Jomrik’s newfound cheer wilted, and Basilard thought about smacking Maldynado. He changed the subject instead.
How many blasting sticks do we have left? If all of their tactics involved setting off explosives, they would be in trouble if they did not have a sufficient supply.
“Uh.” Jomrik poked through his pack and laid a handful of matches and two blasting sticks on a rock. One was soggy, and the other looked like something had been chewing on its end.
Anyone else? Basilard raised his eyebrows in Sicarius’s direction.
Sicarius disappeared into the darkness. Basilard assumed that his pack was out there somewhere, rather than that he had decided the conversation wasn’t worth continuing. He hoped that was the case.
Amaranthe?
She had been sitting on a rock and holding scissors and jars for Ashara while she worked on Hykur. She blinked a few times when Basilard pointed to her. “Why would I be carrying explosives?”
“It’s not that odd to expect you to have some,” Maldynado said. “You’ve got to admit that a lot of things blow up when you’re around.”
“Me? You’re usually the one driving when something blows up.”
“Yes, but you’re the one giving me orders. Crash into that. Hit that. Drive into their path so they can’t escape.” Maldynado’s voice had gone up in pitch in a rather pathetic imitation of Amaranthe.
She glared at him but did not deny his argument.
Sicarius returned with a single blasting stick. He laid it on the rock next to Jomrik’s offerings. Basilard gazed bleakly at the paltry pile. They might be able to break the dam with those explosives, but the outpost?
Maybe we could steal some from the Kendorians? Basilard winced at the idea of trying to sneak into their camp tonight. They would be on high alert after dealing with the grimbals, and there might still be search parties out. Squads of men had been patrolling the area on either side of the canyon all day.
“Liberate,” Maldynado said.
What?
“That sounds nobler than stealing.”
“Kendorians don’t manufacture explosives in any great quantity,” Amaranthe said. “Their blasting sticks had Turgonian stamps on them.”
“So they stole them first?” Maldynado asked.
“More likely they bought them from some unscrupulous smuggler,” Amaranthe said. “Regardless, stealing them might be challenging. At least tonight. Sicarius?”
“I could sneak past mundane soldiers on watch, but the shaman adds an unknown element. It is likely he has alarms set, booby traps perhaps.”
“Especially around their supplies,” Amaranthe said. “They’ll be extra careful with them after losing some.”
Basilard had felt proud for destroying that cache in the cave, but now he wondered if he had made things more difficult overall.
“Leyelchek,” Bartohk said, “I don’t know if I should attempt to contribute, since I’m not understanding anything your Turgonian allies say, but would it make sense to wait a few days? Perhaps the Kendorians will believe we’ve left and grow more relaxed again. Then it might be easier to sneak in and sabotage their work.”
Basilard translated the words for the others.
“If the dam is to be used as part of our attack, it must be soon,” Sicarius said. “It’s only luck that the water hasn’t flowed over it and washed it away already. Also, if another train of Kendorians comes in tomorrow during the day via that route, they will notice the hazard and dismantle it.”
Basilard frowned, more at the idea of yet more Kendorian troops arriving than at anything to do with the dam. I don’t think we can delay, Bartohk. He looked to Sicarius again. Is it possible to make explosives out here? What are the ingredients?
“Turgonian black powder is made from charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter,” Sicarius said.
Charcoal would be easy to obtain. Sulfur… Basilard had no idea. His people did not use it for anything, as far as he knew.
“It’s found in volcanic regions,” Mahliki said. “Naturally occurring saltpeter is rare. Sometimes, it’s in the soil of limestone caves. You can produce it by causing a reaction between potassium chloride and sodium nitrate.”
“Sounds like someone just volunteered to make us black powder,” Maldynado said.
“Uh, when I said you can produce it, I meant in an alchemy lab with plenty of supplies and equipment.”
Maldynado nudged her pack with his toe. “You don’t have that in there?”
“Not quite.” Mahliki looked at Ashara. “But I do have some small quantities of chemicals. Maybe together, we could come up with something that would help with your efforts.”
