Beneath the Surface

CHAPTER 8

Amaranthe lay on her belly at the edge of the roof, watching the town in case her men offered a signal. One of the earlier river settlements, Port Medar maintained a rustic, early-empire feel with narrow streets lined with one- and two-story buildings. Most of the steamboat’s passengers had disembarked to explore the town, so those streets were busy. Somewhere out there, Akstyr and Basilard were searching for Maldynado and Yara while Books and Sespian hunted for bags of cement mix. Only Sicarius remained on board with Amaranthe. He stood near the smokestack, his black clothing blending in with the black paint, as he kept an eye on the pilothouse and the roof access points.

Getting her men off the steamboat hadn’t been a problem. It’d been early as they approached town, and under dawn’s dimness, they’d stolen a lifeboat and gone ashore. Once they’d reached a safe distance, they’d made a clamor so the enforcers couldn’t miss that “those scurrilous outlaws” were escaping. Getting her team back on the steamboat without anyone noticing would doubtlessly prove more difficult. Especially if they were going to be toting a few hundred pounds of cement mix. “Trust me,” Books had said, eliciting memories of Maldynado riding a tottering printing press down a hill at breakneck speed to their first team hideout. Not for the first time, Amaranthe wondered if she should have gone with them. But Sespian had suggested-no, it’d been more of an order, and she smiled at the memory-that someone had to remain with the weapons, in case the others weren’t able to sneak past security and get back on board. Those rockets couldn’t be allowed to reach the capital.

A squad of enforcers in crisp gray uniforms marched toward the docks. Uh oh. Were they coming aboard because of the team? Or had they found out about the weapons?

Amaranthe scooted away from the edge, lest the enforcers check the roofline as they approached. She joined Sicarius, wiping moisture from the front of her parka. The sun had come out, melting the snow and leaving the roof damp. She leaned against him for warmth.

Sicarius collapsed a spyglass. “The cement will make it onboard.”

“ Oh?”

“ It’s been added to those supplies.” Sicarius pointed to pallets of foodstuffs and bins of coal sitting on the dock, waiting for the attention of a steam crane. “I did not see Books or Sespian. They did well.”

The compliment-and the hint of pride in his voice-pleased Amaranthe. She caught Sicarius’s arm as he lowered it and molded it around her waist. “If we are to be a we, one of your jobs will be to anticipate when I’m wet and cold, then seek to warm me.”

“ Really.” Amazing how the man could sound dry without changing his tone whatsoever. At least he didn’t remove his arm. “What will your jobs be?”

“ I’m sure they’ll be many and varied,” Amaranthe said.

“ Such as?”

She wondered what he might have in mind. “Bringing warmth and cheer to your soul?”

Amaranthe kept hoping for a day when she said something like that and it surprised a laugh out of him. It had to be possible. She’d seen him amused before, and he’d even given her the faintest touch of a smile from time to time. But maybe he had something else in mind when it came to “jobs.” Something less amusing and more… physical. When he didn’t answer, she tilted her head back to check his face, then rolled her eyes. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was peering around the smokestack toward the pilothouse. The last time she’d checked, the man on duty in there had his heels up on the console, his head back as he snoozed in the chair. Apparently being on watch when docked wasn’t a demanding task for a helmsman.

“ All right, we’ll come up with some better jobs,” Amaranthe said. “We can work on a list together.”

Sicarius dropped his arm. “We’re about to have company.”

Amaranthe heard the voices then, two men coming up the stairs. Maybe they were heading to the pilothouse.

“…check up here.”

“…know some are still on board.”

Erg, no such luck.

“ Where to?” Amaranthe whispered. If they slipped over the edge of the roof, they could drop onto the upper deck, but they might run into someone down there.

Sicarius was looking up instead of down, toward the lip of their smokestack. The furnaces weren’t stoked while in port, so there weren’t any black plumes pouring from either stack, but Amaranthe couldn’t imagine hiding inside of them. For one thing, the lip was fifteen feet above the roof, and they didn’t have any rope. For another, the walls of the black cylinder rose vertically and smoothly, with only a couple of slight circular ridges where segments had been soldered together.

“ You’re not serious,” Amaranthe whispered.

“ We’ve practiced this.”

“ On stone or brick walls, not some slick, frictionless metal.” She waved to the nearby roof edge. “There’s not even any space to get momentum going.”

