Deadly Games

CHAPTER 12

Footsteps rang on the other side ofBasilard’s door. He leaped out of his cot. The hours he had spentsearching, pressing, pulling, and pounding his fists had notrevealed any weaknesses in his prison.

The door opened, revealing the burly youngsoldier who had held a pistol on him earlier. An equally young andburly man accompanied him, though this one had a scraggily rat tailhanging down his back and wore no military clothing. Both pointedpistols at Basilard.

“Move,” Rat Tail said.

Basilard measured both men as he squeezedpast them. The tight doorway and corridor forced closeness, and hethought about trying for their weapons, but they watched himcarefully. And what if he did overpower them? He had no idea wherehe was or how to get back to the city. Hoping he would not regretit later, he decided to wait for a better opportunity toescape.

The men pushed him through a corridor sonarrow his shoulders brushed the walls, and he had to duckfrequently for pipes that crossed overhead. He waited for aporthole that would provide a glimpse of their location, butnothing broke the monotony of the dark gray bulkheads. The glowingorbs provided the only lighting, and he had no idea if it was nightor day outside. Oddly, though engines pulsed somewhere in thestructure, he had no sense of forward movement nor the rise andfall of waves.

Clanks, clacks, and a rhythmic sucking soundcame from ahead. The engine room? The corridor ended at a chamber,but a transparent barrier filled with glowing yellow tendrils thatwrithed about like snakes blocked the entrance. Basilard blinked,questioning his eyesight.

“Stop,” one of the guards said beforeBasilard reached the entrance.

The man pushed him aside and stepped forward.He leaned into a bronze box mounted on the wall at head level, andhe pressed his face close to a concave indention. A blue pulse oflight washed over his face.

The shimmering tendrils winked out, and theguard stepped through. The second guard shoved Basilard frombehind.

They entered a chamber cluttered with pipes,equipment, moving machinery, and tanks of yellowish blue liquid.Flesh-colored blobs floated in some. Machinery and pipes filled thecenter of the space and one could go left or right down confiningaisles jammed with consoles and narrow tables, or perhaps thosewere beds. Some lay horizontal and others were tilted upward tostand against the wall. Trays near them held scalpels, saws, andscissors.

Basilard swallowed. He did not know what thisplace was, but it was nothing so innocuous as an engine room.

The men prodded him toward the far aisle. Herounded a tight corner and stopped. Two red-haired women leanedtogether, heads almost bumping. One wore her hair in a long braidand the other had hers pinned up in a wild swirl of hair. Theyspoke in soft tones. Litya and the sister…. What was the name?Metya.

One of Basilard’s guards cleared his throat.The women turned in unison. They were twins, identical except for afew freckles and an old half-moon scar on one’s temple. He pickedLitya out as the woman without the marking.

As one, their eyes shifted up and down,studying Basilard. Under other circumstances, he might have flushedwith embarrassment-he was naked, after all-but there was nosexual interest in their perusal. He struggled to keep fromsquirming under their scrutiny.

The aisle behind them held more beds,occupied by nude men and women. Most were propped upright againstthe wall, the people held tight by leather straps, but the bedbehind the twins lay in the horizontal position with a muscular manon it, not strapped like the others but chained, the links sosecure that he could do no more than lift a hand or twitch a toe,though he did neither while Basilard watched. Cords snaked from amachine to coin-sized, spider-like devices with the tips of the“ legs” digging beneath the skin on the man’s naked chest.Translucent tubing ran from a pulsing green globe, and a viscousfluid of the same color flowed through it and into a needle in hisarm. Not just his arm. His vein.

“Put him on that table.” Metya pointed to anempty one behind her. “I have the pok-tah solution ready.”She stepped to the side, so the guards could shove Basilard past.“Once we hook him up, he won’t-”

Basilard sucked in a startled breath when theview opened up and he saw the face of the man on the table. Heshould have guessed. Sicarius.

His eyes were open. That surprised Basilardagain-he would have assumed, even with the restraints, someonewould keep Sicarius unconscious if they dared to detain him. Whenthose dark eyes swiveled toward Basilard, though, they were glazedand dull. No sign of recognition glinted in them.

The guard shoved Basilard, trying to forcehim around the end of Sicarius’s table and toward the vertical onea few feet away. He balked and groped for a way to communicate.

