Deadly Games

CHAPTER 2

Dawn had come, and Amaranthe felt conspicuousas she sidled up beside one of the enforcer vehicles. She could notcount on darkness to mask her wanted-poster features any longer,but she could not leave without knowing if something had happenedto Sicarius.

Several men stood between two lorries withsmoke drifting from the stacks. The enforcers spoke in hushedtones, and she struggled to eavesdrop over the hissing boilers andidling machinery.

“…Sicarius doing here?”

“…missing girls?”

“…men will catch… Already woundedhim.”

Wounded? Amaranthe’s jaw sagged open. Surelynot. Not by enforcers.

One of the men frowned in her direction, andshe knelt to tie a shoelace. She dared not linger. It sounded likeSicarius had not been caught yet. What stunned her was that he hadbeen seen at all. Though it was true he did not usually favorcostumes, he had a knack for remaining unseen, especially at night.It rattled her beliefs to think he could have stumbled into someonehe shouldn’t have-and reacted too slowly to keep that someone fromraising an alarm.

When Amaranthe had spent as long tying hershoe as she could without attracting attention, she jogged toward apair of oaks spreading shade over the men’s barracks. Not wantingto return to their hideout without knowing Sicarius was safe, shestopped where she could watch the enforcers.

Birds chirped overhead. The smell of cookingeggs wafted from a vendor’s nearby tent. Early morning sun slantedthrough the oak’s lower branches and warmed the back of her neck.It was not a sound but the disappearance of that warmth thatalerted Amaranthe to someone behind her.

She turned to find Sicarius, hands claspedbehind his back, the sunlight limning his short blond hair. Nosweat dampened that hair and no dust smudged his black clothes. Hecertainly did not look like a man who had been on the run.

“What’re you doing?” She glanced at theenforcers.

He had placed himself so a tree hid him fromtheir view, but the sunlight and the people walking all about madeAmaranthe feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Standing,” Sicarius said.

“Where have you been? Why did you letthe enforcers see you?”

“I did not.”

“You find him?” someone called near thevehicles.

Amaranthe grabbed Sicarius’s arm. “We have toget out of here. You can explain later.”

They jogged toward a swath of treesseparating the stadium and grounds from the main railway tracksthat ran alongside the lake and through the city’s waterfront.Amaranthe intended to push straight through and follow the rails totheir hideout, but Sicarius veered north as soon as they were undercover.

“This way.” He slipped down a narrow pathclogged with shrubs and brambles.

Amaranthe winced as enthusiastic thornssnagged at her togs and attempted to tug her stolen satchel fromher shoulder. “I hope you’re leading me to a place where answerswill present themselves.”

Not only did Sicarius not respond, hemaneuvered through the grasping foliage more deftly than she andsoon disappeared.

Amaranthe ducked a branch atpoke-her-in-the-eye height and, figuring Sicarius was out ofearshot, added, “This might be worth it if you were takingme to a secluded nook where a picnic basket, blanket, and jug offresh juice awaited.”

Black clothing appeared through the leavesahead. Amaranthe pushed past a rhododendron and stepped into aclaustrophobic clearing only a few feet wide. At first, she couldsee nothing beyond Sicarius’s back. When she realized he waspointing at the ground, she eased around him, almost stepping on aman’s hand.

“So…” she said, “no picnic basket.”

As usual, Sicarius ignored hernon-work-related comments. “While you were inside,” he said, “thisman ran out of the trees near the stadium, and someone shouted‘That’s Sicarius.’ The enforcers took off after him. He racedthrough a crowded area where a sergeant with a crossbow shot him inthe back. He evaded his pursuers and crashed through here, but thencollapsed.” Sicarius pointed at a crossbow quarrel protruding fromthe man’s back. “It pierced a lung.”

Amaranthe crouched, all thoughts of picnicsgone. The dead man wore black, had short blond hair, and wore abandana over his face. She touched a tuft of hair still damp withsweat. “This looks dyed.”

“My color, yes.”

“So, someone’s impersonating you. Someone whocouldn’t have known we’d be here at the same time. Is someonetrying to blame you for a crime? These kidnappings perhaps?”

“Unknown.”

She stood and frowned at Sicarius. “When Irecruited you for my team, I didn’t fully realize how many peoplethere were scheming up plots that involved you.”

“Regrets?” he asked.

