Conspiracy

  “They’re huge.”

  “Huge men rarely move swiftly or with great agility. You know this.”

  “Yes, but is that knowledge enough to keep me from tinkling down my leg when one of those towering behemoths swings a blade at me?”

  Sicarius gave her one of his flat looks, reminding her that a tendency toward whining wasn’t an admirable trait in a leader.

  “You’re right, it is enough,” Amaranthe said, “I was just making sure.” She’d hate it if she ever caught disappointment in one of his gazes.

  Inwardly, she hoped the team would be able to stay hidden in the coal car until the train reached the pass and was forced to stop because of a certain landslide blocking the tracks. Then there’d be a nice distraction to keep some of those hulking soldiers and bodyguards busy, and she might not have to face any one-on-one.

  A steam whistle blew again, and the train inched forward. Amaranthe drummed her fingers on her thigh. They needed to jump soon, but the corporal was still in the coal car, raking his piles into place. Normally, Amaranthe would appreciate someone with a fastidious nature, but right now she wanted the man to toss the rake in a corner and leave. Surely, he had a warm berth waiting for him in one of the passenger cars.

  “We must go,” Sicarius said.

  “I know.” The rail car was inching past them with the train picking up speed. A few more seconds, and they’d have to jump onto one of the passenger cars, and the soldiers inside were bound to hear kidnappers gamboling about on their roof. “Let’s do it.”

  Sicarius went first. He didn’t drop straight down into the car, but leaped fifteen feet and landed on top of the corporal, a hand smothering the soldier’s mouth.

  “Go, go,” Amaranthe urged the rest of her team.

  She jumped and landed lightly in the coal, a foot from the back lip of the car. Maldynado and Yara dropped down beside her. They flattened themselves to their bellies. The passenger car behind the coal car didn’t have windows in the front, but it did have a door with a balcony. Anyone tall who stepped out to smoke or admire the night sky would be able to see straight through to the back of the locomotive. The coal level was only a foot below the lip of the car, so that didn’t leave them a lot of room for hiding. They’d have to undo the corporal’s raking and see if they could dig a hollow or two.

  On her elbows, Amaranthe crawled toward Sicarius. As the coal car passed the water tank, Basilard dropped, landing beside her. He also flattened himself to his belly. The darkness precluded hand signs, but she squeezed him on the shoulder to thank him for his reliable efficiency.

  “Overboard?” Sicarius whispered when Amaranthe joined him. He had the corporal subdued, face pressed into the coal.

  “Yes,” she said.

  The train was just starting to pick up speed, so tossing the man over the side shouldn’t hurt him much. Because the corporal had been irritating, a mischievous part of Amaranthe wanted to take off his pants and force him to run back to the station half-naked. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—Sicarius dumped him over the side before she could voice the suggestion.

  She listened for voices or any sign that the men in the cab had noticed, but all she heard was the chugging of the train as it picked up speed. Smoke blew back from the stack, clouding the air above the coal car. She could think of better things to smell, but at least it would help to camouflage her team.

  “Let’s dig out places to hide,” Amaranthe said, careful to keep her voice low so the men in the locomotive wouldn’t hear, “so we’re not visible at a glance. Sicarius, do you want to scout via the top of the train? See if you can locate the emperor’s car?” She knew he could glide across the roofs without making a sound.

  “Yes.”

  Sicarius disappeared so quickly, she guessed he’d been planning to do it whether she asked or not.

  Amaranthe and the others set to scraping coal aside to create depressions. Maldynado knelt beside her and helped while Basilard and Yara dug on the other side of the car.

  “What happens when someone misses that corporal?” Maldynado asked.

  “I’m hoping he annoys his superiors as much as he did me and that people will be so relieved he’s not around that they won’t come looking for him.”

  “The army doesn’t work that way. Everybody’s always reporting in to someone else.”

  “I know,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t expect to make it all the way to the Scarlet Pass without something happening, but maybe we’ll get lucky. It’s only four hours away.”

