Blood and Betrayal

Chapter 19

Maldynado stood at the rear of the hurricane deck, next to the paddlewheel, with a row of loaded muskets and rifles leaning against the railing. Three pistols protruded from his belt where a cutlass and more knives hung. He felt like a Sicarius caricature.

A brisk wind tugged at his clothing and swept hair into his eyes. The steamboat bumped and swayed as it picked up speed, fighting the river’s current. At last glance, the lake hadn’t been in sight. The sky had lightened, and the enforcer boats were close enough that every armed and armored man waiting on their decks was visible. As Basilard had promised, several of those men carried grappling hooks. They all bore short swords and repeating crossbows. Maldynado wished his firearm collection assured victory, but the weapons ranged from old service muskets that had long since seen their prime to ornate-and probably ineffective-antiques from the private collections of the Glacial Empress’s former passengers. None of the firearms could hold more than one charge at a time. Though the enforcers themselves didn’t carry black-powder weapons, their boats had more than enough guns mounted on the fore and aft decks to make up for the lack. They hadn’t fired since that first warning shot, but that couldn’t last.

Afraid someone might find him an appealing target, Maldynado kept his body behind machinery used for lifting the lifeboats from the deck to the water. On the other side of the paddlewheel, Basilard maintained a similar position as he observed the second enforcer boat. Instead of lining up firearms, he’d found a longbow to use, though the beadwork quiver and colorfully fletched arrows made the weapon appear more decorative than functional.

“Attention river pirates,” a voice called through a megaphone on the closest enforcer boat, “you are in violation of Bergonla Satrapy Code, Forty-five-dash-six and Imperial Law Number Three. You will slow down and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply, we will take offensive measures.”

“Law Three? What, by grandmother’s hairiest mole, is that?” Maldynado figured it had to be an important one since it didn’t have any dashes or extra numbers in it.

“Impersonating the emperor,” came Yara’s voice from behind him.

“Impersonating!” Maldynado raised his voice to holler over the splashing of the paddlewheel and the churning of the engines. “We’re not impersonating anyone! We have the emperor on board, and your ancestral spirits will strangle you if you illiterate louts shoot down his officially commandeered ship.” While yelling made him feel better, he doubted the enforcers could hear him over the engines and paddlewheel.

Yara, however, frowned at him. “Illiterate louts? There are written as well as oral portions of the enforcer exam.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean… Uhm, illiterate louts, where did that come from anyway? That’s more something Books would say. Maybe Akstyr used his foreign magics to put the idea in my head.”

“That’s pathetic.”

Maldynado was glad the emperor wasn’t around to hear him irritating Yara. His supposed expertise on women might be questioned.

Yara waved toward the sleek vessels. “They’re just doing their jobs. Someone must have reported the steamboat hijacked.”

A crossbow bolt skipped off the railing, whizzed past Yara’s arm, and slammed into the wall behind her. Maldynado grabbed her and pulled her behind the lifeboat machinery. It seemed the “offensive measures” had begun.

“Still sympathetic because they’re just doing their jobs?” Maldynado asked.

A boom rent the morning air, and a flaming projectile slammed into the paddlewheel. Wood splintered and flew into the water, while shards pattered onto the deck around Maldynado and Yara. The flames were quickly extinguished as the paddles rotated into the water, but that wouldn’t be the case if one of those projectiles hit the boat itself.

“Yes.” Yara picked a shard of wood out of her hair. “But less so now.”

Maldynado grabbed the closest musket and leaned around the lifeboat, searching for a likely target.

“Don’t shoot to kill,” Yara said. “The emperor won’t want the blood of his own people on his hands.”

“I know. Amaranthe gets huffy when we kill people too. Maybe they’d make a decent couple after all.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

On the closest boat, two men were loading the forward gun while a third waited to shoot it, some sort of metal shield protecting him. Maldynado aimed at the leg of one of the unprotected enforcers. He fired, though the musket had the accuracy of a drunken peg-leg sailor launching a wad at a spittoon. The ball clanged off the gunner’s shield, ricocheting uselessly into the water.

“That’s your idea of not shooting to kill?” Yara picked up one of the ornate muskets in the lineup. “You were two inches from hitting that man in the eye.”

“That’s not the one I was aiming at. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be helping Books in the engine room?”

“He said he could handle it by himself.”

Another boom sounded. This time, the shell soared toward Maldynado and Yara. They flattened themselves to the deck. The round smashed through the wooden lifeboat and the wall behind it. A bong reverberated from the engine room, followed by an ominous grinding sound.

“That might be about to change,” Maldynado replied.