Ashara’s brows rose. “I only volunteered to make healing salves.”
“I’ve seen Mendak’s broomuscha along the paths here. That can be used as a sedative, right? Maybe we could make something to knock out groups of the Kendorians. Or at least the shaman.”
“Only if we can get him to lick the substance,” Ashara said.
“We’ll think of something,” Mahliki said firmly.
Ashara did not appear so certain, but she did not gainsay Mahliki, either.
Basilard picked up the best-looking blasting stick and held it out to Sicarius. Will you plant this a couple of hours before dawn and try to take out the dam? He hoped that the dam was far enough upstream from the encampment that the shaman would not have thought to place alarms or booby traps there, but if he had, Sicarius would be the most likely person in their group to sense them.
“If it appears on the verge of breaking, I may have to set it off earlier.”
Understood.
Sicarius accepted the blasting stick. “What else?”
What else what?
“This task will not take me long. It would have a better chance of success if the shaman was gone. Even better if an earlier attack were to rid the Kendorians of their commander. Then the camp would already be in chaos when the water came.”
Rid? As in assassinate her?
“Dispose of her by whatever method that will ensure she’s not there to lead her people. You can’t expect that a flood alone will utterly destroy the enemy.”
No, but Basilard had hoped that it and the attack on the outpost would be enough to send the Kendorians fleeing for the border.
You think I should do that, Basilard signed. He wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but he couldn’t ask someone else to be an assassin for him. He found the idea of heading into that canyon with the intent to kill specific people disturbing, but Sicarius’s logic could not be dismissed.
“I am the logical person to confront the shaman,” Sicarius said. “You could find the major and kill any other high-ranking officers you see. Kendorians usually wear earrings as signs of rank, with more intricate ones denoting higher rank. There will be captains, as well as the major, but she should be your priority.”
You want to fight the shaman? That’s the most dangerous job out here, and I hadn’t even thought to ask you to fight. My countrymen and I must engage the Kendorians—Basilard extended his arm toward the Mangdorians—and you have already done more here than I could have asked. Besides, I am no longer the official Mangdorian ambassador, so President Starcrest has no reason to need to see me protected.
Sicarius stared at him. Yes, Basilard had not shared that information widely yet.
“Basilard,” Amaranthe said, “Starcrest said to help you. He didn’t know about all of this, obviously, but he’s paying us to help you. Use us as you see fit.”
Paying you?
“Yes,” Amaranthe said. “We even get bonus pay when we’re on the road, so we have no reason to hurry home.”
I… Oh. It was odd to think of Amaranthe and Sicarius being motivated by money, when that hadn’t been their reason for doing anything in the year and a half Basilard had known them. They had been fighting to save the emperor and to earn their exoneration.
Perhaps guessing at the reason for his confusion, Amaranthe expla
ined further. “We have bills now. I suppose it’s strange after being outlaws and not paying rent for any of the deserted warehouses, sewage stations, and pumping houses that we hid out in, but Sicarius and I rented a flat in the University District. It’s not an inexpensive part of town. We also owe taxes now. In fact, some government accountant with too much time on his hands decided I owe taxes from the year when I was an outlaw, even if I wasn’t collecting pay from a licensed employer. Oddly, the accountant didn’t dare deliver a tax bill to Sicarius. But my point is that agents working for the intelligence office make less than you might think, and we have expenses. We’re thinking of getting a cat, too, so we need to save up.”
“A cat?” Maldynado gaped at Sicarius.
“Actually, he hasn’t agreed to that yet,” Amaranthe said. “But he is open to getting a plant.”
“Oh. Well, yes. Plants are demanding and expensive,” Maldynado said.
“Exactly.”
It took Basilard a moment to realize that this explanation had nothing to do with the real reason Amaranthe and Sicarius were staying. They had come to help him and would, whether Starcrest had said anything about it or not. Even if he was not surprised, he struggled to swallow around a lump of emotion that swelled in his throat. Perhaps it was a good thing he did not use his voice for speaking.
