Deadly Games

CHAPTER 10

Soft rain pattered onto the cobblestones andrailway tracks alongside the street. Amaranthe pedaled up thewaterfront, trying to hover above the damp bicycle seat in anattempt to avoid a wet backside. Maldynado rode alongside, hisknees nearly clunking his own chin with each revolution-he had beenunable to find a taller model left on the communal rack and hadrefused a couple of larger bicycles that appeared “too feminine.”That it was well after midnight and no one was around to see himriding did not seem to matter.

He also balanced the soldier’s rifle acrossthe handlebars. Tonight, it might be worth risking the unwantedattention of being spotted with firearms in the city. Amaranthewore a pistol on her sword belt, opposite the blade. A light jackethid the firearm, and Maldynado could always toss the rifle ifpotential witnesses spotted them.

They pedaled through darkness punctuated bypuddles of light from gas lamps. On the other side of the tracks,water lapped at the pilings of docks, many supporting toweringwarehouses, all dark this time of night. Amaranthe supposed theywould not luck across one with a brightly painted sign that read,“Kidnapped athletes stored here.” This time of year, the docks sawa lot of traffic and would make a poor hideout for those engagingin felonious activities.

“There’s the spur.” Maldynado pointed attracks veering inland, away from the main line. The wet steelgleamed under the influence of a corner street lamp.

“Let’s check it,” Amaranthe said.

She turned onto the street, glad to leave thebumpy cobblestones for a modern cement avenue. A hill loomed,though, and Maldynado grumbled under his breath, something about itbeing less work to carry the small bicycle up the incline than topedal.

Warehouses continued for the next few blocks,and commercial and residential tenements rose beyond that.Amaranthe doubted they needed to search that far up the hill.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Maldynadoasked.

“A door large enough to hide that railcarriage.” Amaranthe yawned. She was starting to feel the latenessof the hour. “Though freight cars are sometimes shunted up thesidings, they don’t spend the night. Our kidnappers have to be ableto hide their conveyance when they’re not using it.”

“A lot of these doors are big.”

“But are they big with railway tracks leadingbeneath them?”

“Ah, not all. Just…” Maldynado pointed.“There’s one.”

Amaranthe parked her bicycle against thebrick wall of a building on the opposite side of the street. Theywere between lamp-lit intersections, so shadows would hide themfrom anyone looking out a window. Not that she expected to chanceupon the villain’s hideout in the first place they checked, but onenever knew.

A couple of blocks up the hill, a ponderoussteam vehicle rolled onto the street with twin lanterns lightingits way. It had the girth of a rail car itself, and swingingmechanical arms stuck out of the upper portion of both sides, likea pair of bug antennae. A stench reminiscent of burning hair wafteddown the street ahead of it.

“What is that hideous thing?” Maldynado hadalso dismounted and leaned his bicycle against the wall.

“You’ve never seen a garbage steamer?”Amaranthe asked. “How can you have lived your whole life in thecity without seeing one?”

“I don’t know.” He clasped a hand over hisnose. “I tend to run the other way when I smell a stench like thatin the middle of the night.”

The vehicle trundled to a stop and asoot-caked man with a greasy beard and hair in need of scissorshopped out. He grabbed a couple of ash cans in an alley and dumpedthem into the back. He opened the door to an incinerator thatburned independently of the firebox powering the boiler. Thecontents of a bronze waste bin went into the flames.

“Why don’t you take a look at that building?”Amaranthe waved to the one they had stopped to check. “I’m going totalk to that fellow. If he works at night, he may have seensomething suspicious on his route.”

“Be careful,” Maldynado said. “He looksdangerous, like he doesn’t see daylight too often. Probably notwomen either.”

“So, he’ll be happy to see me.”

“He’d be happier if you were in somethingless…well, less. What happened to the disguise I got you beforewe went into the mountains?”

“The one that showed more skin than mostpeople reveal in the public baths? Sicarius didn’t like it.”

“First off,” Maldynado said, “you shouldn’ttake fashion advice from someone whose wardrobe is monochromatic.Second, he didn’t like it? How could a male not like seeingan attractive young female in that outfit? Whatever is wrong withthat man is no small thing.”

“I’ll let you tell him that when we findhim.”

