Amaranthe know where we are? Sicariusasked.
Not when I saw her last, Basilardsaid, but perhaps by now. It’d be best to assume we must escapeon our own.
A few heartbeats passed without a word or asign from Sicarius. He seemed to be considering Basilard. His darkeyes appeared black in this lighting, and Basilard felt them boringinto his soul. Was he suspicious of something? Did he thinkBasilard had cut a deal with the women that would leave himstranded?
Yes, was all Sicarius signed.
You know how many guards watch thisroom? Basilard rushed to sign, wanting Sicarius’s mind onescape, not anything else.
“Yes,” Sicarius said and signed, Fourguards…split twelve-hour shifts. These soldiers worked forHollowcrest…now rogues. “A cook who used to give me balmsafter childhood punishments told me my father was an army officerand my mother a university professor.” Sicarius’s brow crinkled, asif he was surprising himself with how much he was revealing, and heglanced at the glowing orb controlling his drug dosages. Manypractitioners here…only sisters and one male…transportsurface.
Basilard signed, If we can capture one,perhaps we can force the other to-
“So,” Litya said, “you don’t know yourparents’ names?”
“No,” Sicarius said.
“But they could still be alive?”
He hesitated, and Basilard wondered if he hadever considered the possibility. Any child without parents wouldspeculate about that, wouldn’t he? Maybe he didn’t care about suchthings. Most of the time, he did not seem human.
“I was told not, but I suppose it’spossible,” Sicarius said.
“Hm.” Litya stopped at his side and laid ahand on the hard ridges of muscle armoring his abdomen. “I’ve notseen you in action, but based on your reputation and what I seehere…” Her hand roamed, and Basilard looked away. “I’d definitelybe interested in researching your heritage further,” she said. “Wehave extensive resources and could help you if you were sointerested.”
Sicarius said nothing.
“Your Commander of the Armies Hollowcrestdisappeared last winter, did he not?” Litya asked. “He’s rumored tobe dead, but there’s speculation that this may be untrue since thecurrent emperor has not appointed a successor to what must be avital position for you militant Turgonians.”
She tilted her head, watching Sicarius.Basilard wondered if she found his unreadability as frustrating asmost. She showed no sign of it. Too busy being intrigued by him, hesupposed.
“If it’s possible the man is still alive andincognito,” Litya went on, “I’d be curious to speak with him,perhaps compare notes….”
“He’s dead,” Sicarius said.
“You’re certain?”
“I killed him.”
“Ah.”
“It’s possible he left notes,” Sicarius said,surprising Basilard. Sicarius never volunteered anything,especially not to people on the other side. He must be angling forsomething.
“Oh?” Litya asked. “And you’d know where theywere?”
“In his hidden office in the ImperialBarracks.”
“I suppose you know where this office is andcould retrieve such notes if properly motivated?”
“Even if I said yes, you would be foolish tobelieve I could be trusted to do so for you,” Sicarius said.
Basilard frowned at Sicarius, wondering athis tactics. He ought to either stay silent-which suited his normalproclivities-or play along and try to get the woman to let himgo.
“Thank you for the warning,” Litya said.
“You let him off that table, and he’ll killyou,” came Taloncrest’s voice over the sucking and clanking ofequipment. “He’s killed people for daring to do a lot less thancapture him. Also, Hollowcrest hated the mental sciences, so you’dfind little that interests you in his notes. Anything he did was ofnatural means.”
“Much can be done with nature,” Litya said,though more to herself than in response to Taloncrest.
“Hollowcrest used to keep notes on mytraining,” Sicarius said. “He researched widely before I was bornand applied techniques from many cultures, current and past.” Hetilted his head slightly. “If you intend to turn your fetuses intowarriors, blood will only get you so far.”
So, Sicarius had reached the same assumptionabout what these people were doing down here. Litya did not correcthis assumption.
“Indeed,” she said.
“Litya,” Taloncrest said, “I told you yourfunds and assistance would win you my long-term advice ontraining.”
“You’re a doctor, not a legendary assassin,”she said.
