Conspiracy
Coal crunched a few feet away, near the front of the car. A man came into view above Amaranthe’s hill of coal. Clad in the black uniform of the emperor’s personal guard, he loomed, a dark shape against the cloud-filled sky, his shoulders wider than a meter stick, his neck as thick as an oak tree. He had to be seven feet tall.
Crouched so low her butt skimmed the coal, Amaranthe hoped the shadows hid her. And she hoped she could surprise the guard. Because Maldynado and the others were farther back, she should move first. Out of habit, her hand drifted to her sword, but she caught herself. They were subduing people without injuring them here. That had to be the goal. That and not being crushed by the behemoth.
A second guard stepped into view. Correction, Amaranthe thought, two behemoths. They walked one after the other down the center of the coal car, unaffected by the wind or the train’s reverberations.
The first man drew even with Amaranthe’s hollow. They didn’t have lanterns, and they were moving slowly, their heads swiveling from side to side. Searching.
Amaranthe thought of the knockout gas. Would it work out here in the open air?
The first man stopped. The shadows hadn’t cloaked Amaranthe enough—he was looking straight at her. Too late to dig out the knockout gas.
The second man disappeared from view behind him. It happened so quickly, Amaranthe almost missed it. The head and shoulders were in sight, and then they simply weren’t.
The first man’s rifle shifted toward Amaranthe, but his comrade must have made a sound, for he glanced back. She didn’t hesitate. She might not get another opening.
Amaranthe skittered up the hill of coal in front of her, both to get closer to the guard and to escape the rifle’s sights. Before the man could spin to track her, she rammed a sidekick into the edge of the man’s knee. The blow might have sent a lighter opponent stumbling to the ground, but he merely growled and whipped his rifle toward her head.
Figuring he expected her to run or dodge to the side, Amaranthe ducked and lunged in closer instead. She turned sideways and rammed her elbow into his groin. He bent over with a grunt and dropped the rifle, but that didn’t keep him from reacting. His arms came down, attempting to grab her and crush her—or maybe hurl her from the car.
Amaranthe skittered between his legs and spun toward his back. He wasn’t as slow as she’d hoped, and he was already whirling about, his huge hand curled into a fist. She jumped and caught a handful of his uniform at the back of his shoulder, then scampered up his side like a mountain goat. Before he could recover and tear her off, she reached the top of the “mountain” and drove her elbow into the sensitive vertebrae at the back of his neck. Fear and nerves lent power to the strike, and he dropped like a sack of coal.
That was all she needed to do, for Basilard and Maldynado were there by then, swarming over the guard. While Maldynado forced the man into a neck lock, Amaranthe fished out a gag and bindings.
“What took you two so long?” she whispered.
“We stopped to watch,” Maldynado said, a grin in his voice. “You were all over him like a pack of cats on a saucer of cream. We didn’t want to make a mistake and hit you. Besides, you looked like you had him under control.”
“Of course, I did.” Amaranthe was glad the darkness hid the post-fight tremor in her hands. She wouldn’t want to face one of the emperor’s bodyguards on even terms. That one had probably been night blind, after being inside the cab with lanterns and a furnace, and had struggled to follow her movement. “Also, I think cats are a clowder, not a pack. Unless you’re thinking of large wild cats, in which case it’s a pride. I’m not sure if they’re cream zealots though.”
“Did you intend to sound like Books, there?” Maldynado asked. “Or was that an unfortunate mishap?”
“Er.” Yes, Amaranthe was fairly certain Books had been the one to share that tidbit of information with her. When nervous, she had a tendency to babble—or burble, as Sicarius said—but this wasn’t a good time for verbosity. “Never mind, let’s move on.”
A few feet away, the second bodyguard lay on his back, a gag stuffed into his mouth. Of course, nothing intimidated Sicarius.
But he’d disappeared. Into the locomotive?
He must have decided he couldn’t risk attacking the guards with the engineer at his back. But if he’d taken out the engineer, who was going to drive the train?
