Deadly Games ee-3

by Lindsay Buroker

  The men ran into the stadium and disappearedfrom view, but Amaranthe barely noticed. That woman’s voice… Itwas familiar. Something from her childhood.

  She squinted at the old lady, and it took amoment to place her. She was the mother of a friend of herfather’s, and Amaranthe had stayed at her flat once as a girl whenAuntie Memela had been sick.

  The woman had stopped yelling after the youngmen, but she continued to stand there, leaning on her cane andgrousing under her breath. Though Amaranthe was curious what theexchange had been about, she found herself hesitant to go up to thewoman. She had avoided everyone from her old life since becoming anoutlaw, in part to keep them out of trouble, but also because shedid not want their pity or condemnation. Once she found herexoneration, she could reconnect with old comrades.

  But this was different. This might be somesort of lead.

  Amaranthe girded herself and strode up to thewoman. “Hello, ma’am?” She decided not to mention her name. Whatwere the odds that the woman would remember her? “Do you need anyhelp? Did those boys do something to you?”

  The woman tilted her head and squinted up atAmaranthe, peering beneath the hat. “Amaranthe Lokdon?”

  “Er, you remember me?”

  “I remember you.” Her face was difficult toread. No hint of a smile stretched her lips. “I see you rememberme, too.”

  “Yes, but you look the same.”

  “That’s good. I think,” the woman said.

  “Wasn’t I only seven or eight the last timewe met?”

  “Yes, but I’ve recently seen your facedecorating a poster.”

  “Ah.” Amaranthe tugged her hat a littlelower, reminded of the public nature of the place.

  “I imagine your father would behorrified.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I imagine so.”

  “He wanted so much for you, sacrificedso much.”

  “I know, ma’am. I’m trying to…make amendsnow.”

  “By loitering around the stadium grounds inthe middle of the day? Are you betting on the events orsomething?”

  “No, I-” Amaranthe cleared her throat. Shewould be here all day-or until someone caught her-if she stoodaround, explaining her every action. “I was wondering about thoseminers. Don’t they have work?”

  “Indeed so. They’re not outlaws.”

  “Then why aren’t they at work?” Amarantheasked, pushing the dig aside.

  “Some scheme of Raydevk’s. I haven’t thefaintest notion of what, but they’ve been down here all week. Mygrandson is racing. That’s why I’m here. There’s no reasonfor young, able-bodied souls not to be laboring during theworkday.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ah, is that the Foreman Raydevkmy father knew?”

  “No, his son. Elder Raydevk passed on lastyear, Black Lung, same as your da.”

  “I’d like to talk to Raydevk,” Amaranthesaid. It was a long shot, that off-work miners roaming around withjournals had anything to do with the kidnappings, but she had nobetter leads. “He has a place in the city, doesn’t he?”

  “Not one he’d like me to direct some outlawto, I’m sure. You thieving these days, too? He’s got a wife and twosons, and he scarcely makes enough to keep them fed. He doesn’tneed any more trouble than what he’s already schemed up.”

  “No thieving, ma’am. If it matters, I waswrongfully accused, and I’m trying to clear my name. But now thatyou bring it up, I think I’ve been to Raydevk’s flat. Doesn’t helive down by the railway tracks?” She was guessing, but most of thelow-income housing was down there, near the Veterans’ Quarter. “Inthat building on…” She wriggled her fingers, as if searching forthe information in her head.

  “Nelview?” the old woman said.

  Amaranthe snapped her fingers. “Yes, that’sit. It’s right by that eating house, isn’t it? The…”

  The woman snorted. “I’d hardly call TheBrewed Puppy an eating house. If you don’t stick to drinks, you’relike to get sick in there.”

  “That’s true enough,” Amaranthe said,conjuring a map of that part of the city in her head. “AndRaydevk’s flat is on the second floor, right?”

  The woman opened her mouth, but snapped itshut again and gave Amaranthe a shrewd look.

  “Never mind,” Amaranthe said. “I’ll find it.Thank you for your time.”

  She hustled away, hoping she could escapebefore the woman shouted any parting messages, but her wordsfollowed Amaranthe anyway.

  “You’d better not thieve from him, girl. Yourfather’s spirit must be twisted in knots, knowing what came ofyou.”