“I am-I was-an officer in the Turgonian Army.I’ve been training to fight since before he was born.”
Litya snorted. “Perhaps I should let him goand you two could spar for dominance.”
Yes, that would be good. Maybe they would bekind enough to release Basilard as well.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taloncrest said.
“You are right,” Litya told Sicarius. “Itwould be foolish of me to release you. Unless there is a price atwhich your assistance-and your word that you will offer itfaithfully-can be purchased.”
Sicarius neither offered his usual blunt “no”nor proposed a deal. He ought to promise the woman to help if shewould simply unlock him first….
Instead he remained silent.Almost…thoughtful. What could this woman have that he might want?But then, what did Amaranthe have that Sicarius wanted?Basilard reluctantly admitted that he knew the man very little,despite the six months they had worked together. If it was onlysome whim that kept him with the group, might not another comealong that interested him more?
“There is a price,” Litya guessed fromSicarius’s silence.
Sicarius’s expression never changed, but hiseyes shifted to focus on one of the tanks.
What? Did he want a child? One born in somecrazy scientist’s laboratory? If so, why? Though Sicariushad the personality of a particularly bland, pointy stick, itseemed he could find a woman to bear a child for him if he wishedit. Though maybe he did not want some random woman’s blood for achild. Not if he could get some specially selected female“ specimen” to help breed a babe who could be his equal-or perhapsmore-one day. Basilard grimaced at the idea of Sicarius as afather, training some child with the same heartless techniques thathad been employed on him.
It was hard to imagine Sicarius evenwanting a child, but he met the woman’s eyes and jerked hischin for her to approach.
Litya hesitated but leaned closer, her chestbrushing his. She tilted her head so he could whisper in herear.
The guards had stood mute through theexchange, but they tensed at this closeness.
Basilard signed, Bite her!
Nobody was watching.
Sicarius said something Basilard could nothear, and the woman leaned back.
“Interesting,” she said. “I’ll considerit.”
She snapped her fingers and the guardsclicked their heels, coming to attention.
“Fully secure the other man,” Litya said. “Wedon’t need him talking with his fingers any more, and I want to getsamples.”
The guards tromped toward Basilard. He lethis hand drop, as if in defeat, but his fingers touched the edge ofthe knife pressed behind him.
While Litya gazed speculatively at Sicarius,Metya eased past the guards and brushed her fingers across an orbnext to the head of Basilard’s table. It had been dark and dormant,but it flared to life under her touch. She considered him for amoment, judging his weight for a dosage probably. Nothing about hergaze suggested he would get a chest caress or any dealoffers.
She was close and this might be his lastchance.
A guard reached for his wrist. Basilardballed his hand into a fist and jabbed it into the man’s nose.
With half of his body secured, he did not getmuch power behind it, but his hand speed gave the blow forceenough. The guard stumbled back, grasping at his nose.
The other man raised his pistol. Knife inhand now, Basilard lean
ed out and slashed the blade at the guard’swrist. Though swift, the blatant attack sent the man leaping backin time to avoid it. That was all Basilard needed.
Before Metya could likewise scurry away, hegrabbed her arm. He spun her as he pulled her against his chest touse her body as a shield, and he pressed the knife against herthroat.
The guards froze, one on either side ofBasilard’s station. They raised their pistols, aiming for his head.The one with the blood streaming from his nose gritted his teeth,finger tense on the pistol. He wanted to fire. Badly.
Basilard should have been terrified, but hehad been in life-or-death situations too many times to fall apartwhen faced by one. Anyway, he did not think they would fire withMetya so close. Unfortunately, he could not bargain with his handsbusy holding the woman. Nor could he imagine one of the guardsoffering him a clipboard to scrawl a note while he held a knife totheir employer’s throat.
Sicarius watched but did nothing. Strappeddown, he could not help physically, but Basilard would haveappreciated verbal assistance. He could speak and handle thebartering. But Sicarius said nothing. Basilard lifted his eyebrowsexpectantly. Sicarius gazed back.
“What do you want, Scarred and Mute?” Lityaasked, her voice calm despite the blade at her sister’s throat.
