Deadly Games

  “Yes, I saw that towel boy, and I tried to apprehend him. He pulled this out of his pocket.” Books plucked a vial filled with a golden powder from his own pocket and held it out for Amaranthe. “He tried to hurl it to the ground to, I presume, knock me out. I was quicker than he and stopped him, but he started screaming, and enforcers surged into the tunnels. One thought he recognized me as a criminal—can you imagine that?—so I had to run.”

  Amaranthe took the vial. With that much of the powder, perhaps Akstyr could give her more information on it—confirm whether it was the one from his book or if it had other properties.

  “You bested a ten-year-old boy?” Maldynado asked Books. “All by yourself? Why, I’m impressed.”

  “Impressing a small mind is an insignificant task.” Books lifted a hand, pointing toward a beach. “Is that Akstyr?”

  Amaranthe almost dismissed the possibility without looking—Akstyr was supposed to be investigating apothecaries—but they were getting close to the boneyard. The shirtless figure lounging on his back in the sand had a familiar spiky hairstyle, too....

  “Yes, it is,” Maldynado said. “How come he’s got the afternoon off?”

  “He doesn’t.” Amaranthe checked behind them to make sure no squad of enforcers was huffing and puffing down the trail after them, then veered past three rows of stands stuffed with bicycles.

  Akstyr saw them coming and sat up, a sheepish grin on his lips. Children hollered and yelled in the shallows. Though this particular beach was far from residential neighborhoods, it sported sand instead of rocks, making it popular.

  “I checked a whole heap of apothecaries and didn’t learn anything about your red-headed woman or the powder,” he rushed to say, probably trying to head off a lecture. “Some of the older clerks knew about the powder, but they said you can’t get it in the empire.”

  “How many apothecaries are in ‘a whole heap’?” Amaranthe asked.

  “Bridger’s on Second and that little foreign-owned one in the Veterans’ Quarter, and...uhm...”

  “Two?” Books said. “Two constitutes a heap? I’ll send a note to the publishers of the Titanus Imperial Dictionary so they can update the entry.”

  “Ha ha,” Akstyr said. “Look, I was going to check some more after I relaxed a little.”

  Amaranthe held out the vial Books had retrieved. “We got a sample of the powder.”

  Akstyr took it and held it up to the sun. “Oh, brilliant,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed, and calculation gleamed in them.

  Amaranthe noted his expression. Did he think he could sell the powder for a handsome profit?

  “Where’s Basilard?” Akstyr asked. The hand holding the vial drifted toward his pocket.

  “He was kidnapped after a stellar performance on the Clank Race.” Amaranthe reached out and caught Akstyr’s hand before he could pocket the vial. She pried it out of his fingers. “I’ll keep this for now.”

  He reached for her hand, and an objection seemed on his lips, but he caught himself. “Sure, whatever. Not like I need it for anything.”

  Uh huh. Which assured her he did. She would have to keep an eye on him.

  “What do you mean Basilard was kidnapped?” Akstyr asked. “Weren’t you there? How could someone take him when you were watching?”

  “He was in the athlete area,” Maldynado said. “We were spectators.”

  “And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t imply we were negligent,” Books added, his back straight and stiff.

  “Fine, but we need Basilard,” Akstyr said. “He’s important for...stuff.”

  “Yes,” Amaranthe said, her own eyes narrowed now as she considered Akstyr. “Yes, he is.” It was hard for her to believe Basilard would be a part of some scheme of Akstyr’s, but she had noticed the two talking together more this past week than ever before. “We’re going to get him back. Sicarius, too. I need to hunt down a map and make some notes.”

  “A map of city fountains?” Maldynado asked, watching her warily.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “You can help me. Books, are you up for a research assignment? Want to see if you can find a record of that rail carriage?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “This isn’t turning out to be a very good vacation,” Maldynado observed.

  “I agree,” Amaranthe said, as they padded onto the dusty trail.

  CHAPTER 9

  Amaranthe examined the map under the soft light of one of the gas lamps lining the city block around Pyramid Park. She had a lantern along as well, since the boneyard was black at night, but this provided better illumination.