  A pair of athletes walking past from theother direction gave Amaranthe quizzical looks. At least theyweren’t enforcers.

  “Crazy old grandmother,” Amaranthe told themwith a chuckle and hustled toward the stadium.

  She wanted to find the miners and see if theymight give her more information on this “scheme,” but a knot ofpeople blocked the entrance to the stadium. A bare-chested manhopped onto a bench, his oiled muscles gleaming, a wooden megaphoneheld to his lips.

  “Sicarius, we know you’re out there!” heshouted.

  Amaranthe tripped and almost fell over.

  “I, Erton Garthcrest, challenge you,” the manwent on. “If you’re half the man the rumors say, come and prove it.Enter the wrestling and see if you’re my match!” He finished bythumping his fist against his muscled chest, which was so puffedout that he looked like he could tip over backward and fall off thebench at any moment.

  The bystanders cheered at the short speech.Amaranthe wanted to go around and into the stadium, but the cheerswent on. “More,” someone hollered, “Bring out Sicarius,” and thatstarted a chant of, “Sicarius, Sicarius.” This drew more people tothe scene.

  The entire episode had an orchestrated feelto it, and Amaranthe thought about creeping closer to see if shecould identify the ringleader in the crowd, but several enforcerstrotted out of the stadium and headed for the group.

  Amaranthe eased off the path. With theenforcers extra alert to trouble, this wasn’t the time for her toroam about inside.

  She headed for the shrubs where she had lastseen Sicarius, but did not find him. She continued on toward thegreenbelt, figuring he would have gone that way. They had beenfollowing the railways from the boneyard to the grounds the lastcouple of days.

  Before she had taken more than three stepsinto the trees, Sicarius’s voice came from behind the brush.

  “You found trouble,” he said.

  “I had nothing to do with those peoplecalling your name,” Amaranthe said. “It seems you’re a popularfellow around these parts.”

  “Too popular.”

  “Yes, it’s suspicious. Think someone istrying to get you to make an appearance?”

  “Unknown.” He gazed toward the stadium,though foliage hid the crowd from view. Perhaps at the enforcers’behest, the shouts of “Sicarius” had stopped.

  Amaranthe summarized her conversation withthe woman for him. “I want to find this Raydevk’s flat, but let’scheck in on Books and Akstyr first. It’s hard to imagine Turgonianminers coming up with a scheme that involves magic, but I’d like abetter idea about what we’re dealing with, just in case. Unless youwant to go off and start training for the wrestling event?” sheasked, since his gaze was still toward the stadium. “Did thatfellow with the megaphone tempt you?”

  Sicarius looked at her as if he suspected herof having received a brain-damaging head wound. “It would befoolish for me to go anywhere near the stadium once the ImperialGames begin, certainly not into the arena.”

  He turned his back on the grounds and led herdeeper into the woods. They passed a human-sized statue of anarachnid that must have once had a head, for it was hewn off withthe granite stump now fuzzed with moss. Another victim of MadEmperor Motash’s mandate to decapitate all statues from the oldreligions.

  “True,” Amaranthe said, “but some men haveegos that demand they prove themselves whenever challenged.”

  “That is why they are dead, and I amnot.�
�

  “I guess that explains your longevity.” Shegrinned. “I knew it wasn’t a matter of your amiable, warm-heartednature endearing you to people.”

  That comment received no look at all, and hesaid nothing during the trip back to the boneyard. With that muchsilence surrounding Amaranthe, her mind was left to its own musing,and, not for the first time, she wondered why Sicarius’s name keptcoming up here-and why someone would risk impersonating him. Shealso wondered what had happened to Fasha to keep her from meetingAmaranthe.

  “Questions,” she muttered to herself.“Nothing but questions.”

  “What are you doing? I thought you were goingon two more runs before taking a break. You’re timing is still offon those swinging axes.”

  Basilard flopped onto his back, hot sweatstreaming down his cheeks. Maldynado stood over him, fists proppedon his hips. The Clank Race whirred and hissed behind him. Most ofthe other athletes had left, though a young man was timing himselfon sprints up the nets.

  You’re a worse taskmaster thanSicarius, Basilard signed.

