Conspiracy

Chapter 11

The train arrived in Forkingrust after dark. None of the town’s buildings rose more than two stories, and the neighborhoods seemed quiet and rustic to Amaranthe’s city-bred eye. After Stumps’ one million people, Forkingrust and its ten thousand permanent residents seemed… quaint. Still, thanks to its location at the convergence of the Capital-Gulf and East-and-West railways, the town could support a few thousand travelers at a time, and the brisk autumn air couldn’t keep everyone inside. Numerous people walked the streets and gathered in eating houses, and the thumps of dancers’ drums flowed from more than one tavern.

Inside the team’s dark freight car, Amaranthe had the sliding door open a couple of inches, and observed through the gap, waiting for an opportune moment to jump out. The clickety-clack of the wheels on the rails had slowed, and they only had a mile or so before the train would reach the station, where there would be more eyes to view its arrival, eyes that might spot a pack of mercenaries hopping out of one of the cars.

When they drew even with a few dark warehouses, Amaranthe pushed the door open. “Time to go, gentlemen.”

She jumped from the moving train and landed in a crouch on the gravel. The speed and her heavy pack threatened her balance, but she caught herself before succumbing to an embarrassing nose-first topple to the earth. Maldynado, Basilard, and Sicarius flowed out of the train without trouble. The team waited for the rest of the cars to pass, then crossed the rails and jogged into a shadowy street between two warehouses. The windows were dark, and few people roamed that side of the tracks.

Amaranthe turned onto a wide street parallel to the tracks. The log and timber-frame buildings had cozy hand-carved architectural details that gave the area more personality than the modern warehouses in Stumps.

Maldynado shuffled his feet, stirring the piles of dried leaves on the side of the street. “No snow. Good.”

“We’re out of the mountains,” Amaranthe said. “Forkingrust is at a lower elevation than Stumps, and it’s further south as well. It shouldn’t get too cold tonight.”

“I can see my breath, boss,” Maldynado said.

“I didn’t say it was balmy. We won’t have to wait long anyway.”

“Can we wait in the train station instead of outside?”

“No,” Amaranthe and Sicarius said at the same time.

“So nice when you two are in agreement,” Maldynado muttered. “They have a big crackling hearth in there,” he told Basilard, who walked at his side. “And there’s a lady who sells steaming-hot mulled cider inside.”

They passed near a streetlamp, and Basilard signed, What’s it mulled with?

“Wholesome stuff,” Maldynado said. “Spices, cinnamon, orange zest.”

Alcohol?

“Oh, naturally. Every mug is about half brandy.”

“Not a beverage I’d recommend given the calisthenics tonight’s mission will require,” Amaranthe said.

“You’re not much fun, are you, boss?” Maldynado draped an arm over her shoulder.

“Not really, no.”

Sicarius glared at Maldynado, and he dropped his arm.

Unfazed, Maldynado went on, “Don’t you think we should have a beverage to offer the emperor when we get him? We don’t want him to think we’re savages.”

Maybe Amaranthe should have tucked alcohol in with the blasting sticks she gave Books and Akstyr. She glanced at Sicarius, thinking of at least one conversation that might go easier under the influence of a bottle.

“I do want to check inside in case Yara is there,” Amaranthe said.

Sicarius turned his glare onto her.

“No need to fret,” or glower, she thought, “I’ll go in alone.”

As she spoke, they reached the end of the block of warehouses, and the train station came into view. Amaranthe stumbled to a halt. No less than ten army vehicles were parked around it, including two steam trampers that towered over the brick building, their banks of cannons bristling like quills on a porcupine. Lanterns outside and chandeliers inside illuminated soldiers patrolling the premises, both the debarkation boardwalk next to the tracks and the big hall inside.

“What’s going on?” Amaranthe murmured. “Is all of this just because the emperor’s train is going through? He’s not even scheduled to get off here.”

“You told the enforcer woman there would be a kidnapping.” Sicarius’s tone was as cool and emotionless as ever, so it might have been her imagination that there was an accusing I-told-you-so in there… but she doubted it. “It’s likely she informed the authorities.”

“We don’t know that,” Amaranthe said, though a heavy feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach. Mistake, that conversation had been a mistake. One she might not have made if she hadn’t been thinking of ridiculously unimportant things like who was going to date whom.

“You did what?” Maldynado asked after a moment of stunned silence.

“I invited her to join us and help the emperor,” Amaranthe said. “I didn’t tell her to alert the army to anything.”

“What’d you invite her for?” Maldynado sounded like a petulant boy whose parents had told him a neighborhood girl was coming to play in his treehouse.

“I thought she might be useful.” Amaranthe chewed on a fingernail, wondering if they should avoid the train station all together now. They did have a backup plan-hopping onto the moving cars from Akron Bridge three miles northeast of Forkingrust. That had been the reason for their bridge-jumping practice the week before. “If we have to, we’ll switch to our back-up plan, but I’m going in there to get information first. For all we know, this is some splinter group supplied with modern weapons and assigned the task of taking over the emperor’s train.” She looked at Maldynado as she said the last sentence, thinking of his brother, and he scratched his jaw thoughtfully. Sicarius’s expression, too, grew a little less icy, as he seemed to consider the possibility.

Amaranthe shouldn’t hope for such a thing-she didn’t want to witness a bloodbath as soldiers battled soldiers, with Sespian in the middle-but she did hope that these people weren’t here because of her own foolishness.