Amaranthe waved him toward the building andjogged up the hill.

“Hello,” she called to the man, not wantingto startle him. A second fellow sat in the cab of the vehicle, andshe lifted a hand in greeting toward him as well.

The garbage collector nearly dropped the canin his arms when he spotted her. He glanced over his shoulder,perhaps thinking she was speaking to someone else.

“That’s a nice looking steamer,” Amaranthesaid as she drew near. She fought the urge to crinkle her nose, notentirely sure all the foul smells came from the vehicle.

He scratched his tangled hair, probablytrying to figure out why a woman was running up to him in themiddle of the night. “Yup, yup ‘tis.”

“I was wondering what those arms do.” Shepointed at the articulating antennae-like devices.

“Yup, yup, they’re for fetching big piecesoutta hard-to-reach spots. See them claspers at the end?” The manwent on to detail dozens of features of the vehicle, which turnedout to be a brand new model. After a barked warning from hisco-worker, he continued to work while he talked.

Amaranthe walked beside him and gruntedencouragingly from time to time, figuring they were bonding. Theman ought to think her less odd if they had established a rapportbefore she started pumping him for information.

“Yup, she’s a real fine lady.” He finished bypatting the vehicle on the side. “You want to ride along aspell?”

“Tempting,” she said, “but I’m on aquest.”

“Oh?” He scraped his fingers through histangled beard.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a fancy blackrail carriage rolling through this neighborhood late at night? Itwould have been in the last two…”

She trailed off, since he was alreadynodding.

“Seen that beauty a couple of times. That’s acustom job. Ain’t no factory-made model, no, ma’am.”

“Did you see it on this street?” sheasked.

“Naw, over on West Monument. Saw it rollingout of the old fire brigade building a little after midnight a fewnights back.”

“Monument, good, thank you.” A nervousflutter disturbed her stomach. That was the direction she had sentBooks and Akstyr. “I don’t suppose you’re heading over that way?”she asked, thinking of the proffered ride. It would be faster thanthe bicycles if she could convince these fellows to detour fromtheir route-and not pick up trash on the way.

“Naw.”

“Any chance you could be convinced tohead that way?”

“Well, my partner drives, so reckon I gots toask him.” The man held up a finger, then swung up to address theperson manning the controls.

While they conversed, Amaranthe looked forMaldynado. She could signal him to stop searching the buildings offthis spur if she spotted him, but nothing stirred on the street. Amuggy breeze whispered off the lake, bringing harder rain. Anotherreason to switch from bicycles to covered conveyances.

“…take that long,” her scruffy ally wassaying.

The only word Amaranthe caught in theresponse was “teats.” She arched her eyebrows. The fellow might beinvoking the ancient imperial platitude about the unfairness ofsuckling on a dog’s rearmost teats, or he might be referencing herchest. Neither sounded promising.

“…nice girl,” Scruffy said. “…not goingto do that.”

“Nice?” the response came, voice louder.“Nice girls don’t roam the streets at two in the morning. They’rehome with their fathers or husbands.”

“Ssh. I’m not asking her…”

No, this did not sound good at all. She tooka step forward, thinking she had better handle the negotiating, butScruffy swung down and faced her first.

“Sorry,” he said, “but Chalts figgers we’regoing to get took down by our boss if we delay our route that much,so it’s got to be real worth the hollering at.” He shuffled hisfeet and prodded one of the vehicles fat tires. “He says we’ll doit if you show us-show him-your, uh…”

“Emperor’s warts, Scuv, we’ll be here allnight if you talk.” The second man leaned out of the cab so thelights on the vehicle illuminated his face. He was comelier thanhis scruffy comrade, but that did not make Amaranthe appreciate hisrequest more. “Pull up your shirt and show us some teats, and we’llgive you a ride.”

While she had paid greater prices for thingsbefore, she doubted a mercenary leader striving to build areputation for competence should entertain such an offer. Sheunbuttoned her jacket, intending to show them her pistol ratherthan any skin.

“She’s going to do it!” Scruffy whispered inan aside to his comrade.

“Told you,” the other muttered. “Sheprobably-oomph!”

Without further warning, the man flew out ofthe cab and crashed to the street at his comrade’s feet. A familiarfigure slid into the vacated seat-Maldynado. The soldier’s riflerested across his lap.