The voices grew louder, each word distinct. Security was definitely looking for them, and tossing men overboard wouldn’t be nearly as effective when the boat wasn’t moving. They’d simply climb back up. Not to mention that people flying from the roof might draw the attention of the approaching squad.

“ Follow,” Sicarius said.

He backed up three steps, not all the way to the edge of the roof, lest someone spot him from below, then sprinted straight at the smokestack. He ran up the side, legs churning, propelling him upward. He gripped the lip before gravity caught up with him. In a blink, he disappeared over the side.

Amaranthe grumbled to herself but backed up to give it a try. If he thought she could do it, who was she to argue?

“ A mortal person more effected by gravity than he,” she muttered.

“ Check behind the stacks,” one of the men said.

They were both on the roof now, walking in her direction. She’d be in their sight in a few seconds.

Amaranthe raced for the stack, then up it. Taking large steps, she kicked into the wall, throwing the knee of her opposite leg up, propelling herself upward. All too soon, her momentum faded. She threw her arm up, hoping she was close to the top. Her fingers brushed the lip, but she couldn’t quite get a grip.

Before she started to drop, Sicarius’s hand whipped out with a viper’s speed. He caught her wrist and hauled her up as if she weighed mere ounces.

Conscious of the men below, Amaranthe kept from grunting when her stomach rammed into the stack’s lip. A little abdomen battering didn’t compare to what she’d endured at Pike’s hands. She slithered the rest of the way over as quietly as possible. Inside, she groped about for someplace to put her feet, but didn’t find anything. Sicarius was bracing himself with one boot and one hand against each side of the interior. The smokestack wasn’t wide, and she bumped him several times as she maneuvered about, attempting to find a similar position. She finally settled in, facing him. Under other circumstances, she might have blushed at how few inches separated their bodies. As it was, she merely hoped she hadn’t bumped him any place sensitive.

Sicarius gazed impassively at her. She tilted her head, listening to see if the enforcers had spotted her. She could hear them talking, but the stack walls muffled the words. She and Sicarius hung in tableau, waiting.

Though the furnaces might have been permitted to burn down to embers, heat still wafted up from below. Warmth emanated from the metal walls, too, and she alternated lifting hands to give them a break. She eyed the soot coating her palms with distaste. She did manage to feel pleased that her muscles were supporting her weight without trouble. So long as the enforcers wandered off before the stokers below readied the boat to leave the docks, she ought to be fine.

“ At least I’m warm now,” Amaranthe whispered. “We should have climbed in here earlier.”

Sicarius was watching the sky, or perhaps listening to the enforcers, and she didn’t expect him to respond. He surprised her with a quiet, “My arm did not warm you sufficiently?”

“ Don’t feel bad. You’re new at snuggling with women. You’ll learn.”

His gaze lowered to meet hers. More teasing words floated through her mind, but she kept them to herself. After all, she wanted to encourage snuggling, not divert him from the notion. Other notions came to mind when she realized how close her face was to his. Given their precarious perch, and the enforcers clomping about on the roof below, this probably wasn’t the place for amorous activities, but as the seconds ticked past, she found herself wondering what he’d do if she kissed him. She also wondered if he thought about such things even half as often as she did. By all accounts-especially Maldynado’s-men were supposed to be more enamored with sex than women, but with him… one would never know if he had such urges at all. Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did but didn’t know how to have a normal relationship with someone. She’d been thinking about what she’d endured at Pike’s hands, but what about what he’d endured? Not as a hardened adult either, but as a child.

“ Equipment cleaning,” Sicarius said.

“ What?”

“ Your job. It could be tending to the group’s training gear.”

Amaranthe shook her head slowly. Here she was worrying about his past and whether he’d ever enjoy physical relations, and he was mulling over the most literal meaning of her earlier words. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “I meant jobs as in things we do specifically to please the other person. It should be…” She trailed off. The lighting wasn’t the best inside the smokestack, but she was certain the corners of his lips were turned up slightly. “You know what I meant. You’re just teasing me.”

“ Yes.”

“ Sicarius…? Do you find pleasure in… I mean, did your experiences as a boy… with… him… make it so you can’t…” Amaranthe dropped her chin and winced. This was the worst place ever to have this conversation. What was she thinking? Once started, though, she couldn’t help herself. “I know you said you’d be ready when I was ready, but do you think it’ll be… something you can enjoy?”

Sicarius lifted his face toward the mouth of the smokestack, ear tilted toward the jabbering enforcers below. “Is coitus with you not typically enjoyable?”