Good. Then, yes. I would be pleased if you faced the shaman. You must take someone to help.
Sicarius’s expression never changed, but he met Amaranthe’s eyes. She nodded back, and Basilard decided that matter was resolved, even if he would worry for both of them. Sicarius had defeated practitioners in the past, but this shaman seemed more powerful than most.
Basilard looked to Maldynado, wondering if he should assume that Maldynado also had a plant he needed to pay for.
“I guess that leaves me and Jomrik on explosives duty. Someone’s supposed to make that outpost disappear, right?” Maldynado picked up the blasting stick with the scraped and smashed end. “You got a hungry squirrel in your pack, Jom?”
“I didn’t see you pulling any blasting sticks out of the smoldering lorry after the crash,” Jomrik said.
“I had more important things to grab.”
“Such as the three different hats you’ve worn on this mission?”
“Exactly, and I can’t tell you how distressing it is that I’m down to two.” Maldynado pursed his lips. “Maybe if they have a keg of powder within the walls of the fort, we could get close enough to drop one of our sticks on it. Not sure I like the idea of shaman booby traps, though. Jomrik, I reckon we better work on this together. Unless you want to stay with the women.”
“If the choice is mine, I would prefer to go into combat, rather than babysitting.”
“Babysitting?” Ashara’s eyebrows flew up.
“Also,” Jomrik continued sturdily, “seeing a Turgonian may intimidate them, make them worry that there might be more of us out here.”
“They didn’t seem intimidated by seeing Maldynado,” Amaranthe said.
“He’s not a soldier. And he’s not intimidating.”
“What are you talking about?” Maldynado asked. “I’m big, strong, tall, and agile.”
“You’re pretty.” Jomrik grunted. “You look like a cat some rich businesswoman would have draped across the foot of her bed for decoration.”
“By cat, you better mean tiger.” Maldynado glared at him.
“Put out the fire,” Sicarius said, then jogged into the darkness. Two of the Mangdorian hunters headed in the same direction.
“Company?” Amaranthe asked softly.
Basilard shook his head and kicked dirt onto the embers. They shouldn’t have had a fire going this close to the enemy camp to start with, but Ashara had needed to boil water to clean Hykur’s wounds, and Basilard had needed sufficient lighting to communicate.
“Better collect our weapons and gear,” Maldynado whispered. “In case we have to move.”
Groping in the dark, Basilard found his rifle and his pack. He wasn’t sure how much gear he wanted to carry into that canyon. Assassins were supposed to travel light, weren’t they? Not to mention that he might have to be able to run swiftly if that flood came before he’d found the Kendorian commander and dealt with her.
“The shaman is coming,” Sicarius said, returning. “With a platoon of soldiers. They’re less than a mile away, and they’re heading straight for us.”
“He must be able to sense where we are,” Amaranthe said.
“Yes.”
“Deal with him first, right?” Amaranthe said. “While Basilard is hunting the Kendorian commander? And then we circle back to ignite the dam?”
“Yes,” Sicarius said. “Basilard, listen for trouble upriver. As I stated, the dam may fail prematurely.”
“Leyelchek?” Hykur asked in Mangdorian. “I can take my men and try to lead the shaman away, so you have more time to plan.”
Basilard lifted his hands, then dropped them uselessly. He could not respond.
“You’re injured,” Ashara said in Kendorian, a frown in her voice. She couldn’t have understood Hykur fully, but must have gotten the gist. “Let Sicarius deal with the shaman.”
“We can distract those who are working with him,” Hykur urged.
Ashara grunted. She might not have understood. Basilard wasn’t even sure Hykur had understood. He clenched his fist in frustration at not being able to talk and translate.
“Jomrik and I will go this way,” Maldynado said, speaking independently of Hykur. “Circle around to the fort. Stay alive, everyone.”
“Mahliki and Ashara,” Amaranthe said, her voice already distant—everyone was on the move, “get far away from here, but see if you can circle around, get any explosives you’re able to make to us. We’ll watch for you.”
