Deadly Games ee-3

by Lindsay Buroker

  Amaranthe stepped closer so she blocked thewoman’s view of Akstyr. Behind her back, she flicked a finger tosend him to snoop. “I thought it might save us both some money if Icame directly to the source. No need for you to transport and stockyour inventory when I can-”

  “Shop’s on Third and Canal,” the womanrepeated.

  “I see. You’re the half of the ownership teamthat isn’t in charge of dealing with customers.”

  “Correct,” the woman said without thefaintest hint of an eyebrow to suggest she took reproach atAmaranthe’s dry tone.

  Akstyr had moved away from the group, but hehad scarcely begun to search. Time for another tactic. Maldynadowas leaning against a post nearby, an amused smile on his lips. Shejerked her chin toward the woman.

  Maldynado gave her a small bow and strolledforward. He crouched down so the woman could see past the clipboardto his face.

  “Ms. Setjareth,” Maldynado drawled. “I’llwager you’ve got the prettiest smile this side of Wharf Street. Whydon’t you give me a demonstration so I can more properlyjudge?”

  “If I tried a line like that, I’d get stabbedin the eye with a pen,” Books muttered.

  “Ssh,” Amaranthe whispered. “Let the masterwork.”

  “Master?” Books said. “Please.”

  “There are less than ten females this side ofWharf Street,” Setjareth growled. “Not much of a competition.”

  Amaranthe grinned. Though it wasn’t exactlyan instant melting, the woman didn’t order Maldynado to go away orleave her alone, so it was promising. There was no talk of stabbingeyeballs with pens either.

  “Ah, but some of your stevedores might haveattractive smiles,” Maldynado said.

  Setjareth snorted.

  “Also my own employer stands a mere five feetaway.” Maldynado waved at Amaranthe. “Do you understand the risk Itake to my livelihood by suggesting your smile might be prettierthan hers?”

  Setjareth’s snort was mellower this time witha slight upward curl of her lips. Amaranthe eased a few stepsbackward to let Maldynado ooze his charms in private. She shouldhave started with that.

  “What are you doing?” Setjareth shouted.

  The bellow startled Amaranthe, and at firstshe thought Maldynado had offended the woman, but that wasn’t it.Setjareth was pointing into a corner of the warehouse where Akstyrstood, a trapdoor in the floor lifted.

  He offered a blank look in response to thequestion.

  “Don’t worry about him.” Maldynado slung anarm over Setjareth’s shoulder and attempted to turn her about.“He’s a dull lad. Got run over by a steam carriage as a boy andhasn’t been strong in the head since. Harmless though. If-”

  Setjareth shoved Maldynado’s arm from hershoulders and stalked toward Akstyr. “What’re you doing pokingaround my warehouse?”

  Akstyr looked at Amaranthe. “Uhm.”

  “Are you spying on our inventory?” Setjarethasked, voice rising. “Are you reporting to Lady Devirk orBucktooth?”

  Several of the stevedores who had been ontheir way out the door to pick up more cargo stopped and turnedaround. Chests out, arms flexed and wide at their sides, themuscled men strode toward their boss.

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Amaranthegrabbed Akstyr’s arm and tugged him away from the trapdoor. Shecaught a glimpse of a ladder and water less than a foot below.There was no way a boat could have waited down there. “I see you’renot interested in easy sales, and that’s your loss. We’ll leavenow.”

  “Not until you answer some questions.”Setjareth snapped her fingers, and the stevedores loomedcloser.

  Amaranthe’s instinct was to flee rather thanrisking injury to these people or her team, but Akstyr gave her aminute nod. He was onto something. Besides, it would be nice ifBooks realized he was capable of more than he gave himself creditfor. She counted the men. Eight of them against her four. Thanks totheir work, the stevedores were large and brawny, but they had thecultivated swagger of street bravos rather than the cool,competence of soldiers, and she doubted there were manydistinguished veterans among the bunch.

  “You wish us to stay?” Amaranthe asked. “Verywell.” She gave her men a single nod.

  Books blanched, but he did not object.Maldynado grinned. Akstyr gave his “whatever” shrug.

  “Wants me to grab ‘em, boss?” One of thestevedores stretched a meaty hand toward Amaranthe.