“Wait.” Litya pointed the pen at Basilard.“Do you know him?” She shifted the pen and tapped Sicarius on abare toe.

Basilard choked on her audacity. He didn’tthink even Amaranthe would poke Sicarius’s toe, and hetolerated more from her than anyone else.

“Well?” Litya demanded. She grabbed aclipboard from a wall where it dangled on a string, a penattached.

Basilard did not know whether admitting heknew Sicarius would help him or hinder him. He just knew he wouldhave to make his escape attempt soon-if these people strapped himdown and drugged him, he might never wake again.

Basilard lifted his fingers and signed,Can you understand me?

“Why does it matter?” Metya asked. She stoodnear the second bed, tapping buttons beneath a dark orb identicalto the green one at Sicarius’s station.

“Aside from this one-” Litya waved her pen atBasilard again, “-the assassin is the only one here whose lineagewe haven’t been able to discover. He proved resistant to the truthelixir, and he’s the one I’m most curious about.”

“It’s not crucial,” Metya said.

“No, but the information could prove usefulfor our studies. He’s already what our clients wish us tocreate.”

Basilard lifted his eyebrows. Assassins?Gifted warriors? Superior athletes?

Metya sniffed. “I’m sure we can makeimprovements.”

Litya gave her sister a slit-eyed glare andshuffled a blank page to the top of her clipboard. She held it outto Basilard. “Can you write? I can read Turgonian, Kendorian,Kyattese, and Nurian.”

Which of those was her native tongue? He tookthe implements and wrote, I know him. What’s in it for me if Ican extract the information?

When he handed Litya the notepad, the othersister came over as well. Not a foot from Basilard, they bent theirheads together to read his message.

If he could grab one, spin her about, and useher as a shield against the guards’ firearms, maybe he could barterfor his freedom.

Before the thought had finished, a coolpistol muzzle pressed against the back of his neck. He sighed. Hewould have to find a better moment, one when the guards were lessattentive.

“Help us,” Litya said, “and we’ll let youwalk out of here when we’re done collecting specimens.”

Purpose of specimens?

“Nothing you’d understand,” Metya said.

“Stay focused,” Litya said. “Are you willingto cooperate for your life, or not?”

All these other people will die?

Metya shrugged.

“Not by our hands,” Litya said, “but ourcolleagues have more invasive experiments. Some of them preferfresh cadavers. However, you were something of a bonus. We’dalready collected our handful of chosen men and women.” She laid ahand on Sicarius’s bare leg and smiled.

Basilard shifted, uncomfortable with theentire situation and not certain how to read her. He had never hadmuch of a knack for perceiving when women were telling the truth,but going along would prolong his stay amongst the upright andun-drugged.

What about him? Basilard nodded toSicarius, then wrote, Will you let him go as well?

He wasn’t sure why he asked it. If Sicariusmet his death here, at the hands of these scientists, that would bea way to see the Mangdorian royal family avenged. It seemedcowardly to shy away from doing it himself, but if God had otherplans, why should Basilard interrupt?

“Well…” Litya started.

“No,” Metya said, throwing her sister a sharplook. “Why do you think we were trying to get him to show up at thestadium where we could snatch him? This is a long-term project, andthe bounty on his head will fund the latter half of our work. It’sfar more than we’re getting from our clients.”

“I wanted him for research,” Lityamuttered.

The speculative gaze she cast Sicarius madeBasilard wonder if this one had more than science in mind.

He wrote, Research for what?

“The main goal of our research is to-”

“Litya,” a male voice said from the corridor.Footsteps thudded, and Taloncrest appeared at the head of theaisle. “I know you’re a newcomer to our land, but here in Turgoniawe don’t explain ourselves to our captives.”

The guards shuffled aside to let Taloncrestthrough, and Basilard took note of the pistols no longer pointeddirectly at him. Unfortunately, people fenced him in on eitherside, so his odds of getting by were poor. Besides, where would hego? He had yet to glimpse a door to an upper deck on this ship oreven a porthole so he could see what lay outside. Footsteps soundedas other people walked in and out of the laboratory, and hesuspected there were far more people on board than he had seen.

“We’re not interested in adopting Turgoniantactics,” Metya said. “Your people aren’t known for theirnegotiating skills or anything else that doesn’t involvebloodshed.”