Amaranthe was glad he wasn’t looking at her, because her cheeks flushed hotter than a pot-bellied stove. “Of course it is,” she whispered. Though, technically, she’d never asked any of her previous lovers. All two of them. Men never seemed that picky though. Emperor’s warts, she’d caught Akstyr entertaining himself with a tree once.

Amaranthe realized Sicarius’s gaze had returned to her face, and her flush deepened. “Does that mean you’re not going to answer my question?”

Sicarius shifted his weight, and she thought he meant to climb up and check on the enforcers, but he drew closer and laid his hand on her waist. His fingers hooked under her belt, as if he meant to give her extra support to ensure she wouldn’t fall. She opened her mouth to protest-sure, she’d get tired of hanging up there eventually, but a few minutes didn’t bother her. Then he touched his lips to hers.

Her boots skidded an inch down the wall. She jammed her hands against the sides to catch herself. Her heart thundered in her ears at the thought of plummeting three decks down to the boiler room, but Sicarius’s other hand came to her waist, and her mind caught up to her reflexes. She was in no danger of falling. Even if she slipped, he wouldn’t let her drop. Not when he was teasing her lips with his tongue. Playfully. That still wasn’t exactly an answer to her question, but she wasn’t about to start talking and ruin the moment.

Though he kept the kiss light, the desire for more built within her. How long had she wanted him to kiss her? How long had she dreamed of it? The warmth that flushed her body had nothing to do with embarrassment or the heat wafting up from the furnaces. Had she been cold earlier? That feeling seemed an eternity past now. She lowered one of her hands from the wall, wanting to reach for him and deepen the kiss. Then she remembered her position, that only her braced arms and legs kept her from falling. But Sicarius didn’t let her budge. His hands on either side of her waist ensured she wouldn’t fall. Her fingers found the back of his head, twining in his short, soft hair. She let go of the wall with her other hand, wrapping it around his back, and then, encouraged by what felt like a smile against her lips, she let the arm slip lower. Feeling audacious for her presumption, she cupped his rear. Taut muscle lay beneath his trousers, a result of his straddled legs supporting his weight and some of hers. He could hold them both up, she had little doubt. She was tempted to wrap her legs around him, to “ Rokkov,” someone yelled outside. “You and Ganz better get down here. We found Jokranov and Reki. Their bodies anyway.”

“ We’ll be down in a minute,” one of the men on the roof yelled back.

Sicarius drew back, leaving Amaranthe breathless and disoriented. It took her a moment to focus on work again and realize the implications of the shout.

“ Bodies?” Amaranthe whispered. “Was there more than one down there?”

“ A second, yes.”

“ If enforcers have been under the stage, they may have found the weapons.” She returned her hands to the wall, intending to push herself up to the lip.

“ Or it may be a trap,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe halted, a few inches above him. “For whom?”

His steady gaze held hers.

“ Us? But they think we all left this morning. At least that’s what they’re supposed to think.”

“ That squad of enforcers boarded for a reason.”

Oh. She’d forgotten about them. She’d been too busy… not concentrating on work.

“ Someone with a spyglass would have been able to count the heads of people in the lifeboat,” Sicarius went on.

“ They couldn’t have known anyone was missing, not for sure. Suppose we were simply keeping our heads down to avoid being shot? Besides, they might not know how many people went overboard last night. And there shouldn’t be any way for them to tell we were under the stage or had anything to do with those dead enforcers. Which we didn’t. For all they know, we’re simply trying to obtain a ride back home. Which is true. Mostly.”

“ Enforcers do not ascribe innocent motivations to me when alternatives are available,” Sicarius said. “A trap is not unlikely.”

“ Are you sure you’re not looking for an excuse to stay in the smokestack with me?”

“ If we attempt to check on the weapons now, in daylight, we may be spotted.”

“ Don’t worry. You don’t have to say it. I know.” Amaranthe patted him on the chest. “It was good for me too.”

Not sure if he’d appreciate her inability to shift promptly from pleasure to work, she held back her grin as she scrambled to the lip. Daylight was right. The clouds had long since drifted away, and bright afternoon sunlight shown down on the river valley. And on her soot-smeared hands. She grimaced, wondering if the fine black powder coated her face as well. Apparently smokestacks weren’t ideal for smooching sessions. It’d been worth it. Once again, the grin fought to find a place on her face.

Sicarius’s head popped up beside hers.

The enforcers were heading back to the stairs.

