Conspiracy

  Books sucked in a breath. He probably didn’t care one way or another about Sicarius, but someone coming after Sicarius might endanger the whole team.

  “I see.” Amaranthe was disappointed, but not surprised that Akstyr had tried to betray them. The part about “secret weaknesses” disconcerted her. Had Akstyr figured out Sicarius’s relationship to Sespian? It seemed impossible, but she couldn’t think of anything else that could be used against Sicarius. “To whom?” she asked Rockjaw.

  “Khaalid the Knife.”

  “That’s a bounty hunter, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but he refused the offer,” Rockjaw said. “He made a point to tell me, knowing I occasionally deal with you. I think he wouldn’t mind being on Sicarius’s good side.”

  “Sicarius doesn’t have a good side,” Books said.

  “Khaalid would like to not be on his bad side then,” Rockjaw said. “Of course, this altruism might be due to the fact that your boy wanted twenty-five-thousand ranmyas for the information.”

  “What in the empire for?” Books asked. “All he does is read and visit brothels.”

  Amaranthe could guess—she’d ferreted most of last summer’s scheme to kill Sicarius out of Basilard after he gave it up, and she knew Akstyr wanted to leave the empire to pursue his studies. She’d been trying to find him a local tutor, so he could further his education without leaving the group, but maybe it’d be better to let Akstyr go. He was her least reliable team member and always had been. But then, his skills had come in useful at times. She touched her belly, thinking of the scars beneath her clothing. Maybe it was worth talking to him before making any decisions. With Sicarius off doing who knew what, she could get Akstyr alone for a frank conversation without worrying about stealthy assassins overhearing.

  “Thank you, Rockjaw,” Amaranthe said, more sincerely this time.

  He gave her a mock military salute and sauntered away.

  “Sicarius will kill Akstyr over this,” Books whispered.

  “Not if I warn Akstyr and tell him to get out of the city before Sicarius finds out.” Amaranthe headed for the street. “Or if I can convince Akstyr that he’s made a big mistake and it would be in his best interest to stay loyal to us.”

  Books fell into step beside her. “Are you sure he’s worth the trouble?”

  “He’s young. It’d be nice to give him a chance to grow up and become a decent human being.”

  “Some people never grow out of being selfish bastards who think only of themselves.”

  “And some people just need encouragement to do so,” Amaranthe said.

  “How can you be so optimistic?”

  “Because I’m not the one holding a box full of blasting sticks.” Amaranthe managed a smile and sidled away from him. “I do hope you’re watching your steps.”

  “You’re a dreadful young woman at times,” Books said.

  “I know.” Amaranthe drummed her fingers on her thighs. “He wants the money to go to school, you know that right?”

  “Real school or wizard school?”

  “Now, now, outside of Turgonia, the study of the mental sciences is considered just as real and respectable as the study of history or languages.”

  “I knew there was a reason I didn’t travel,” Books said.

  “What if we paid for him to leave the empire and get an education?”

  Books missed a step, and the box of blasting sticks lurched alarmingly. “What?”

  “I haven’t put any focus into acquiring money, as is clear from my need to barter my services to merchants, but given our group’s talents, we ought to have no problem completing a wide variety of well-paying tasks. I even have contacts amongst the up-and-coming business mavens in Stumps, as I went to school with some of them.”

  A young man and woman bicycled by, and Books did not answer right away. They had left the dead streets of the business district and were heading into the university neighborhood, where numerous eating and drinking houses remained open for the young clientele. Amaranthe tugged her hood up, ostensibly against the chill of the frosty night, but more to hide her face.

  “Just so I’m clear,” Books said, “you’re proposing that the team finance the education of a scruffy, self-centered youngster who has no loyalty to the team and is, even as we speak, trying to arrange to have your beau killed?”

  It was Amaranthe’s turn to stumble and nearly trip. “My what?”

  “I thought you would find that description more apt than ‘your pet assassin’.”