Amaranthe almost said something flippant-howoften did he set himself up so nicely for teasing? — but a faintvariance to his usual monotone made her think the answer mightmatter. It seemed impossible. She always figured she needed him onher team far more than he needed her. Ancestors knew he had savedher life more times than she could count. But maybe he had come tocare about what she thought of him.

She sighed and patted him on the arm. “Nah,you know I like a challenge. Let’s get back to the hideout and seeif we can hunt down the others. I seem to have granted a vacationprematurely. I think we’re going to need everyone in on this.”

“Agreed,” Sicarius said.

Morning sun burned into the rusted hulls ofdecommissioned rail cars that filled the vast boneyard. Heatradiated from them, some as yet unscathed by the years and othersso rusted each wall was a see-through latticework. The occasionalshiny bits glinted, throwing rays into Amaranthe’s eyes as shepassed. Weeds rose from cracks between faded and broken bricks thatlined the ground, suggesting the area had once had a noblerpurpose.

Sicarius had disappeared as soon as theyneared the boneyard, and Amaranthe weaved through the aisles towardtheir hideout alone. Unfamiliar coughs and voices echoed fromdifferent parts of the field, a reminder that more groups than herscalled this place a home, however temporarily. Cigar stubs, somefilled with tobacco and some with more potent leaves, littered thebricks. Bloodstains were nearly as frequent. The boneyard had thebenefit of not being visited often by enforcers, but that also madeit a place Amaranthe would not have chosen to visit alone atnight.

She turned down a dead end and stumbled.Maldynado lounged in a chair he had scavenged from one of thepassenger cars. His face was tilted toward the sun, his eyes wereclosed, his hands were clasped behind his head, and hewas…naked.

“Maldynado,” Amaranthe groaned.

“Oh, hullo, boss.” He neither rose noradjusted his position to hide anything; he simply sprawled there,like a cat in a sunbeam.

“What are you doing?”

“Vacationing.”

Amaranthe pulled a towel out of her satcheland draped it across his waist as she walked past. “I see you’veset yourself an ambitious itinerary.”

“You said to relax. I’m relaxing.” Hescratched an armpit. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Profound and philosophical thoughts?”

“Naturally,” Maldynado said. “For instance, Ifigure we should have a team uniform.”

“A uniform?”

“Clothes that make us look like a stylish andcohesive unit of elite combat professionals.”

“Something like what Sicarius wears?”Amaranthe asked.

“He’s far too monochromatic and plain to beconsidered stylish.”

“I see. Well, let me know what you come upwith.” She peered into the cars she and her team had claimed, a setof three that were less rusted than most. They framed a dead endand created a private camp spot. “Anyone else about?”

“Akstyr’s off somewhere being secretive andmagicky, and Books left at dawn, excited about spending a day atthe library-that is pathetic, by the way.”

“Basilard’s not around?”

“Haven’t seen him since last night.”

“I hope he shows up today. I want to takeeverybody in and investigate Barlovoc Stadium. Something’s goingon, maybe something important.”

“Important enough to interrupt ourvacation?”

“Absolutely,” Amaranthe said. “This has thepotential to attract attention high up. This could be the one.”

“Uh huh, when you’re done rubbing your handstogether and plotting gleefully, think about what you’re going towear for your date tonight.”

“My what?”

Sicarius chose that moment to finish scoutingand walk into camp.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Maldynadosaid. “Lord Mancrest. I’ve been trying to get you to meet him forweeks, but you keep saying, ‘wait until we have some time off.’Well, you gave us time off.”

“All right, but not tonight. This is moreimportant than-”

“I already set it up,” Maldynado said.

Sicarius’s expression was cool as he drewnear, but she did not know if it was due to the conversation topicor Maldynado’s lack of attire.

“I told him you were free and that you’d meethim tonight,” Maldynado said. “He said he’ll take you out to a nicedinner. His family has money, so you should mine that vein for allit’s worth. When was the last time you had something fancy? Get thepriciest cut of meat.”

“Maldynado…”

“He’s a gentlemen. Probably won’t even expectyou to warm his sheets afterward. Unless you want to, of course. Idon’t think you’ve blanket wrestled with anybody for as long asI’ve known you, so you must have some urges that are aching to besated.”

“Maldynado!” Amaranthe should not haveblushed, but she was all too conscious of Sicarius standing a fewpaces away.