“ Costumes,” Amaranthe said. “If we-”

Sicarius vaulted over the lip of the smokestack and landed in a crouch below, his feet touching down without sound. A hand-sized smear of soot blackened the back of his head. Amaranthe glanced at her darkened fingers. Oops.

The grime didn’t slow Sicarius down. He sprang across the rooftop like a great black panther. The enforcers never saw him coming.

Amaranthe slid down the outside of the smokestack. By the time her feet hit the roof, both enforcers were flat. She snorted. They might have simply done that to start with, instead of clambering into the smokestack.

Inside the pilothouse, the helmsman still had his legs propped up on the console. Sicarius hoisted one unconscious enforcer over his shoulder and grabbed the other one, dragging him along the roof toward Amaranthe. She hustled over, intending to help, but he quickly pulled his burden behind the closest smokestack. One man’s eyes were rolled back in his head; the other blinked blearily, but didn’t look like he’d recover to fight anytime soon.

“ I’m going to find rope,” Sicarius said. “Take off their clothes.”

“ I was hoping he’d want to strip me,” Amaranthe told the bleary fellow, but she hurried about her work, removing the garments. When the semi-conscious enforcer tried to object, she tapped her dagger for emphasis.

When Sicarius returned with a coil of rope, both men wore nothing but their smallclothes. She’d folded the larger set of garments into a stack and started donning the smaller uniform. It was still too large. She stuffed the trouser cuffs into the oversized boots and did her best to hide the fact that the sleeves hung past her knuckles. She fiddled with her hair, trying to fit most of it beneath the hat so people wouldn’t identify her as a woman at first glance. If nothing had changed in the last year, female enforcers were still scarce, doubly so away from the relatively progressive capital.

Sicarius buttoned his jacket. Of course his purloined uniform fit handsomely, even if he had to do quite a bit of rearranging to find spots to hide his daggers and throwing knives. He finished and approached the men with the rope. He eyed the top of the smokestack.

“ We’re not throwing them in there,” Amaranthe said. “They’d be horribly burned if they couldn’t stop themselves before they hit the bottom. Besides…” She nudged his arm. “That’s our smokestack.”

Sicarius nodded once and tied the enforcers even more thoroughly than the bundle of rockets three decks below. The men would be lucky if they could do anything besides tip themselves over. So long as they didn’t wriggle out from behind the smokestack and catch the helmsman’s eye. Amaranthe frowned, suddenly finding that scenario all-too-likely. She and Sicarius would have to hurry, though she didn’t even know what they’d do. They had to make sure the enforcers hadn’t stumbled onto the weapons or, if they had, ensure they didn’t try to move them. To break one of those rockets, unleashing the deadly cubes within, all in ignorance…

“ Come,” Sicarius said.

He jogged toward the steps leading down beside the pilothouse. Surprised, Amaranthe glanced inside. The helmsman no longer dozed in his chair. Frowning, she paused to peer through the window. The man lay on his side, ankles bound, wrists tied behind his back. Well, they needn’t worry about him noticing the enforcers.

“ He didn’t want to relinquish the rope,” Sicarius said from the stairs.

“ I see that.” Amaranthe trotted after him.

Fortunately, with most of the passengers ashore, they didn’t see many people. Fewer crew members walked the decks as well. Those they did pass were busy loading supplies or cleaning and making repairs. When Amaranthe and Sicarius descended the last set of stairs to the lower deck, they passed their first set of security guards, two men prowling about, checking doors leading to common areas.

Sicarius strode past them, his head up, a haughty tilt to his chin. Figuring that was less suspicious than avoiding eye contact, Amaranthe mimicked him.

“ Those arrogant enforcers think they’re so much better than us,” one of the security men whispered loudly in their wake.

Amaranthe wondered if the security guards knew enforcers said the same thing about soldiers.

Ahead, the doors to the dining hall were propped open. An invitation to, as Sicarius had suggested, walk into a trap? The crew certainly wouldn’t be preparing for a meal with most of the passengers gone.

Sicarius continued toward the doors with a determined stride, his chin up, face forward, though Amaranthe knew he saw everything going on around him. He walked into the dining hall as if he were truly an enforcer, someone who’d been ordered to report promptly. Amaranthe trotted in on his heels, though she couldn’t help but let her fingers stray to her knife.