“I haven’t even seen under her shirt,”he said, “so there’s no way you two shrubs are going to get ashow.” He gave her a wide-eyed significant look, as if to ask whatshe had been thinking by unbuttoning her jacket.

Amaranthe smiled and lifted the garment todisplay the pistol.

“Ah, right.” Maldynado wriggled his fingers.“You coming? I’m sure I can drive this.”

“You want to steal it?” She eyed thegarbage workers.

Scruffy was helping his comrade to his feetamidst much groaning.

“I just wanted a ride,” Amaranthe added.

“Aw, come on, boss,” Maldynado said. “Ihaven’t gotten to abscond with an official imperial vehicle sincewe molested those soldiers up at that secret lake.”

“We didn’t molest them, we helped them.”Amaranthe rubbed her face. It was so difficult to establish areputation for being a doer of good. “These two gentlemen weregoing to give us a ride. I don’t think we need to steal theirvehicle and get them in trouble.”

The man Maldynado had thrown out lunged forthe cab, his hand balled into a fist and drawn back to throw apunch. He halted mid-swing when the rifle whipped up. The coldsteel muzzle pressed against his forehead.

“I don’t think we want these fellows ridingalong with us,” Maldynado said.

The driver backed down, arms raised. “Toldyou she wasn’t nice,” he muttered to Scruffy.

“What did I do?” Amaranthe asked.

Both men glared at her. Maldynado grinned.Yes, this might have gone past the point of salvaging with words.She took out her pistol. Though she did not point it theirdirection, she made sure they saw it.

“You two have any rope in there?” she askedScruffy.

“Spare winch cable.”

“Can you get it, please?”

He shrugged and unlocked a box near the frontwheels. He pulled out a large spindle of metal cable.

“Thanks,” Amaranthe said. “Now, you two sitover there, back to back, please. I’m going to tie you up.”

“What?” Scruffy balked.

His comrade scowled. “Definitely not anice girl.”

“Actually, I thought this would keep yougentlemen out of trouble,” Amaranthe said. “Better to beincapacitated by deadly bandits than simply wander back toheadquarters without your truck, right?”

“Oh,” Scruffy said. “Like a lot ofbandits, right?”

“At least six, I should think,” Amaranthesaid.

He sat on the cement. After a glower atAmaranthe’s pistol, his grumbling comrade did the same.

“Want me to beat them up a bit?” Maldynadoasked. “To add verisimilitude?”

“No time.” Amaranthe finished tying the menand joined Maldynado in the cab. “They can smash their headsagainst each other’s faces if they feel the need to add physicalevidence to corroborate the story.”

Maldynado threw a lever. Gears turned,pistons pumped, and the truck lurched backward, flattening an ashcan.

Amaranthe groaned. “Why do I find it sodifficult to be a law-abiding citizen these days?”

Maldynado shoved the lever the otherdirection, causing the vehicle to roll forward. “Is there a lawagainst smashing people’s trash cans?”

“Imperial City Code 174 covers it. There arenumerous pages on vandalism.”

“It can’t be vandalism if it’s done byaccident.” Maldynado fumbled about, and they veered toward a stonewall.

“No, no, use the turning arm!” came a cry ofadvice from the bound men.

Maldynado located the controls and turned thevehicle to the left. He angled toward an intersection. “Good thingyou didn’t gag them.”

“Yes, they’ll be in big-bigger-troublewith their boss if we wreck their vehicle.” Amaranthe realized herhand was gripping the side of the cab with clenched fingers.

“Nah, I’ve got it now.” Maldynado pushed thevehicle to full speed. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. This isfun. Far better than riding that ridiculous bicycle.”

Wind drove rain droplets through the openside, and moisture spattered Amaranthe’s cheeks. She was alreadyregretting her choice. That theft would be reported, and theenforcers would match it to her once the workers described her. Sheshould have handled the situation better.

“Quit it,” Maldynado said.

“What?”

“Self-flagellating. I heard what that mansaid; you got the location of the rail carriage. We wouldn’t havegotten that if you hadn’t gone up to talk to them. And it’simportant to get over there quickly in case Books and Akstyr havealready found it and are on the brink of getting themselves introuble.”