Taloncrest leaned against one of the tanks,apparently intending to watch. Though he carried no weapons beyonda utility knife at his belt, he towered over the women. Sensingthey would be less forthcoming with Taloncrest there, Basilardpointed at Sicarius and indicated he was ready to start.

Can you lessen his stupor? He doesn’trecognize me. I won’t be able to get answers from him.

“I wouldn’t,” Taloncrest said, the first torespond to Basilard’s scribbles. “You girls aren’t from the empire,so you may not be that familiar with his reputation, but he’sdangerous. That you got him at all was…”

“Impressive?” Litya suggested.

“Lucky,” Taloncrest said.

Metya snorted. “We are highly trainedpractitioners. Setting a trap for a mundane warrior is easier thana first-year telekinesis test.”

“Turgonian men are horrible at acknowledgingthat women can be skilled,” Litya said, sharing a look with hersister. “One wonders why the intelligent women living here don’tleave.”

“Perhaps,” Taloncrest said, “you’d have themgo to the Kyatt Islands where they’d be kicked out if theirresearch methodologies did not fit in with the humanitarian valuesof your Polytechnic?”

“We’ll handle this,” Litya said. “Go back toyour research on your side of the lab, the lab that our goldfunded and that we are graciously letting you work in.”

Taloncrest stepped past Basilard to thrust afinger at the woman’s nose. “Don’t order me around. Youpresume-”

Metya closed her eyes briefly, then flickedher own finger. Taloncrest lurched to the side, his head crackingagainst the back of the machine he’d been leaning against. In theprocess, he bumped against Basilard.

Basilard feigned a stumble and used themovement to palm Taloncrest’s knife. The ex-officer glared at thewomen and did not seem to notice. He clenched his fists and stoodto his full height. The veins in his neck strained beneath theskin.

The twins smiled sweetly.

Basilard watched, hoping the confrontationwould elevate into a worthy distraction for an escape, butTaloncrest took a deep breath and stalked back the way he hadcome.

“Tie him up next to the assassin,” Metyasaid. “They can chat from adjoining beds.”

Basilard wriggled his fingers to remind themhe needed his hands free for talking, but Metya had already turnedaway. She stroked the globe controlling the liquid oozing intoSicarius’s veins.

The guards pushed Basilard past her. Heresisted the impulse to make their work difficult. If he cooperatedmeekly, they might be less prepared when he did strike. He kept hishand down, the knife pressed against the inside of his arm. It wasnot a small blade, and it would take luck to keep the guards fromnoticing it while they tied him. Should he strike before then? No,he would probably need Sicarius’s help to escape, and Sicariuswould need to be alert for that.

The guards pushed him back against the tablewhile it was still vertical. Its cold metallic surface pressedagainst his bare flesh. One guard bent to strap his ankles andthighs to the table. Basilard inched the knife around his side.

He wondered if he was being a fool forwaiting and letting them secure his legs. He glanced at the othertable. Metya was still fiddling with the globe, and Sicarius’s eyesremained vacant.

Basilard slipped the blade behind his buttand pressed his cheeks into the cold metal. A heartbeat later, oneof the guards grabbed both of his wrists, yanking them beforehim.

“Leave them free for now.” Litya held out herclipboard.

Basilard hesitated. Would it be a mistake toreveal that Sicarius could understand his signs? At the moment,they did not realize Basilard and Sicarius worked together. Thewriting would be slow, though, and the women would be able to readeverything he shared.

He pointed at Sicarius, touched his owntemple, and signed, He understands, figuring the women wouldget the gist.

Litya’s eyes narrowed. “The assassin knowsyour sign language? Why?”

Basilard accepted the clipboard and wrote,He’s traveled to my country. To slay people.

“I see.” Litya took the clipboard away andflipped it back to her papers. “Give him a few moments, and heshould regain a measure of cognizance. I mixed in some of my truthelixir, too. He resisted it before, but perhaps if he’s familiarwith you and doesn’t see you as a threat…” She eyed him a littletoo knowingly. “The more you can get me, the more favorably thingswill turn out for you. I want to know his parents’ names, whetherthey were distinguished warriors or athletes, and what mix of bloodis in his veins. The Turgonians are mongrels through and through,but most of them are a combination of their ancient Nurian rootsand the brawny tribesmen that roamed these lands before they came.He looks like he might have some Kendorian in him though. Find outas much as you can.”

