Blood and Betrayal

Chapter 5

“What,” Pike asked for the fiftieth time, “is the emperor to Sicarius?”

“I… dunno,” Amaranthe mumbled around cracked and swollen lips that hadn’t touched water in… she had no idea how much time had passed. Anyway, a lack of water was the least of her problems. Strange that it should even enter her thoughts. Pain. That was the foremost concern.

Darkness ringed her vision, throbbing and undulating, teasing her with the promise of unconsciousness. A part of her wanted to invite it in, to let it swallow her world and steal her pain, but a larger part of her feared it might signify the end. She’d made a point not to look at Pike’s work, when he hadn’t forced her to, and she wasn’t sure what all he’d done, but she knew she’d lost a lot of blood. Would he let her die? Before he received his answer?

Pike set down his knife, and a tiny flame of hope lit within Amaranthe. He leaned against the table and withdrew a pocket watch. Maybe he’d had enough for the day. Or maybe he had a sexy dinner date waiting him, some Forge woman who found a killer with blood on his hands attractive. “Like you?” she thought, an image of Sicarius flashing through her mind. No, Sicarius was different. He wouldn’t… enjoy his work. That mattered. Didn’t it? Either way, after her sanctimonious comments on loyalty, she wasn’t going to betray him. She thought of their stolen moment in the dirigible, his hug and promise of “later,” and that brief hint of a smile. She knew he hadn’t known much happiness in his life, and she wanted to be the person to give him that, not someone who put his son at risk. If Sicarius lost Sespian without Sespian ever knowing the truth…

“Hm.” Pike strolled out of sight, then returned again, this time with a fat book in his hands. “How’s the vision? Blurry? Or can you still read?”

Being lippy would only get her in trouble-he’d proven that a number of times already-but it seemed important to let him know he hadn’t cowed her, not yet. So Amaranthe summoned enough strength to say, “I’m always… up for a good book… Don’t suppose… you’ve got the… latest… Lady Dourcrest novel?”

“I don’t read that drivel.” Pike hefted the thick tome, slipping it into view between the claw pincers that pinned Amaranthe’s left wrist and shoulder to the table. The Imperial Army Torture and Interrogation Methods Technical Manual. Lovely.

“Should you be conscious when Ms. Worgavic returns, I’d like for you to verify that I’ve been operating by the book, as she requested, and not taking too many liberties. She specifically asked, for instance, that you not be raped.”

Gee. How thoughtful. Horrible maiming and permanent disfigurement were fine, but no cavity penetration, please. “And here I just thought you preferred boys.”

Pike’s jaw clenched. Bringing up the man’s past might not have been the best idea. He laid his three-edged blade across her collarbone. The cold steel chilled her bare skin. Rape might be off the table, but he had cut off her clothing first thing, spouting a lecture about people feeling armored and secure beneath their layers of garb but vulnerable when naked. Being nude bothered her less than being peeled like an orange. She kept waiting-hoping-to reach of a point of numbness, where the pain blurred into one horrible experience and she no longer cared about particulars, but it didn’t happen. Every touch, whether with flesh or blade, stirred agony afresh.

“Why this loyalty to Sicarius?” Pike murmured. His gaze roved from her toes to lips, as if her battered and bleeding body might hold the answer.

Amaranthe hadn’t been saying anything in response to his questions-unless one counted the involuntary gasps that came out when injury accompanied inquiry-but this was the first time he’d asked this one. The other fifty times, he’d simply wanted to know what the emperor meant to Sicarius.

“I know the boy,” Pike went on. “He’s attractive enough, I suppose, but I can’t imagine he’s a passionate lover or one to cater to your whims.”

Hearing someone call Sicarius a boy was strange, but Pike had to be close to sixty, and if he’d known Sicarius as a youth, it made sense that he’d remember him that way. Thinking of a young Sicarius spending time with this man, learning his trade, made Amaranthe’s insides clench. She supposed it was horrible of her, wishing someone had shared the fate she was experiencing now, but she hoped he’d been more of a victim to Pike than a student. Especially a willing student. The main reason she could, at least somewhat, accept Sicarius’s occupation was the machine-like way he pursued it, treating everything from training to killing like a necessary task to be completed, not something he relished.