“You three, why don’t you scout the water tower and coal-filling station?” Amaranthe suggested. “I’ll meet you back there when I’m-”

Sicarius gripped her arm. “You’re not going in there alone.”

Amaranthe wasn’t sure if he was concerned for her safety or simply thought he needed to save her from another stupid decision. She didn’t like having him countermanding her wishes in front of the men, but she didn’t want to squabble in front of them either. Maldynado and Basilard were already pretending to study the nearest lamppost.

“Excellent,” Amaranthe said. “I was hoping someone would volunteer to accompany me. I fear it shouldn’t be you, however, as those blond locks are quite distinctive. Maldynado, would you like to dress up in a costume and go inside with me? Perhaps you can get a jug of that brandy cider to take with us.”

“Excellent idea, boss,” Maldynado said.

Though she had been speaking to Maldynado, Amaranthe hadn’t looked away from Sicarius, and she raised her eyebrows, silently asking him if her compromise would do.

He didn’t look pleased, but he released her arm and stepped back. “Basilard and I will be nearby if you need assistance.”

Basilard nodded at this.

“Thank you,” Amaranthe said, hoping he knew that she meant her thanks to include the fact that he was still going to support her, even though her loose lips might be the reason they had an extra obstacle to deal with.

What costumes will you use? Basilard pointed at Maldynado. His hair is too long for a soldier.

“I don’t want to beat anyone up for a uniform,” Amaranthe said, “though I have observed that warrior-caste men tend to ignore such things as army regulations.”

“We ignore anything that gets in the way of good fashion sense.” Maldynado stroked the dyed raccoon tail dangling from his fur cap.

Amaranthe refrained from comment. Barely.

“I can feel Sicarius glowering all the way over here,” Amaranthe muttered.

She and Maldynado had, courtesy of an unlocked bedroom window, acquired costumes and were getting ready to casually stroll into the train station as a couple of weary travelers. Amaranthe wore a businesswoman’s skirt, blouse, and fitted jacket, while a wig gave her a head of curly reddish brown hair. Maldynado wore workman’s togs and was still grousing that they hadn’t been able to find something suitable to his tastes-as if anything on an average person’s laundry line would do for him. She meant to pass him off as her servant, should anyone ask, though with his bumptious posture that might be difficult.

“He can hurl that glare around like a cannonball.” Maldynado adjusted an unimaginative wool cap that had replaced his raccoon-fur masterpiece. “You don’t usually get it though.”

“You’re just not around for it. Ready?” Amaranthe waved toward the front door, trying not to focus on the fact that they had to walk between two army lorries to reach it.

“You voluntarily spend time with him, so you can’t blame anyone except yourself,” Maldynado said as they started walking. “You could always spend more time with me.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “I’m fun.”

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”

When they walked past two soldiers posted at the front door, Amaranthe tilted her face downward, ostensibly watching the steps. Maldynado didn’t seem to have it in him to avoid looking anyone in the eye. Though the bounty on his wanted poster had never been raised above a meager two-hundred-and-fifty ranmyas, Amaranthe wouldn’t be surprised if numerous soldiers recognized him at this point. She hoped his drab clothing would keep them from looking too closely.

As they entered the brick building, though, the soldiers weren’t paying much attention to visitors. Some patrolled along the boardwalk outside, but more simply seemed to be waiting. Quite a few had rucksacks with them and were sitting on them. She had the sense of men preparing for a trip to the borders to stave off an enemy encroachment rather than soldiers ready for an immediate brawl.

While pretending to study the blackboard listing arrivals and departures, Amaranthe eased toward a group of chatty privates. With her back to them, she listened to the conversations.

“…was going fast and hard when the call came. Can you believe it? Finest girl in town.”

“Should have seen what I was doing with that buxom woman from the eating house up the street.”

“Oh, yeah? I was with her sister. And she was way more…”

Maldynado snorted as the bragging-disguised-as-complaints continued. “Bet none of them were entertaining more than their hands.”

Amaranthe was about to give up on getting information from the group-maybe there were some officers around with more to talk about-when a familiar voice addressed her from behind.

“You’re audacious to show up here.”

Careful to keep her back to the soldiers, Amaranthe turned to face Sergeant Yara, someone else who could hurl a glare like a cannonball. Yara wasn’t wearing her enforcer uniform, but she managed to appear stern and authoritarian even in an unadorned gray wool sweater. In fact, she looked extra stern. Irked and irritated might be better words.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Maldynado drawled, giving Yara a lazy smirk. “You’re looking well.”

Amaranthe winced. She doubted Yara was in the mood for Maldynado’s charms.

“You’re looking like a buffoon,” Yara told him. “Hasn’t anyone shot you to collect on your bounty yet?”

“Any number of degenerate hoodlums have tried, but they lacked the fighting prowess to threaten me.”

Amaranthe decided not to encourage the conversation by pointing out how many of those degenerate hoodlums had been children armed with slingshots. They had more pressing matters to discuss.

“Sergeant Yara,” Amaranthe said, “I thank you for coming. Ah, you didn’t have anything to do with all of this, did you?” She waved at the soldier-filled lobby.

“No.” Yara’s hard gaze grew harder. “Reinforcements are being sent to the capital because of this.” She removed a knapsack-it clinked, probably from weapons stuffed inside-and withdrew a pair of wrinkled newspapers. She thrust them at Amaranthe.