“Wear something nice,” Maldynado said. “He’sexpecting you at The Gazette building at six.”

“I’m not… Did you say The Gazette?”Amaranthe wanted to object, since she’d already been planning anight of snooping, but the chance to go into the city’s largestnewspaper office and chat up the boss was appealing. At theleast, she could find out if the journalists had heard aboutanything fishy going on at Barlovoc Stadium. Developing arelationship with Mancrest could prove useful long-term as well. Ifshe could convince him her team was working for the good of theempire, perhaps he would publish something nice-like the truth.“All right. I can send you fellows ahead and come to the groundsafterward. No self-respecting snoop sneaks in before midnightanyway.”

“Excellent.”

Sicarius said nothing, but his gaze was lessfriendly than his daggers. When she met his eyes, he jerked hischin toward the old rail car that served as the group’s parlor. Sheclambered inside after him.

The wide opening lacked the sliding door itwould have had during its service days, and Sicarius walked to thefar end, presumably wanting a private conversation. Crates,battered lanterns, and a couple of old strategy games with missingtiles comprised the furnishings. It would be silly to keep anythingvaluable inside since vagrants roamed the boneyard. Amaranthemissed the days of having a safe home to return to at night, onewhere she could keep treasured belongings…like books anddinnerware. When she had been an enforcer, she had never thoughtshe would think of her simple, one-room flat as a luxury.

Sicarius leaned against the far wall, armscrossed over his chest. Sun slanting through holes highlightedrusty rivets on the floor, her purloined broom and dustpan, and theutter lack of humor on his face.

“Problem?” Amaranthe wondered if he might bethe teeniest bit jealous at the idea of Maldynado setting her up ona “date.” She, of course, had only professional interest in thisman and would tell Sicarius that if he asked. She wished hewould ask, since that would imply his admission about caringmeant caring in a romantic way. Well, romantic might not be theexact word to use when describing Sicarius’s feelings, butsomething of that nature anyway.

“Deret Mancrest wrote the story condemning usas Sespian’s kidnappers,” Sicarius said. “Prior to that, he wroteother articles about me and encouraged the emperor to siphon moreforces into capturing me so the army could put me in front of afiring squad.”

“Oh.” Amaranthe sank down onto a crate. Notjealousy after all. Sicarius just hated the man for condemning himin writing. “So he’s the one who called you abhorrent anddegenerate and me an accomplice.”

“You remember the adjectives used to describeme and not the author?”

“Well, I’m not warrior caste. All those‘Crest’ names blend together in my mind.”

“It would be unwise to visit him,” Sicariussaid.

“If he’s a friend of Maldynado’s he-”

“He may have requested the meeting to arrangea trap.”

“For you?” Amaranthe asked. “Wouldn’t he haveasked you out to dinner if that were the case?”

The sun did nothing to warm Sicarius’s darkeyes. “You have a bounty on your head as well.”

“Yes, I know. But…” She stood and grabbedthe broom. “He may actually be exactly what we need. If he has ayears-long record of deriding you-in writing-and he couldbe…converted, he could become an asset to us.” She swept as shespoke, angling dust into a pile. “If we can convince him youweren’t behind Sespian’s kidnapping, and you’ve worked for the goodof the empire on several occasions since then, his favorableopinion of you would carry a lot of weight. With a single story, hecould make the entire city question all they’ve heard about you.”She held the dustpan aloft and smiled. Yes, that sounded like agood plan.

Sicarius stared, as unexpressive and unmovingas marble.

“You know…” Amaranthe dumped her dust pileoutside and returned to face him. “It’s hard for me to maintain myvigor and enthusiasm for leading you when you do nothing but standthere and ooze disapproval at me.”

“Not at you,” he said.

“If your disapproval is aimed at LordMancrest, he’s not here to receive it. And if you’re irked atMaldynado… I think he’s only looking to receive a sunburn on hisnether regions right now.”

“I will go with you tonight.”

“Er, to the eating house?” She imagined himwearing his black clothing and knife collection, looming over hershoulder while she tried to woo this Lord Mancrest over dinner andwine.

“To the newspaper building. To see if it’s atrap.”

“Ah.” She supposed she could send him to thestadium after they verified Mancrest was not up to anythingduplicitous. “Very well. We’ll take Maldynado, too.”