  She caught it by the wrist, twisted it over,and smashed the palm of her free hand into the back of the man’slocked elbow. He blurted a surprised yelp. She forced him to theground with a kick to the inside of his knee, and something poppedin his arm.

  “My shoulder!” he bellowed.

  Amaranthe yanked the knife at his belt freeand spun on a second man advancing upon her.

  A few feet away, Maldynado had already thrownhimself into three others and gone down with them in a tangle.Despite the chaos of flailing arms and scissor-kicking legs, he wason top, seemingly in control. Akstyr, his dagger out, was tradingopening swipes with another man. Books had a blade in hand as well,though he crouched in a defensive stance, waiting for an opponentto advance on him, rather than jumping into the fray.

  The man nearest Amaranthe lunged for her. Hehad chosen fists over blades, and he grabbed at her arm with hisright hand while drawing his left arm back for a blow. She blockedthe grasp, ducked the punch, and slammed the heel of her hand intohis solar plexus, twisting her hips to throw her entire body intothe move.

  His hard sheath of muscle provided some armorfor his torso, but she hit her spot. He hunched over, clutching hischest. His mouth gaped open, but his stunned muscles denied himair.

  Eyes huge with concern, he did not seeAmaranthe’s knee coming. She rammed it into his groin. His nosescraped his knees as his hunch turned into a collapse. The big manhit the ground and rolled into a protective ball next to the firststevedore Amaranthe had dropped.

  That fellow lay on his back, eyes watering,his hand clutching a dislocated shoulder. He glowered at her andseemed to be considering whether to hurl himself back into thefight.

  “I wouldn’t,” Amaranthe said. “I know how todislocate other body parts as well.”

  He eyed his comrade who was still hunched onthe floor, grabbing at his groin and moaning. “I don’t doubt it,”the stevedore muttered.

  Amaranthe checked on her men. Maldynado stoodnext to three bodies stacked on each other like Strat Tiles. He hadone foot atop the pile, as if to keep them pinned down, but none somuch as twitched in an escape attempt.

  Nearby, blood trickled out of Akstyr’s nose,but he had dropped one man and was boxing with another. Akstyrdodged a swift series of punches, but barely. Though layers ofblubber sheathed the towering stevedore’s broad torso, he movedwith the speed and precision of someone who had been the recipientof training at one time.

  “Need help?” Amaranthe asked.

  The big man glanced in her direction.

  Akstyr’s eyes narrowed in concentration. Heclenched a fist and flung it open again when his opponent turnedback.

  Flesh never touched flesh, but the manstaggered back, arms wide, face stunned. With flexibility that hadgreatly improved over the last few months of training, Akstyrlaunched a straight kick that smashed the stevedore beneath thechin. The big man toppled backward, felled like an oak.

  “That was good,” Akstyr told Amaranthe.

  She did not know if he referred to thetimeliness of her brief distraction or his ability to employ themental sciences during a fight. The latter probably. He wasn’t thesort to praise anyone.

  “Yes,” Amaranthe said, agreeing eitherway.

  “Look out.” Akstyr pointed over hershoulder.

  She ducked and slid to the side, avoiding astevedore’s attempt at a grasp. A knife glinted in his hand.

  Books stalked after the man. Surprisingintensity burned in his eyes, and Amaranthe danced further awayfrom the confrontation, figuring this was the middle of somethingbetween the two men.

  “You think you can grab
her and use heragainst us?” Books growled as the stevedore spun back to face him.“I don’t think so.”

  The man limped backward, hands raised, andAmaranthe wondered what Books had done to him.

  Movement to the side distracted her from therest of the fight. Ms. Setjareth had discarded her clipboard andwas scurrying toward the door, steps short and awkward thanks tothose sandals.

  Amaranthe ran over to cut her off. They didnot need the woman calling for reinforcements-many more stevedoresstill labored on the dock.

  Setjareth tried to evade Amaranthe buttripped, sprawling face first onto the hard floor. Amaranthegripped the woman by the triceps and hauled her upright.

  “One who has a personality that grates likeglass paper should probably choose footwear sufficient for fleeingfrom irritated people,” Amaranthe said.

  “You’re no business woman,” Setjarethgrowled.