Basilard nodded. She propped her hip againstSicarius’s table and waited. One of the guards at the head of theaisle yawned. No privacy for this chat.

Basilard waited for Sicarius to come around.Already his own toes felt numb from the straps around his legs andankles. He was conscious of the steel of the knife behind him, itsmetal warm now from his body heat. It reminded him not to squirm,lest he drop it.

His gaze drifted toward the nearest of thestrange tanks where a fleshy blob floated. Something nagged at theback of his mind, a feeling that he should have put the puzzlepieces together and figured things out by now. The women’s wordsfloated through his mind. He’s already what our clients wish usto create….This is a long-term project.

Babies? He stared at the blob. Were theycreating babies? Was that possible? Would that make thecaptured men and women the parents? Not parents. Brood-stock. Likehounds being used to whelp offspring with desirable traits.

One of Sicarius’s fingers twitched. Basilardwatched his face, waiting for a sign that the drugs were losingtheir hold. It came, not in an expressive show of recognition, butin a hardening of his features-a resumption of the stony mask healways wore. It replaced the blank stare, though his eyes were notas sharp as usual.

Basilard signed, You recognize me?

Sicarius nodded once. His eyes shifted fromside to side, taking in the woman and the looming guards.

I got captured, too, Basilardsigned.

Though Sicarius’s wrists were strapped to thetable like the rest of his body, he could manage some of theone-handed signs. The one he chose was, Obviously.

Basilard clenched his teeth, sensingcondemnation in that brief gesture. Sicarius must assume Basilardhad done something foolish to get here. He didn’t even considerthat Basilard might have been planted as part of a rescue plan fromthe team.

Basilard forced his jaw to loosen. He couldnot read Sicarius’s thoughts, and, even if his guess were close,Sicarius would be right, wouldn’t he? Basilard had beenfoolish and had gotten himself captured.

I was competing at the Imperial Games whenthey got me. How did they capture you?

Heartbeats thumped past with Sicarius doingnothing but gazing impassively. Maybe he had done somethingfoolish, too, and was loathe to admit it. The thought pleasedBasilard. Sicarius was too cursed perfect. Nobody should be soperfect that he never made mistakes. It wasn’t human. Of course,Sicarius might not be responding because he could not explain withone-handed signs what had happened and did not want to speak of itwith their captors listening.

Amaranthe is looking for us, Basilardsigned. She’s concerned about you. He did not know why headded the latter. Even as an incapacitated prisoner, Sicarius didnot look like someone who needed bolstering, and he probably didnot care if anyone ever worried on his behalf or not.

“I presume we have a limited time to talk,”Sicarius whispered in flawless Mangdorian. “Stick to relevanttopics.”

Basilard winced, both because his offering ofcompassion was being shoved aside, and because he was all too awareof the reason why Sicarius had learned his tongue.

“I’ve learned little,” Sicarius added, “onlythat we are in the lake, possibly deep enough that we’d drownbefore reaching the surface if we simply went out a hatch. Ibelieve there are forty people in the facility, half scientists andhalf guards. Have you obtained any information?”

Litya glanced at the nearest guard.

The man thumped Sicarius on the temple withthe butt of his pistol. “Speak in Turgonian.”

Sicarius leveled a cold stare at histormentor. Even though Sicarius was immobilized, the guard steppedback, shifting uneasily.

Even the dullest wolf knows it’s not goodwhen the moose and the rabbit conspire in a language foreign to thepack, Basilard signed.

It was an old saying that usually elicited asmile amongst Basilard’s people. Sicarius stared at him withoutcomment.

I’m supposed to be getting your lineageout of you, Basilard signed.

“My parents?” Sicarius asked inTurgonian.

Basilard suspected it was for the sake ofthose listening rather than a need for clarification. The guardsrelaxed at the words.

I just got here, Basilard signed.If we’re so deep, how do they travel to the surface?

“I was never told,” Sicarius said as hisfingers twitched his real response. With his hands separated andrestrained, he could not make the arm motions that accompanied manyof the Mangdorian signs, and Basilard struggled to follow thewords.