  “That’s because you don’t seem motivated. Youhave to win to have dinner with the emperor. I thought thatmattered to you. You want to talk to him on behalf of your peopleand slaves in the city, don’t you?”

  Basilard sighed and rolled to his knees. Ifhe attacked Sicarius, he would not live long enough to winanything. Unless he succeeded. And if he did, Amaranthe would kickhim out of the group, and he’d have no one to translate his wishesto the emperor anyway.

  “Why don’t you get some water?” Maldynadosaid. “Then we’ll do another round.”

  Basilard stumbled to his feet with thighsrubbery from the previous twenty runs. We?

  “We,” Maldynado said. “We’re a team. You runthe Clank Race, and I stand over here with the pocket watch andcheer you on. I think it works well. I’m…” His eyes shifted towatch something over Basilard’s shoulder. He frowned.

  Basilard turned around to follow Maldynado’sgaze, but did not recognize the man approaching. He wore simple,but tailored clothing and a wide-brimmed beaver hat. Walking with acane made his gait uneven, but it slowed him little, and heappeared hale. Folded spectacles hung from his shirt collar, apencil protruded from the band of his hat, and he carried a pad ofpaper under his arm. He strode directly toward Maldynado andBasilard.

  “What do you want, Deret?” Maldynadogrowled.

  Basilard wondered if he should know thisperson.

  “I’m working on a story.” The man gaveBasilard a curious look before focusing his attention on Maldynado.“Interviewing athletes. Trying to figure out what’s going on aroundhere with the missing people.”

  Ah, this had to be the journalist Amaranthehad gone to see the night before. Mancrest.

  “You could apologize for trying to kill myboss when I promised her you’d take her out to dinner and show hera nice evening,” Maldynado said.

  “You neglected to mention she was a notoriousoutlaw,” Mancrest said.

  “Seems you figured it out on your own. I’mlucky you don’t turn me in.”

  “For two hundred and fifty ranmyas? Whybother?”

  Maldynado’s fingers curled into a fist.

  Basilard waved to get his attention.Perhaps we should not irritate this man since there areenforcers around and he knows who we are.

  Maldynado sniffed. “I’m not going to irritatehim. I’m not going to talk to him at all.” He turned his back onMancrest and pointed at a couple of young men resting in the shadeof the Clank Race’s massive furnace and boiler. “Those two looklike your most promising competition, Bas.”

  Basilard kept an eye on Mancrest. IfMaldynado’s dismissal bothered him, he did not show it.

  “I have information for your…what is she toyou exactly?” Mancrest said. “A former lover? I can’t imagine youtrying to arrange a courtship for someone you were currentlyinvolved with, but it’s also impossible for me to imagine yougetting out of bed to exercise before dawn at the behest of a womanyou have no feelings for. It is equally impossible for me toimagine you living in close quarters with a woman and not sleepingwith her, or attempting to sleep with her.”

  During this spiel, Maldynado had slowlyturned to face Mancrest again, and he eyed the other man withsuspicion. “Bas, was there an implied insult to the boss in there,or is he just insulting me?”

  I…think the latter, Basilardsigned.

  “All right.” Maldynado’s shoulders lowered,and he unclenched his fists. “That’s nothing unexpected then. Whatdo you want me to tell her, Mancrest?”

  “What is she to you?” Mancrest asked.

  “My employer.”

  “You’ve never gotten up early for an employerbefore.” Mancrest eyed Maldynado up and down. “You look like you’rein the best shape of your life.”

  Maldynado brightened swifter than the nightsky presented with a lightning flash. “I am! Look!” He dug hisshirt out of his trousers to display the lean ridges of hisabdomen.

  Basilard rolled his eyes. There aren’t anywomen around to impress.

  He caught a similar eye roll from Mancrest.Maybe the fellow wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Maldynado…” Mancrest sighed.

  “Look, she’s my boss and a friend, allright?” Maldynado lowered his shirt. “And…” He prodded the dustyclay earth with his boot. “She’s twenty-six.”

  Huh? What did Amaranthe’s age have to do withanything?

  At first, Mancrest appeared as perplexed, butthen his lips formed an, “Oh.”