She stepped into view behind one of theguards. Remembering the mental blast her sister had hurled atTaloncrest, Basilard tightened his grip on Metya.
“Put your weapons down,” he tried to say, butno sound came from his scarred vocal cords. Maybe the brainyscience woman could read lips.
Litya lifted her hand, palm out. Basilardwould have howled in frustration if he could. He knew what wascoming. He cut into the woman’s throat, determined to take out atleast one of them before they dropped him.
Warm blood gushed down his forearm. A wave ofenergy crashed into his head from the left, and agony ricochetedthrough his body like a lightning bolt.
The woman dropped from his hands. Dead?Alive? He didn’t know. Pain assaulted him from all directions, andhe hunched over. If not for the bindings on his lower body, hewould have fallen to the ground and curled into a ball.
With the last of his wherewithal, he threw abetrayed look at the man who should have been his ally inthis.
Sicarius’s eyebrow twitched. He knew. Even ifhe didn’t know for certain, he had to know Basilard was a threat.While Basilard had been thinking of betraying him-of lettinghim die-Sicarius must have been considering the same thing.Basilard might never wake up, and the rest of the group-hisfriends-would never know that Sicarius could have helped himand chose not to.
Darkness ended Basilard’s whirlingthoughts.
Books returned from his research trip in timefor dinner and sat down with Amaranthe and Maldynado around thefire pit of their camp. Snores wafted from the rail car whereAkstyr rested. Yawns tugged at Amaranthe’s mouth, but she focusedon Books.
“I found two possible sources for divingsuits,” he said. “A privately owned fresh-water treasure-huntingtugboat called the Tuggle has been moored in Stumps for thelast two weeks. It seems likely they’d have diving gear. Also, theImperial Saberfist is coming into port tomorrow. It’s amilitary vessel in charge of maritime rescue and salvageoperations.”
Amaranthe shook her head. Leave it to theempire to give even its rescue ships war-like names.
“During times of war,” Books continued, “theSaberfist plies the Gulf, but it’s currently stationed inthe Chain Lakes and has been working the Goldar River alongside anarchaeology team.”
“Is there a reason I should do anythingexcept dismiss the Saberfist?” she asked, surprised Bookshad bothered with all the details. Though Sicarius might findthieving from a heavily manned and well-guarded military vessel agood training exercise, she could not think of a reason to risk itwhen another option existed.
Maldynado scratched his jaw. “That shipsounds familiar.”
“The commander of the marine vessel,” Bookssaid, “is one Captain Talmuk Mancrest, elder brother of Deret.”
Maldynado snapped his fingers. “That’s right.We got a tour of it when we were children. Not much firepower-onlya couple of dozen cannons-but lots of other brilliant equipment. Wegot to swing on this crane that’s used for-”
Amaranthe cleared her throat. “Let’s savestory hour for later. This isn’t the same brother who tried toarrange my capture at the newspaper office, right?”
“No,” Maldynado said. “Talmuk’s nearly twentyyears older than Deret. Acts like he’s forty years older. Stuffyold coot. Walks around like he’s got a ramrod permanently lodged inhis-”
“Thank you, I get the picture.”
“I thought you might wish to try talking toyour Mancrest again,” Books said, “to see if he could get us onboard to requisition supplies. Perhaps, since you spared his lifein the pyramid, he’ll be more inclined to listen.”
“Depends on how long it took him to retrievethat key,” Amaranthe said.
Maldynado snorted.
“I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. Let’svisit the treasure-hunting ship. If it’s a civilian vessel, maybethere won’t be more than a guard or two on board.”
Or maybe there would be no one on board, andthey could easily borrow the suits. For once, it’d be nice ifsomething was easy and went according to plan. Somehow, she doubtedshe would be that lucky.
CHAPTER 13
No gas lamps burned near the narrow, ricketydocks at the end of the shipyard. Far south of the broad, modernpiers used for military ships and merchant vessels, these berthswere some of the oldest in the city. Moorage was relatively cheapand apparently not enough to cover the expense of public lighting.A quarter moon hanging over the lake illuminated the silhouettes ofsmaller ships, a mix of old steamers, sailboats, and combinationsof the two. Amaranthe questioned whether the vessels being tied tothe creaking docks kept them from floating away or if it might bethe other way around.