The point of Pike’s knife dug into her flesh, finding a sensitive spot and shattering her thoughts.

“Why the loyalty?” he repeated.

After mulling over whether giving an answer would matter, Amaranthe decided this one probably wouldn’t. Pike already knew she was loyal, as attested by the suffering she continued to endure. “He’s saved my life,” she said. “Many times.”

“Ah, so it’s a soldiers’ bond.” Pike nodded. “That makes more sense, though it’s still surprising. He always worked solo. You’ve never screwed him then?”

What an idiot. “No, have you?”

The question seemed to surprise Pike. Amaranthe had asked it reflexively, not out of any real desire to know, but when the surprise faded into a smile, she got her answer. And promptly wished she hadn’t.

“Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest insisted that his pupil endure every likely torture he might expect to suffer should he be captured by enemy troops. He had to learn not to give any information away. Hollowcrest didn’t even want him to flinch. We began by making him hold burning brands when he was six or seven and, as he grew adept at handling that pain, progressed to-” Pike’s smile broadened, “-more advanced techniques.”

Amaranthe closed her eyes. A vision crashed into her mind of Sicarius as a sandy-haired boy, locked in a dungeon with this monster, helpless to escape, knowing worse punishment would come if he fought. Hollowcrest and Raumesys watched on, making sure their pupil learned his lessons well, probably enjoying the show, the perverted bastards. Amaranthe choked, anger surging through her body, her own pain forgotten. She wanted nothing more than to grab Pike’s knife and ram it into his heart. No, not his heart. His gut. So he’d die slowly and suffer for a long time first. But, trapped by the table and those all-too-efficient pins, she couldn’t do anything more than clench her fists and glare.

Pike, curse the twisted ancestors that had spawned such a bastard, smirked. “Did you think he would have become such a skilled assassin, with such an impressive record, not only of kills but of acquiring necessary information from people, had I not taught him well? To truly understand agony one must experience it oneself. You can guess at the pain of a technique based on another’s reaction, but only when it’s used on you do you truly understand what is effective and what is not. His training was necessary.”

The bastard’s smirk deepened. He had to have loved what the emperor and Hollowcrest had deemed “necessary.”

A realization popped into Amaranthe’s head. Maybe Pike was lying. Maybe he knew this would hurt her in a way his knives couldn’t. Especially considering… “He didn’t have any scars when I met him,” Amaranthe said.

“No,” Pike said without hesitation, “and you won’t have scars either. Aside from the ones you came in with.” He waved to her bare abdomen, forever marked after her encounter with the makarovi. “Despite his distaste for the mental sciences, Hollowcrest knew it would be useful to employ a shaman to educate Sicarius on matters of magic and also to heal him after I worked him over. We could train day after day that way.”

The prompt answer, the matter-of-fact way he spoke… Pike wasn’t lying. As much as Amaranthe wanted to believe otherwise, she couldn’t. With no outlet, her rage faded, replaced by the prick of tears as she thought of the never-ending cycle of pain Sicarius must have endured. To be tortured to within an inch of death, brought back to good health, and then tormented again.

Focus on yourself, girl, spoke a practical voice in the back of her head, on the here and now. On escape. That’s what Sicarius would want you to do.

“When do I get to meet my healer?” Amaranthe asked. Pike had showed no sign of melting beneath her charms, but maybe another would prove more pliable. Afraid he might guess her thoughts, she added, “I don’t suppose he’ll supply water and a steak in addition to doctoring? I’d dearly love some baked apple pudding, too, if you’re taking requests.”

Pike dug his fingers into an open wound on her inner thigh, and Amaranthe gasped as fresh agony shot through her.

“No one else will be intruding upon us, my dear,” Pike said. “When last I was in Kendor, I had a shaman make me a powerful salve with healing capabilities, so there’d be no need to bring an assistant along on… sessions.”

Amaranthe gritted her teeth against his intrusions and hoped he brought out the salve soon.