Amaranthe wiped water from her cheeks.“You’re wiser than you let on most of the time. In fact, youusually hide it well.”

“It’s late. I’m not at my best.” He noddedtoward an upcoming intersection bisected by rail tracks. “There’sour street.”

He turned the corner and rolled over astreetlamp in the process. It snapped from its cement post withouthindering the sturdy truck. Amaranthe dropped her face into herpalm.

“Oops,” Maldynado said.

Smoke teased Amaranthe’s nostrils,distracting her from a mordant response. She sniffed at the airoutside the window. It did not smell like the coal burning in theirfurnace.

“Uh oh.” Maldynado pointed down thestreet.

Flames licked around the edges of a window ina building a block ahead. A building with an oversized statue inthe shape of a hydrant out front-the old fire brigade.

A sleek black steam carriage trundled up thehill, coming their direction. It was a street model, not one forthe railways, but it had a similar style to the other one. Achauffeur perched on the bench of the carriage, hood drawn toshield him from the rain. Face forward, he avoided looking theirdirection. Lamps burned inside the carriage, but dark curtains hidthe contents.

“Crash into them,” Amaranthe said.

“What?” Maldynado blurted.

“Nobody who lives around here can afford apersonal vehicle, and somebody started that fire.” The carriage wasdrawing even with them, and it would be too late to stop them soon.“Crash into them!” Amaranthe reached toward the controls.

“All right, all right.” Maldynado jerked thevehicle to the left.

The garbage truck rammed into the side of thecarriage. Metal crunched, and the impact threw Amaranthe againstthe back of the cab. That did not keep her from scrambling out,pistol in hand.

She had expected the crash to force thecarriage to stop, but the chauffeur only turned his vehicle away,trying to extricate himself from the garbage truck. The curtainsstirred, and Amaranthe caught a glimpse of red hair. Her heartleaped. Their foreign woman.

Maldynado kept mashing the garbage truck intothe carriage, trying to pin it against the brick wall of theclosest building.

“What are you doing, idiot?” the chauffeurshouted.

Amaranthe sprinted around the garbage truckand jumped onto the driving bench. The carriage lurched andwobbled, rattling the perch like a steam hammer. The chauffeur spuntoward Amaranthe, his hand darting for a weapon.

She pressed the pistol against his temple. “Idon’t recommend that tactic. Why don’t you stop the carriage?”

He snarled at her and did not obey. Sheshoved his hood back with her free hand. He had the olive skin andbrown hair of a Turgonian. A scar ran from his ear to his jaw, amark that would have been memorable if she had seen it before, butshe had not. He did have the short hairstyle soldiers favored.

“Stop the vehicle,” Amaranthe repeated,putting more pressure on the muzzle pressed against his temple.

“Very well.” The man grabbed a lever.

Steam brakes squealed, and the abrupt haltnearly threw Amaranthe from the bench. She gripped the frame andwould have been fine, but the chauffeur took advantage. He launcheda kick at her ribs. She dodged, avoiding the majority of the blow,but it upset her balance. Before she toppled off, she grabbed hisleg and took him over the edge with her.

They tumbled toward the street. Amaranthetwisted in the air and landed on top of him. She caught his wrist,yanked it behind him, and slammed his face into the wet cement. Hegroaned and ceased struggling. With her knee in the chauffeur’sback, she patted him down and found the weapon he had been reachingfor, also a pistol. She stuffed it inside her belt.

Steel squealed behind them.

Amaranthe rolled to the side and jumped toher feet, afraid someone had started the carriage again. Gettingrun over was never a good plan.

Neither it nor Maldynado’s vehicle was movingthough. The noise came from one of the garbage truck’s articulatingarms. It had latched onto a flue on the carriage and was liftingthe back end of the vehicle into the air.

“They’re not going anywhere now,” Maldynadocalled, leaning out of the cab and grinning.

A carriage door opened. Somethingglinted.

“Look out,” Amaranthe called.

A shot rang out.

Maldynado yelped and ducked out of sight.

Not sure if he had been hit or not, Amarantheleft her man and sprinted for the opposite side of the carriage.She grabbed the door handle, thinking to surprise those inside ifthey were watching Maldynado, but it was locked. The dark curtainswere still drawn, and someone had extinguished the lightinside.