Just past the threshold, Sicarius glided to the side to avoid two men carrying a third. Amaranthe didn’t see them until he’d moved, so she almost stumbled into the back of the closest. That brought scowls from both enforcers. They were carrying a dead comrade so Amaranthe could understand their moods. She ducked her head, gesturing an apology, and skittered sideways. The pair continued past without noticing Sicarius. A second body lay by the open panel beside the stage, waiting to be taken out, but the only other living person in the room was a boy in kitchen whites. He walked between the tables, setting silverware for the evening meal.

Maybe Amaranthe and Sicarius would be able to check on the weapons without raising an alarm after all.

A thump followed by a muffled curse came from beneath the stage. A second voice issued a string of words, unintelligible through the wood, and Amaranthe’s hopes sank. Who knew how many people were in there? Were they hunting for more of their fallen comrades? Or-more likely-searching for the weapons? The crate Sicarius had shoved over the grate wouldn’t hide the storage cubby forever, especially if one of the enforcers thought to head to engineering to look at the same schematics Sicarius had.

He crouched beside the panel, staying out of sight of anyone who might be inside, and waited for Amaranthe to join him. “Plan?”

She knelt at his side. “You have one? Excellent. Please share.”

He gazed back without comment. Right, coming up with crazy schemes was her idea.

Under the stage, shadows danced on crates and walls as enforcers with lanterns moved about. Voices drifted out.

“…too much junk.”

“…need to search…”

“…where?”

“ We better do something about those enforcers,” Amaranthe whispered. “And move those weapons. I don’t know how or where, but too many people are searching in this area. Books will probably need them elsewhere anyway, if he’s going to seal them in cement.” She winced, wishing she’d thought of that earlier. She and Sicarius could have been down here, moving the weapons, before the enforcers started sniffing about. Or they could have tried. She had no idea how the circus troupe had gotten them tucked in that hole in the first place. They’d have to move a lot of the crates around the grate to angle them out, and then it’d take two people to carry each rocket. There had been ten or twelve of them. She couldn’t see her and Sicarius moving them alone, not without a lot of uninterrupted time. She needed the others back. But even if she had them… How would they amble through the steamboat toting glowing yellow rockets without anyone noticing? In the empire, carrying anything that glowed, even a key fob, could earn one a crossbow bolt in the chest.

Sicarius was watching her think. Amaranthe tried to wipe the concern off her face.

“ We’ll figure it out,” she said. “Enforcers first.”

He drew a knife and slipped through the square entrance. When Amaranthe joined him, he whispered, “Guard the door. Once they realize I’m here, they may try to escape.”

Only as he was disappearing into the darkness between two piles of gear did Amaranthe realize she hadn’t specifically told him not to kill anyone. Yelling after him now would only alert the enforcers. She thought about scrambling after him, but set her jaw and stayed put. Unless he had something to do with the missing Forge ladies, Sicarius hadn’t killed, or even lastingly harmed, anyone since his escape from Forge’s underwater hideout. Amaranthe suspected those women had disappeared not because of Sicarius-or nosy maids-but because they’d realized they were sharing a steamboat with the deadly weapons they’d ordered their expendable employees to pick up.

Amaranthe nodded and settled in to wait by the entrance. The more she thought about it, the more certain she grew that Sicarius wouldn’t strike to kill unless he were trapped and overwhelmed. Even up on the roof, his first reaction had been to hide from the enforcers, rather than taking them down. Only when she’d suggested costumes had he gone after the two men, and his efficient attack hadn’t spilled blood. His normal logic would have been to kill the men, rather than leave them bound and gagged where they could be discovered or free themselves. But he hadn’t mentioned it. Amaranthe smiled to herself. She didn’t know if it was for her sake-he’d known how she felt about leaving bodies in their wake for a long time but had done so anyway-or because Sespian was traveling with him now, rather than standing vulnerably in Forge’s line of fire. It didn’t matter.

Something thunked nearby. From her spot beside the trapdoor, Amaranthe couldn’t see anything other than a few feet of wall and a curtain, but she could tell someone had entered the dining hall. She eased her dagger out and shifted deeper into the shadows.

“…seen Rokkov and Ganz yet?” a man asked.

“ No, those worthless slag heaps are dawdling somewhere, making us do all the work.”

Two sets of footsteps drew closer to the stage. Already crouching, Amaranthe leaned forward on the balls of her feet, ready to spring. A few feet away, clothing rustled. Someone grunted.

“ Well-fed bastard,” the second man growled, thumping against the side of the stage.