Sicarius strode to the doorway, hopped down,and disappeared.

“No, no.” Amaranthe lifted a hand. “Youneedn’t let me know you think my idea has promise. It’s been nearlythree months since the last time I almost got myself killed, so I’mbrimming with self-confidence. I don’t need bolstering.”

Wind whistled through the boneyard, stirringdust and providing her only answer.

She finished tidying the rail car beforeclimbing out to find Maldynado had left-to put on clothes, shehoped-and Basilard had returned. He sat in the vacated chair, armsdraped over his knees, while he stared at the earth. The sungleamed against his shaven head, highlighting the briar patch ofscar tissue marring his scalp.

“Problem?” Amaranthe asked, thinking heappeared glummer than usual.

He flinched when she spoke, and she wonderedwhat he had been thinking about. He only shook his head.

Amaranthe dragged a crate over so she couldsit beside him. “I’m glad you’re here. You know that vacation Ipromised? We may need to work this week after all.”

He did not react, did not even twitch ashoulder.

“Do you mind going with Books and Akstyr todo some nocturnal investigating tonight?”

This time Basilard did shrug. If it had beenAkstyr, who had just turned eighteen, she might have understood themoody response, but Basilard usually gave people more respect andshowed interest when she discussed missions.

“I’ve heard that talking about problems makesone feel better. I can keep confidences if you want to divulge anydark secrets.” Amaranthe smiled, intending it as a joke, butBasilard studied her through narrowed eyes, as if he knew of thesecrets in her life she had failed to keep. Or perhaps the ones shehad kept and shouldn’t have. Could he have found out aboutSicarius’s past in Mangdoria?

She shifted from foot to foot until sherealized that made her look guilty. She forced herself to stop andclasped her hands behind her back.

You wouldn’t understand, Basilardsigned.

She let out a slow breath. That did not soundlike something that had to do with revenge or deep-set anger.

“Maybe not,” Amaranthe said, “but the nicething about talking to other people is they don’t have to doanything for you to feel better. They might just nod and grunt afew times. The feeling better part comes from speaking of theburdens you’ve been holding inside, things that weigh upon yoursoul.” Hm, that sounded preachy. She decided she wasn’t old enoughor wise enough to mother these men, so bowed her head and backedaway, intending to leave Basilard alone.

He stopped her and lifted a hand, swiping twofingers toward his chest.

“I don’t know that sign yet,” she said.

“Soul,” he mouthed, and she understood sinceshe’d just used the word. Turgonians believe in soul?

Amaranthe drew closer again. “Some do. Theold religion speaks of an eternal soul that lives on after you die.All of our references to spirits and fallen ancestors come fromthat. Though Mad Emperor Motash worked his entire life to declarethe old ways dead and atheism the only acceptable belief, er,disbelief, many still believe in guidance from ghosts of thepast.”

When you die, your soul goes where?

“Agormak, the Spirit Realm, supposedly.Although, through various ceremonies, dead ancestors can be calledupon for advice, and people have claimed to see them in ourrealm.”

No hell?

“Not like your people believe in, no. Thoughsome say cowardly acts, especially suicide, destroy the soul,rendering it unavailable for consultation. One wonders what thosepriests were drinking when they sat around and thought up therules.”

Basilard’s eyes widened, and Amaranthewinced. She forgot how much Mangdorians valued their religion andused its tenets to guide their lives.

“I’m sure your people’s religion makes moresense than ours,” she said by way of apology, but she worried shewas sticking her foot deeper into her mouth. A stricken expressiontwisted Basilard’s face. Yes, she was quite sure her big toe wasbrushing a tonsil. She coughed. “It’s possible I was mistaken whenI said talking to someone would make you feel better.”

He snorted. It might have been a semi-amusedsnort. She hoped so.

Basilard considered her again, and she triednot to squirm. His eyes were not narrowed this time, butwithholding Sicarius’s past crimes in Mangdoria gave her a reasonto feel guilty next to him, and she never forgot that.

Why The Emperor’s Edge? he signed,surprising her.

That surprise must have shown on her face,for he clarified, If you believe your soul safe, why risk yourlife over and over, trying to impress the emperor? Is it just for apardon?