A second flaming projectile smashed into the wheel; paddles flew off like scales torn from a pine cone and cast upon the wind.

Yara fired, the crack of her musket sounding inches from Maldynado’s ear. If her shot hit the boat, he couldn’t tell. It certainly didn’t make any of the enforcers flinch.

Maldynado cupped a hand over his ear. “Nicely done.”

“It seems neither of us is the sharpshooter we’d like to be,” Yara admitted. “Enforcers aren’t encouraged to learn how to shoot firearms.” She grabbed a powder tin to reload the weapons and pointed for Maldynado to keep firing.

“It’s not you. They’re not close enough for these old, inaccurate muskets. They’re staying back to-”

Another projectile soared over the railing, this time on Basilard’s side, and pounded through the wall and into the engine room.

“-incapacitate us,” Maldynado finished.

“We need to take out their boats somehow,” Yara said. “If we can crash them or sink them, we can make it to the lake before reinforcements come up the river.”

“An excellent notion. How do we make it happen?”

Yara shrugged. Maldynado kept firing while she reloaded for him, but the enforcer artillery weapons were destroying the paddlewheel. Without that, the steamboat would be dead in the water. Maldynado would like to return the favor, but, from his position, he couldn’t see the engines or boilers of the smaller crafts. Even if the design didn’t hide those vulnerable points, he lacked weapons that had a chance of damaging them.

“What would Amaranthe do?” he muttered. “Something inspired. Something crazy.”

Maldynado peered about, but the limited items within sight certainly didn’t inspire him. The lifeboats dominated the back half of the deck, and the lounge chairs and tables in the middle appeared neither menacing nor useful. He imagined chucking them over the side at the oncoming boats. Those sleek crafts were small compared to the steamboat, but not small enough that hitting a folding deck chair would derail them. Something larger perhaps. He laid a thoughtful hand on the half-destroyed lifeboat they were using for cover.

“I have an idea,” Maldynado said. “Keep them busy.”

Without waiting for an acknowledgment of his order, Maldynado ran to one of the large cranks used for raising and lowering the lifeboat. The wide handle was meant for two to operate, and he had to throw his entire body into each stroke. Yara grabbed a handful of muskets and moved closer to the paddlewheel, either because she wanted the enforcers focused on her instead of him, or because she was worried Maldynado would drop the lifeboat on her foot.

More flaming rounds pummeled the back of the steamboat. A string of expletives erupted from inside the engine room. Maldynado glanced in that direction, worried that Books had been hit. Flames crackled behind shattered windows, and smoke poured through ragged holes blasted in the walls.

“They’re getting closer,” Yara said after firing another round. “They must sense that they’ve got us. Whatever you’re going to do-”

“I should do it before we sink. I know.” Maldynado returned to the crank and gave it a few good heaves.

The lifeboat inched higher, finally clearing the level of the railing. The wind shifted, and smoke billowed into Maldynado’s eyes. Hot, sooty air seared his lungs, and a round of coughs sabotaged him. Eyes watering, he grabbed a lever under a brass plaque depicting stick figures dropping a stick lifeboat overboard.

“Wait!” Yara yelled. “There’s a partial beaver dam sticking out from the shore ahead. If you time it-”

Maldynado paused, his hands gripping the lever. Tears streamed from his smoke-beleaguered eyes, and he could barely make out the shore. For all he could tell, drunken beavers could be dancing atop the brown smudge that Yara claimed was a dam. He dragged a sleeve across his eyes.

“Now!” Yara barked.

Maldynado threw his weight into pulling the lever. The machinery groaned in protest, and he feared nobody had oiled it for ages, but the lifeboat eventually released. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

As soon it splashed down, Maldynado realized he was vulnerable with only the metal railing for protection from snipers. As if to confirm the thought, a crossbow quarrel gouged into the deck at his feet. He sprinted for the protection of the battered paddlewheel, nearly crashing into Yara.

Shouts and curses came from the water behind them. The lifeboat had splashed down in the closest boat’s path. The small, maneuverable ship veered to the side in time to avoid a collision, but their new course sent them toward the beaver dam. Water sprayed as the pilot tried to bank so the craft wouldn’t crash. He almost managed the maneuver, but struck the logs sideways with enough of a jolt to hurl several men overboard.

Maldynado hoped his sabotage would incapacitate the craft, or at least delay it significantly. The steamboat plowed past the dam, and he gave the enforcers a friendly wave. No less than five men threw their arms up in obscene gestures.

“Enforcers are so crude,” Maldynado said.

Yara gripped his arm, and he expected to be abraded for his comment, but she said, “Good work.”