  “Tia’s age,” Maldynado said. “And realadventurous and quick to smile. She’s a good girl, and she doesn’tdeserve that bounty, and she probably only has it because Sicariusis in the group. She thinks he’s useful, and I guess he is, butnobody’s going to pardon us as long as he’s around.”

  Basilard studied Maldynado’s face, wonderingif he might have another ally to turn against Sicarius. Surely ifthe whole group wanted him gone…

  “Yes,” Mancrest said. “I wondered about that.If you’re not sleeping with her, is he?”

  “Listen, Deret. This isn’t one of thosesmutty Aleeta Dourcrest novels your mother has lying all over thehouse. We’re a professional team of mercenaries. Elite even.Nobody’s sleeping with anybody.” He hesitated and whispered toBasilard. “They’re not, right?”

  I don’t think so.

  A hint of relief lightened Mancrest’s face,and Basilard thought the man’s interest in Amaranthe curious,especially given that he had tried to turn her over to thearmy.

  “Didn’t my mother catch you reading one ofthose novels when you were over to play in the pond with me and mybrother?” Mancrest asked.

  “No.”

  Mancrest folded his arms over his chest.

  “Well, fine, maybe. I wanted to know whatwomen like, and some of that information has proved useful to meover the years.”

  Ask what he wants to tell Amaranthe,Basilard signed, hoping to keep Maldynado from wandering offtrack.

  “Right,” Maldynado said. “Just tell us whatyou want. We have training to do.”

  “You’re not entering an event, are you? Whilenobody is going out of the way to turn you in for that measlybounty, I’m sure if you were right here in front of everybody onrace day, even the enforcers could bestir themselves to walk theten meters to the finish line to lock you up.”

  “I’m not racing.” Maldynado pointed atBasilard. “He is.”

  “Oh?” Mancrest asked. “No bounty on yourhead?”

  Basilard ran his fingers over the scarredflesh of his scalp. The sweat had dried, leaving his skin dusty andwarm beneath the sun. No.

  “Surprising. You look…” Mancrest shrugged,perhaps thinking better of offering what could only have been aninsult.

  “Thugly?” Maldynado suggested.

  Basilard frowned at him.

  Maldynado slung an arm over his shoulder.“Basilard’s a good fellow. Only fights when he hasn’t got a choice.And besides, who would waste money putting out a bounty for aforei
gner?”

  Basilard removed Maldynado’s arm.

  “I understand Amaranthe is researching thekidnappings here, too. I want to exchange notes with her,” Mancrestsaid.

  “Does that mean you believe what reallyhappened when the emperor was kidnapped?” Maldynado asked.

  “It means…sometimes present deeds count formore than past actions.”

  Basilard shook his head wistfully, wishingthat were true. Neither man caught his movement. He missed being amore viable part of conversations. He missed…mattering.

  “Anyway,” Mancrest said, “I’m interested inwhat she knows about the missing people. Tell her I’d like to meether at-”

  “You don’t get to pick any more meetingplaces,” Maldynado said.

  “Fine, what do you propose?”

  “I’ll tell her you’ll be at Pyramid Park twohours before midnight.”

  “That sounds like a good place to get yourhead thumped in and have your purse stolen,” Mancrest said.

  “Not with Sicarius around.”

  Mancrest snorted. “He’s just as likely tothump my head in as a pack of gang kids.”

  “Quit whining. You’re warrior caste, not somedefenseless kitten.” Maldynado pointed a finger at Mancrest’s nose.“And if there are enforcers lying in wait, we’ll know not to trustyou. And you better believe Sicarius will do more than thump onyou, too.”

  “Any chance you can tell him he’s notinvited?” Mancrest asked.

  “I’ll pass on your message, that’s it.”Maldynado shooed the other man away. “We’ve got training todo.”

  As soon as Mancrest left, Maldynado asked,“Think we can trust him?”

  Doubtful, Basilard signed.

  “Think that’ll keep Amaranthe from meeting upwith him again?”

  Doubtful, Basilard signed again, thistime with a wry twist to his lips.

  Maldynado sighed. “That’s what Ithought.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Before they entered the boneyard, Sicariusstopped Amaranthe with a hand on her arm. He pointed at plumes ofblack smoke wafting into the sky ahead of them. Overgrownblackberry bushes and the rusted carcasses of locomotives hid thesource.