  “Uh huh, and what happens if we don’t get lucky?”

  “We’ll launch our current plan early. Most likely with more bullets flying in our direction, because we won’t have our distraction.”

  Maldynado touched his injured temple. “As the night goes on, I’m wishing more and more that I’d purchased some of that cider.”

  Chapter 12

  Akstyr joined Books in the dirigible’s navigation cabin. Maps were tented over levers, and open manuals sprawled across gauges, leaving little of the control panel visible. Books was hunched over it, scrutinizing the papers so hard that he didn’t notice someone had come in. Akstyr hoped there wasn’t a problem with the dirigible. The pilot had escaped while they’d been rummaging around in the mines, so there was nobody to turn to for help.

  “I’ve been studying the implants,” Akstyr said. “It’s hard because they try to leap into your skin when you touch them. It’s real dangerous of me even to look at them, but I’ve got some ideas.”

  He waited for a response—he wouldn’t have minded a little praise or encouragement for taking on the difficult task—Books didn’t acknowledge him.

  Whatever. Akstyr sat down in the co-pilot’s chair. Darkness had come hours earlier, and he couldn’t see much outside the forward window. After a few minutes, Books stood tall, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, and rubbed the back of his neck. He yawned, spotted Akstyr, and jumped in surprise, cracking his head on the low ceiling.

  “You didn’t notice me come in?” Akstyr asked. “Truly? Sicarius would have yelled at you. Well, not yelled but glared in that icy ball-withering way of his.”

  “Probably true.”

  “You figure out why those stowaways were lurking in our engine room?”

  “I have several hypotheses, and none of them would be good for the team. There’s little we can do about it now.” Books rubbed his lips and frowned at the papers as if they were wayward students, running around one of his classrooms and ignoring his teachings. “I believe we’ve arrived at our destination in the Scarlet Pass.”

  “Then why do you look so worried?”

  Books leaned forward and peered into the darkness below. “Landing on a mountain ledge in the dark presents a challenge.”

  “You landed us by the mine.”

  “In a flat, stump-filled field with good visibility, yes,” Books said.

  “If you crash, the blasting sticks will probably blow us up.”

  “If I crash... it probably won’t matter.”

  Akstyr leaned forward to peer out the window. Night had fallen, and snow drifted from the dark sky. He could make out the white tips of mountains in the background and a cliff nearby—a big cliff. What might have been railway tracks ran along a ledge on the cliff. To the side, the ground dropped away into a canyon. Nothing looked like a promising landing spot for a dirigible.

  “Wait, why do we have to land?” Akstyr asked.

  Books was muttering something about a lack of running lights, and he started to glare at Akstyr—he probably had a lecture on his lips—but he paused thoughtfully. “That’s... actually a good point.”

  “You needn’t sound shocked.”

  “Go see if there’s some rope on board. I think I can hover in place while you climb down to the ground and set the explosives.”

  “Nice of you to volunteer me for that.” Akstyr had been thinking along those lines anyway, but didn’t like someone assuming he wanted to risk himself.

>   “I have the most experience piloting the ship, so it’s logical for me to stay here.”

  “A day at the controls doesn’t make you an expert.” Akstyr said, though he pushed himself to his feet. A few minutes later, he returned with a coil of rope and two bundles of explosives. “I’m leaving half of the blasting sticks here. I don’t think I can slide down a rope with the whole box. Besides, if I get myself killed, you may need the rest to try again.”

  “A surprisingly noble sentiment.”

  “Don’t get used to it. I’m feeling sentimental because I’m about to put on a rucksack full of volatile explosives, and I know I’ll be dead if I fall or trip down there.” Akstyr meant to sound nonchalantly unconcerned, but it didn’t quite work.

  “We’re hovering in place now.” For the first time, Books looked away from the viewing window and the controls to regard Akstyr. “Be careful down there.”

  “Obviously,” Akstyr said. “But, look, if anything... happens, could you let my mother know I died heroically or something?”

  “Your mother? I didn’t know you had one.”