Before he could bask under the influence of her rare praise, a great shudder ran through the steamboat. The piston arms powering the paddlewheel were no longer pumping smoothly. One had developed a hitch that made the boat lurch and tremble with each rotation. Each rotation also sent more wood paddles flying from the wheel.

“How much farther is that lake?” Maldynado wondered.

Yara shook her head. “We better help Basilard with the other boat.”

Maldynado took a step in that direction only to pause. “Where is Basilard?”

A throwing knife lay on the deck where he’d been, but the long bow was gone, as was he. An entire section of the railing was gone, the two ragged ends dangling. Maldynado swallowed. If Basilard had taken one of those giant shells in the chest…

No, Maldynado told himself, there’d be a body. Unless Basilard had been knocked overboard…

Two grappling hooks clung to the railing on either side of the missing section. The paddlewheel blocked Maldynado’s view of the ropes and the other boat, but a sick lurch ran through his stomach. Not only was Basilard missing, but enforcers might have come on board while Maldynado had been busy with his sabotage. They could already be advancing on the wheelhouse and the emperor. And if they thought Sespian was an impostor…

“What’s the penalty for violating Law Three?” Maldynado asked.

“Death,” Yara said grimly.

“Emperor’s bunions,” Maldynado spat. He started to sprint toward the grappling hooks, to head off any more enforcers trying to board, but a flaming projectile burned through the air ahead of him, smashing into engineering.

“Help!” Books cried, his voice garbled.

Maldynado groaned, not sure in which direction to run.

“I’ll check on him,” Yara said and sprinted toward the closest door.

Maldynado ran to the end of the paddlewheel, knowing that he’d be an easy target if he popped into view in front of the broken railing. An enforcer’s hands gripped the railing, and the man started over. Abandoning cover, Maldynado sprinted over and used the stock of a musket to club him in the face. In the middle of climbing off the rope, the man couldn’t defend himself. He let go and fell in the water with a splash, narrowly missing being caught up in the churning paddlewheel.

Four more enforcers were climbing up the twin ropes running from their craft to the steamboat railing. Maldynado whipped his musket up and loosed a shot. It caught the closest man in the shoulder. He screamed and dropped into the river.

“Fire!” came a cry from the boat.

Enforcers were lined up on their foredeck, crossbows aimed in Maldynado’s direction. He dropped to his belly faster than a five-hundred-pound weight. Quarrels slammed against the railing and the wall behind him, one skimming so close to his jaw that he wouldn’t need to shave that spot for a while.

Maldynado scrambled for the protective cover of the paddlewheel. He made it, but had lost the musket in the fall. For a second, he thought about waiting there and trying to punch men as they came over, but he couldn’t do that without exposing himself to the crossbowmen on the boat.

“Some help would be nice,” Maldynado growled, racing back to his earlier spot by the lifeboat machinery. Akstyr should have been down here making makarovi illusions.

Three loaded muskets remained near the railing, though they’d fallen to the deck. Maldynado stopped so fast he skidded and almost knocked them overboard. He grabbed one and spun, lifting the weapon as he turned.

Huge clouds of black smoke blew out of the engine room, and he almost missed seeing the first two enforcers sprint across the deck to disappear on the opposite side of the ship. The third one was pulling himself over the railing. No longer caring if he shot to wound or kill, Maldynado aimed at the man’s torso.

Before he could squeeze the trigger, the steamboat slammed into something. A massive jolt hurled Maldynado to the deck. He skidded several feet on his side, the force almost slinging him through the railing and into the river. Up ahead somewhere, wood snapped, the noise ear-splitting as it rolled across the foggy lake like thunder.

Foggy lake? Maldynado sat up. When had they reached the lake?

The waterwheel was still spinning, the engine moaning and groaning worse than Books when forced to train, but forward progress had ground to a halt. Water lapped over the edge of the deck, soaking Maldynado’s pants. Shadows stirred on the opposite side of the boat, and he remembered the enforcers. He lurched to his feet, patting around for a sword, musket, or, if nothing else, a hefty piece of wood to use as a club.

More men streaked over the railing, heading toward the front of the steamboat. Half of them didn’t even glance in Maldynado’s direction. They had to be running toward the wheelhouse-toward the emperor. Only they’d think Sespian wasn’t the emperor.

Maldynado snarled and found a rifle. It wasn’t loaded, and he had no idea where the powder and ammunition had gone. Over the side probably. Well, he’d crack people on the head with the butt.

He started to run toward the enforcers, but wheezing coughs from the nearest doorway distracted him. Yara stumbled out of the smoky boiler room, dragging Books across the deck behind her.