Mental sciences. No thing. Women create whenneed.

Thing? Basilard guessed he meant there was nomagical artifact or other contraption they could snatch to travelto the surface on their own.

…unconscious…don’t know how manydays… Sicarius kept speaking as he signed, “Though I wasgiven to understand it was an arranged mating, and my parents werechosen for their desirable attributes.”

Basilard caught himself listening to thewords. Were they the truth? Had Sicarius been bred like a hound?Basilard had heard what Hollowcrest said in Larocka’s mansion, thatSicarius had been trained from birth to be a tool for the empire,to obey Hollowcrest and Emperor Raumesys. Which meant he hadnot likely had a choice about the assassination mission toMangdoria.

That didn’t matter. He had still done it.

Sicarius was glaring at him, and for a momentBasilard wondered if he read minds in addition to his other skills.But, no, Sicarius signed slowly, with emphasis, and Basilardrealized the glare was for not paying attention.

Amaranthe know where we are? Sicariusasked.

Not when I saw her last, Basilardsaid, but perhaps by now. It’d be best to assume we must escapeon our own.

A few heartbeats passed without a word or asign from Sicarius. He seemed to be considering Basilard. His darkeyes appeared black in this lighting, and Basilard felt them boringinto his soul. Was he suspicious of something? Did he thinkBasilard had cut a deal with the women that would leave himstranded?

Yes, was all Sicarius signed.

You know how many guards watch thisroom? Basilard rushed to sign, wanting Sicarius’s mind onescape, not anything else.

“Yes,” Sicarius said and signed, Fourguards…split twelve-hour shifts. These soldiers worked forHollowcrest…now rogues. “A cook who used to give me balmsafter childhood punishments told me my father was an army officerand my mother a university professor.” Sicarius’s brow crinkled, asif he was surprising himself with how much he was revealing, and heglanced at the glowing orb controlling his drug dosages. Manypractitioners here…only sisters and one male…transportsurface.

Basilard signed, If we can capture one,perhaps we can force the other to-

“So,” Litya said, “you don’t know yourparents’ names?”

“No,” Sicarius said.

“But they could still be alive?”

He hesitated, and Basilard wondered if he hadever considered the possibility. Any child without parents wouldspeculate about that, wouldn’t he? Maybe he didn’t care about suchthings. Most of the time, he did not seem human.

“I was told not, but I suppose it’spossible,” Sicarius said.

“Hm.” Litya stopped at his side and laid ahand on the hard ridges of muscle armoring his abdomen. “I’ve notseen you in action, but based on your reputation and what I seehere…” Her hand roamed, and Basilard looked away. “I’d definitelybe interested in researching your heritage further,” she said. “Wehave extensive resources and could help you if you were sointerested.”

Sicarius said nothing.

“Your Commander of the Armies Hollowcrestdisappeared last winter, did he not?” Litya asked. “He’s rumored tobe dead, but there’s speculation that this may be untrue since thecurrent emperor has not appointed a successor to what must be avital position for you militant Turgonians.”

She tilted her head, watching Sicarius.Basilard wondered if she found his unreadability as frustrating asmost. She showed no sign of it. Too busy being intrigued by him, hesupposed.

“If it’s possible the man is still alive andincognito,” Litya went on, “I’d be curious to speak with him,perhaps compare notes….”

“He’s dead,” Sicarius said.

“You’re certain?”

“I killed him.”

“Ah.”

“It’s possible he left notes,” Sicarius said,surprising Basilard. Sicarius never volunteered anything,especially not to people on the other side. He must be angling forsomething.

“Oh?” Litya asked. “And you’d know where theywere?”

“In his hidden office in the ImperialBarracks.”

“I suppose you know where this office is andcould retrieve such notes if properly motivated?”

“Even if I said yes, you would be foolish tobelieve I could be trusted to do so for you,” Sicarius said.

Basilard frowned at Sicarius, wondering athis tactics. He ought to either stay silent-which suited his normalproclivities-or play along and try to get the woman to let himgo.

“Thank you for the warning,” Litya said.

“You let him off that table, and he’ll killyou,” came Taloncrest’s voice over the sucking and clanking ofequipment. “He’s killed people for daring to do a lot less thancapture him. Also, Hollowcrest hated the mental sciences, so you’dfind little that interests you in his notes. Anything he did was ofnatural means.”