“Try to move them into one of the valleys we dug,” Amaranthe told Maldynado and Basilard, “so they’re not visible to soldiers peeking in from the other end. Someone will need to stay with them too. I’m sure they’d get out of those bindings without someone watching them.” She blew out a puff of air, feeling the weight of her decision not to harm anyone.
“Why don’t we just toss them over the side?” Maldynado suggested. “That’s what we did with those blokes traveling with the weapons.”
“You did what? I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“We didn’t have any choice. They were searching the train.”
“We’re going fifty miles an hour. I’d be shocked if throwing someone overboard wouldn’t break his neck.” Amaranthe closed her eyes, wondering if the men’s actions on the other train meant there were more deaths she was responsible for.
“Nah, look at how thick those necks are,” Maldynado said. “You’d be lucky to break them with a steam hammer.”
“Just... guard them, Maldynado. Basilard, come up front with me, please.”
Sergeant Yara was standing in the background, probably not certain what was expected of her. Amaranthe gave her a stay-there wave. She didn’t want Yara to feel she had to be a part of this. Once they got Sespian, that’s when she’d have a role.
Amaranthe and Basilard climbed over the front of the coal car and onto the back of the locomotive cabin. As they angled toward one of the side doors, wind scoured the train, railing against them. They had to claw their way from handhold to handhold, the cold iron icy beneath their fingers. Trees streaked by, their branches outstretched, scraping and batting at the side of the train. Movement at the corner of Amaranthe’s eye spurred instincts into action, and she ducked a branch before it swept into her head. She gulped. If a branch struck her while she hung on the side...
Basilard touched her shoulder, a questioning prod, and Amaranthe pushed on. She wasn’t about to let the men know she was nervous.
The bifold door was closed. Light glowed behind large windows on either side, windows that would allow the engineer a view of someone approaching the entrance. Amaranthe stopped before leaning out and reaching for the door latch. What if Sicarius hadn’t gone up there? She couldn’t imagine where else he would have gone, but she might stumble into an awkward fight if she simply pushed her way inside.
She poked one eye around the corner. She didn’t see anyone in the cab. No Sicarius, no engineer or fireman.
“What’s going on?” Amaranthe muttered.
She grabbed the latch. Not locked. Good. She pulled the door open and leaped onto the footboard before catapulting inside.
Amaranthe landed in a crouch, fists balled, ready for a skirmish. That was when she noticed two men in blue engineering overalls sprawled on the textured metal floor along with copious amounts of spilled coal. One man lay beside her, his face pressed to the back wall, his ankles tied and hands bound behind his back. On the other side of the cab, in front of the furnace, Sicarius knelt over the second man. He was tying that one as well, though he paused long enough to arch an eyebrow at Amaranthe’s overzealous entrance.
Basilard slipped in behind Amaranthe and also gave her a curious look. She noticed her hands were still balled into fists and raised one to cover a fake yawn, as if she hadn’t been concerned at any point in the mission thus far.
Sicarius manhandled the fireman into a position on the back wall next to the engineer. Both men were alive and glaring at him, though gags in their mouths kept them from voicing complaints.
“I hadn’t planned to take over the cab.” Amaranthe tucked
stray strands of hair back into her bun. “Was it necessary to subdue them?”
“They would have grown suspicious when the guards left and did not return,” Sicarius said.
True, but inconvenient. Now someone would have to stay up there and drive the train. Maybe two people. She cursed under her breath. When they charged into the emperor’s car, she would need all of her men. That one fastidious corporal was spawning a lot of headaches.
Amaranthe eyed the front of the cab, wondering if there was a way to automate the train. The furnace was set into the left half with heavy cast iron doors that could swing open and closed again when someone stepped on a floor pedal. A shovel leaned to the side of it, beneath several wheels attached to pipes. Amaranthe had no idea what they controlled. All she knew was that shovel would need to be used again soon. A boiler capable of powering a locomotive would need heat applied constantly, lots of heat.