Pike chuckled. “Oh, the relief that sprang to your eyes. It’s premature though. In truth, all the salve means is that I can torment you for longer since I needn’t worrying about losing you. I can take you to the brink of death again and again. And again.”

“As you did with Sicarius?” Amaranthe asked.

“As we did,” Pike agreed. “You’re fortunate though. He had to be tempered for the life he would lead, so there was no chance of an early reprieve. You, on the other hand, need only tell me one thing. Why is he protecting the emperor?”

Amaranthe turned her face away, weariness plastering her body to the table. “I don’t know.”

“Ah.” Pike’s blade burrowed beneath flesh again. “Then we’ve more work to do.”

• • •

Maldynado, sitting on an upturned crate, tossed his twentieth or thirtieth pebble into a rusty tin can. Had anyone been around, he might have had something to brag over, but, under the circumstances, the demonstration of his rock-throwing prowess failed to alleviate the glum attitude that had settled around his shoulders.

After driving all night, the team had found a way into the city and parked in a large junkyard on the outskirts. Nobody had been manning the gate, and the lorry had rolled inside before dawn. After dressing in his new clothes, Sespian had left, announcing that he’d return later with the team’s funds. He’d refused to take anyone with him. Soon he’d leave the group permanently, and, short of tying the youth up, Maldynado didn’t how to change his mind. He didn’t know who to ask for advice either. Books, Basilard, and Yara were snoring in the back of the lorry, as if they didn’t have a concern on their minds. Because Sicarius hadn’t threatened them.

Those parting words echoed in Maldynado’s thoughts. Don’t lose him. He didn’t know why the emperor mattered to Sicarius, but, since that moment, it had been clear that he did. Maldynado eyed the broken logging machinery, metal scrap, rusted and warped beams, and demolished military trampers and wagons piled all about. The junk hid the lorry from anyone who might wander past the yard, but all the debris in the empire wouldn’t be enough of an obstacle to keep Sicarius from finding him if he lost the emperor.

A scrape sounded behind him. Maldynado rested a hand on his rapier, but it was merely Books. His unwashed hair hung in limp strands around his unshaven face, and smudges beneath his eyes did little to improve his haggard appearance. He hadn’t changed into the clothes Maldynado had risked much to retrieve, though Maldynado silently admitted that such a dirty body shouldn’t sully fine garments anyway. The entire team needed a stay at a decent hotel with heated baths.

Books squinted at the afternoon sun and sat on the end of a rusty beam.

“I think we’re going to have to tie him up and force him to stay with us,” Maldynado said.

“The emperor? There’s a law against that. Eight actually.” Books yawned and dug crud out of his eye. In a quieter tone, he said, “I dreamed about Amaranthe. That she was being tortured by that deviant interrogator, Major Pike.”

Maldynado’s dreams had revolved around Sicarius strangling him, which probably meant he was more self-centered than Books, but he worried about Amaranthe too. “I wanted to go along to get her. I don’t… not care about the emperor, but if I had to choose who to help… ”

“I know. I’m trying to console myself with the knowledge that nobody is better qualified to find and retrieve her than Sicarius.”

“But Sicarius might give up when we wouldn’t. Tracking that aircraft, if he can do it at all, isn’t going to be easy. He seemed conflicted about who to go after, too, like picking between Amaranthe and the emperor wasn’t an easy choice.”

Books gave him a sharp look. “Is that so?”

“Yes. What if he only hunts for her for a while, then comes back to help Sespian?”

“I don’t think he’ll give up on her.”

“You don’t? Why?”

Books lifted his eyes skyward. “How can a self-professed romance expert fail to see evidence of a relationship between people he’s around every day?”

Maldynado sat back so quickly he fell off his crate, upending it and sending a cloud of dust into the air. “What are you talking about? Romance? A relationship? With Sicarius?”

“You’re a self-absorbed idiot, Maldynado.”

“An idiot who saved your life last night. You could show a little gratitude.” Maldynado rearranged his crate and sat on it again.

Though Books didn’t apologize, a slightly admonished expression crossed his face. That was something anyway.