Oh. Amaranthe relaxed an iota. The second body, of course. These were the men assigned to carry the dead off the boat. They probably wouldn’t look under the stage.

“ Be respectful, Private. That’s one of our brethren, even if he’s from another district.”

“ I’d be more respectful if he and his mate had left a note telling us what they were doing down there,” the grumpy enforcer said. He raised his voice to holler, “Sarge?”

Amaranthe tensed again. Was he addressing someone on the deck outside? Or one of the men searching under the stage? And if the latter, what if Sicarius had already taken him down? Since she’d gone in, she hadn’t heard a noise aside from the scraping of crates being pushed about, but Sicarius could have rendered half of the search team unconscious by now.

“ What?” came a muffled call from the far side of the stage.

Amaranthe let out a soft exhale.

“ What d’you want us to do after we take this last body into town?”

“ See if you can find blueprints for the steamboat,” the sergeant called back. “We haven’t found a cursed thing down here, but something poisoned those men.”

Amaranthe swore to herself. If Sicarius had learned about the below-deck storage compartment in a few seconds, it wouldn’t take the enforcers much longer.

“ Slagging Sicarius, that’s who,” the grumpy enforcer said.

“ Probably so, but why?” the sergeant responded.

Sicarius had been right. He didn’t have to do anything to get blamed for nearby mayhem. Would people ever be able to get past that?

“ He needs a reason?” Grumpy asked.

“ To crawl around beneath a stage, I’d say so. Get going, Private. Finish up and tell me what those blueprints say.”

“ Yes, Sarge.”

More grunts sounded as the enforcers toted the dead man away. Sicarius had probably taken down everyone except the sergeant during the conversation. That was good, Amaranthe supposed, but when a half squad of enforcers failed to come out from underneath the stage, someone was going to figure out what was going on. She and Sicarius needed to find a way to move those weapons fast, before anyone got a look at that schematic. Or, maybe she should have attacked those two men, to keep them from leaving the dining hall.

She poked her head through the trapdoor. Too late. They were gone. She doubted she could have knocked them out with Sicarius’s quick efficiency anyway. More likely, someone would have gotten a shout out, and she’d have given away her position sooner rather than later.

“ What a nice relaxing trip upriver this has turned out to be,” Amaranthe muttered.

Someone touched her shoulder.

“ Got them all?” she whispered, trusting it’d be Sicarius-an enforcer would have clubbed her shoulder. Or head.

“ They’re all tied in the back,” Sicarius said.

“ I don’t suppose you’ve found any other ways out of here?”

“ Not unless the storage area can be accessed from elsewhere. None of us crawled below to check.”

“ Let’s do that because we may have visitors soon.” Amaranthe summarized the conversation she’d overheard. “If we’re going to move those weapons, it’ll have to be now.”

Sicarius led her through the maze of gear and boxes, including a jaunt along the back wall, where he’d wedged four enforcers into a nook between large crates that brushed the stage’s wooden support beams. One man lacked a uniform jacket-it’d been removed and cut into strips for gags and bonds. Nice of him to donate material for everyone.

As one, the enforcers’ eyes widened when Sicarius entered their view. They exchanged worried glances with each other. After nearly a year with him, Amaranthe forgot how unnerving those knives and emotionless stares could be.

Sicarius moved past the enforcers without comment. The grate lay on the other side of the stage, so he’d probably only come this way to let the men know he was still in the area-and escape attempts would not be wise.

Someone had disturbed the crate Sicarius had moved on top of the floor entrance, revealing a few inches of the grate. Yellow light seeped up between the iron bars.

“ Did they see that?” Amaranthe whispered. “Or was the crate bumped when you attacked someone?”

“ A man was in the area. He nudged the crate but hadn’t noticed the glow yet.” As he spoke, Sicarius stood as much as he could in the low space and, blond hair brushing the beams above, lifted the crate aside, not letting it bump or scrape on the floor such that the enforcers might hear. Judging by the way the tendons in his hands stood out and his thigh muscles bunched against the fabric of his trousers, it was heavy. It occurred to her that with Sespian away from Forge’s clutches, he had little reason to continue to work to thwart the organization, yet he’d been as helpful as ever since rescuing her, if not more so. The weapons probably mattered little to him, so long as his son wasn’t likely to be caught by them. Once again, she wondered if Sicarius hoped to earn Sespian’s trust by helping him regain the throne.