Amaranthe was debating about using her pistolto smash through the window when footsteps sounded to the rear. Shepeered around the end of the carriage. Books and Akstyr wererunning toward her, swords drawn.

She waved for them to cover the back of thecarriage, in case the people inside jumped out and ran in thatdirection, then she left the locked door and eased around thefront. The chauffeur was sprinting toward an alley. She ignoredhim, figuring the important people were inside.

Using the front of the carriage for cover,Amaranthe leaned around the corner, her pistol ready. The carriagedoor dangled open.

Books hunkered by the front of the garbagetruck, using it for cover while he pointed a pistol at the opendoor. Akstyr had gone to the far side of the carriage in case theriders tried to escape that way.

“Come out,” Amaranthe said. “We have yousurrounded.”

Something tiny flew out from within, andAmaranthe jumped back. Glass hit the cement and shattered. Smokepoured from a broken vial.

She fired into the few inches of opendoorway. She did not expect to hit anyone, but maybe it would makethem think twice about throwing anything else outside.

“Is that-” Books started.

“Back up,” Amaranthe called over hisquestion. If this was the stuff that knocked peopleunconscious…

Though she backpedalled several meters, thesmoke billowed outward at an alarming rate. It soon smothered thestreet and hid both vehicles. An acrid scent stung her nostrils andeyes. She fumbled to reload the pistol, but had to stop to dashaway tears that blurred her vision. At least she did not feel woozyor sluggish. This was some new concoction with adifferent-horrible-smell from the yellow powder.

She wiped her eyes again.

Movement stirred the smoke. She lifted herpistol, but did not fire, not when it might be one of her men.

Amaranthe listened, expecting telltalefootfalls. Surely, the occupants intended to use the smoke tocamouflage their escape.

Though the vehicles had stopped moving, theirengines still rumbled and clanked. But then she heard somethingdifferent. A clatter. Something hitting the ground.

She dropped to a knee, left arm supportingher right hand to steady it for a shot. She waited, searching thesmoke through bleary eyes.

A boom shattered the night. Its force hurledAmaranthe backward, and her head cracked against the cement street.Pain exploded in her skull, and black dots danced before her eyes.Rain pelted the street around her. No, not rain. Pieces of metaltinkling and clanking to the ground.

A shard gashed her cheek, eliciting new pain,and she rolled over, wrapping her arms over her head. Somethingslammed onto the street inches from her face. She found herselfgaping at a detached portion of the articulating arm.

“Up, girl,” she told herself, forcing hermind into gear.

Pain lanced through her at the change inposition, but she shoved her feet under her anyway, and turnedtoward the crash site. Smoke still hazed the street, and the airstank. Her first thought was that one of the boilers had ruptured,but perhaps the people in the carriage had thrown some sort ofexplosive.

Two tall figures strode toward her, theirfeatures masked by the smoke and night shadows.

Amaranthe had lost her pistol in the fall.She yanked out the one she had taken from the chauffeur.

“It’s us,” Maldynado said.

“Are you all right?” Books asked.

Amaranthe lowered the weapon. “Yes. Did yousee anyone? Did you capture anyone?”

Given that they dragged no prisoners betweenthem, the latter seemed unlikely, but Akstyr wasn’t accounted foryet. Maybe he had had better luck.

“Sorry, I was busy getting shot,” Maldynadosaid.

In the poor lighting, she could not see if hewas bleeding, but the way he reached for his temple and thenlowered his hand to check it made her suspect so.

“Can you walk?” Books asked. “I think theyset the fire in that building down there. If so, they must havebeen trying to hide something, to destroy evidence perhaps.”

Before he finished the words, Amarantheforced her legs into a jog. “Let’s check it. Where’s Akstyr?”

The back of her head sent a pulse of painthrough her skull with each step. She probed her scalp gingerly,and her fingers met dampness. What a night.

“I’m not sure,” Books said. “I saw him racinginto an alley. I think it was him. He must have seen someone.”

Amaranthe thumped her fist against her thigh,torn between wanting to race after him to make sure he did not getin trouble and wanting to investigate the building before theflames burned away any evidence that might be inside. “Whichalley?” she asked.