“You’re wrong,” Maldynado said. “I pay attention to those things. They never touch or share any of those little looks that lovers do.” He almost choked at linking the word “lover” with Sicarius. A mechanical reaper would be more likely to develop feelings for someone. “They never come back from their outings with their clothes disheveled or a speck of dirt on them. I know they’re both fastidious, but you can’t catch every smudge of evidence.”

“Maldynado,” Books said in the tone of one dealing with a slow child, “not all relationships revolve around coitus.”

“Yeah… but those that don’t are called friendships. Like you might find between two mercenaries who respect each other, but don’t dream of cavorting between the sheets. I’ll allow that may be they’re friends.”

“You didn’t see Sicarius’s face when he thought Amaranthe was dying last spring,” Books said. “After the makarovi got her. I don’t know if the man is capable of love, but he cares about her. He won’t give up on finding her, not as long as there’s hope that she’s still alive.”

The reminder that Amaranthe might even now be under some torturer’s knife sobered Maldynado and dashed worries of who was romancing whom from his mind. He picked up a few more pebbles to throw at the tin can.

“Maldynado,” Books said quietly, “Basilard told us what happened last night. I do appreciate that you risked yourself to come for Akstyr and me.”

Instead of saying good or making fun of Books for being ensnared in the first place, Maldynado tossed a pebble. The fact that his teammates were suspicious of him of late left him feeling subdued, that he had to be careful about what he said. At the same time, he knew he needed Books on his side if he was going to talk the emperor into sticking with them. Sespian seemed to, if not value Books’s council, at least find his knowledge useful. They’d spent a lot of that drive trying to decode that message and blathering about monetary systems from around the world.

“I wouldn’t do anything to endanger anyone on the team,” Maldynado said. “Amaranthe knows that. I thought… I thought you did too.”

Books’s lips pursed, and he studied the ground.

“I know we’ve always argued and called each other names,” Maldynado went on, “but have I ever not been there when you needed me?”

Books remained silent. Maldynado thought about pressing him, but maybe it was best to stop there. At least Books seemed to be thinking things over.

“Why were you so insistent on meeting with Buckingcrest the night before we left?” Books asked. “Amaranthe clearly wanted you to go along to negotiate with the smoke-grenade lady, but you finagled your way out of that so you could get us that dirigible. The dirigible that came with stowaways who tried to kill Akstyr and me.”

Maldynado picked at the corner of his crate. “Books, I’m sorry about that, but I didn’t know Lady Buckingcrest had ties to Forge, if that’s what it turns out to be. She’s just someone I’ve known for a long time, and I knew she had the flying vehicles. That’s what came to mind when Sicarius mentioned snow blocking the access to the pass. And, to be honest, I didn’t want to go off with Amaranthe that night because I knew she would dig for information on Ravido. You all know my family’s a sore subject with me.” Maldynado realized he was talking rapidly. Lately, every time he opened his mouth, it seemed like he was defending himself.

“Why is it a sore subject?” Books asked.

“Because I’m-”

“Disowned, yes, but why? For all we know, you’re dying for a chance to prove yourself to your family and get invited back into the clan. If I recall my recent history, your kin control copious resources. They’re not one of those wealthy-in-land-only warrior-caste families. Should you be welcomed back, you’d be able to return to leading an indolent lifestyle. How do we know you wouldn’t betray the emperor if it meant putting your brother on the throne? Maybe said brother would reward you handsomely for your loyalty.”

“And maybe I’d be an utter ass if I betrayed the team, and the boss, and set Sespian up to get killed,” Maldynado said. “Besides, if you have a face this pretty, you can lead an indolent lifestyle wherever you go. I don’t need my brother’s help for that.”

Though Books snorted, a hint of a smile softened his face. Maybe he wanted to believe Maldynado, but couldn’t get past his assumptions about the warrior caste and those born into it.

“It may be as you say,” Books said, “but I’m not the one you need to convince. From my talk with the emperor, I understood you were ambivalent about sharing details on your family members. You need to choose whether to help him fully… or not. I don’t necessarily approve of unthinking obeisance, but that is in the warrior-caste code, isn’t it? That you must be first and foremost loyal to the emperor? Family comes second, at least according to the various historical precedents. In the fifth century, Lady Dalecrest, upon learning that her husband had sold military secrets to the Nurians, risked her and her children’s lives to inform the emperor.”