  “He’s not either,” Amaranthe said, watching the street and pretending to scan the coming intersection for enforcers or bounty hunters instead of meeting Books’s gaze. “And I’d find it apt if you called him by his name. You’ve been working together for nine months.”

  Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be, but she didn’t apologize. His offhand remark had flustered her, and she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by it. Did he think she and Sicarius were engaged in... more than they were? Or was he simply letting her know that he knew she had feelings for him? He’d figured that out a while ago and had made more than one subtle suggestion to the effect that she should abandon them. But by calling Sicarius her beau, Books seemed to be implying he thought Sicarius might feel something for her. Maybe...

  Stop it, girl, Amaranthe told herself. None of that was important.

  “Yes,” she said, “to answer your question. We have to finish with the emperor first, but after that, maybe we can do something to help Akstyr on his way, so he won’t feel he has to betray us for coin. A few lucrative assignments could probably pay his way, especially if I could convince the men to give up their share of the booty or take a reduced percentage for a while.”

  “If anyone can, you can,” Books said and fortunately didn’t mention beaus again.

  He and Amaranthe were approaching the campus when Maldynado and Basilard jogged around a corner and joined them. Maldynado wore a new fur cap with a raccoon tail dangling onto his shoulder. It might have looked like something out of the Northern Frontier, except that some creative haberdasher had dyed the fur pale blue. Only in the capital, Amaranthe thought.

  In addition to the fur cap, Maldynado wore a grin almost as big as his ego.

  “Success?” Amaranthe asked when the men joined her and Books.

  “Oh, yes,” Maldynado said.

  The concerned expression furrowing Basilard’s brow worried Amaranthe.

  “You arranged for a vehicle suitable for carrying an emperor and that can make it over snowy roads?” she asked.

  Maldynado’s grin widened, and he repeated, “Oh, yes.”

  It flies, Basilard signed.

  Books halted so quickly he nearly dumped his volatile cargo.

  “Uhm, what?” Amaranthe asked.

  Maldynado swatted Basilard. “I told you to let me tell her.” Before Basilard could respond, Maldynado said, “It’s a prototype, but Lady Buckingcrest has ridden in it and assures me it has everything we need. We won’t have to worry about snow-filled roads, not when we can fly right over them. The mountains won’t be a problem at all. She said the flyer can reach the pass in a day and a half instead of the three the train takes.”

  “Are you aware of such devices?” Amaranthe asked Books. She’d heard of hot-air balloons, of course, and knew there were people experimenting with flight, but she’d certainly never seen aircraft cruising over Stumps.

  “That would be safe enough to carry a box of blasting sticks?” Books scowled. “No.”

  “Lady Buckingcrest’s family owns Experimental Aeronautics,” Maldynado said. “They haven’t gone public and started selling their craft yet, but they have lots of prototypes.”

  “And you’ve seen them?” Amaranthe asked. “They work?”

  Basilard shook his head.

  Maldynado nodded. “I’ve seen the compound where they’re manufactured. It’s big and important looking.”

  “Gee, why didn’t you say so?” Books asked. “That
adds all sorts of veracity to the woman’s claims.”

  “Whoever is going to the pass can pick up the flyer in the morning here.” Maldynado handed Amaranthe a piece of paper.

  She gazed at it for a long moment, though it only contained a street address. Why did she have a feeling she’d made a mistake in letting him handle transportation?

  “You needn’t look so glum.” Maldynado draped an arm across her shoulder. “It’ll be fantastic. Just think of the getaway. Instead of steaming off at ten miles an hour on windy, snow-filled roads, we’ll be able to take to the skies, with the soldiers left on the ground, gaping helplessly.”

  “Who’s going to pilot this craft?” Books asked.

  “Lady Buckingcrest said she’d send someone along.”

  Great, someone else who would be privy to their plans. Amaranthe took Books by the arm and led him away from the others. “What do you think?”

  “That this idea is more idiotic than Maldynado’s hat,” Books said, “but we don’t have time for something else.”