  Books leaned over her shoulder, also studying the map, while Akstyr humored Maldynado in a game with the catchy title of “You Pick a Letter and I’ll Say a Woman I’ve Slept with Whose Name Beings with That Letter.”

  “Z?” Maldynado asked. “That’s easy. Zevinika and Zela.”

  “This isn’t any fun. You could be making these people up,” Akstyr said.

  “Well, traditionally two people alternate names of women they’ve slept with, and the name one person says has to start with the last letter of the name the other person said.”

  “How is that more fun?”

  “It’d be more fun for you because you could reminisce on past loves as well,” Maldynado said, “but since I know you’ve a dearth of experience in that area, I chose to modify the game so you could play.”

  “Real thoughtful of you.”

  “I know. You’re welcome.”

  Attempting to block out their chatter, Amaranthe pointed at the seven fountains circled on the map. “These are the closest to the miner’s flat,” she told Books. “Since they said they were meeting at the fountain instead of the Fourth and Loom Street Fountain or some such, that seems to imply it was a nearby location they were all familiar with. What do you think?”

  “I think we may want to focus on the rail tracks instead.” He tapped the hatched line on the map. “That locomotive headed into town, but, given its clandestine purpose, I doubt it ever made it to the station where its arrival would have been logged. There are a limited number of stubs it could have turned up before then. A hideout might be located along one of those routes, as kidnappers wouldn’t want to carry famous athletes through the open city for far.”

  “True, but they could have transferred their cargo to a steam carriage.”

  “If they did, they might have left evidence behind, or someone might have seen them,” Books said. “There are only six possible stubs before the station and only two near the fountains you circled.”

  Amaranthe would not get her hopes up, but she said, “It’s worth checking out.”

  “Since these are residential neighborhoods, there are limited places where one could store a number of kidnapped athletes,” Books went on. “I doubt anyone would choose a flat surrounded by nosy residents, so we can narrow our search to abandoned buildings or perhaps those with large basements with exterior entrances. If we split our team up, we could check the buildings along both of these stubs tonight.”

  “Agreed,” Amaranthe said, “though I hate the idea of splitting up when we’re already missing two people. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

  “I’m surprised nobody’s tried to kidnap me,” Maldynado said. “I’m at least as good of a find as Basilard and Sicarius. It’s obvious these kidnappers aren’t basing their choices on looks.”

  “We believe they’re basing their acquisitions on athletic prowess,” Books said.

  “I have that, too. I should have entered an event, so I could get noticed.”

  “Are you actually jealous that you weren’t kidnapped?” Amaranthe asked.

  “Not jealous. I just think they’re shortsighted if they didn’t consider me.”

  “Why would you care?” Akstyr asked. “They’re probably getting tortured and forced to do unpleasant stuff.”

  Amaranthe winced. She did not need to hear about those possibilities, not for her men. Her friends.


  “I would have entered if not for the bounty on my head,” Maldynado said.

  “It’s not like anyone ever tries to collect your bounty,” Akstyr said. “It’s not worth it.”

  “That’s not true. Just the other day a bounty-hunting miscreant tried to apprehend me. I was lucky to escape with my life.”

  “Is that the child I saw chasing you through the boneyard with a slingshot?” Amaranthe asked.

  “What? No! Er. You saw that?”

  Amaranthe drew her pocket watch. “A quarter past ten. If Lord Mancrest doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’re going rail-carriage hunting.”

  “It’s that late?” Maldynado asked. “That’s not like him.”

  Amaranthe picked up her lantern and headed for the gated entrance to the pyramid. It was set into a wall around the corner from the steep stone stairs leading to the ancient dais. The gate ought to be locked—the woman who owned the property ran tours during the day and presumably wanted to keep the tacky souvenir merchandise inside safe—but maybe someone had left the door open and Mancrest had gone in to wait. It seemed unlikely, but it did not hurt to check.

  “What’s that?” Maldynado asked.

  Amaranthe squinted at a shape on the ground under the gate. She stepped closer, holding her lantern aloft. At first she had no idea what the object might be because it was squished beneath the metal frame. Then recognition jolted her.