The headline on the first one was familiar, the story of the assassinations she’d read about before they got on the train. Amaranthe flipped to the second, a Forkingrust newspaper from that morning. It updated the death tally, adding another six men and women, and posited theories as to the culprits. Sicarius’s name was mentioned more than once. A paragraph at the end implored citizens not to worry because troops from nearby garrisons were being called in to aid in finding the murderer and to protect innocent citizens.

Amaranthe slumped. All of these soldiers were on the alert because of Sicarius’s actions? That meant their presence had nothing to do with her choice to talk to Yara, but she couldn’t find it within herself to gloat. This would only make things more difficult for her team. It was odd, though, that soldiers would be called in; enforcers handled crimes in the city. A discordant twang sounded in the back of her mind. Was it possible someone was using the murders as an excuse to bring more troops to the city? Troops possibly loyal to the commanders ordering that advanced weaponry?

Yara rattled the papers, recapturing Amaranthe’s attention. “Did your man do this?”

At least she didn’t accuse the entire team. “Why don’t we go outside to discuss this?” Amaranthe asked.

“Oh, certainly. We wouldn’t want these soldiers to figure out who you are and put an end to any felonies you’re in the process of committing.” Yara’s voice wasn’t quiet.

Amaranthe kept herself from glancing about nervously-and conspicuously. At least Yara wasn’t jumping up and down, yelling and pointing at Amaranthe and Maldynado. Maybe there was hope to placate her.

Amaranthe nodded toward the front door and headed that way, hoping Yara would follow.

A few blocks away, a clock tower tolled eight times. While the schedule for Sespian’s train hadn’t been announced anywhere, Books had done some fancy math based on known schedules for other trains sharing the railway to determine that the emperor would likely arrive between nine and ten. That didn’t leave Amaranthe a lot of time to win over Yara. At least the sergeant was following them out of the train station without alerting anyone on the way.

“Why did you want me here?” Yara asked as soon as she joined them. “It’s obvious that you don’t have any interest in working within the boundaries of the law, or even the dictates of humanity.”

Amaranthe and Maldynado stood in the shadows of a mercantile store that had closed for the day. A kerosene streetlamp burned at an intersection, its illumination dim compared to the gas lamps that lined the streets in Stumps.

“This-” Amaranthe lifted the papers, “-wasn’t done with my knowledge or approval. As for why I wanted you here, the emperor needs help, and I thought you cared enough to want to see to his welfare.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Yara said.

“And here I thought she’d come to trade terms of endearment with me.” The dim lighting was enough to show off Maldynado’s white teeth when he flashed a smile.

“I wasted a week’s leave to come,” Yara said without acknowledging him. “The soldiers are on high alert, and nobody will risk kidnapping the emperor now. Not here.”

“Actually, someone will. I promise you.” Amaranthe withdrew a carefully folded note from her pocket and handed it to Yara. “One of my men won an event in the Games this summer, and Sespian gave that to him at the dinner afterward.”

Yara walked to the streetlamp to read the note. Amaranthe forced herself to stay put, but it made her nervous to let any distance form between her and that note. Though it wasn’t signed, it was the closest thing to evidence she had in case she ended up having to justify her actions to someone after the mission.

“Amaranthe Lokdon,” Yara read, “I wish to hire your outfit to kidnap me. I can offer 100,000 ranmyas.” She lowered the note. “You expect me to believe the emperor gave this to you?”

“No, he gave it to one of my men.” Amaranthe smiled, hoping a smidgeon of humor would lesson Yara’s scowl.

It didn’t. If anything, the woman’s lips turned further downward.

Amaranthe coughed and slid the note from Yara’s fingers. She slipped it back into her pocket.

“This means… you’re the one planning to kidnap him tonight?” Yara asked.

Amaranthe nodded.

Yara lifted her eyes toward the sky. “This is worse than sedition, more than a crime. It’s… It’s…”

“Likely to be a good time?” Maldynado asked. “You don’t have to do anything, you know. You can just come along to watch. It ought to be entertaining, if you can avoid being shot.”

Amaranthe lifted a finger to her lips, hoping to hush him up. But Yara snorted. Or was that a short laugh? Maybe Maldynado had said the right thing after all.

“You are invited,” Amaranthe said. “It might put Sespian at ease to have a friendly face. Someone he’s fairly certain is loyal to him. Of course, we’re loyal to him, too, but I don’t think he knows that yet. I must convince him of that.”

Yara stared at her and shook her head.

“If you come along,” Amaranthe said, “you can rescue him if you two decide we’re not to be trusted.”

“Are you insane?” Yara asked. It wasn’t clear whether the comment applied to Amaranthe’s last suggestion or to the scheme as a whole.

“We debate that frequently,” Maldynado said, “but the boss hasn’t gotten us killed yet, so we haven’t made a ruling.”

“If you rescue him, or simply make sure he doesn’t come to harm while he’s with us, I’m sure he’ll be grateful,” Amaranthe said. “Maybe you’ll get another promotion out of it, eh?” She said the last as a joke, but it didn’t elicit a smile. She needed to stop trying humor on people scowling so fiercely they were in danger of pulling muscles in their necks.

“I’ll be lucky to keep my current rank after all this trouble. I’ll admit I got myself into it by pestering my higher ups about those weapons, but having you and your cursed assassin show up on my family’s stoop, and with my enforcer brother there to witness it…” Yara groaned.

Amaranthe wondered if the week of leave Yara had mentioned might have been someone else’s idea. A superior suggesting she take the time off to figure out if she was truly committed to being an enforcer?

“We’re on his side, Yara. I swear it.”

“I don’t believe your intent is to harm the emperor, but what of the men guarding him?”