The engineer’s seat was on the right side of the cab, and all manner of gauges and levers adorned that station. The only thing Amaranthe could identify was the steam-whistle chain dangling from the ceiling. She leaned over the seat to peer out a vertical rectangle of a window. The long cylindrical engine took up most of the view, but she could see a little ways to the front of the right side of the train. She wasn’t sure what kind of lights were burning above the brush guard, but they didn’t illuminate as much of the rail as she would have thought. She hoped there’d be time to stop when they saw the landslide.
“We’ll be going slower when we start ascending into the mountains,” Sicarius said. “We can throw them and the other prisoners overboard without critically damaging them.”
“I’m glad you’re thinking of ways not to damage people, but what I’m really wondering is who’s going to drive this thing while we go after the emperor?”
Muffled words—curses most likely—came from the engineer. His shoulders flexed and strained as he tried to loosen his bonds. The fireman was glowering at her with eyes seething with hatred. She tried to offer them a disarming smile. They glared more fiercely. For all they knew, her team meant to assassinate Sespian and blow up the train, and she didn’t have time to explain otherwise, not that they would listen anyway.
“One of the men,” Sicarius said, ignoring the straining prisoners. His gaze shifted toward Basilard.
Basilard’s eyes widened. My people are simple nomads. I know how to hunt, fight, and put up a tent. He stared at the controls for a moment before adding, This looks a lot more complicated than a tent.
“Maldynado then,” Sicarius said.
“Dear ancestors, do you want us to crash?” Amaranthe asked. “Besides, we need everyone if we’re to have a chance against a car full of soldiers. How many people are in there with Sespian? Twenty?”
“Twenty-three soldiers and bodyguards. And the woman.”
Who might have skills as a practitioner. Lovely. And then there was the fact that there were more soldiers in the neighboring cars. If they didn’t figure out a way to retrieve Sespian quietly and quickly...
“We need everyone,” Amaranthe repeated.
“Talk the enforcer woman into doing it,” Sicarius said.
That... might work. As a rural enforcer, she’d know how to drive a lorry. How much different could it be? Amaranthe considered the furnace, the engineer’s station, and the prisoners. It was a lot to ask, especially when Yara hadn’t promised full support—or any kind of support—for the mission. Still, it would keep her out of the way of the fighting.
“Basilard, will you get her please?” Amaranthe unfastened one of the lanterns mounted on the wall and handed it to him. Maldynado would need to see Basilard’s hands to know what he was saying.
Basilard nodded and slipped back outside.
“You intend to defend this point until we reach the pass?” Sicarius asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’d be better off letting the furnace burn out while we’re getting Sespian. Then we can grab him, jump off when the train slows, and disappear into the woods. We can find a way to meet up with the others and...”
Sicarius was shaking his head. He pointed to a clock on the wall. “We’re two hours from the pass—nearly a hundred miles. It’d take us days on foot, and we’d have dozens of soldiers following us through the forest. Hundreds when word gets back to Forkingrust.”
Despite their predicament, Amaranthe managed a smile. “You say that like it’d be difficult for you. I thought evading soldiers was one of your favorite hobbies.”
“Not if I can’t harm them,” Sicarius said, gaze hard and unwavering.
Amaranthe dropped her smile. “Then we better plan to return here and maintain control at all costs.” She knocked on the back wall of the cab. “We’ll have a bargaining chip—the power to control the train—and, if need be, we can defend this position. It’ll be hard for them to get over the coal car and at us without exposing themselves.”
“If we aren’t going to shoot them, they won’t fear to expose themselves.”
Uh, yes, that was a good point. They needed a better plan.
Amaranthe grabbed the shovel next to the furnace. How were they going to defend a position when they couldn’t use their weapons? She stepped on the floor switch to open the furnace door. The fire had already burned low in the short time since Sicarius had taken down the fireman and engineer. She shoveled fresh coal into the furnace until the red embers along the bottom disappeared beneath leaping flames. Waves of heat flowed from within. Maybe they could do something with fire? No, she dismissed that idea as quickly as it came. She’d end up with the entire train on fire if they flung flames back toward the coal car. The mere thought made her glance about until she found a fire station: an axe, bucket of sand, and hose reel mounted on a narrow strip of wall behind the engineer’s chair.