“It’s partially about clearing my name andpartially about…trying to give happiness to someone who means agreat deal to me. Also, it’s about wanting a place in the historybooks. I used to think I could find that through being the firstfemale enforcer to reach… Well, that’s not going to happen now.Maybe it was never going to happen as long as I was followingsomeone else’s path, but now I’ve got my own path, and I believeagain that I can make history.” She chuckled. “It’s all kinds ofhubris, I know, but that’s the imperial way. You either gainimmortality through having children or you earn it by becomingsomeone history remembers. Despite Maldynado’s attempts to set meup with a man, I have a feeling my odds of achieving the latter arebetter right now.”

Basilard smiled briefly, but it did not reachhis eyes. I understand. It’s good that you are making your owntrail. I fear that’s not an option for me. I believe my destinationis chosen.

“I thought you’d decided to work to end theunderground slavery in the empire and to make things better foryour people.”

He poked a brick with his toe for a moment,shrugged, then stood. Thank you, he signed and went into thesleeping car.

Amaranthe sighed, not sure if she had helped,or that she knew how to help him.

A steam whistle blew, and workers streamedout of factories. Positioned between the industrial district andthe shops and studios of the northern waterfront area, the oldGazette building overlooked one of the canals that flowedthrough the city. From the mouth of an alley across the waterway,Amaranthe, Sicarius, and Maldynado observed men exiting, shuckingtheir single-breasted jackets and frock coats to walk home in thewarm air.

Though evening had come, the sun still shone,offering few shadows to cloak the alley. The idea of heading alongthe broad waterfront street and over the wide canal bridge madeAmaranthe uneasy. This was part of her old patrol route, and anyenforcers she ran into here would recognize her.

“It’s not going to be a trap,” Maldynadosaid. “I know this fellow. We used to fence together back before hetook a spear in the hip at Amentar. He earned a medal of valorbecause he was leading the attack to save some border town andrisked his life to save a bunch of children. He’s a good, nobleman.”

“Good, noble people are the types who feelobligated to turn in outlaws,” Amaranthe said, drawing an approvingnod from Sicarius.

“He’ll expect you to come in through thefront,” Sicarius said. “I’ll see if there’s another entrance.”

He went down the alley instead of walking outthe front, presumably choosing a route that would keep him out ofsight.

“He’ll probably find us a third-story windowto crawl through,” Maldynado muttered. “Look, I’ve had brandy withDeret twice since I became an outlaw. He hasn’t turned me in yet.And he doesn’t look down on me because I’m disowned. He’sone of the few who don’t.”

“I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,” Amaranthesaid. “We’re just being cautious.”

While they waited for Sicarius to return, thetraffic leaving the front of the building dwindled. A pair ofenforcers strode along the timeworn cobblestone street lining thecanal, and Amaranthe eased deeper into the alley. An ordinarypatrol, she told herself. Nothing that suggested they wereconveniently around to play a role in a trap being sprung.

She nibbled on a finger, wondering if she wasletting Sicarius’s paranoia get to her.

“This way.” Sicarius appeared at hershoulder.

Maldynado was the one to jump. “Alwayssneaking up on people,” he muttered under his breath.

Without a word, Sicarius led them through thealley and around the building to a ladder leading down to a ledgealong the canal. Keelboats and cargo rafts floated up and down thewaterway, but nobody paid attention to Amaranthe’s team. The pilotswere too busy navigating past houseboats, skiffs, and each other towatch the foot traffic.

Sicarius stopped at the base of one of thecity’s newer steel bridges and gripped one of the support beams.Legs dangling, he swung from handhold to handhold, like a monkeyskimming through the treetops.

Amaranthe and Maldynado exchanged incredulouslooks.

“Is he joking?” Maldynado asked. “Why can’twe walk across the bridge?”

“Training?” Amaranthe guessed.

Sicarius, midway across, paused and peeredback over his shoulder. “The top of the bridge is visible fromThe Gazette’s upper windows.”

“So?” Maldynado said.

“It would be unwise to let them see uscoming.” Sicarius returned to the climb, apparently considering thediscussion over.

“Does he truly believe someone is sitting ata window, watching the bridge for your arrival?” Maldynado asked.“I didn’t tell Deret you were that cute.”

“Thanks,” Amaranthe said dryly.

Sicarius had already reached the other side.Glad she had rejected Maldynado’s suggestion that she wear a dressfor the night, Amaranthe hopped and caught the girder. A couple ofkeelboats were coming; she had best not delay.