  “Not true. I run a mercenary business.”

  “What do you want?” Setjareth tried to yankher arm away.

  Amaranthe did not let go. After skirmishingwith the brawny stevedores, restraining another woman was easy.“Tell the workers out there to take a ten-minute break, then closethe door.”

  The woman leaned outside and filled herlungs. Recognizing the nascent scream for what it was, Amaranthegripped the back of Setjareth’s neck and dug her thumb into one ofSicarius’s favorite pressure points. The would-be scream came outas a soft whimper.

  “Listen,” Amaranthe said. “Nobody’s planningto harm you or your business. We just need a few minutes to lookaround to make sure you’re not harboring fugitives.” She decidednot to point out that she was a fugitive herself.

  “What?” Genuine bewilderment blossomed onSetjareth’s face.

  “A couple of suspicious folks took refuge inyour warehouse last night.”

  With the sounds of fighting fading, Amaranthechecked on her men. They had routed the impromptu security team andwere forcing the stevedores to sit against the wall in a neat row.Akstyr had returned to peering into corners and prodding atcrates.

  “Maybe that’s why the lock was destroyed,”Setjareth muttered.

  “What?” Amaranthe asked.

  “When I came in this morning, the padlock onthe door was dangling open. It didn’t look like it’d been forced,and it still works.”

  Amaranthe removed her hand from Setjareth’sneck. Akstyr knew a few atypical methods of bypassing locks; maybethe red-headed woman was a practitioner herself.

  “First time this happened?” Amarantheasked.

  “Yes,” Setjareth said. “I spent two hoursrunning inventory this morning.” That might account for some of herdourness. “Nothing was missing, and I didn’t find anyoneinside.”

  “I’m sorry. Checking through all yourinventory must have made for a tedious morning.”

  “Ancestors know that’s true.”

  “And we must have fueled your suspicions,”Amaranthe said, thinking she might yet win the woman’s cooperationif she commiserated.

  “You’re mercenaries, you say?” Setjarethasked.

  Books, who had been supervising the disarmingand lining up of the men, looked in the women’s direction at thequestion. A grin played across his lips. Pleased with himself, washe? He had done well. No falling apart as he had done in thepast. Amaranthe smiled and nodded at him.

  “More or less,” she told Setjareth.

  “Do you have a card?”

  “A what?”

  “A business card. My partner and Ioccasionally have problems the enforcers are lax about solving.They’re professional and thorough when it comes to protectingcitizens, but much less enthusiastic when they’re tasked withprotecting a business’s interests.”

  As illogical as it was, Amaranthe stillbristled at slights toward enforcers, but she had to admit thatmembers of the predominantly male force did sometimes showresentment toward the growing power women in the city wielded.Maybe she should tailor her services to fill that gap. As themen-especially Akstyr-were quick to remind her, charity work donein the name of the emperor didn’t pay well. Especially when theemperor never learned of that work….

  Setjareth, waiting for an answer, lifted hereyebrows.

  “Sorry, no card,” Amaranthe said. “We find itprudent to move our base of operations often, but…” She retrievedthe woman’s clipboard, scribbled the name and address of one oftheir contacts on a page, and tore it off. “Either one of thesefellows usually knows how to contact us. Uhm, take some of yourstevedores-the big ones-if you go to that neighborhood. And don’tgo at night. Or without some alcohol to bribe your way out of…”Amaranthe leaned over and scribbled the name out. “Actually, justgo to that fellow. It’s usually safer. And if you get there beforenoon, he’s usually sober.”

  “You might want to think your contact chainthrough a little, dear,” Setjareth said.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Since the woman no longer seemed inclined toscream for help, Amaranthe joined Akstyr to see what he had found.He had returned to the trapdoor and was peering down the ladderagain.

  “Think they swam away?” she asked, though itseemed unlikely. Why go through the effort of breaking in when onecould simply dive off the end of the dock?

  “There’s a residue here.” Akstyr swiped afinger along the edge of the square hole.

  “Something physically visible?” Amaranthesquinted but saw nothing more interesting than algae sliming thetwo ladder rungs visible above the water’s surface.