Torn between running to the emperor’s defense and helping Books, Maldynado hesitated, frozen for a second. Sicarius’s threat rang between his ears.

“Akstyr ought to be up there,” he finally muttered and ran to Yara’s side.

Books’s eyes weren’t open.

“Is he…?” Maldynado asked.

“Help me get him off this boat,” Yara said.

“Off… where?” Maldynado didn’t know if they’d hit land or some sizable boulder protruding from the waters.

Still pulling Books, Yara threw him an exasperated glare. “Anywhere!” She jerked her chin toward the smoking engine room. Inside flames licked their way up the walls. “That boiler could blow up any second!”

“Bloody, dead ancestors,” Maldynado said, though the back of his mind found the time to thank those dead ancestors that, for once, he hadn’t been the one to crash the ship.

He grabbed Books’s legs, and he and Yara soon had him draped over the railing. Maldynado patted his cheek. “Wake up, Booksie. This’ll be a lot easier if you can swim.”

Yara splashed water into his eyes. They moved under the lids, but he didn’t open them. He’d either sucked in piles of toxic fumes, or he didn’t want to see where Maldynado was about to toss him.

“We’re on an island.” Yara had leaned out to peer toward the front of the steamboat. “I can swim well enough to get him to shore.”

Maldynado nodded. “Good. A ton of enforcers ran past, so I need to check on the emperor.”

“Don’t stop to fight them. Just get the emperor off before this broken beast blows up.” Yara hopped over the railing and into the lake.

“Don’t stop to fight them, sure.” Maldynado lowered Books down to her. “I’m game to follow those orders, but I’m not sure they’ll cooperate.”

Yara shifted Books onto his back, wrapped one arm across his chest and pulled him toward the shore. She looked like she knew what she was doing, so Maldynado offered a quick wave and sprinted for the nearest staircase.

As he climbed to the top deck, he finally got a good look at the island, and he nearly tripped when he realized where they were. Marblecrest Island.

“Of all the luck… ” He didn’t know whether to call it good luck or bad luck. At least he knew where the boathouse was and that there ought to be canoes and dinghies they could use to reach their real destination. Wherever that was.

When he reached the base of the stairs leading to the wheelhouse, Maldynado intended to charge straight up, but two enforcers were guarding the spot. Clangs rang out from up above, the clangs of swords banging against swords.

The enforcers spotted Maldynado immediately and lifted their crossbows to shoot. He hurled the unloaded rifle at them, whipping it sideways in an optimistic notion of disrupting both their shots. As soon as he threw it, he turned his run into a sprint and dove into a roll that, he hoped, would carry him crashing into their legs, causing a massive discombobulation.

Before he hit the deck, a crossbow bolt thudded into his shoulder. Pain ripped down his left arm. Idiot, Maldynado thought, even as his momentum threw him into that roll, you’re probably the only one discombobulated here.

Three rapid revolutions later, he smashed into something hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. It wasn’t the enforcers’ legs, as he’d hoped, but the stairs themselves.

A nearby rasp announced a sword being drawn. Maldynado leaped to his feet. The enforcers had parted as he barreled toward them, and both had their swords out. He couldn’t fight one without putting his back to the other. Easy fix. He ignored them both and scrambled up the stairs.

A startled shout trailed him.

“Just following my lady’s advice,” Maldynado called back.

As he reached the top, Maldynado almost took a boot in the face. He jerked his head to the side, just evading heavy, black treads. Enforcers swarmed the catwalk between the stairs and the wheelhouse. More than one set of boots turned toward him, and he feared that his choice to charge up had been unwise.

“What’s new?” he grumbled, then ducked again, this time to avoid a sword slicing toward his head.

The stairs were wet from the rain, and his heel slipped off. He managed to keep his feet under him but stumbled down several steps, crashing into one of the enforcers who’d been on his way up. Sword raised, the man had been about to take a swing at Maldynado’s legs. To avoid the strike, Maldynado leaped over the railing. He would have landed on the enforcer waiting below, but the man scurried backward. Before his feet hit the ground, Maldynado kicked out, catching him in the chest. As soon as he landed, he sprang after the man. If he could pummel the enforcer into defenselessness before his colleague got turned around on the stairs…

The man went down beneath the assault, but wasn’t ready to give up. A knee rammed into Maldynado’s gut. He gripped the enforcer’s uniform jacket with both hands and slammed the man into the deck. His head clunked against the wood. Before the enforcer could recover, Maldynado jumped to his feet, still gripping the jacket. He dragged his opponent to the railing, gritting his teeth against the pain of having a crossbow bolt in his shoulder, and, with a great grunt, heaved the enforcer over the side. Again, Maldynado almost took a boot to the head as the man flung a kick outward, a last try at stopping him.