  “Mancrest’s hat,” she said.

  Maldynado grabbed a metal handle, turned it, and swung the gate open with a soft creak. A stone tunnel led away into darkness.

  “Think someone snatched him?” Akstyr asked.

  “Our kidnappers?” Books scratched his jaw. “How would they know he was here? And why would they want him? Mancrest, with his cane and spectacles, doesn’t fit into the same category as the superb athletes they’ve abducted thus far.”

  “He was a decent duelist before he got hurt,” Maldynado said.

  “We going in after him?” Akstyr asked, his tone suggesting the idea held no appeal for him.

  “Amaranthe?” Books asked. “What do you think?”

  She was standing, head down, chin in her hand as she considered the hat. “I think...if Sicarius were here, he’d say this is a trap.”

  “Set by Mancrest?” Books asked. “Or the kidnappers?”

  “Do we believe there’s any connection between Mancrest and the kidnappers?” Amaranthe did not. “He hasn’t covered them in the newspaper, other than to say some people are missing. I’m skeptical they’d be aware of him.”

  Maldynado picked up the hat. “If that bastard tried to get me to set you up again, I’ll...” He squinted at something inside the hat, then held it close to Amaranthe’s lantern. “That looks like blood.”

  Amaranthe closed her eyes, trying to decide whether she wanted to devote more time to Mancrest when her comrades were missing. If he was in trouble, rescuing him might endear him to her, but she found the location of the hat suspicious. It couldn’t have been better placed if someone wanted her to find it.

  “Books,” she said, moving away from the gate, “do you know another way in?”

  “Hm, I believe so.” Books stroked his chin. “I researched the pyramid extensively when I wrote a paper on the civilization that lived around the lake two thousand years ago. They were a fascinating people, primitive and cannibalistic, but surprisingly advanced insofar as literacy and mathematics. They worshiped a—”

  “Books,” Amaranthe said. “I’d like to have time to look for Sicarius and Basilard tonight. The entrances?”

  “Ah, of course. There’s an underground entrance coming up from the ancient tunnels beneath Stumps, but the installation of the city sewer system destroyed a lot of those passages. Oh, wait. I recall a reference to a trapdoor under the dais up top.”

  Amaranthe nodded, remembering how Sicarius had appeared up there without using the stairs. She had wondered if there might be a door up there somewhere.

  “And it connects with this tunnel?” She pointed through the gate.

  “I believe so. The passages do wind around in there, and I can’t promise to be an unerring guide, but I have some memory of the layout from the maps in the texts I... Where are you going?”

  Already heading for the stairs, Amaranthe waved toward the top of the pyramid. “Up. You can keep talking on the way if you want.”

  “But it’s not a requirement,” Maldynado said, jogging after her.

  Books muttered something to Akstyr about his knowledge not being fully appreciated. Akstyr responded with his usual, “Whatever.”

  When Amaranthe reached the top, she hunted around for signs of the trapdoor. Sicarius, she remembered, had appeared behind her when she had been near the stairs, looking down. She knelt and prodded around the base of the altar, which still sported the headless statue with its two wings, clawed feet, and furry torso.

  “Did your studies tell you how to open this trapdoor?” Amaranthe asked Books.

  “Not that I recall,” he said.

  “You can recite the dates of each reign of every emperor since Dorok the First,” Maldynado said. “Why can’t you remember something useful like this?”

  “Historical tomes rarely advise people on how to break into ancient structures through unguarded entrances,” Books said. “I believe they like to discourage the pillaging of goods inside.”

  “We’re not pillaging anything,” Maldynado said.

  “Unless there’s something good to pillage,” Akstyr said. “Is there?”

  “Not that I’d tell you about,” Books said.

  Amaranthe groped about the stone floor. The lantern light did little to illuminate the subtle nuances in the ancient blocks, but her fingers found dents and divots. She poked a few and nothing happened. She moved to the two rear columns supporting the roof covering the altar.

