside, close enough that hecould have helped if she had needed it. He never presumed she wouldthough. She liked that he trusted her to take care of herself, butit would have been considerate if he’d kept her from stepping inthe dubious pile of… Was that bat guano?
Thanks to Maldynado’s broad shoulders, he hadmore trouble squeezing through the vent opening. He grunted andpushed and cursed Sicarius’s ancestors and finally plopped onto thefloor.
Sicarius took the lead again, padding througha dusty maze that sprawled before them. Boxes and bun
dles ofyellowed newspapers rose to the ceiling, creating twisting aislesthat often ended without notice. Most of the clutter in the atticwas what one might expect, though a stuffed grimbal head satinexplicably under one window.
Sicarius’s route led them to a trapdoor. Hepressed his ear to the wood, then lifted it. After peering about,he dropped out of sight. Amaranthe waited for his signal, thenfollowed him through.
As soon as she landed, she heard voicescoming from below, but she could not make out words yet. Nolanterns burned, but enough evening light angled through thewindows to illuminate the area. They were on a broad balcony filledwith book-laden shelves. The floor vibrated from printing pressesat work somewhere below.
When Maldynado joined them, Sicarius headedtoward the balcony railing. Before he reached it, he waved for themto drop to their bellies. On elbows and knees, Amaranthe crawled tothe edge.
Two stories below, in a vast workspace opento the ceiling, rows of desks stretched from wall to wall. Only onewas occupied. A man with dark, wavy hair sat before a stack ofpapers, head bowed, pencil scrawling, while a second fellow pacedaround him. The first wore civilian clothes, a cream-colored shirtand forest green vest, and he seemed to be doing his best to ignorethe mutterings of the other. The second man had the same hair,though shorter, and wore black army fatigues, complete with a swordand pistol hanging from his belt.
Amaranthe squinted but could not make out therank pins on the man’s lapel.
“A lieutenant,” Sicarius whispered, and shewondered when he had come to know her so well that he could guessat the thoughts behind her squints.
Maldynado wriggled up beside them. He pointedat the man at the desk and whispered, “That’s Deret.”
“Trap?” Amaranthe flicked a finger at theofficer.
“Maybe not,” Maldynado said. “I think that’sFerel Mancrest, one of Deret’s brothers. There’s an older one, too,but I think he’s a captain. Ferel’s probably in town for theImperial Games and visiting his little brother.”
“So he stopped to load a weapon in thealley?” Amaranthe whispered.
“Hm.”
Down below, the officer leaned his hands ontothe desk. “You said six, didn’t you?”
“That’s what Maldynado said.” Deret keptworking without looking up.
“That disowned drunken gigolo,” the officergrowled. “You’ll be lucky if he gives her the right directions tofind this place.”
Maldynado’s eyebrows rose. “Drunken?”he mouthed.
“Just don’t shoot me with your grandioseplan,” Deret said. “The army has already damaged me enough.” Heflicked a hand at a cane leaning against his desk.
“Don’t be bitter because my C.O. didn’tconsult you. You let me know about her. You did your part.”
“Wonderful.”
“You don’t need to be here. We’ll-” Theofficer broke off and faced the balcony.
Amaranthe tensed, prepared to back away fromthe railing, but his eyes focused on something on his own floor. Asoldier jogged into view, a rifle in hand. He saluted and clickedhis heels together as he came to attention.
“Sir, Corporal Dansek checking in, sir. Nochange in status. The target has not been spotted yet. The menremain ready.”
“Very well. Dismissed.”
“The men?” Amaranthe whispered,turning an incredulous eye on Maldynado. “This is atrap.”
Sicarius leveled a dark stare at him aswell.
Maldynado’s eyes widened. “I didn’tknow.”
Amaranthe scooted back, gesturing for theothers to follow her. They retraced their route in, not stoppinguntil they reached the back alley again. Maldynado muttered tohimself all the way out.
“I can’t believe he’d betray my trust likethat,” he said.
Sicarius took a few steps toward the alleyentrance, but Amaranthe caught his arm.
“Wait,” she said. “Let’s talk aboutthis.”
“You’re not going in,” he said, more an orderthan a question.
“Going in, no. That wouldn’t be too smart ifthere’s a squad of soldiers waiting to capture me.”
“Then what is there to discuss?”
“This man could still be the ally we want himto be. It’ll just take more work than we thought to sway him to ourside.” Amaranthe smiled.
“Dear ancestors,” Maldynado said. “Youalready have a new scheme in mind.”
“Nothing big. Maldynado, I need you to do alittle shopping, then you can meet the others at the stadium andlet them know we’ll be late. Sicarius and I will be arranging akidnapping.”
Maldynado scratched his head. “A kidnappingthat requires…shopping?”
“One must be prepared.” Amaranthe smiledagain.