  “All right.” Amaranthe handed him the slip of paper. “Check it out in the morning. If it doesn’t look feasible, come back and get the pumpkin lorry. We’ll hope for clear weather and no snow in the mountains.”

  “Very well.”

  “If it does look feasible... see if you can find a technical manual and learn how to fly the thing. I don’t want any extra witnesses.”

  “I understand,” Books said.

  Amaranthe was glad he didn’t mention Sergeant Yara. She didn’t need to be reminded that that might have been a big mistake. “Also,” she added, “if it’s as fast as Maldynado’s lady friend claims... go out east and see if those blasting sticks work to blow open the mines where the shaman’s workshop is buried. If we can get information on those implants—and how to remove them—before we pick up the emperor, so much the better.”

  “You don’t want much, do you?” Books asked.

  “I know you can handle it.”

  “I don’t know why I always believe you when you say things like that.”

  “Because you know I believe it, and it’s true.”

  “Hm.”

  Amaranthe rejoined the others. “Did Akstyr go with you two?” When she and Books had left, he had been reading one of his Science books. “Or is he still at the hideout?”

  “No, and no.” Maldynado flipped the blue tail of his cap, so it rested over the other shoulder. “He went out. Probably for a booze-and-brothels night before we head off into the savage hinterlands.”

  Amaranthe exchanged looks with Books, and, when he shook his head slowly, she knew exactly what he was thinking. They hadn’t even left the city yet, and her plan was in more danger of being mauled than the boulders in the mountain pass they were targeting.

  * * * * *

  Akstyr checked over his shoulder often on the way to West Quay, a modest but clean part of town with shops on the bottom floors of narrow brick buildings and residences above. The view of the lake might have made it a more upscale neighborhood, but factories to the north cast a pall of gray across the lowland streets, one that lingered even that late at night. Few pedestrians remained out, and those who did didn’t look like bounty hunters. For some reason that didn’t quell the nerves dancing in Akstyr’s stomach.

  Hand on the hilt of the short sword hidden by his coat, he approached a worn brick square dominated by a fountain-statue of some old general. He eyed the benches around the area, telling himself not to expect his mother. She’d never been reliable, so why would that change? Unless she wanted something.

  The bakery they had spoken of had closed for the day, but Akstyr found her sitting on a bench across from the building. She wore the same dress, though she’d added a scarf and mittens. A brown paper bag sat on the bench beside her. When she spotted him, she waved and smiled.

  The friendly gesture did nothing to relax Akstyr—if anything it made him more uneasy. She’d arranged this meeting, and she could have very well arranged a trap. What if she knew about the bounty on his head?

  “Mother,” he said, meeting her eyes for a moment before resuming his checks of the surrounding area.

  If she noticed his wariness, she didn’t speak of it. “Sit down, son.” The bag crinkled as she delved into it, and she held up a frosted cookie shaped into a puppy-dog face. “I bought these for you.” She offered him the bag.

  Akstyr accepted it, but he didn’t sit down. He didn’t want to have his back to the square and make it easy for someone to sneak up behind him.

  “Thanks,” he said, lifting the bag, though the idea of returning to the hideout with it made him feel foolish. Sure, he’d liked the cookies as a little kid, but grown men didn’t eat sweets shaped like puppies. Maldynado would mock him for ages if he showed up with them.

  “I’m glad you came,” his mother said. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

  Ah, here it came. A request.

  “Oh?” Akstyr asked.

  “It seems you’re on the path to becoming somebody important. You’re working as a mercenary, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

  “Sort of.”

  “The pay decent?”

  “Not really.”

  “Oh.” Her smile only faltered for a second before she added, “Maybe it will be one day.”

  Akstyr shrugged and checked his surroundings again. A pair of soldiers in fatigues strode across the other side of the square. They looked like nothing more than men returning from a long day’s work at Fort Urgot, but he shifted to keep his face out of their view.