“ I may not have said it,” Amaranthe whispered, “but I appreciate your continued willingness to work against Forge with me.”

Sicarius produced the grate key and slipped it into the lock.

“ You haven’t mentioned… Well, what are your goals now? Do you want to see Sespian on the throne again?”

“ No.”

Amaranthe stared at him. She hadn’t expected such a definitive answer. “You don’t?”

“ If he wants it, I’ll protect him, but I’m not… flawless. He’ll be a target as long as he’s emperor.”

He sounded grim, so Amaranthe said lightly, “You’re not flawless? What flaws do you think you have?”

“ A need for sleep. I can’t watch over him every moment of the day.” Sicarius opened the grate and lowered his legs into the shallow hold.

“ Wait,” Amaranthe said before he could disappear below. “Why are you still working with us against Forge?” If not for Sespian’s sake, might it be for hers?

Sicarius met her eyes. “Whether he wants the throne or not, he would wish a satisfactory outcome for the empire. He would not classify a Forge-backed figurehead as such.”

“ So it is for Sespian’s sake.” Amaranthe told herself not to feel stung-she knew he cared about her too-but she was tempted to point out that she’d had to talk Sespian into coming back up the river with them. That wasn’t fair though. Sespian would have returned to the capital of his own volition eventually. Sicarius was right-Sespian did still feel obligated to protect his people. “I think you’re right,” she said. “If you help set things right in his eyes, he will eventually appreciate it.”

Sicarius nodded once and slithered into the cargo hold.

“ Be careful,” Amaranthe said, remembering that he’d be moving about right next to those weapons.

“ Yes,” came Sicarius’s simple agreement.

Amaranthe grabbed a lantern and her knife and went to check on the enforcers. She trusted Sicarius to tie a good knot, but the odds were against them when it came to keeping trained men immobilized indefinitely.

Indeed, when she returned to their prisoner nook, she found one fellow with a sharp shard of wood clenched between his teeth. Bent over his wrists, he was working the edge back and forth across his bonds. Amaranthe didn’t think he’d escape that way, but she removed it from his mouth regardless.

One of the other men snarled something at her through his gag. She wouldn’t have recognized the word if she hadn’t heard it from enforcers so often. “Traitor.”

Amaranthe held back a wince. She knew better, and she hoped the rest of the world would one day too. A part of her was tempted to explain the weapons and how she and Sicarius were trying to help, but she didn’t want to leave the entrance unguarded for long. She left without responding and circled back to check on the dining hall.

A thrum ran through the decking. The engines starting up? Great. There’d be more people coming back on board as the steamboat prepared for departure, and it’d be even harder to move the weapons undetected.

Amaranthe headed back to the grate. Sicarius was pulling himself out of the cubby.

“ No other exits,” he said, “but there’s a thin bulkhead that way.” He pointed toward one side of the dining hall.

“ Engineering is in that direction, isn’t it?”

Sicarius nodded. “With a blow lamp, one might punch a hole through and slip out that way.”

“ Except that we don’t have a blow lamp. And engineering isn’t going to be unmanned.”

“ I’d rather make a stand in there than in here.” Sicarius eyed the confines of the wooden stage. “Sespian and the others would have an easier time finding us as well.”

“ All right,” Amaranthe said. “Do you want to stay here and guard the men while I see if I can find a-”

“ Sarge!” came a cry from the dining hall.

Footsteps thundered in the aftermath of the shout, many footsteps belonging to many people.

“ See if they’re in there,” a second man called, this one with an older, more authoritative voice. “Surround the stage.”

Amaranthe deflated. Someone must have found the enforcers on the roof. Or located the schematics. Or both. It was too late to fetch any tools or move the weapons.

Sicarius bolted past her, knives in each hand. Amaranthe feared they’d lost the opportunity to merely gag and tie people. They’d have to defend themselves-and access to those weapons-any way they could now. Trusting Sicarius to guard the entrance, she rushed about, extinguishing lanterns. No need to make it easy for those on the outside to see inside. She swung by the enforcers to check on them one more time-the last thing they needed was enemies attacking at their rear as well as their front-but no one had succeeded in freeing himself yet. She blew out the last lantern, one of several the men had brought down for their search. Darkness descended upon the back half of the stage.

Another thrum ran through the deck, this time followed by the sensation of movement. The River Dancer was leaving dock. Amaranthe hoped her men had made it back on board in time. If they hadn’t… She shook her head, refusing to accept the notion. She and Sicarius needed help.