CHAPTER 3
“What are all these slagging enforcers doinghere?” Akstyr slouched against a tree and glowered at the groundswhere athletes mingled, roaming from the barracks to the baths andto various eating and shopping tents.
Books stood beside the tree as well, thoughhe was scribbling something in a notebook and paying littleattention to the scene before them. As far as Basilard could tell,serious training had ended for the day, but the evening was youngenough that few of the athletes were heading for the barracks. Moreenforcers than one would expect patrolled the grounds.
“We’re not going to be able to investigate acigar butt without getting spotted,” Akstyr went on.
In the fading light, Basilard exaggerated hissigns so Books and Akstyr could read them. We’re only supposedto see if magic is being used. We don’t need to get close or talkto anyone.
“Cursed enforcers will bug me just because ofmy brand.” Akstyr lifted a fist to display the arrow mark scoredinto the skin on the back of his hand. That seemed less likely toget him harassed than the greased ridge of spiky hair bisecting hishead and the baggy mismatched clothing any enforcer would assume hestole-probably correctly.
“Then keep your hands in your pockets,” Bookssaid.
Where should we start? Basilardasked.
“I believe I’ll observe from here,” Bookssaid. “You two lads are young enough to pass as athletes, but withmy gray hairs, nobody will believe I’m in the competition.”
Basilard lifted his eyebrows, amused at beingcalled a lad. He was close to thirty-five and had a bald spot itwould take a beaver pelt to cover. All the scars made the hair onthe sides grow in patchy, so he simply kept his whole headshaven.
“That and the fact you can’t walk more thanten steps without tripping over something,” Akstyr said.
“I’m not that clumsy.” Books tuckedhis notebook into a pocket.
A gaggle of young women Akstyr’s age walkedpast, their sleeveless togs displaying enough flesh to stir one’simagination. Akstyr straightened and touched his hair, as if toensure it was still suitably spiky.
Basilard signed a comment for Books, I’msurprised your empire lets girls compete. Larocka and Arbitan didnot have women fight.
“They’re permitted to enter the runningevents and the Clank Race,” Books said. “Not wrestling or boxing.Women have never been allowed to fight in the empire. As to therest, the historical precedent is interesting. In the old days,warrior caste men would come to the Imperial Games to hunt forbrides. The women who won the events were presumed to be mostlikely to birth sons who would become superior warriors. Theoriginal awards ceremony involved interested men coming out tocompete for the winners. Bloodshed was often involved. Sometimesdeath. I understand there are some warrior-caste men who still comewith the intent of shopping for brides, but the women are lesslikely to be interested these days. They want to start shops orwide-ranging businesses, using the status and honor they gain fromtheir victories to assist in their endeavors. We live in afascinating time, I must say.”
“Look at the chest on that one.” Akstyrpointed at a woman trotting to catch up with comrades. “I’d watchher run a race anytime.”
“Fascinating for some of us anyway,” Booksmuttered. “Akstyr, why don’t you go look for magic. That’s
whywe’re here, right?”
Akstyr shrugged and ambled off.
Basilard had wanted to talk to the youngerman alone and saw his chance. I’ll go, too, and see if all theseenforcers are here about the missing people or Sicarius.Amaranthe had briefed Basilard, Books, and Akstyr on the morning’sevents.
He jogged to catch up with Akstyr, and theytook the path that meandered around the grounds. A nervous flutterteased his gut, and he did not start a conversation immediately. Ifhe guessed incorrectly, and Akstyr tattled on him, he would be adead man.
They avoided the crowded areas as theywalked. Basilard could not tell if Akstyr was checking for signs ofmagic use or simply ogling female athletes. They veered into theshadows to avoid a pair of enforcers marching in theirdirection.
“They’ll all over the place,” Akstyr saidwhen the men had passed, “and as annoying as flies on dung.”
Perhaps it’s because Sicarius wassupposedly spotted this morning, Basilard signed, seeing achance to bring up the topic he wanted to discuss.
“I guess,” Akstyr said. Unless one wastalking about the mental sciences, he was a hard man to draw into aconversation.
Basilard tried again. I wonder why thatman impersonated Sicarius. Especially when it only got himkilled.
“Because he was stupid,” Akstyr said.
Someone paid him perhaps.
“Not enough.”
Yes, even if the enforcers did not kill him,Sicarius himself might have…for having the audacity toimpersonate him.
“Probably.”
Basilard gritted his teeth. With theconversation going nowhere, he decided to drop it, but then Akstyrgave him a lead-in.
“I hate him sometimes.”
Sicarius?
They stepped into the shadows behind a foodtent to avoid more enforcers.
“Sometimes he kind of seems all right,”Akstyr said. “Like he stood up for me once when we went to see myold boss, but I think that was on account of Am’ranthe and notbecause he cares if I live or die.”
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