  “If it does get decent,” his mother said, “maybe you’ll forget some of the wrong your ma’s done by you and help her out one day.”

  Akstyr focused on her. “What?”

  “I know you don’t have any reason to think fondly of me, but it’s hard getting work when you live where we live and got the skills that we got. Or don’t got.” Her lips twisted. “I’m making a way now, but my joints are already stiffening up.” She flexed her fingers and winced. “I don’t expect I’ll be able to work forever. I’m just hoping, if you end up in a good place, you’ll see fit to let me have a room somewhere in your home.”

  Though she’d proven his suspicions founded by asking for something, Akstyr relaxed an iota while she spoke. If all she was looking for was a handout, then he probably didn’t need to worry about getting a dagger in his back, at least not that night.

  “I guess,” Akstyr said.

  Something flickered in her eyes—surprise?

  “I mean, I’m not in a place to do much now, but maybe someday,” he said.

  “That’s wonderful, son. Where are you off to now? Will it be dangerous?”

  He wondered if she was only concerned because she’d learned he might be a meal ticket. Probably. “It was going to be Forkingrust, but now I think I might get stuck doing something in the Scarlet Pass, but probably it’ll be dangerous either way. It usually is.”

  “Oh, dear. Up in the mountains? It’s getting cold. Take a scarf.”

  If she hadn’t looked so earnest, Akstyr would have laughed. Where had this mothering instinct been when he’d been growing up? He remembered a time when he’d been playing on the floor, she’d stepped on him, then kicked him and cursed him for being in the way. Of course, he’d never known her when she wasn’t on some drug or another.

  She wrapped her own scarf around his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I’ll find you when you get back. Take care of yourself.” She smiled again and walked away.

  Akstyr glanced around again, but nobody jumped out to attack him.

  Chapter 9

  Though a hint of pink brightened the eastern horizon, darkness filled the nooks and alleys of the train yard. Engines rumbled in the distance, and the scent of burning coal lingered in the crisp air.

  Amaranthe, Maldynado, and Basilard padded alongside a freight train scheduled to depart for Forkingrust soon. A rucksack, her repeating crossbow
, and the clunky blowtorch weighed down Amaranthe’s shoulders. A utility belt hung low on her waist, laden with her short sword, ammunition for the bow, vials of poison, and a couple of Ms. Sarevic’s smoke grenades. Canisters of knockout gas were nestled in her rucksack along with food, water, and other necessities for the trip. Maldynado and Basilard were similarly loaded down with supplies and weapons. It was a testament to good packing skills that nobody clanked and rattled as they walked. They weren’t paying for passage—Amaranthe didn’t want a record of their passing—so they needed to hop the train like the listless hobos who rode the empire’s rails, never staying in one place for long.

  They’d left Books and Akstyr with orders to pick up the flying craft as soon as Lady Buckingcrest’s business opened. Only Sicarius was unaccounted for. Every few meters, Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him jogging up behind them. She knew he was annoyed with her, and he had a right to be, but she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t show up.

  This was the last train heading south in time to catch Sespian at Forkingrust. If Sicarius didn’t make it... he’d miss everything. Worse, she’d have to infiltrate a train full of elite soldiers without her best man.

  A soft knock, knuckles against metal, drew Amaranthe back to the moment.

  “That one?” Maldynado asked.

  Basilard opened a freight door and peered inside. Yes. Only a few crates.

  Maldynado stuck his head inside. “Completely empty. No chairs, sofas, bunks, or other decent furnishings. Again. Really, boss, when are we going to be established enough that we can afford a few comforts?”

  “It’s a freight train, not a luxury passenger transport,” Amaranthe said.

  “You say that as if it’s not a problem.”

  “We’re lucky to find an empty car.” Most of the ones Amaranthe had peeked into were filled with apples, potatoes, turnips, carrots, and other local produce being shipped to various parts of the empire.

  Basilard signed, In?

  “Yes, you two go ahead,” Amaranthe said. “I’ll wait to see if Sicarius shows up.”