Aware of Sicarius watching her, Amaranthe said, “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” She used the shovel to sweep the coals spilled on the floor back into the pile beneath the chute.
“Before or after soldiers are streaming into the locomotive?” Sicarius asked.
“I’ll let that be a surprise.” Amaranthe winked. If only she felt half as confident as she pretended.
“Quit pushing,” came Yara’s voice from outside. “Don’t touch me at all. Ever.” She came into view on the other side of the window, inching her way toward the door.
Wind gusted against her, flinging her short hair to one side, but Amaranthe didn’t think it was the source of her irritation. Maldynado came into view, crawling along the outside of the train after her. Ah, yes.
Yara lunged around the corner and into the cabin, grabbing the back of the engineer’s seat for support. Maldynado hopped in behind her.
“You cannot be any fun in bed,” he told Yara.
“You’ll never find out,” she growled back.
Amaranthe was sweeping the last few coals into the pile beneath the chute. She was about to say something, but Maldynado spoke first.
“Boss, are you cleaning? In the middle of our train-infiltration mission?”
“No.” Amaranthe blushed and set the shovel aside. “I’m just tidying what may become a fighting area. I don’t want anyone slipping on loose coal.” Before he could make any silly comments, she added, “What are you doing up here, Maldynado? I told Basilard to get Yara, not you.”
“I figured that was an oversight on your part. You know you’ll need me up here.” Maldynado slid into the engineer’s seat and caressed a few gauges. “Nice, I’ve never driven a train.”
“And you’re not going to tonight either,” Amaranthe said.
“Thank the emperor’s ancestors,” Yara muttered.
“You’re driving,” Amaranthe told her.
“What?”
“Just for a few minutes while we retrieve the emperor. It’ll be easy.” Amaranthe pointed to the window in front of the engineer’s seat. “As you can see, being on a rail means there’s no steering required. You’ll just have to add more fuel when that
gauge over there gets low, and, uh, that gauge looks important too. Watch that. That one too. It’ll be easy. You’ll figure it out.” Amaranthe had a notion that if she claimed the task would be easy numerous times and flew through her dubious instructions, they’d seem less daunting. “Oh, and you’ll need to keep an eye on those two men. Sicarius tied them up, so I’m sure they’ll find escape elusive, but you never know.”
Yara did not seem to be an easily flappable person, but something akin to terror was creeping into her eyes. So much for “less daunting.”
“I know it sounds like a lot, but the emperor didn’t promote you to sergeant for no reason,” Amaranthe said. “You can handle this.”
Maldynado slid out of the engineer’s chair, propped an elbow on Yara’s shoulder, and pointed to Amaranthe. “She’s like this all the time. She comes up with these ludicrous schemes and then expects other people to do crazy things they’ve never done before to make them happen. You’d think we’d all be dead by now, but oddly enough she’s usually right and people can handle the things she thinks they can. She’s sort of smart like that.”
That had to be one of the more convoluted defenses Amaranthe had ever received. If it truly could be called a defense. “Remind me not to ever have you speak on my behalf before the magistrate,” she told Maldynado.
“What?” Maldynado touched his chest. “I’m a fine speaker.”
Yara recovered from her stunned silence and glowered at Maldynado’s elbow. It was still on her shoulder. “Did we not just discuss touching?”
Maldynado lifted his hands skyward. “Apologies, my lady.”
Amaranthe removed a folded kerchief from her pocket and dusted off the engineer’s chair. “Ready?” She extended a hand, offering Yara the seat.
“No,” Yara grumbled. “But I’m probably less likely to get killed up here than if I assaulted the emperor’s rail car with you and your men.”
“Exactly.”
Amaranthe turned to tell Sicarius they were ready—he wouldn’t appreciate this silly chitchat—but he had disappeared. “Emperor’s warts,” she muttered and grabbed Maldynado’s arm. “Let’s go.”