“Why do they always aim for my face?” Maldynado asked as he spun back, fists up, ready to defend against an attack from the second man. Given how long he’d had his back to the stairs, he was surprised he hadn’t already received that attack.

Oddly, the enforcer was lying on the deck. Face down. Maldynado didn’t remember hitting the man on his way over the railing.

A black-clad figure sprinted past, a throwing knife in hand as he vaulted up the stairs.

“Ah,” Maldynado said.

Shouts and, a split second later, screams came from above. Unlike Maldynado, Sicarius had no trouble flying off the steps fast enough to avoid attacks.

“I believe,” came a familiar voice from farther up the deck, “they aim for your face because of your looks. They’re envious and wish to mar your beauty so they’ll feel better about their own lesser visages.”

Maldynado’s throat tightened with emotion. Amaranthe, walking at a much slower pace than Sicarius and with a noticeable limp, smiled as she approached. For a moment, Maldynado forgot the fight. He ran forward and swept her into a bear hug.

Cracking wood and the clangs of steel convinced him it needed to be a short hug, so he reluctantly released her. “I always suspected that was the case,” he responded, his voice thick with emotion. She looked like a prisoner of war dragged out of some enemy camp’s dungeon, but at least she was smiling, and her brown eyes still held a warm sparkle.

“We should probably help them.” Amaranthe waved toward the wheelhouse.

“Right. I’ll go first.” Maldynado, at first focused on her bruises and the weary way she held herself, almost hadn’t noticed the garish pastel hat she wore. Blind ancestors, couldn’t he trust anyone in the group to dress themselves appropriately? “Unless you want to see if you can startle the enforcers into falling off the railing with that hat?”

“Not necessary.”

No more than a minute could have passed from the time Sicarius raced up the stairs to the time Maldynado and Amaranthe reached the catwalk, but it might as well have been an hour. The enforcers were gone. Not dead, Maldynado was pleased-for Amaranthe’s sake-to see, but thrown overboard. A few soggy souls were wading through the shallows to the beach. When Maldynado leaned over the railing, he spotted Yara and Books standing on a rocky bank. Good, Books was awake and alert, albeit leaning against a tree for support. He and Yara had acquired crossbows, and she was disarming enforcers while Books kept them in his sights.

The wheelhouse door had been half-torn from its hinges, and numerous dents marred the wood. The glass was cracked, too, and laced with bullet holes. The enforcers must have broken in right before Sicarius arrived. Maldynado hoped that his own distraction, however clumsy, had helped in delaying them.

“… could have handled them,” Akstyr’s voice floated out.

Maldynado stepped up to the doorway. Sicarius stood inside, looking as cold and deadly as ever, though he had lost a couple of pounds since parting ways with the team. Had he run all the way to Lake Seventy-three? There weren’t even roads out in that wilderness along the base of the mountains.

Two men in enforcer uniforms lay on the deck beneath the wheel. One was groaning, and Maldynado didn’t see any broken necks, so he didn’t attempt to block Amaranthe from entering when she squeezed past him.

Akstyr had been pushed back to the far corner. Sicarius stood beside Sespian, whose face had taken on a pale cast, whether from the crash or from Sicarius’s reappearance-and closeness-Maldynado did not know. He managed a smile, though, when Amaranthe stepped inside. He stepped toward her, his hands lifting, as if he might embrace her, but caught himself and dropped his hands. “It’s good to see you alive, Corporal Lokdon.”

Maldynado sighed. The hug would have been better.

“It’s good to see you alive as well, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “The newspapers have been alarming us with their reports of your passing.”

Her tone and polite smile were utterly professional. Even Deret Mancrest had earned more feminine interest from Amaranthe. The kid would have a tough time if he wanted to win her heart.

Sespian winced. “Yes, I’ve heard.”

Sicarius was looking out the back window, the only one that hadn’t been cracked in the crash. The second enforcer boat hadn’t appeared yet, no doubt thanks to its encounter with the beaver dam, but the remaining one was pulling up to a nearby beach. There might still be fighting to do.

“I will take care of them.” Sicarius strode out of the wheelhouse without a word of thanks, or even a friendly nod, to acknowledge that Maldynado had fulfilled his duty to keep the emperor safe and close. It figured.

Before he turned away from the window, Maldynado glimpsed a bald-headed figure swimming across the lake toward the island. “I believe Basilard will be joining us soon.”

“Good, I was concerned when I didn’t see him,” Amaranthe said, then stood on her tiptoes to track Maldynado’s pointing finger. “But why is he swimming along after the boat instead or riding inside it?”