For some silly reason, it pleased Amaranthe to hear that Yara believed they weren’t a threat to Sespian himself. “The plan is not to harm them either.”

“Is everyone on your team aware of that plan?” Yara eyed the darkness around them, probably wondering if Sicarius was lurking nearby. “It doesn’t sound like you have a lot of control over certain members.” She stabbed a finger at the newspapers.

“Yes, we’re agreed on how to handle this.”

“What are you going to do with the emperor after you get him?” Yara asked.

“Whatever he wishes us to do.” A cold breeze drifted down the street, slipping beneath the skirt of Amaranthe’s purloined dress and reminding her that she needed to change back into her work clothes and return the disguise before the emperor’s train came in. “We must leave shortly, so I need your answer. Are you in?”

“I’d be addled to join you when you lured me down here under false pretenses. I’d be even more addled if I believed half of what you’re telling me.”

Maldynado leaned close to Amaranthe and whispered, “That’s a yes, right?”

Yara’s eyes narrowed. “If I do join you, do you mind if I attempt to collect on this shrub’s bounty when everything else is finished?” She pointed at Maldynado.

“Not at all,” Amaranthe said.

“How can you say that, boss?” Maldynado pressed his hand to his chest. “Your lack of support wounds me.”

“You need practice staying on your toes.” Amaranthe waved toward the street. “Let’s get to work.” Though she strode off with a confident air, she was more relieved than she would admit when Yara walked after her and Maldynado.

Amaranthe crossed the tracks again and used the cover of the warehouses to skirt the train station. Instead of approaching from the rear, as they had before, she came in from the front. She paused at the last loading dock to consider the blocky form of a brick water tower with an articulating arm that could be lowered to fill the holding tanks of an engine idling beneath it. In front of the tower, a two-story coal shed abutted the railway with a chute angled over the tracks. Lamps illuminated the entire area, and Amaranthe’s stomach sank when she realized the well-lit door at the base of the water tower faced the station. Anyone on the boardwalk outside could see it if they looked in that direction. She might need to rethink that part of her plan. When she’d concocted it, she hadn’t imagined soldiers swarming about the station like ants on an abandoned pastry from Curi’s Bakery.

A hand caught Amaranthe’s arm, surprising her from her thoughts. Before the others noticed, Sicarius drew her into the shadows of an alley between the last two warehouses before the water tower. Basilard joined Maldynado and Yara.

“Basilard and I will take the water tower,” Sicarius told Amaranthe, not acknowledging the fact that Yara had joined them. “Your team can do the coal.”

Sometime in the last hour, he and Basilard had acquired army uniforms. They both had distinctive faces, and, thanks to all the wanted posters around the empire, Sicarius’s was particularly well known, so neither would pass for army men up close, but they might be able to slip into the water tower without anyone thinking anything of it.

“Agreed.” Amaranthe pointed deeper into the alley. “A word?”

The others had noticed Sicarius, so she lifted a hand to keep them from following, and joined him a dozen paces away.

“The soldiers are waiting for a train that will take them to the capital,” Amaranthe said. “It seems someone murdered a bunch of prominent citizens, and reinforcements are being called in to protect Stumps and aid with the hunt of the killer.”

A moment passed before Sicarius said, “Understood.”

The single word gave away nothing of his thoughts, so Amaranthe tried to read the pause. Maybe it meant he regretted his actions, or at least realized he’d acted rashly and that there might be inconvenient consequences. Somehow she doubted she’d get him to admit it, even if that were the case.

“Do you think it’s odd,” Amaranthe asked, “that soldiers would be called in to deal with an assassin? I know they’ve hunted you before, but those were special missions, out in the wilds, weren’t they? Crimes in cities are almost always relegated to enforcers.”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“You’re answering both questions there, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate your garrulousness?” Amaranthe asked.

“No.”

“Good.” She touched his arm to make sure he knew she was joking, though something in the back of her mind-her father’s spirit perhaps-told her she shouldn’t be joking, touching, or even talking to someone capable of tearing through the city, killing dozens of people in a twenty-four-hour span. “I had an instructor in school, Ms. Worgavic, who had this saying, ‘In every crisis lies opportunity.’”

“You believe Forge is using my attack to bring the soldiers to the city for a scheme of its own?”

“The idea entered my mind, yes.”

He glanced toward the alley entrance. None of the others were in sight. “My only concern is getting Sespian to safety.”

Amaranthe tried not to feel irritation at the statement. It wasn’t news. Sicarius had never claimed to have an interest in helping humanity or saving the empire or anything of that ilk. In fact, he’d told her quite frankly that he didn’t. That he’d been letting her use him this last year only because they shared the goal of keeping Sespian safe. That Amaranthe had other goals too… She supposed that didn’t matter much to him. Though she knew it shouldn’t, the reminder stung.

“I understand that’s your main concern, but-” Amaranthe lowered her voice, “-I thought you hoped to become the type of person the emperor might wish to get to know.”

“That… cannot be the priority.”

“Oh, Sicarius.” She knew he was the last person in the world who would want sympathy-and maybe she was crazy to feel such emotions for him, knowing what he’d done in his life and of the questionable choices he continued to make-but it made her heart heavy to think of him never having a relationship with his son. “We’ll see what we can do about you getting a chance to deal with both concerns. But, in the meantime, I don’t want any more glares from you in regard to who I chose to add to my list of allies. It’d be premature for smugness on my part, but I don’t believe any of our complications thus far-” she waved toward the soldier-filled boardwalk, “-are a result of anything I’ve done.”