“Got it.” Ashara grunted, shouldering her pack.
“Nothing like mixing dangerous chemicals by night,” Mahliki murmured.
Basilard made his way around the doused fire, grimacing at the heavy scent of smoke hanging in the air, and found Hykur. He gripped the other man on the shoulder, hoping that would be enough to convey that he appreciated that the priest was here and approved of the plan to be a distraction. Basilard wished he had a way to say be careful too.
With a few soft words, Hykur led both teams of hunters away. They would refine their plan and find a way to be helpful once they were out of the camp.
Basilard was aware of the others leaving too. Soon, he stood by himself, realizing with an unsettled pang of unease that he hadn’t kept anyone by his side to help on his quest. He clenched his teeth. He knew what he had to do—sneak into the Kendorian camp and find and kill Major Diratha. The thought of assassination still chilled him, but this night might be their only chance to rid his land of these invaders. He would do what he had to do. Or die trying.
• • • • •
Darkness filled the forest, but Ashara could feel the eyes of the woodland creatures upon them. Usually, that would not bother her, but there was an unnatural chill emanating from the shadows that made her uneasy. She sensed an owl watching them from a bough overhead, its head swiveling to track their passage.
Mahliki paused and lowered the lantern she had lit to guide their way. Ashara would have preferred dark.
“Better keep moving,” she said.
“I’m trying to find that plant.”
“This isn’t the time for it. The others will have to make do with what they have. I can sense that someone’s watching us.”
More correctly, she sensed that someone was monitoring them through the animals that were watching. She had no idea why. The group had split in four directions when Sicarius had announced that the Kendorians were coming. Ashara and Mahliki had headed toward the mountains, farther away from the canyon, figuring the shaman and his soldiers would choose one of the other groups to track, the people more likely to cause trouble. But she trusted her senses and knew that someone—or something—was after them.
; “The shaman?” Mahliki asked.
“Tladik or some of his people. I’m not sure yet. If it’s Tladik, he may have gone after the other groups and sent a few owls to monitor us. I don’t want to circle back to look for him.” The soft gurgle of a stream reached Ashara’s ears. “Head for the water. If mundane people or animals are after us, then we can hide our trail in the stream. Even if a shaman is controlling the animals, they shouldn’t be able to follow our scent.”
“Practitioners have a lot of ways of finding people,” Mahliki said.
“I know. I’m hoping he’s busy with the others. Didn’t your assassin friend want to confront him?”
“Sicarius isn’t exactly a friend. He’s a—an oddity.”
Ashara decided not to mention that a girl who carried tweezers, vials, sample dishes, and a microscope into the woods might be considered a tad odd as well. “In-laws usually are.”
“He’s not my in-law. Sespian and I are simply… exploring our compatibility.”
“Are tongues involved?”
“You sound like Maldynado,” Mahliki said.
“I’m trying to distract you from worrying about the shaman.”
“Distract me? Or you?”
“Put that lantern out, will you? No need to make it easier for someone to find us.”
The darkness lay thick between the trees, and they had to grope their way toward the stream. No sooner had Ashara taken a step into the icy water than an unearthly tingle shot through her veins. More than the chill of the stream made her shiver.
“Trouble,” she whispered.
“I feel it,” Mahliki replied, stepping into the water. “Should we—” Her words broke off in a gasp. “Something grabbed my foot.”
Ashara reached out, intending to grasp her arm and steady her, but when she tried to step in that direction, she couldn’t lift her leg. An alarmed gasp escaped her own lips. The gurgle of the stream had stopped, the forest growing silent. Not so much as an insect buzzed.
She leaned back to give herself leverage and tugged, but her foot did not budge. The water had somehow sealed around her ankle. What magic could have taken root so quickly? She tried to lift her back foot, which was still on the bank. That one rose easily enough. When she reached down to see what had gripped her, her knuckles bashed against something hard. And cold.
Diplomats and Fugitives Page 32