“Less dangerous out there.” Akstyr, still standing in the corner with his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight uncertainly.

Maldynado, remembering that Akstyr supposedly wanted to let Amaranthe know that he appreciated her, gave him a little nod and tilted his head toward her. He needn’t get mushy with so many others looking on, but he could at least say he was glad she wasn’t dead.

“Hullo, boss,” Akstyr said.

Such a spring of emotion. Amaranthe walked over and gave him a hug anyway.

“Staying away from gangs and bounty hunters?” she asked him.

Meanwhile Sespian gave her back a wistful look. Yes, seeing someone like Akstyr get a hug over him had to hurt.

Maldynado peered between the cracks in the front window, admiring the close-up view of a copse of trees, their leaves turning the rich browns and reds of autumn. “So, who was responsible for docking the boat halfway up the mountain?”

Sespian flushed, glanced at Amaranthe, and then studied the floor assiduously.

“I assumed it was you,” Amaranthe told Maldynado, “until we encountered you on the way up to the wheelhouse.”

“ Me? ” Maldynado flattened a hand on his chest. “I was on the hurricane deck, risking all sorts of bodily harm to keep those enforcers from boarding. I’ll have you know that the men who did get on didn’t come up on my side of the boat.” Since Basilard wasn’t there, Maldynado decided it wouldn’t hurt to leave out the fact that Yara had been helping him, and Basilard had been forced to defend his side alone.

“So… the emperor crashed it?” Amaranthe’s eyes twinkled, though Maldynado wasn’t sure if Sespian noticed that. The kid’s flush had grown deeper. Even his ears were red.

“I lost tiller control,” Sespian said. “They were shooting at the paddlewheel and the engine room. They must have smashed the rudder as well.” He looked back and forth from Amaranth to Akstyr to Maldynado and added, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Maldynado laughed. “I’ve said that many times, and it hasn’t worked to shift the blame away from me yet.”

Sespian’s shoulders slumped. “This isn’t at all how I imagined this mission going.”

Emperor or not, Maldynado patted the kid on the shoulder. “I think this means you’re officially one of us now, Sire.”

Though he meant the pat to be reassuring, Sespian grew more glum and mumbled something that might have been, “Bloody bears.”

Amaranthe, at least, looked amused. “We better collect the others, tie these enforcers up somewhere, and see if we can find a way to get under the lake.”

“Under the lake?” Maldynado gazed out at the deep blue water.

“One of the Forge founders apparently owns the mineral rights to a chunk of land between this and a couple of other islands. We’re surmising that there are mines or tunnels or some sort beneath the lake bed. Though it doesn’t sound like the posh sort of place that I imagined wealthy business owners and bankers meeting up, it’s… my best guess after perusing the real estate records for the area.”

“You’ve been busy.” Sespian eyed Amaranthe, his gaze lingering on bandages around her wrists. Maldynado could tell he wanted to ask about what she’d endured. Rust, he was wondering, too, but if it was half as awful as he thought it might have been, she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“I was all over the island as a boy, and I never came across any tunnels or secret entrances. Though I suppose now that we have our expert interrogator here-” Maldynado flicked a finger toward Sicarius, “-someone can get more precise answers out of Brynia.”

“Who’s Brynia?” Amaranthe asked.

“A woman who may have shot Mari, my sister-in-law, who was heading south to be a part of this Forge meeting,” Maldynado said. “I guess the emperor had been meaning to follow Mari down here all along.”

“Clandestinely,” Sespian said, his face still glum.

“They might not have heard us coming,” Maldynado told him.

Sespian gave him an incredulous look and waved at their “docking job.”

“Uh, right.” Maldynado lifted a hand to his mouth and side-whispered to Amaranthe, “How far under the lake are these tunnels?”

“We won’t know until we find the entrance. Where’s this woman? If she knows where the entrance is, it’d be handy. This is one of the larger islands out here.”

“Naturally.” Maldynado leaned against the back wall and smiled. “Whichever of my ancestors purchased it knew a prodigious piece of land would reflect the Marblecrest family attributes.”

“Big heads?” Akstyr asked.

Maldynado gave him a quelling look, though, as usual, Akstyr refused to appear quelled.

“She should be in the brig,” Sespian told Amaranthe.

“Let’s go for a stroll then, shall we?” Amaranthe said.

Smoke hazed the air toward the stern of the steamboat. Remembering Yara’s warning about the boilers, Maldynado said, “Yes, and we may want to stroll quickly.”