The smooth, cool steel did not make the mostideal handhold, but she navigated it without trouble. Sicarius’sfrequent obstacle-course runs had given her experience with awkwardmoves that relied on upper body strength, and she could perform asmany pull-ups as the men. As many as Books and Akstyr anyway.

She landed with a grunt on the other side,and Maldynado soon plopped down behind her. Sicarius jogged a fewmeters and stopped above a storm-water-runoff grate on the canalwall beneath the ledge. Thanks to the recent dry weather, nothingflowed out of it. When he crouched to wait for the river traffic todwindle, Amaranthe groaned.

“We’re not going in there, are we?”

Sicarius dropped to his belly, fiddled with alock, and opened the grate. He rolled off the ledge, twisting toland on his feet inside a tunnel that led inland from thecanal.

“I think you’re right,” Maldynado said. “He’sdoing this because he can’t pass up a chance to torment, er, trainus.”

“Come,” Sicarius said, his voice soundinghollow in the concrete passage.

Amaranthe was starting to get the feeling hehad a reason for this circuitous route, so she slithered off theledge and into the tunnel without answering Maldynado. Aftersighing dramatically, he followed her. Sicarius closed the gratebehind them and jogged into the darkness.

“I forgot to bring a torch,” Maldynado said.“I wasn’t aware you’d preface your date with a spelunkingexpedition.”

Amaranthe headed up the tunnel at a slowerpace, keeping one hand on the cool cement wall for guidance. Thoughdry, the surface sported frequent lumps of indeterminate fuzzy orsquishy-or fuzzy and squishy-growth. She wiped her handoften, wishing she had a glove.

Fortunately, their subterranean trek did notlast long. Light appeared ahead-Sicarius lifting an access cover.He slithered out before Amaranthe could ask where they would comeup. Trusting him to guard the top, she jumped, caught the lip, andpulled herself out.

Sicarius crouched in the shadow of a steamlorry stamped with the newspaper’s name. The travertine of the oldGazette building rose behind it. They were on the back siderather than the front, and no windows gazed out upon the alley.Closed loading bay doors loomed nearby, but nobody was shippingpapers out this time of day.

Maldynado clambered out of the tunnel, andSicarius closed the manhole cover.

“We did all that just so we could go inthrough the loading bay?” Maldynado asked.

“No.” Sicarius pointed at a vent under theeaves of the four-story building. Before they could debate withhim, he grabbed a ceramic drainpipe and started climbing.

Amaranthe shook her head in bemusement. “Andyou thought he’d settle for a window.”

Maldynado groaned. “You did tell himthis isn’t one of our morning training sessions, right?”

Amaranthe headed for the drainpipe, wonderingif she should put her foot down and say this was too ridiculous andthat they would go in through the loading bay. Then something hardpoked into the bottom of her shoe. She lifted her foot to check fora chunk of gravel. It wasn’t a rock that had prodded her though; ashiny metal rifle ball rested in the groove between twocobblestones. A dark, fine powder sprinkled the ground. She swipedher finger through it and sniffed. Black powder.

“You’re right.” She picked up the rifle ball.“I don’t think this is a training session.”

Within city limits, firearms were forbiddento all except the military. Though it was true that gang membersand criminals risked enforcer ire to carry pistols now and then, itwas rare to see evidence of their use.

“Attic entry it is,” she said, grabbing thepipe.

Maldynado issued another dramatic sigh.Sicarius had already unfastened the vent and disappeared inside.Amaranthe clambered up, amused that what would have once seemed animpossible climb did not cause her to break a sweat. She did haveto perform an acrobatic lunge to launch herself from the pipe tothe vent opening, but she had mastered the art of not looking downsome time ago. She shimmied through and landed on a dusty, woodfloor littered with owl pellets and rat droppings. Grimacing, sheremoved a kerchief from a pocket and wiped her hands.

Sicarius waited inside, close enough that hecould have helped if she had needed it. He never presumed she wouldthough. She liked that he trusted her to take care of herself, butit would have been considerate if he’d kept her from stepping inthe dubious pile of… Was that bat guano?

Thanks to Maldynado’s broad shoulders, he hadmore trouble squeezing through the vent opening. He grunted andpushed and cursed Sicarius’s ancestors and finally plopped onto thefloor.