Books hesitated, then pointed at one a half ablock down the hill. Amaranthe veered toward it, but when shereached the mouth, she could not see anyone. Several alleys openedto the left and right before the main one emptied onto a street ablock away.

“Could be anywhere,” she muttered.

“Let’s check the building,” Books said. “I’msure he’ll be fine.”

Amaranthe was not, and she did not want tolose any more men, but she let Books lead her away. Maldynado hadstopped to gawk at the wreckage revealed by the clearing smoke.Warped and charred, the vehicles slumped like candles melted downto stubs. Though warehouses and commercial buildings filled theseblocks, Amaranthe doubted that explosion would go unreported forlong.

Shaking her head, she followed Books to atall, double-door entrance-one large enough to accommodate arailway carriage. Smoke poured out, and he had pulled his shirt upover his nose. Flames continued to burn at the ground-level window,and fire danced behind the upper floor windows now, too.

Even before Amaranthe stepped inside, dryheat blew over her face. The rail carriage sat in the middle of anopen bay. Flames crackled and danced along the wooden ceiling highoverhead, but the fire had not damaged the carriage yet.

She rifled through a pocket and found thekerchief she had used earlier in the night.

“The flames have likely compromised thestructural integrity of the building,” Books said.

“That’s his way of saying we’re stupid to goinside, right?” Maldynado asked.

“I believe so.” Amaranthe went in anyway,heading straight for the rail carriage. Hot air and light assaultedher already beleaguered eyes, and tears streaked down her cheeks,cool against skin flushed from the heat. “Spread out and searchthis floor.”

A board fell away from the ceiling andthudded to the cement ahead of her. Flames licked the charred wood.She ran around it and circled the carriage, hoping one door wouldbe open. None were. She tugged her jacket off, wadded it up toinsulate her hand, and reached for the handle.

The heat seared her flesh even through thecloth barrier, and she yanked the door open as quickly aspossible.

A ceiling beam snapped, and half of itdropped, smashing onto the engine of the rail carriage.

Amaranthe gulped. Wisps of charred paper andwood floated in the air, and even with the kerchief over her mouthand nose, hot fumes seared her lungs.

Using her boot, she nudged the door openwide. Nothing rested on the carpeted floor or black-velvet bencheson either end. A shirt or jacket hung over the back of one though.Amaranthe doubted it would reveal anything useful, but she lungedin and grabbed it.

“Amaranthe!” Books yelled.

She jumped out of the carriage. “What?”

“Over here,” he called from the far corner ofthe bay, somewhere behind the carriage. “You’re going to want tosee this.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Maldynadosaid.

Amaranthe eased around the carriage andspotted the two men behind a low wall that partially hid a bank ofstanding lockers. Books was staring at something on the ground, hisface twisted in a horrified rictus.

Maldynado backed away, his expression grim.“I can’t look at that.”

Amaranthe took a deep breath and joinedBooks.

The woman’s body on the ground did notsurprise her, but its nudity and the scars gouging the torso did.Though the smell of burning wood-burningeverything-dominated the building, she caught a whiff ofblood, and her stomach twisted into a knot, threatening to ejectits contents. Amaranthe took a deep breath and sought to finddetachment, at least enough to study the body and figure out whatit meant.

The scars seemed systematic rather than theresult of sword or knife fighting. Some were stitched and partiallyhealed while others appeared more recent. Though blood saturatedthe blonde hair, the face was oddly unmarred.

A jolt of recognition went through her. Itwas Fasha, the woman who had first alerted Amaranthe to thekidnappings. Either that, or the missing sister was a twin, butgiven that Fasha had failed to show up for their lastmeeting…

“Some of those scars.” Books coughed andcleared his throat. “Some of those look like they’re over thereproductive organs.”

Amaranthe stared at him. “What are yousaying? Someone removed her organs?”

“It seems likely someone did somethingto them.”

Another beam snapped, and burning shards ofwood fluttered to the floor.

“We ought to get out of here,” Maldynado saidfrom a few feet away. “I’m sure you two can further discuss thecreepiness of this whole situation outside.”

“Good idea,” Books said, stepping pastAmaranthe.

“Wait, we should remove the body,” she said.A doctor could tell them more about the cuts and if anythingwas…missing. “Can you help me-”

A massive crack boomed above her head.Burning boards plummeted toward her.