“Really,” Sicarius said dryly.

“Really.” Amaranthe smiled. “I know, I can hardly believe it either.”

Footfalls sounded at the head of the alley. Yara was striding toward them with Basilard and Maldynado hustling after her. Maldynado gripped her shoulder and said, “Wait until they’re done.”

Yara jerked away. “Unhand me, or I’ll collect on your bounty right now.”

Maldynado lifted both hands skyward.

“It’s all right,” Amaranthe said. “We’re done.”

Yara stalked up to Sicarius. “Who’d you kill for those uniforms?”

Sicarius regarded Yara with as much warmth as one might give a cockroach. A particularly invasive and pesky cockroach. “No one.” Sicarius jerked a thumb toward two inert forms farther back in the alley.

“We brought a number of gags, and I had a special wrist- and ankle-tying bands made,” Amaranthe said. The latter had come from Ms. Sarevic and were clever for their compactness and efficiency. “I told you the truth. We’re hoping not to injure anyone tonight.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yara muttered.

Amaranthe checked her pocket watch. “We better get started in a moment, but first, Yara, join me over here for a moment, please.”

Amaranthe knelt at the end of a loading dock and rummaged in her rucksack. She pulled out a mask and a canister of the knockout concoction Sarevic had made. When Yara joined her, Amaranthe held out the items.

“You should take these. You can use the canister to make those around you sleepy, maybe even pass out.” Amaranthe wished she’d tested them, but they were among the most expensive items Sarevic had made, and she couldn’t waste them. Besides, she couldn’t imagine a stupider way to die than by testing these on her men, causing everyone to lose consciousness, and then having a soldier stumble across their hideout and kill them all. That wasn’t the way she wanted to make the front page of a newspaper. “The mask will protect you from its effects.”

At first, Yara didn’t make a move to touch the items. Amaranthe could understand her reluctance. If she was captured and had the tools of guerilla kidnappers on her, there’d be no way for her to claim innocence. Honestly, that was part of the reason Amaranthe wanted Yara to take the items. It’d force her to commit. She also didn’t want Yara getting killed or dropping unconscious in the middle of the emperor’s car. That’d leave Amaranthe and the others with two bodies to tote outside.

“You’ve tested the mask?” Yara finally asked.

“Ah, sort of. We tested its ability to block out noxious fumes.”

A few feet away, Maldynado snickered.

“Let me guess who supplied them,” Yara grumbled.

“It was… a group effort. After a meal that involved a couple of cans of beans. Uhm, but anyway, that’s not important.” Amaranthe didn’t want to scare away their new teammate with further details. “I believe the mask works, and it would behoove you to keep it with you.”

Yara took the items. Amaranthe wanted to give her a few minutes to familiarize herself with them, but Sicarius said, “We should go now.”

Amaranthe almost said that five more minutes wouldn’t make a difference, but he was right. Books’s estimate was exactly that. An estimate.

“All right,” Amaranthe said. “You and Basilard know what to do. Maldynado, we have a coal shed to subjugate.”

“I love it when you say things that make us sound fearsome and formidable,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe let Sicarius and Basilard go first. Before he crossed the railway, Sicarius stopped to rest a hand on the train tracks, and Amaranthe decided to wait for him. He glanced back at her and lifted a hand, fingers outstretched. Five minutes. Nerves tangled in her gut. The train was that close?

Sicarius and Basilard disappeared into the shadows between the lampposts, only reappearing when they had to stop before the well-lit door. Sicarius tried the knob. The door was locked.

Still hunkered by the corner of the warehouse, Amaranthe nibbled on a pinkie nail. Sicarius slipped a lock-picking kit out of a pocket.

Maldynado tapped her shoulder. Yes, they had to get on with their own part of the mission. She would trust that Sicarius could slip in before trouble noticed him.

“Stay close,” Amaranthe told Maldynado and Yara, then led the way toward the coal shed, trying to use its bulk to hide their approach from anyone at the train station.

Avoiding lampposts and their damning light, Amaranthe walked into the square fronting the refueling area. Here and there, her boots slipped on oil-slick bricks and grime. Incipient frost and damp leaves further complicated the footing. She’d hate to fall on her backside in front of Yara. That’d make it even harder to live up to Maldynado’s suggestion that they were fearsome and formidable.

She reached the coal shed without any embarrassing falls. She already had her lock-picking kit in hand, but the door wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even closed all the way.

“Someone inside already,” Amaranthe whispered. She didn’t bother using Basilard’s hand signs since it was dark and Yara wouldn’t be able to understand them anyway.

Maldynado puffed out his chest and indicated that he would go first. Though Amaranthe doubted they would run into more than one or two workers tasked to load coal on the arriving train, she didn’t see a point to arguing with him. She pushed the door open and listened. She thought she heard something-a soft scrape perhaps-but the noise did not repeat.

A new noise from outside reached her ears-the distant chuffing of an approaching train.

Maldynado stepped past Amaranthe. She followed right behind and paused to listen again while her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The earthy scent of coal hung thickly in the air, and dust lingered, tickling her nostrils and coating her tongue. Someone must have been shoveling fuel into the dispensary bin upstairs in preparation for the train’s arrival. But where was that person now? And why wasn’t there any light if someone was in there working?

A set of stairs rose along the wall next to the door, and Amaranthe pointed for Maldynado to check upstairs while she investigated below. He padded up without a word. Amaranthe waved for Yara to stay by the door and eased into the dark room.