Sicarius took the lead again, padding througha dusty maze that sprawled before them. Boxes and bundles ofyellowed newspapers rose to the ceiling, creating twisting aislesthat often ended without notice. Most of the clutter in the atticwas what one might expect, though a stuffed grimbal head satinexplicably under one window.

Sicarius’s route led them to a trapdoor. Hepressed his ear to the wood, then lifted it. After peering about,he dropped out of sight. Amaranthe waited for his signal, thenfollowed him through.

As soon as she landed, she heard voicescoming from below, but she could not make out words yet. Nolanterns burned, but enough evening light angled through thewindows to illuminate the area. They were on a broad balcony filledwith book-laden shelves. The floor vibrated from printing pressesat work somewhere below.

When Maldynado joined them, Sicarius headedtoward the balcony railing. Before he reached it, he waved for themto drop to their bellies. On elbows and knees, Amaranthe crawled tothe edge.

Two stories below, in a vast workspace opento the ceiling, rows of desks stretched from wall to wall. Only onewas occupied. A man with dark, wavy hair sat before a stack ofpapers, head bowed, pencil scrawling, while a second fellow pacedaround him. The first wore civilian clothes, a cream-colored shirtand forest green vest, and he seemed to be doing his best to ignorethe mutterings of the other. The second man had the same hair,though shorter, and wore black army fatigues, complete with a swordand pistol hanging from his belt.

Amaranthe squinted but could not make out therank pins on the man’s lapel.

“A lieutenant,” Sicarius whispered, and shewondered when he had come to know her so well that he could guessat the thoughts behind her squints.

Maldynado wriggled up beside them. He pointedat the man at the desk and whispered, “That’s Deret.”

“Trap?” Amaranthe flicked a finger at theofficer.

“Maybe not,” Maldynado said. “I think that’sFerel Mancrest, one of Deret’s brothers. There’s an older one, too,but I think he’s a captain. Ferel’s probably in town for theImperial Games and visiting his little brother.”

“So he stopped to load a weapon in thealley?” Amaranthe whispered.

“Hm.”

Down below, the officer leaned his hands ontothe desk. “You said six, didn’t you?”

“That’s what Maldynado said.” Deret keptworking without looking up.

“That disowned drunken gigolo,” the officergrowled. “You’ll be lucky if he gives her the right directions tofind this place.”

Maldynado’s eyebrows rose. “Drunken?”he mouthed.

“Just don’t shoot me with your grandioseplan,” Deret said. “The army has already damaged me enough.” Heflicked a hand at a cane leaning against his desk.

“Don’t be bitter because my C.O. didn’tconsult you. You let me know about her. You did your part.”

“Wonderful.”

“You don’t need to be here. We’ll-” Theofficer broke off and faced the balcony.

Amaranthe tensed, prepared to back away fromthe railing, but his eyes focused on something on his own floor. Asoldier jogged into view, a rifle in hand. He saluted and clickedhis heels together as he came to attention.

“Sir, Corporal Dansek checking in, sir. Nochange in status. The target has not been spotted yet. The menremain ready.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

“The men?” Amaranthe whispered,turning an incredulous eye on Maldynado. “This is atrap.”

Sicarius leveled a dark stare at him aswell.

Maldynado’s eyes widened. “I didn’tknow.”

Amaranthe scooted back, gesturing for theothers to follow her. They retraced their route in, not stoppinguntil they reached the back alley again. Maldynado muttered tohimself all the way out.

“I can’t believe he’d betray my trust likethat,” he said.

Sicarius took a few steps toward the alleyentrance, but Amaranthe caught his arm.

“Wait,” she said. “Let’s talk aboutthis.”

“You’re not going in,” he said, more an orderthan a question.

“Going in, no. That wouldn’t be too smart ifthere’s a squad of soldiers waiting to capture me.”

“Then what is there to discuss?”

“This man could still be the ally we want himto be. It’ll just take more work than we thought to sway him to ourside.” Amaranthe smiled.

“Dear ancestors,” Maldynado said. “Youalready have a new scheme in mind.”

“Nothing big. Maldynado, I need you to do alittle shopping, then you can meet the others at the stadium andlet them know we’ll be late. Sicarius and I will be arranging akidnapping.”

Maldynado scratched his head. “A kidnappingthat requires…shopping?”

“One must be prepared.” Amaranthe smiledagain.