Amaranthe leaped back. Someone’s hand grippedher collar and yanked her further. Charred wood and rubble from thefloor above buried the body and hurled smoke and ash into theair.

The rag about her mouth did little to keepfine particles from invading her throat. Coughs wracked her body,and she bent over, trying to find air. The heat and fumes broughtdizziness, and blackness encroached upon her vision again.

More wood snapped overhead. An arm snakedaround Amaranthe’s waist, and she found herself slung oversomeone’s shoulder.

“Help you get out of here?” Maldynado askedin response to her request. “Why, yes, yes I can.”

When Amaranthe opened her mouth to protest,another series of coughs sent spasms through her body.

“You approve?” Maldynado said.“Excellent.”

Despite her reluctance to leave without thebody, a surge of pleasure raced through her when they steppedoutside and cool night air replaced the heat of the building. Rainsplattered the back of her neck, and she didn’t mind it onebit.

“Dear ancestors,” Books said, “what amess.”

“Me?” Amaranthe croaked.

“I believe he’s referring to the crash youinstigated,” Maldynado said.

He had not set her down yet. Amaranthe, buttin the air, torso dangling down his back, twisted her head to theside to view the tangled metal carnage in the middle of thestreet.

“Take a good look,” Maldynado said. “I wantyou to remember this the next time you bother me about running overa street lamp.”

“Are you planning on destroying more streetlamps?” Books asked.

“Oh, I think that’s a given as long as wework for the boss here.”

Amaranthe opened her mouth to tell him to sether down, but motion up the hill stopped her. A vehicle had turnedonto the street and was rolling toward the crash. Night made itimpossible to make out details, but she could guess at theoccupants. “Enforcers coming. Time to go.”

“Right.” Maldynado jogged toward analley.

Amaranthe bumped and bounced on his shoulderlike a crate on a bicycle navigating cobblestones. “I can run on myown,” she said, voice vibrating with Maldynado’s every step.

“Promise you won’t sprint back inside and tryto drag that body out?” Maldynado asked.

“Yes.” Unfortunately.

Maldynado lowered her gently. She scrapeddamp hair out of her eyes, wincing when she brushed against a knotthe size of a chicken egg on the side of her head. She wassurprised to find she still clutched the jacket she had pulled outof the carriage. Not exactly the chance for illumination the bodywould have provided, but maybe a pocket would contain a usefulclue.

Several blocks away and back on the streetfollowing the waterfront, Amaranthe paused beneath a streetlight toexamine it. The flame revealed heavy black material in the cut ofan army fatigue jacket.

“What’s that?” Books asked, stopping besideher.

Maldynado stopped as well, though he turnedhis attention the way they had come, watching for pursuit.

“It was in the carriage.” Amaranthe checkedthe pockets and found nothing. So much for that hope. The rank pinshad been removed, though the nametag was still sewn on above thebreast pocket. She turned it toward the light. “Taloncrest,” sheread and paused. That name seemed familiar.

“Nobody I’ve heard of,” Maldynado said.

“Nor I,” Books said. “Amaranthe?” he askedwhen her thoughtful silence continued.

“Colonel Taloncrest,” she murmured, an uneasyflutter vexing her stomach at the memory.

“Who’s he?” Maldynado asked.

“He was the surgeon performing medicalexperiments on people in the Imperial Barracks dungeon whenHollowcrest had me thrown down there.”

Memories of that miserable place floodedAmaranthe. The military could not be behind the kidnapped athletesand her missing men, could it? No, Sespian would not allow that tohappen. Unless he didn’t know it was happening. He hadn’tknown of the experiments in the dungeon the winter before. But hehad been drugged then. The more likely scenario was that Sespianhad learned of the experiments in the dungeon and ousted Taloncrestfor being one of Hollowcrest’s lackeys. That would mean Taloncrestwas a rogue, perhaps hirable by someone else. Such as thisred-haired woman.

“You’re sure?” Books asked. “Medicalexperiments?”

“Dear ancestors,” Maldynado said, lookingback the way they had come, toward the dead woman. “That’sdisturbing.”

Amaranthe tried not to think of Taloncreststanding over Sicarius, a scalpel poised. It did not work.