The only windows in sight were shuttered, so little light crept inside. Searching by feel, Amaranthe passed double doors and piles of coal, some in bins and some free on the floor. A mountain of the stuff buried the entire back half of the first floor.

She’d completed a circuit around the room and was heading to the stairs when her boot caught against something on the floor. It didn’t feel like coal.

With one hand on the hilt of her sword, Amaranthe squatted down, her other hand outstretched. She encountered clothing, damp clothing, and caught the familiar scent of blood. The overpowering odor of the coal had masked it.

“Body over here,” she whispered to Yara.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“No, someone better guard the door.”

Amaranthe drew a kerchief and wiped her hand before backing away. Deciding to risk a light, she shrugged off her rucksack.

Floorboards creaked above her head. Maldynado walking around, doing his own search. She thought about calling a warning up to him, but she had a feeling they weren’t alone, and she couldn’t risk a loud voice that someone outside might hear.

The ground trembled faintly, a sign of the train drawing close. Amaranthe reminded herself that it wouldn’t go anywhere until it had refueled its coal car and water tanks. But, then, if workers didn’t show up to do so promptly, someone would come to investigate.

Awareness of the need to be swift nagged at her, and Amaranthe almost dropped her lantern when she pulled it out. She did drop the matches she’d been fishing for. She patted the ground, looking for one, and encountered a warm puddle. When she’d chosen this line of work, she’d known she couldn’t be squeamish over such things, but touching bodies and blood never seemed to get easy.

“The blood’s still warm,” Amaranthe whispered. Books could have told her the minutes the owner might have been dead based on the temperature, but she didn’t need a lot of precision to know it hadn’t been long.

A steam whistle squealed. Not much time.

Amaranthe found a match and lit her lantern. Yellow light bathed a supine man in dust-coated overalls with a slit throat. A shovel lay next to him, fallen where he’d dropped it. He’d died with his eyes open, surprise on his face.

The creaks upstairs had ceased. Had Maldynado stopped to study something? Or…

A nervous flutter tormented Amaranthe’s gut. He wouldn’t fall to some assassin. Surely, he had too much fighting experience to be caught unaware like the worker.

The train ground to a stop outside of the refueling station, and Amaranthe had no hope of hearing what, if anything, was going on upstairs. She handed the lantern to Yara and gestured for her to stay by the door.

Amaranthe eased her sword out and climbed the steps. They were narrow with a brick wall on one side and the other side open to the floor. The pesky fingernail-nibbling side of her brain noted that fights on stairs rarely went well for the person in the lower position.

Ears straining, she forced herself to tread slowly-silently-instead of racing into danger. Concern for Maldynado lent urgency to her steps, though, and she wasn’t as cautious as she should have been.

A cry of surprise and pain came from the darkness above. Maldynado.

Amaranthe rushed up the last few steps. Lighting the lantern had affected her night vision, and she almost didn’t see the dark shape sprinting toward her.

She leaped to the side. Instincts screamed in her ears, and she lifted her blade. She couldn’t see much, but she judged the figure’s height and path and angled her weapon so it had a good chance of deflecting a dagger or sword, should there be an attack.

Even so prepared, the clash of steel surprised her.

Amaranthe reacted instantly, with reflexes honed from hours of training with Sicarius. Before the blades had parted, she grabbed the person’s forearm with her left hand and yanked. Her opponent was lighter than she expected, and Amaranthe pulled the figure off balance. She twisted the person’s wrist while ramming her knee upward, angling for the groin.

But her foe was too quick. Finding the gap between Amaranthe’s thumb and fingers, the person tore the captured arm free even as a thigh came up to block the groin attack.

Amaranthe shifted, trying to get around to her opponent’s back, to wrap her arm around the vulnerable throat. She was only partially successful and caught her assailant by the shoulder instead of the neck. She latched on, gripping with the ferocity of a pit bull, and pulled her short sword back to jab at the kidneys.

The blade met only air. Amaranthe still gripped the shoulder, meaning her opponent had remarkable flexibility. She whipped her short sword toward the person’s side, but it collided with metal in a screech. Her foe twisted to face her, wrenching Amaranthe’s fingers. She was forced to release the shoulder grip and did it with a shove, thinking to put space between her and her attacker, so she could restart the encounter from a neutral position. Surely, Maldynado and Yara had to be running up to help.

Luck favored her, though, or perhaps she could claim greater awareness of the terrain. A startled grunt rose over the noise of the train’s engine, and the figure’s arms flailed. The stairs. The person’s heel must have gone over the edge.

Knowing the agile fighter would recover quickly, Amaranthe pounced. She drove her short sword into flesh. The blade scraped past ribs, angling into the tender flesh of the abdomen.

A cry came, and the person fell away. The woman, Amaranthe corrected, her mind catching up to the fact that the voice had been feminine.

She managed to keep her sword, though it was almost pulled out of her hand when the woman tumbled down the stairs. The falling figure almost crashed into Sergeant Yara who was on her way up, the lantern in one hand, an enforcer-issue short sword in the other.

Despite the gut wound, the injured woman found her feet. She jumped off the stairs, one hand clutched to her abdomen, and tried to bypass Yara and sprint for the door.

Yara raised her sword, but the other woman lifted a bloody hand, and steel glinted. A throwing knife.

“Look out!” Amaranthe barked.

Yara dropped to her belly, flatting herself to the stairs, evading the knife by inches. The blade clattered off the brick wall. Yara’s lantern escaped her grip and landed on the flagstone floor. The flame winked out, and darkness engulfed the shed again.