“Great example,” Maldynado said dryly. “Yes, Lady Dalecrest warned the emperor, but, after the forces had left to thwart the Nurian incursion, her husband found her and strangled her.”

“Unfortunate, but the Nurians were stopped. This story is told to warrior-caste children to explain what’s expected of them, is it not?”

Maldynado couldn’t believe Books, of all people, was saying he should embrace the warrior-caste, honor-in-death mentality. “I don’t want to get strangled, Books.” Nor did he want to further disappoint his family. When had his life grown so complicated?

“I’m sure that won’t happen if you assist Sespian,” Books said. Maldynado was on the verge of feeling better when Books added, “Your neck is very thick and muscular. They’d simply shoot you.”

“That’s much better, thanks.”

At least Books smiled. Maybe joking was his way of saying he believed the story about the dirigible. Or maybe Maldynado was being wistful.

“I’m back,” came Sespian’s voice from a couple of scrap piles away.

He eased into sight, a hand lifted, as if he expected overly vigilant mercenaries to accidentally shoot him. As if Maldynado would shoot anyone wearing such a handsome azure tunic and stylish gray breeches, both with the perfect touch of golden accent embroidery. The wig, beard, and mustache, all dark black and bushy, were a new addition. Maldynado decided not to tell Sespian that he looked far too young to have that much facial hair. Maybe people wouldn’t look too closely.

“I’ve retrieved the agreed upon reward money.” Sespian pulled a heavy strongbox out of a satchel, gave it to Books, and clasped his hands behind his back. “I thank you for your assistance thus far, and, in particular for removing that device in my neck.” A shudder ran through him. He nodded to Books. “I also thank you for the information you gave me. I will be continuing on my own now.”

“Wait, Sire. I… ” Maldynado glanced at Books. “I have information for you. About my family.”

Sespian’s eyebrows twitched upward. “And you are offering it in trade for…?”

Maldynado opened his mouth, wanting to say that he’d share everything if Sespian would agree to keep the team onboard and let them help, but Books spoke first. “Nothing, Sire,” he said. “He- we — want you to have every advantage going forward.”

“I see,” Sespian said, and Maldynado wasn’t sure if he believed the line.

Maldynado only shrugged. “I found out yesterday that Mari, Ravido’s wife is on her way downriver on the Glacial Empress and will be staying on Rabbit Island. She’ll arrive tomorrow night.”

“Rabbit Island?” Sespian asked.

“Yes.” Though they couldn’t see the river from this side of the city, Maldynado waved to the northeast, indicating that the island was upstream. Maybe Sespian wasn’t familiar with the area. “It seems she’s been collecting strange black artifacts. She has an entrepreneurial streak as well, so it’s possible she’s behind Ravido’s interest in dealing with Forge. She may even be the one driving him toward this coup attempt. Rust, it might be my father too. As I said before, I don’t know Ravido well, but I don’t think this is a scheme that would have come to him without outside urging.”

“I see,” Sespian said again, doing an annoyingly good job of hiding his thoughts.

“I just thought you should know.” Maldynado lifted a hand, palm up. “She’d be worth talking to if you’re looking for information on the family, especially Ravido.”

Sespian listened to everything, then turned and, hands still clasped behind his back, started walking. At first, Maldynado thought he was fed up with them and meant to walk away from the team forever. But the emperor chose a circular route. He wasn’t walking away; he was pacing.

Maldynado shared a hopeful shrug with Books.

“You say you just learned this information?” Sespian asked, a suspicious note in his tone.

Ugh, couldn’t Maldynado find respite? Why did things keep happening in a way that made him look disreputable?

“We ran into his cousin on the waterfront shopping street yesterday, Sire.” Yara stepped out from behind the lorry, her short hair sticking out in half a dozen directions. “I believe the meeting was unplanned. Maldynado appeared to be getting the information for the first time.”

Maldynado crossed his arms over his chest and kept himself from saying, “Good watchdog, good girl.” Barely.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Sespian gave Yara a single nod, which she returned.