• • •

Down on the hurricane deck, the gate to the tiny cage-a sign above proclaimed it the brig-was open, creaking as it swayed in the breeze.

“I assume this means your prisoner is missing?” Amaranthe asked.

After the team had put out the fire in the engine room, Maldynado had led Amaranthe and Sespian to the brig. Sicarius had joined Books and Yara ashore to deal with the enforcers. Only three had arrived in the boat, but well over a dozen more had made their way to the beach after being thrown overboard. Amaranthe trusted Sicarius to keep them from making trouble.

“She must have figured out a way to escape during the attack.” Maldynado prodded the unsecured lock dangling from the wrought-iron door. “We were a tad distracted.”

Amaranthe grimaced. She didn’t know if this Brynia person could have given them any useful information, but she did know the woman could run straight to the Forge meeting and warn them of spies coming. Though maybe she was being delusional to believe Forge didn’t already know. The steamboat landing hadn’t exactly been quiet.

“It’s not my fault.” Maldynado must have noticed her frown. “Your old enforcer colleagues were so close on our rears, they could have braided our butt hair.”

Though Amaranthe promptly willed her mind to wipe that imagine away, she smiled and gave Maldynado a hug. She’d missed his irreverence.

“I’m confused,” Sespian said. “How does talk of… posterior hair warrant an embrace?”

“I have no idea,” Maldynado said over Amaranthe’s head, “but remember this, Sire, the next time you’re perplexed by a woman. It’s not anything wrong with you. It’s them. They’re unpredictable. And inconsistent. One time, they’re scowling at you for making a mess, and the next time, they’re finding your mess adorable.”

“Adorable isn’t quite the feeling.” Amaranthe stepped back. “I’ve just missed you all.”

“Ah,” Maldynado said.

Sespian wore a wistful expression, as if he’d wanted a hug, and Amaranthe had to hold back another grimace. Apparently her plan to make him fall in love with Yara hadn’t taken root in her absence. Well, she had more important things to worry about.

“It’s all right.” Amaranthe waved at the empty cage. “Now that we have the emperor, I have an idea about how we can more thoroughly search for this entrance. But, just in case there’s a way in from land, Maldynado, I want you to collect Yara, Books, and Akstyr and search the island. You can be their guide. Take them any place where there might be a hidden cave or a trapdoor in your house.”

“A trapdoor?” Maldynado scratched his head. “In a log cabin?”

“That cabin is bigger than Enforcer Headquarters back home,” Amaranthe said. “For all we know, there’s a warren of tunnels under it. If they’re there, I need you to find them.”

“You see, Sire,” Maldynado said, “her hugs aren’t all that desirable, as they’re typically a precursor for an assignment of work.”

Sespian acknowledged this with a wiggle of his fingers, then told Amaranthe, “What about me? Are we going somewhere?”

“Yes, I have an acquaintance in Markworth who may be willing to lend us his conveyance if he knows it’s at your behest.”

“You already have acquaintances in Markworth?” Maldynado asked. “How long have you and Sicarius been here?”

Amaranthe glanced at the sky. Though gray rain clouds hid the sun, she figured it was still early morning. “Almost a day.”

“Making friends even more quickly than usual,” Maldynado said.

“This friend tried to turn us over to the enforcers.”

Maldynado winked at Sespian. “Yes, that’s usually how things start.”

Sespian’s arched eyebrow suggested Maldynado hadn’t yet succeeded in inducting him into his League of Beset Upon Brethren, but Amaranthe no longer sensed the stony mistrust that Sespian had leveled at him before.

“Didn’t I assign you a task?” She waved Maldynado toward the shore.

“Sure, boss, whatever you say.” Maldynado started past Sespian, but paused to stage-whisper, “Just don’t let her make you drive this ‘conveyance.’ If you crash it, you’ll get blamed, even though you were simply following her directions. It’s usually her fault.”

“My fault?” Amaranthe propped her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t even onboard the steamboat when you two crashed it.”

“You two?” Maldynado had been on his way to the gangplank, but he halted and turned around so quickly he almost tripped. “How did I get included? I wasn’t anywhere near the wheelhouse when the emperor crashed us.”

“Wasn’t it your failure to defend the boat that resulted in the rudder being destroyed?” Amaranthe didn’t truly blame him for any of this, but she hadn’t had much amusement in her life of late, and it was fun seeing his flamboyant protests.

Maldynado spread his arms and faced Sespian, clearly expecting the emperor to defend him.

A glint of amusement entered Sespian’s eyes. “It was the loss of tiller control that resulted in running into the island.”