  “I didn’t know I had one any more either, but she found me a couple of days ago. I guess ’cause we’ve been mentioned some in the papers.” Akstyr shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t around for most of my life, so I don’t care what she thinks. Forget it. Don’t worry about telling her anything.”

  “I will locate her and let her know you died well, should it come to that.”

  “Whatever.” Akstyr headed for the door, but paused with his hand on the jamb. “Books, do you think... Do people ever really change? Or if someone says they’ve changed, do you think it’s more likely that they’re angling for something? Trying to use you somehow.”

  Books considered him for a long moment, and Akstyr had the feeling he was being judged. He was about to growl a, “Never mind,” and leave when Books spoke.

  “I suppose my answer depends on what sort of change you have in mind, but if people are properly motivated, or deeply affected by something they experience, they can change. That doesn’t mean they’re not still angling for something. The most charitable people in the world are choosing altruism, not because it’s a noble endeavor, but because being noble fulfills a need within them.”

  Akstyr struggled to find his answer in Books’s speech. He should have been more specific. “So if a mother who abandoned her child ten years ago suddenly wants to reconnect, it might be because it’d... fulfill some need within her?” He struggled not to roll his eyes at the mawkish language. “Not because she wanted something specifically from him?”

  “It’s possible. Maybe she’s always had regrets about leaving you. Maybe she’s realizing that, having given up on her child, she’ll have no one to care for her as she grows older. Maybe she wants to make amends for past grievances before it’s too late.”

  Akstyr scratched at the doorjamb. Yes, some of that made sense, he thought.

  “You might as well talk to her and give her a chance. You might regret not doing so later. When she’s gone...” Books’s focus turned inward, and he no longer seemed to be seeing Akstyr. “Trust me, it’s better to find peace with family while they’re still alive. You never know when the world will take someone from you.”

  “Or when you’ll blow yourself up,” Akstyr murmured and walked out.

  When he’d gathered his supplies and checked five times to make sure the blasting sticks were secured in his rucksack, he headed for a hatch in the floor of the engine room. Snowflakes blew past the opening. Their intensity had increased in the last few minutes, and Akstyr could barely see the massive cliff wall a few meters away from the dirigible. Its jagged contours, carved from the mountain with pickaxes and blasting sticks, had a dark, ominous quality to them. Night and the blowing snow made the ground and the tracks hard to see as well. Books better keep the dirigible in place; Akstyr wanted to land on the ledge, not in the ravine next to it.

  A gust of wind came up from below, hurling snow into the engine room.

  “Great time for rappelling,” Akstyr muttered, hooking a lantern over his arm.

  He stuffed the ex-pilot’s pistol into his belt. He doubted he’d need it, but if he got lost, he might need to shoot it off so Books could find him.

  After checking the knot securing his rope, Akstyr dropped the coil into the darkness. It bounced and wobbled in the wind. He tugged gloves on and slipped through the hatchway, taking the rope in both hands. Wind battered him, rocking him and spinning him in the air. He inched his way down, squinting against the sideways snow dashing at his eyes. Though glass protected the interior of his lantern, the whipping wind found cracks between the panes, and the tiny flame bobbed and flickered. With his hands occupied on the rope, Akstyr couldn’t do anything about it.

  Relief flowed into him when the ground came into view. The feeling doubled in intensity when his boots rested upon it. A scattering of snow brightened the dark rocks, and flakes were starting to stick to the metal tracks. All that mattered to Akstyr was that he was in the right place. The ledge supporting him was only ten feet wide, so it wouldn’t take much to block the railway.

  Coldness numbed his fingers, and shivers coursed through him, so he hurried to unpack the bundles of blasting sticks. He lifted the lantern and walked along the cliff, hunting for a crevice in which he could thrust the explosives.

  A light winked at the edge of his vision.

  “What the—” Akstyr lowered his lantern and scanned the darkness farther down the railway. He saw nothing but white snow swirling against a black backdrop. Maybe he’d been imagining things. Who could possibly be out there in the middle of the night?