“Much can be done with nature,” Litya said,though more to herself than in response to Taloncrest.

“Hollowcrest used to keep notes on mytraining,” Sicarius said. “He researched widely before I was bornand applied techniques from many cultures, current and past.” Hetilted his head slightly. “If you intend to turn your fetuses intowarriors, blood will only get you so far.”

So, Sicarius had reached the same assumptionabout what these people were doing down here. Litya did not correcthis assumption.

“Indeed,” she said.

“Litya,” Taloncrest said, “I told you yourfunds and assistance would win you my long-term advice ontraining.”

“You’re a doctor, not a legendary assassin,”she said.

“I am-I was-an officer in the Turgonian Army.I’ve been training to fight since before he was born.”

Litya snorted. “Perhaps I should let him goand you two could spar for dominance.”

Yes, that would be good. Maybe they would bekind enough to release Basilard as well.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taloncrest said.

“You are right,” Litya told Sicarius. “Itwould be foolish of me to release you. Unless there is a price atwhich your assistance-and your word that you will offer itfaithfully-can be purchased.”

Sicarius neither offered his usual blunt “no”nor proposed a deal. He ought to promise the woman to help if shewould simply unlock him first….

Instead he remained silent.Almost…thoughtful. What could this woman have that he might want?But then, what did Amaranthe have that Sicarius wanted?Basilard reluctantly admitted that he knew the man very little,despite the six months they had worked together. If it was onlysome whim that kept him with the group, might not another comealong that interested him more?

“There is a price,” Litya guessed fromSicarius’s silence.

Sicarius’s expression never changed, but hiseyes shifted to focus on one of the tanks.

What? Did he want a child? One born in somecrazy scientist’s laboratory? If so, why? Though Sicariushad the personality of a particularly bland, pointy stick, itseemed he could find a woman to bear a child for him if he wishedit. Though maybe he did not want some random woman’s blood for achild. Not if he could get some specially selected female“ specimen” to help breed a babe who could be his equal-or perhapsmore-one day. Basilard grimaced at the idea of Sicarius as afather, training some child with the same heartless techniques thathad been employed on him.

It was hard to imagine Sicarius evenwanting a child, but he met the woman’s eyes and jerked hischin for her to approach.

Litya hesitated but leaned closer, her chestbrushing his. She tilted her head so he could whisper in herear.

The guards had stood mute through theexchange, but they tensed at this closeness.

Basilard signed, Bite her!

Nobody was watching.

Sicarius said something Basilard could nothear, and the woman leaned back.

“Interesting,” she said. “I’ll considerit.”

She snapped her fingers and the guardsclicked their heels, coming to attention.

“Fully secure the other man,” Litya said. “Wedon’t need him talking with his fingers any more, and I want to getsamples.”

The guards tromped toward Basilard. He lethis hand drop, as if in defeat, but his fingers touched the edge ofthe knife pressed behind him.

While Litya gazed speculatively at Sicarius,Metya eased past the guards and brushed her fingers across an orbnext to the head of Basilard’s table. It had been dark and dormant,but it flared to life under her touch. She considered him for amoment, judging his weight for a dosage probably. Nothing about hergaze suggested he would get a chest caress or any dealoffers.

She was close and this might be his lastchance.

A guard reached for his wrist. Basilardballed his hand into a fist and jabbed it into the man’s nose.

With half of his body secured, he did not getmuch power behind it, but his hand speed gave the blow forceenough. The guard stumbled back, grasping at his nose.

The other man raised his pistol. Knife inhand now, Basilard leaned out and slashed the blade at the guard’swrist. Though swift, the blatant attack sent the man leaping backin time to avoid it. That was all Basilard needed.

Before Metya could likewise scurry away, hegrabbed her arm. He spun her as he pulled her against his chest touse her body as a shield, and he pressed the knife against herthroat.

The guards froze, one on either side ofBasilard’s station. They raised their pistols, aiming for his head.The one with the blood streaming from his nose gritted his teeth,finger tense on the pistol. He wanted to fire. Badly.

Basilard should have been terrified, but hehad been in life-or-death situations too many times to fall apartwhen faced by one. Anyway, he did not think they would fire withMetya so close. Unfortunately, he could not bargain with his handsbusy holding the woman. Nor could he imagine one of the guardsoffering him a clipboard to scrawl a note while he held a knife totheir employer’s throat.