The fleeing fighter yanked the door open.

Grimly determined, Amaranthe judged the distance and hurled her short sword. They couldn’t let anyone escape and draw attention to the refueling station.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see her sword spinning through the air, but she could tell from the dark figure’s reaction that it struck. The woman collapsed in the doorway.

Amaranthe ran down the stairs, jumping to the floor to bypass Yara, and dragged the woman inside, away from the threshold. She checked the square outside, afraid someone might have heard the fight and would be running to investigate, but nothing stirred nearby. Everyone at the station was probably focused on the train.

The train! Reminded of the need to hurry, Amaranthe shut the door, groped about to find the lantern, and ran for the stairs.

At the last second, she remembered Yara and kept from crashing into her. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” Yara said. “Your warning saved me.”

“Welcome. Hurry, upstairs. We have to get-”

A light flared to life at the top of the stairs. Maldynado stood, wearing a dazed expression as he held his lantern up and squinted down at them. Blood smeared the side of his face.

“Where’s the cursed coal?” a voice called from outside.

There was no time to discuss anything. Amaranthe charged up the remaining steps and grabbed Maldynado’s arm.

“Answer,” she said, figuring a male worker would be more likely than a woman.

“Coming,” Maldynado called, a hint of a slur to the word.

“Bastard’s drunk,” the speaker from the train growled. “Inept civilians.”

“Stand there,” Amaranthe whispered to Maldynado, pushing him toward open double doors on the wall closest to the train. “Give them a wave. Here, let me have your lantern so they can’t see you well.”

“No, no,” Maldynado said, wobbling a little. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He braced himself against the doorjamb.

“You can complain later,” Amaranthe said. “Just don’t let them get concerned enough to check in here.”

She hunted about for levers to extend the chute and drop coal into the waiting car below. Bins lined the walls, leaving little room for moving about. Amaranthe weaved past cables attached to a lift system for raising coal to the top level. She was lucky that she hadn’t moved far enough from the stairs to get tangled in the ropes during the fight.

The largest bin in the room connected to the chute. Amaranthe ducked behind it and found her levers. A brass plaque with pictures showed which ones to move to extend and retract the chute and to dump coal. No need for literacy for this job.

She pushed a lever, and gears on the wall rotated, their grinding audible over the idling train. The chute thunked into place. Amaranthe hesitated, not certain if she should push the pouring lever to maximum.

“Take your time, Crisplot,” the complainer from the train yelled. “It’s not like we’re on a schedule here.”

Amaranthe shoved the lever all the way forward. Maybe a landslide would flood out, burying the mouthy man. Nothing happened.

Grumbling, she poked around the front of the bin. Maybe there was some flap she had to lift to enable to flow.

“Am I going to have to come up there?” the complainer hollered. “I’ll see to it that your pay is docked if I do.”

“I’ll check on him,” came Sicarius’s voice from the water tower. He and Basilard must have already extended the hose to refuel the locomotive’s tanks. Good.

Amaranthe found a safety release up front and flipped it. A spring twanged, and a door at the top of the chute slid up. The bin contents stirred and clacked about inside, and coal poured into the train car outside. There. That ought to placate the engineer, or whoever was bellowing.

When Amaranthe came back around the bin, she found Sicarius waiting beside Maldynado.

“We had a slight delay, but we’re fine,” she told him.

“ Fine? ” Maldynado touched his temple. “I don’t think it’s right of you to make general statements like that before a thorough medical examination has been performed on all members of the group.”

“There are two soldiers riding on the locomotive with the engineer and fireman,” Sicarius said. “A corporal is directing coal and water loading.”

“Just one man?” Amaranthe asked.

“Yes.”

“The one yelling?”

“Yes.”

“Trouble maker.”

Sicarius did not deign to respond.

Yara climbed into view, holding a lantern. She stared at Amaranthe.

“Something wrong?” Amaranthe asked.

“That was an assassin,” Yara said.

“Yes, I gathered that from the dead man she left marinating in his own blood. Do you recognize her?”

“The Crimson Fox,” Yara said.

Amaranthe tried to place the name. “That’s someone with a bounty on her head, right?”

“Yes, she is- was — regarded as the best female assassin in the satrapy. Some say the empire.”

Amaranthe snorted. “ Some say? Like who? Her?”

“It’s a twenty-five-thousand-ranmya bounty.” Yara was still staring at Amaranthe, her eyes wide with… awe?

Amaranthe decided not to mention how much luck had played into that squabble. A little awe from Yara might help her position. “We don’t have time to turn people in for bounties right now, so some soldier’s going to have a good time this weekend.”

“Wait.” Maldynado touched his wounded temple. “You’re saying the person who hit me was a woman?”

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you.” Yara’s awe-struck expression disappeared when she faced Maldynado. “I’m not surprised to find that your employer does the real work in this outfit.”

“When you’re as pretty as I am, there’s no need to do real work.”

“You’re calling yourself pretty?” Yara asked. “You have a black eye, a split lip, and there’s blood smeared all over your face.”

“I’d still have an easier time getting a date than you. What’d you cut your hair with? Your service sword?”

Amaranthe lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “Let’s focus, please. We can squabble when the emperor is safe.”

While they glared at each other, Amaranthe peeked past Maldynado and into the bin. Coal continued to flow into the open car while the irritated corporal stomped back and forth with a rake. Busy pushing and scraping to distribute the load, he kept his head down. Amaranthe risked sticking hers out to better see up and down the train.