Hm. Maybe it was good that Maldynado had kept the snide comment to himself. This wasn’t the first time Sespian had shown that he valued Yara’s council. Amaranthe had said they’d met before, hadn’t she? She must have planned this, for Yara to act as a neutral third party, one that Sespian knew he could trust to be impartial, or perhaps even more loyal to him than to the team. It was helping Maldynado now, so he sent a silent thank-you to Amaranthe, wherever she was at the moment.

Several long moments passed with Sespian standing still, his chin on his fist as he gazed at the dirt. “Mari Marblecrest is whom I seek,” he finally said.

Maldynado blinked.

“Do you mean that, all along, you planned to speak to Mari Marblecrest, Sire?” Books asked.

“Spy on, not speak to, but yes.”

“Truly? You think my sister-in-law is important somehow?” Maldynado almost choked on the word important, given that he was applying it to a salacious, self-absorbed woman who had, at more than one family get-together, chased him around the kitchen island and through the servants’ quarters, trying to tear off his clothes.

“Her importance in the organization is questionable,” Sespian said, “but I’ve learned that, of all the Forge members traveling downstream to their meeting spot, she’s the only one unlikely to hide her passing.”

Maldynado snorted. “If by that you mean that she travels with ten servants and twenty suitcases, then I agree.”

“That, and I understand she’s stopping to shop on the way.” Sespian raised his eyebrows.

Maldynado thought of the black sphere. Shopping indeed.

“Is this secret meeting where they’ll be discussing their plans for the fiscal future of the empire?” Books asked.

Fiscal, what? Oh, right, the emperor had volunteered for a lecture on economics.

“I believe so, yes,” Sespian said. “This may also be the first opportunity to spy on the leaders all together. Heretofore they’ve been clandestine with their correspondences.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Books said. “I’ve been trying to get the names of everyone, or at least the key people, in the organization for months. Despite my considerable research skill, I’ve been unable to pinpoint the founders.”

“Considerable research skill,” Maldynado said. “Nice modesty, Booksie.”

“I know you aren’t disparaging me on a lack of humility. When was the last time you managed to get through a conversation without stroking your chest and touting your physical attributes?”

“Are they always like this?” Sespian asked.

At first, Maldynado didn’t know whom he’d addressed, but Basilard had hopped out of the lorry. Only Akstyr remained inside, snores reverberating through the junkyard.

Basilard nodded firmly in response to the emperor’s question. Amaranthe keeps them from killing each other.

Maldynado translated for the emperor.

Sespian frowned and repeated one of the gestures. “That’s your symbol for Corporal Lokdon? Someone sweeping? Why? Because she’s a woman and you think that’s woman’s work?”

No, Basilard signed, because she… He must have realized the emperor couldn’t understand him, because he started doing an imitation of Amaranthe, first sweeping, then straightening Yara’s sweater and brushing away lint, and finally taking out a knife and tidying the stubble on Books’s jaw-too bad he didn’t actually scrape some of the grunge away.

The acting show made Yara smirk, but Sespian didn’t seem appeased.

“She tends to clean, organize, and tidy when she’s concocting a scheme,” Maldynado said. “Or worrying about a scheme that she’s set into motion.”

“Hm,” Sespian said.

“She likes to do those things. We don’t make her do them.”

“You simply reap the benefits of her voluntary labor?” Sespian asked.

“Yes. I mean, er… ” Arms spread wide, Maldynado beseeched Books for help. How in the empire had he ended up defending himself when Basilard was the one who’d made up the sign?

“You said the secret meeting was downstream, is that correct, Sire?” Books said. “But you don’t know the final destination yet? You’re hoping to find out where from this Mari? Or one of her servants?”

Relieved to have the topic changed, Maldynado threw Books a grateful nod.

“I’m hoping not to be seen by her or her servants,” Sespian said. “I want to follow her to the destination without Mari or anyone from Forge finding out. They’ll speak freely if they have no reason to believe anyone outside of the organization is listening. I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to get close when I had that tracking device in my neck, but now… Ah, actually, I’m still not sure how I’m going to get close.” He shrugged sheepishly.