  Her knee clunked against a bump, and she winced. She investigated the object, a slightly elevated triangular stone. She—and her knee—found it suspicious that it stuck out when nothing else did. Amaranthe tried pulling and pushing it. Neither worked. Maybe a turn? She rotated it to the left, as if she were unscrewing a lid on a jar.

  The floor disappeared beneath her.

  Amaranthe dropped into darkness with a startled squawk. Though surprised, she twisted in the air, moving quickly enough to get her feet beneath her. The landing jarred her, but she softened her knees enough that she did not injure herself.

  Unfortunately, her lantern did not survive the fall unscathed. It had gone out as it dropped, and clanks and clatters echoed from the stone walls as it bounced several times, then rolled to a stop in the darkness. Close, dusty air wrapped about Amaranthe, intruding upon her nostrils. It smelled like vermin had died nearby. Maybe other things as well.

  “Amaranthe?” Books called from above. “Are you...well?”

  She had their only lantern—well, the darkness had it at the moment—but she could make out the men’s silhouettes as they leaned over a three-by-three-foot hole in the ceiling. She opened her mouth to respond, but a sneeze assailed her nostrils instead.

  “Is that a yes?” Books asked.

  “Yes. Looks like I found the trapdoor.”

  “Looks like,” Maldynado drawled.

  “We can’t see anything,” Books said, leaning forward and patting around the trapdoor entrance. “How far down are you? Is there a ladder?”

  “Maybe ten or twelve feet, and I don’t know. I’ll see if I can relight the lantern. After I find it.”

  Amaranthe knelt and swept her hands across cold, smooth stone. Cool air whispered past her cheeks. Above ground, it had been a warm summer evening, but down here, she shivered in her thin trousers and half-sleeve shirt.

  It took a few moments to find the first wall, and she determined she was in a room, not a corridor. Some sort of preparation area for priests performing ceremonies on the altar above?

  She found the lantern. A soft thump came from behind her.

  “Who?
??” she started to ask.

  “Me,” Maldynado said. “Can’t let a girl wander around a dark pit by herself.”

  “You can if you don’t know if there’s a way out,” Akstyr said. He and Books waited above.

  “Want us to go grab some lanterns?” Books asked.

  “Let me see if I can get this one relit first.” Amaranthe patted her pockets down. “I have matches.” Somewhere.

  “Is one lantern sufficient lighting for pyramid spelunking?” Books asked, his tone implying he hardly thought so.

  “It’s a long jog to the boneyard and back.” Amaranthe struck a match and lit the lantern. “And I think you should join us since you’re the pyramid expert. Akstyr can stay out there in case we...” Got themselves hopelessly lost or trapped by the enemy? No, she shouldn’t say that. Too demoralizing. “Need backup,” she finished.

  The lantern light revealed a chamber filled with cobwebs and layers of dust that made her long for the giant steam-powered cleaning machines she had described to the thieves in the tenement building. Rows of niches on the walls had long since been emptied of their contents, though cobwebs cloaked them like cocoons, and one could almost imagine this place still held ancient treasures.

  “Not very likely when we’re in the middle of a city with a population of a million,” Amaranthe told herself.

  “That’s why I came down,” Maldynado said.

  “To treasure hunt?”

  “No, to keep you from talking to yourself. That’s a sign of a lonely, disturbed mind.” He drew his rapier and swiped at a cobweb curtain dangling above a narrow, low-ceilinged stairwell leading down. “This way, you can pretend you’re talking to me.”

  “Oh, good.” She turned her head toward the trapdoor again. “Books, are you coming? We need your insight.”

  “Since I so rarely hear those words, I’d best join you.”

  “We’d crave your insight more if you gave us less of it,” Maldynado told him. “They say scarcity creates desire.”

  “I’m heading down,” Amaranthe said. The men could snipe at each other all night if she let them.

  She drew her short sword, but waited for Books to shimmy over the side of the hole, dangle from the lip for a moment, then drop down. He landed in an easy crouch. She smiled. He might not realize it, but Sicarius’s training had brought Books a long way in the last six months. Whether one had natural aptitude or not, constant repetition and an unrelenting taskmaster did tend to encourage improvement.