  No one, he thought, but he shuttered his lantern anyway and resumed his search by hand. Trying to hide was probably pointless—lights burned behind the portholes in the dirigible above him—but Akstyr felt safer without the lantern dangling from his arm like a beacon. Or a target.

  He found a likely crevice and eased the first bundle of blasting sticks inside of it. A gun fired, and he almost dropped the second bundle.

  Akstyr pressed his back against the cliff, sucking in his belly. He hadn’t heard the bullet slam into anything nearby, but that didn’t mean people weren’t shooting at him.

  A dog bayed, its deep voice echoing from the cliffs.

  “Hunters?” Akstyr wondered.

  It seemed like a bizarre thing to do at night, especially in a snowstorm, but he’d heard that was when rural bumpkins went out to get raccoons. Maybe the dog’s owner didn’t care about Akstyr or the dirigible. Maybe the person hadn’t even seen him. Either way, hurrying seemed like a good idea.

  When no second shot came, Akstyr knelt again, slipping the second bundle of blasting sticks into the crevice. He removed his gloves, double-checked the placement, then started unwinding the fuse.

  The dog let out another undulating bay. Akstyr paused. Was it closer this time? The bays echoed from the cliff and mountain walls across the ravine, making it difficult to discern the source, but he had a feeling the hound and its master were on the trail up to the pass.

  When the dog stopped to catch its breath or scratch a flea or whatever dogs did, a man’s voice sounded in the silence. Someone talking. Distance jumbled the words, and Akstyr couldn’t understand them, but another man responded.

  Backpedaling, Akstyr strung out the fuse as quickly as he could. Another shot fired. This time it clanged off the rock face above his head. He dropped to his belly and tossed his raccoon-hunting theory into the ravine. These people were after him.

  Another rifle cracked, though Akstyr didn’t hear the bullet hit anything. The men had to be guessing at his location and hoping to get lucky. Or maybe they were drunk.

  The dog bayed again, closer this time. Its deep booming voice made it sound big. Very big.

  Assuming the men had to reload, Akstyr scrambled to his feet again. He thought about using his own pistol, but he only had the one shot, and he couldn’t see the men in the dar
kness. He returned to reeling out the fuse.

  Books had measured out over fifty feet of it when setting things up for Akstyr. With guns firing in his direction, it seemed more like five hundred feet. He dared not cut it short though, not when he had to climb to safety before the explosives went off.

  Finally, he reached the end. He hated to expose himself by opening the shutter of the lantern, but he had no choice. He unfastened the clasp and thrust the end of the fuse into the flame.

  A gun fired, and the lantern was ripped from his hands.

  Akstyr stumbled backward onto his butt. He snarled, prepared to spew out every curse he knew, but the flame had caught. Orange sparks danced at the end of the fuse.

  Akstyr leaped to his feet and sprinted toward the spot where he’d left the rope. The snow had picked up, and he couldn’t see it. He tripped over a rock. Cursed ancestors, he could barely see where he was going.

  Another shot fired, the bullet whizzing past his ear.

  “Quit shooting at me, you ball-licking street-kissers!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt stupid. He felt even stupider when laughter floated up the trail. And that cussed dog was getting closer too.

  Hands outstretched, Akstyr forced himself to ease along at a less reckless pace. He swatted only air though. Where was that ancestors-blighted rope?

  The dirigible, you idiot, he told himself, and looked up. There. A square of light stood out against the dark hull. The rope dangled down from the hatch, swaying with the wind and disappearing into the darkness, but he could guess its final position now.

  Akstyr jogged toward it. Something clacked behind him—dog claws on granite. Snarls and snapping teeth sounded, mere feet away.

  A huge, dark shape barreled out of the darkness and leaped for Akstyr. There was no time to grab his pistol and shoot it. He jumped to the side and kicked out. The dog twisted in the air and would have caught him with those snapping teeth, but his boot connected. It was enough to unbalance the animal, but the dog was still snarling when it landed behind him.