She led the men along the street, pausing ateach sign to read the numbers. One might assume Pier 173 wouldfollow Pier 172, but some docks had sunk over the years whileothers had expanded and branched out. They passed 169, 169B, and169C, followed by a skip to 171.
Clothing rustled ahead of them, near awarehouse on the far side of the street. Five or six peopleloitered in the shadows, slouching degenerately against thewall.
“Friends of yours?” Amaranthe murmured toAkstyr, knowing this was the Black Arrows territory.
“Ain’t got no friends left in the gang,”Akstyr said.
“Your rosy personality didn’t endear you tothem?” Books asked.
“Ssh,” Amaranthe whispered.
Though she could not see the eyes of thosewho lurked ahead, she felt the intensity of their attention. Nodoubt, they were calculating odds, deciding if she and her menlooked like easy targets. She doubted it-Maldynado, Books, andAkstyr wore their swords openly-but, then, superior numbers anddesperation could make a group brave.
A few muttered words reached her ears.
“…take them.”
“That one’s got an expensive…”
“…brandy for months.”
Amaranthe shook her head at Maldynado,knowing he was the only one with something “expensive” that wouldtempt thugs.
“Looks like another fight,” Books murmured, aresigned slump to his shoulders.
“Not necessarily,” she whispered, amischievous thought sauntering through her mind. “It’s notcontagious, is it?” she asked loudly.
“Huh?” Maldynado blurted.
“I touched you. We all did,” Amaranthe said.“I just want to know how contagious it is. You should have knownbetter than to sleep with that girl. Fresh out of the tropics withemperor knows what disease plaguing her.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Maldynadoplayed along, but he glared at her. “She looked all right tome.”
“Thank my ancestors I’m not male,” Amaranthewent on. “Did you hear what one of the customers said? Rumor issomeone’s peeper rotted up and fell right off afte
r seeingher.”
Murmurs and the sound of shuffling feet camefrom the posse across the street.
“I bet it’s terribly contagious,” Amaranthesaid.
“Yes,” Books said. “A new strain of pizzlerot out of the Gesh Islands. Coitus isn’t required fortransmission. I expect we’re all doomed just from walking besidethis lout.”
The dark figures in the shadows pushed pasteach other in an effort to be the first to sprint away. One trippedand fell in his haste to round a corner. Nobody stopped to help himup. Cursing, he scrambled to his feet and ran after hiscomrades.
“That’s one way to deter bandits,” Bookssaid, a grin in his voice.
“You would approve,” Maldynado said.“Boss, it’s not right to joke around about a man’s… Did you callit a peeper?”
“Too sanitized?” She pointed down a ricketydock with missing and broken boards. A sign magnanimously called itPier 173.
“Not if your next job will be teaching smallchildren.”
“Will they be less vexatious than you?”Amaranthe led the way down the dock.
“Doubtful,” Books said.
Three ships lined the dock, none with lightsburning on the decks. She started to check the first one, butpaused. The skeletal frame of a crane rose from the deck of thelast ship, a steamer. It possessed a metal hull instead of wood andhad the sturdy look of a tug. Other equipment bristled from thedeck like quills on a porcupine, creating a strange silhouetteagainst the moonlit sky. Gear for pulling treasures off the lake orsea floor, Amaranthe guessed.
She turned off her lantern, and darknessengulfed the dock. She padded toward the salvage vessel, steppinglightly on the warped, creaking wood. In the still night, she grewaware of the sound of her own breathing and a breeze flapping aloose sail a few docks away. The air stirred the omnipresent fishyscent of the waterfront, and for a moment Amaranthe thought shesmelled something else. Something rotten. The breeze shifted, andthe scent disappeared. Maybe it was nothing-a dead fish washed upto a nearby beach.
The starlight did not offer enoughillumination to read the name on the bow, but she could not imaginethis being anything except the ship they sought, theTuggle.
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