In front of the coal car, the hulking black engine idled, its long cylindrical shape stretching ahead like a hound’s nose. She couldn’t see into the cab where the engineer and fireman waited, which was good because they wouldn’t be able to see into the coal bed without leaning out of the side entrances, but someone watching from the train station would have a decent view. She checked the boardwalk and grimaced. Soldiers were filing into some of the passenger cars. Of course, if they were going to the capital, it made sense for them to get a ride.

“Reinforcements,” Amaranthe muttered. “Lovely.” She kept herself from sighing at Sicarius, irked anew by his string of assassinations. She had certainly messed up often, and he hadn’t held it against her.

Some of the soldiers on the boardwalk were stationed at the doors, and they were checking identifications, orders, and faces carefully before letting people on. No civilians boarded. As Amaranthe had suspected, this was a private train, and it would have been difficult, if not impossible, for her team to walk through a door, even if they’d had sophisticated disguises.

“When do we get on?” Yara asked.

“Soon,” Amaranthe said. “After that corporal says he has all the fuel he needs and tells the engineer to get moving.”

“Won’t the people on the boardwalk see us jump into the coal car?”

“It’s dark,” Amaranthe said. “We’re hoping not.”

“Hoping?”

“Are you doubting the woman who slew the Crimson Fox?”

Amaranthe was joking, or at least hoping to distract Yara from her concerns, but the sergeant considered the body again and said, “I guess not.”

Huh, something to be said for establishing a sense of awe in one’s colleagues.

“The Crimson Fox?” Sicarius asked.

“Apparently.” Amaranthe pointed at the body.

“She’s from the capital. It’s unlikely her presence here was a coincidence.”

“Well, I didn’t invite her.” Amaranthe eyed Yara, but she couldn’t imagine the enforcer sergeant having anything to do with an assassin showing up. If Yara had meant to tattle on Amaranthe and the team, it would have been to her superiors, not a criminal. Nor was it likely Sicarius’s night of slaying had anything to do with it. Amaranthe feared they might have Akstyr to thank for the assassin’s appearance. Had she come to kill Sicarius? Or maybe she’d meant to collect on Amaranthe’s bounty. She was going to have a chat with the lad later. Maybe Books was right, and it was simply time to let him go. “We’ll worry about it later,” she told Sicarius.

Lines creased Yara’s brow as she eyed the stairs.

“Problem?” Amaranthe asked.

“I was entertaining the idea of staying here, turning that body in for the bounty, and going back home a hero for having helped slay such a notorious assassin. I suppose it’d be ignoble of me to take credit for any of that though. I doubt ducking when she threw a knife was crucial in her defeat.”

Amusement tugged at Amaranthe’s lips. It sounded like the sort of scheme she’d think up. Maybe there was hope to bring Yara fully over to her side yet. “You don’t want to leave when the emperor needs you.”

“No,” Yara agreed, lifting her chin, “there’d be no honor in that act.”

Sicarius had moved to the shadows near the chute, where he could look outside without being seen.

“We about ready?” Amaranthe asked.

“Yes.”

Below them, the corporal leaned the rake against a pile of coal and hopped onto the roof of the cab. From there, he jumped down onto the locomotive “nose” to one of the water tanks. So much heat rose from the metal encasing the engine that the air shimmered around the corporal. He checked a gauge, then waved to the water tower.

“That’s enough. Cut it off.”

A moment later, he pulled the thick hose out and screwed a brass cap into place. Amaranthe couldn’t see Basilard from her position, but the hose retracted, spinning onto a giant reel. The corporal skittered back to the coal car where a hill of the black rocks had formed in his absence.

He grabbed his rake. “That’s enough!”

Amaranthe and Sicarius closed down the chute.

“You should at least leave a business card,” Yara whispered from behind them.

“What?” Amaranthe asked.

“Your card. You could leave it on the body of the assassin, so someone would know you were responsible for bringing down a criminal.”

“If I left a card, the soldiers that found the body might blame that worker’s death on us.”

“But doesn’t it grate on you not to get credit?”

Daily, Amaranthe thought. “We’re used to it.”

Yara stared at her.

“If we can get the emperor to know we’re not villains,” Amaranthe said, “that’ll be enough. He can clear our names with a scribble of a pen.”

“And have statues commissioned in honor of our greatness,” Maldynado said.

“Nobody’s going to believe you’re great if they see a statue of you in that hat,” Yara said.

“Oh, nobody wears fur when modeling for a sculpture,” Maldynado said, “It’s too hard for the artist to get all the fuzzy strands to look good. I already have a statue hat picked out.”

“Dear ancestors,” Yara murmured.

Amaranthe patted Maldynado on the shoulder. His silence had been making her wonder if he was more injured than she thought. Maybe he only needed bolstering after being beaten up by one woman and criticized by another.

“Ready to go, sir!” the corporal called to the locomotive cab.

Everyone who had orders to board must have done so, for the boardwalk had cleared. Good. Nobody inside the train would have a good view of the coal shed or water tower-or the people leaping from them.

Two men in black uniforms wearing cutlasses and rifles trotted up to the locomotive and climbed into the cab. Both of them had to duck and turn their substantial shoulders sideways to fit through the doors.

“When you said soldiers,” Amaranthe told Sicarius, “I didn’t know you meant the emperor’s elite bodyguards. Men hand-picked to serve in the Imperial Barracks because of their martial prowess.”

“They are only men, as mortal as the next,” Sicarius said.

“They’re huge.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We must go,” Sicarius said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she said.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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