  “No, just a sensation. Someone used the-” heglanced about and lowered his voice, “-mental sciences. Rememberwhen that Mangdorian shaman flew out of the lake with Books andthere was a glimmering globe wrapped around them?”

  “I was unconscious at the time, but Maldynadotold me the story, yes. You think this practitioner lady envelopedherself and Taloncrest in magic?” She almost choked at the idea ofa Turgonian army officer agreeing to such a mode of transportation,especially when the man had sneered at the idea of magic when he’dexplained his medical experiments in the Imperial Barracks dungeon.“If so, where did they go? For a flight? Or into the lake?”

  “I didn’t see anyone fly away in a glowysphere,” Akstyr said.

  “Glowing,” Books said.

  “What?”

  “Glowy isn’t a word.”

  “Books…” Maldynado groaned. “I was gettingready to compliment you on doing a decent job in that fight andbeing less of a pedantic know-it-all, but you’re ruining myenthusiasm for the idea.”

  “Impressive,” Books said.

  “What is?”

  “That you used the word pedantic.Correctly.”

  “You’re always going to be a stodgyprofessor, aren’t you?”

  Books’s eyes crinkled. “It does seemlikely.”

  Amaranthe held up a hand to silence them.“Akstyr, are you suggesting the perpetrators have ahideout…in the lake?”

  “I’m not wearing a diving suit again,” Bookssaid.

  Amaranthe watched Akstyr, hoping he wouldsuggest another explanation, but he merely shrugged.

  “Is it even possible to have a hideout on thebottom of the lake?” she asked Books.

  “If we were talking about something madeentirely with imperial technology, I’d say no, but with magic…”He spread his arms. “I have no idea.”

  “All right,” Amaranthe said. “This is allspeculation at this point. We need to find out if there’s anythingto it or not.”

  “So…we need diving suits?” Booksgrimaced.

  “Unless Akstyr knows how to make one of thosebubbles to steer us around the lake depths.”

  “Nope,” Akstyr said. “I’d sure like to learnfrom someone who could though.”

  “You’re not thinking of apprenticing yourselfto the enemy, are you?” Amaranthe teased, though it was not as muchof a joke as she pretended. She watched him carefully for areaction.

  “Naw,” he said. “Not unless… Do you thinkshe’d have me?”

  “She seems the type who would
prefer a manwho could grow a real mustache,” Maldynado said.

  “I can!” Akstyr probed his upper lip. “It’sgetting there.”

  Amaranthe nodded to Books. “I know you’re notexcited by the idea, but I think we’re going to need those divingsuits. Can you do some research and see where we might getsome?”

  Books sighed. “Why do I have the feelingnothing good is going to come of this?”

  “Because you lack optimism?” Amaranthesuggested.

  “That must be it.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Footsteps rang on the other side ofBasilard’s door. He leaped out of his cot. The hours he had spentsearching, pressing, pulling, and pounding his fists had notrevealed any weaknesses in his prison.

  The door opened, revealing the burly youngsoldier who had held a pistol on him earlier. An equally young andburly man accompanied him, though this one had a scraggily rat tailhanging down his back and wore no military clothing. Both pointedpistols at Basilard.

  “Move,” Rat Tail said.

  Basilard measured both men as he squeezedpast them. The tight doorway and corridor forced closeness, and hethought about trying for their weapons, but they watched himcarefully. And what if he did overpower them? He had no idea wherehe was or how to get back to the city. Hoping he would not regretit later, he decided to wait for a better opportunity toescape.

  The men pushed him through a corridor sonarrow his shoulders brushed the walls, and he had to duckfrequently for pipes that crossed overhead. He waited for aporthole that would provide a glimpse of their location, butnothing broke the monotony of the dark gray bulkheads. The glowingorbs provided the only lighting, and he had no idea if it was nightor day outside. Oddly, though engines pulsed somewhere in thestructure, he had no sense of forward movement nor the rise andfall of waves.

  Clanks, clacks, and a rhythmic sucking soundcame from ahead. The engine room? The corridor ended at a chamber,but a transparent barrier filled with glowing yellow tendrils thatwrithed about like snakes blocked the entrance. Basilard blinked,questioning his eyesight.

  “Stop,” one of the guards said beforeBasilard reached the entrance.