For a long moment, Maldynado gaped at him. Then, shaking his head, he slouched down the deck toward the gangplank. Basilard was climbing onto the steamboat, and, when they passed, Maldynado issued a warning.

“Don’t go over there, Bas. They’re hurling blame around like artillery rounds on a battlefield.”

Basilard gave Maldynado a weary pat and kept walking. Dripping water and wearing a number of new bruises, he appeared as beleaguered as Amaranthe had felt of late. She gave him a hug as soon as he came close.

Sespian also approached Basilard and gripped his shoulder. “Thank you for fighting so hard to defend the steamboat. I know this isn’t your battle, and I appreciate your willingness to risk yourself on our behalf.”

Fortunately, Maldynado had left the boat, or he would have had a fit over seeing Basilard praised when he’d simply been teased, but Amaranthe was glad Sespian made the effort for Basilard. As far as she knew, Sespian hadn’t made him any promises in exchange for his help, so Basilard could only be hoping that his actions would result in someone eventually looking into the slavers who were targeting his people.

“We’re paying a visit to the mainland,” Amaranthe told Basilard. “Do you want to come with us or stay here with Maldynado and the others? They’re going to look for secret entrances to underground tunnels.”

Basilard ran a hand over his scarred scalp. After that fight and that swim, he looked like a man who wanted nothing more than a nap.

“Or you could rest,” Amaranthe amended.

Perhaps, Basilard signed, I could make a hot meal.

“That’s an option too.” One that instantly appealed to Amaranthe after days on the road, relying upon Sicarius’s questionable culinary skills. At least they’d run out of those awful travel bars early on. “I imagine the log palace on the hill has a comprehensive kitchen.”

Basilard brightened.

“Ready to go, Sire?” Amaranthe asked.

“Just the two of us?”

“Not exactly.” Amaranthe looked toward the beach where Sicarius was tying up prisoners. “The enforcers are aware that he’s in the area, and this crash might not have gone unnoticed. I’m not at my fighting peak right now, and it may behoove you to have someone along who can protect you.” And maybe Sicarius and Sespian could have a chat while rowing across the lake.

“If they’re looking for him, that sounds like a good reason not to bring him,” Sespian said.

“I’m not positive he’d let me go off without him right now. Actually, I’m not positive he’d let you go off with only me to keep an eye on you.” That was saying more than she should, but, now that Forge knew about Sespian’s heritage, he’d learn why Sicarius cared one way or another soon anyway.

“Do you realize that he gave me that black dagger of his, and that Forge was able to track me because of it?” Sespian asked. “I was personally attacked twice because of it. They are determined to make their newspaper article a reality.”

Chagrin weighted down Amaranthe’s shoulders. If Sicarius had given Sespian his knife, he’d surely meant it as a gift, one that might prove useful. He’d be horrified, or as close to it as he came, to learn that it had endangered his son. “He didn’t know,” Amaranthe said. “He couldn’t have. How were they able to track you?”

Sespian dug in a pocket, fished out a black egg-shaped device, and handed it to her. “I haven’t been able to ascertain how it works. Brynia knew how to use it to locate other pieces of that ancient technology.”

Amaranthe turned the seamless tool over in her hands. “I met the woman who probably taught her how to use it. I wonder if it’s how they located the Behemoth in the first place.”

“The what?”

“Oh, I named their craft before I heard the real name.” Amaranthe returned the device. “At least, if we have it now, they can’t use it to track the knife anymore. You do still have that, don’t you?” A jolt of alarm ran through her at the thought of Sicarius’s faithful dagger lost forever on the bottom of the river hundreds of miles back.

“It’s in one of the cabins.” Sespian waved dismissively toward the upper decks.

Amaranthe felt stung on Sicarius’s behalf. He would probably be too practical to care, but it hurt her to think of Sicarius making a gift of his most valued belonging, only to have the recipient shun it.

“It’s a handy blade,” Amaranthe said. “If you’re not going to use it, I’m sure he’d like it back.”

“I’ll get it then.” It was only in Sespian’s eyes that he said “good riddance,” but the words hung in the air nonetheless. “I don’t know why you worry about him, Am-Corporal Lokdon. About what he thinks. If you knew half of what he’d done, you wouldn’t choose to spend time with him. He’s heartless and inhuman.”

Amaranthe wanted to argue Sicarius’s merits, but she doubted Sespian was ready to hear them. Instead she opted for, “Nobody’s born inhuman. But some people… the world sculpts with a cruel hand. Perhaps they’re the ones who most need us to spend time with them.”

Sespian’s shoulders sagged, and Amaranthe sensed that she’d made him feel guilty. It wasn’t exactly what she wished to do, but perhaps it was a start down the right path.