Sicarius watched but did nothing. Strappeddown, he could not help physically, but Basilard would haveappreciated verbal assistance. He could speak and handle thebartering. But Sicarius said nothing. Basilard lifted his eyebrowsexpectantly. Sicarius gazed back.

“What do you want, Scarred and Mute?” Lityaasked, her voice calm despite the blade at her sister’s throat.

She stepped into view behind one of theguards. Remembering the mental blast her sister had hurled atTaloncrest, Basilard tightened his grip on Metya.

“Put your weapons down,” he tried to say, butno sound came from his scarred vocal cords. Maybe the brainyscience woman could read lips.

Litya lifted her hand, palm out. Basilardwould have howled in frustration if he could. He knew what wascoming. He cut into the woman’s throat, determined to take out atleast one of them before they dropped him.

Warm blood gushed down his forearm. A wave ofenergy crashed into his head from the left, and agony ricochetedthrough his body like a lightning bolt.

The woman dropped from his hands. Dead?Alive? He didn’t know. Pain assaulted him from all directions, andhe hunched over. If not for the bindings on his lower body, hewould have fallen to the ground and curled into a ball.

With the last of his wherewithal, he threw abetrayed look at the man who should have been his ally inthis.

Sicarius’s eyebrow twitched. He knew. Even ifhe didn’t know for certain, he had to know Basilard was a threat.While Basilard had been thinking of betraying him-of lettinghim die-Sicarius must have been considering the same thing.Basilard might never wake up, and the rest of the group-hisfriends-would never know that Sicarius could have helped himand chose not to.

Darkness ended Basilard’s whirlingthoughts.

Books returned from his research trip in timefor dinner and sat down with Amaranthe and Maldynado around thefire pit of their camp. Snores wafted from the rail car whereAkstyr rested. Yawns tugged at Amaranthe’s mouth, but she focusedon Books.

“I found two possible sources for divingsuits,” he said. “A privately owned fresh-water treasure-huntingtugboat called the Tuggle has been moored in Stumps for thelast two weeks. It seems likely they’d have diving gear. Also, theImperial Saberfist is coming into port tomorrow. It’s amilitary vessel in charge of maritime rescue and salvageoperations.”

Amaranthe shook her head. Leave it to theempire to give even its rescue ships war-like names.

“During times of war,” Books continued, “theSaberfist plies the Gulf, but it’s currently stationed inthe Chain Lakes and has been working the Goldar River alongside anarchaeology team.”

“Is there a reason I should do anythingexcept dismiss the Saberfist?” she asked, surprised Bookshad bothered with all the details. Though Sicarius might findthieving from a heavily manned and well-guarded military vessel agood training exercise, she could not think of a reason to risk itwhen another option existed.

Maldynado scratched his jaw. “That shipsounds familiar.”

“The commander of the marine vessel,” Bookssaid, “is one Captain Talmuk Mancrest, elder brother of Deret.”

Maldynado snapped his fingers. “That’s right.We got a tour of it when we were children. Not much firepower-onlya couple of dozen cannons-but lots of other brilliant equipment. Wegot to swing on this crane that’s used for-”

Amaranthe cleared her throat. “Let’s savestory hour for later. This isn’t the same brother who tried toarrange my capture at the newspaper office, right?”

“No,” Maldynado said. “Talmuk’s nearly twentyyears older than Deret. Acts like he’s forty years older. Stuffyold coot. Walks around like he’s got a ramrod permanently lodged inhis-”

“Thank you, I get the picture.”

“I thought you might wish to try talking toyour Mancrest again,” Books said, “to see if he could get us onboard to requisition supplies. Perhaps, since you spared his lifein the pyramid, he’ll be more inclined to listen.”

“Depends on how long it took him to retrievethat key,” Amaranthe said.

Maldynado snorted.

“I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. Let’svisit the treasure-hunting ship. If it’s a civilian vessel, maybethere won’t be more than a guard or two on board.”

Or maybe there would be no one on board, andthey could easily borrow the suits. For once, it’d be nice ifsomething was easy and went according to plan. Somehow, she doubtedshe would be that lucky.