Maldynado relaxed an iota. He liked Sespian better when he appeared uncertain. Given his age, that was normal. When he was trying to hold back his thoughts, he reminded Maldynado of Sicarius. That struck him as odd- nobody was like Sicarius-but his mind kept coming back to the idea, regardless.

“Perhaps I can visit my dear sister-in-law and extract information on her destination for you.” Maldynado dreaded the idea of speaking with Mari, especially without a kitchen table between them, but if it kept Sespian working with the team… he judged it an improvement over the tie-up-the-emperor-and-hope-he-didn’t-hold-it-against-them option he’d been considering before. “She might not think it odd that I’d come to see her, not after what Cousin Lita said.”

Sespian tilted his head. “What else did she say?”

“Something about my father. Did I… not mention that?”

“No, you didn’t,” Books said.

Er, maybe Maldynado shouldn’t have voiced his addendum. “It seems Father has extended an offer to, er, re — own me if I come help with family business.”

Everyone stared at him. Huh, Yara must not have heard that part.

“Business such as overthrowing the throne?” Sespian asked.

“I don’t know, but I wasn’t planning on accepting the offer. Though I could tell Mari I’m contemplating it as a reason for visiting her.”

The slit-eyed suspiciousness had returned to Sespian’s face. Even Books was regarding him with speculation again. Maldynado sighed. Why couldn’t everyone just trust him? If they knew his family, they’d understand why he’d rather run around with outlaws, but he wouldn’t inflict his relatives on anyone.

“Look,” Maldynado said, “you don’t have to go onto Rabbit Island with me. Mari’s arriving on the Glacial Empress, so I imagine she’ll be continuing downriver, at least for a while, on the steamboat. I can be your distraction while you sneak aboard.”

“According to my research,” Sespian said, “sneaking aboard may not be easy. Rabbit Island is a private, warrior-caste-only resort with a guarded boat dock, and, if rumors are to be believed, there are domesticated alligators in the water to deter anyone from swimming over.”

Maldynado hadn’t been there, but he supposed that was all possible.

“Assuming your former warrior-caste status gets you in,” Books said, with an eyebrow raise that suggested he doubted the guards would let Maldynado pass, “how do you propose to divert the guards so we can slip by without being shot? Or even get close to the island, for that matter?”

“How do I propose…?”

“It’s your plan.”

“Uhm.”

“Careful,” Books said, “you’ll overwhelm us with such a profuse outpouring of details.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d turn your sarcasm toward someone else. I’m busy thinking.” Maldynado stalked away. Just when he’d been feeling grateful to Books for helping him with Sespian, he had to go back to being a stuffy, sourpuss.

Though Maldynado was of a mind to keep walking, and leave the junkyard, he didn’t know where he’d go. How did Amaranthe manage to come up with plans while dancing barefoot on a frying pan?

Someone tapped Maldynado on the shoulder. He spun around, prepared to unleash a stream of vitriol-or perhaps a fist-if Books had followed him to give him a hard time. It was only Basilard.

He signed, Do you need help?

“Probably. Bas, up until a few days ago, I felt like we were all brothers, family if you will, a family I actually liked, most of the time. But now I’m the outcast all over again.”

Sometimes, friendships are tested. You will survive and all will be well again.

“I appreciate the faith, especially since you’re the only one giving it right now, but I don’t know what to do with all of these expectations.” Maldynado scraped his fingers through his curly hair. “I don’t know if I’m made from enough steel to handle them. My mother used to call me the family weed. Maybe she was right. I wasn’t born with leadership qualities. I don’t know how to walk in front. Not like Amaranthe. Not like Sicarius. Rust, even Books would be able to get everyone going in the same direction without sarcastic quips from the troops.”

Basilard regarded him for a long moment, no judgment in his pale blue eyes. Somehow, despite the scars, the bulky muscles, and the morose downturn to his lips, Basilard managed to convey much more compassion than most people. My grandpa used to say that the only difference between a weed and a plant is that one has proved itself useful while the other’s properties are still in question.

“All right,” Maldynado said, “I’ll come up with something.”