Sicarius met her eyes. “Whether he wants the throne or not, he would wish a satisfactory outcome for the empire. He would not classify a Forge-backed figurehead as such.”
“So it is for Sespian’s sake.” Amaranthe told herself not to feel stung—she knew he cared about her too—but she was tempted to point out that she’d had to talk Sespian into coming back up the river with them. That wasn’t fair though. Sespian would have returned to the capital of his own volition eventually. Sicarius was right—Sespian did still feel obligated to protect his people. “I think you’re right,” she said. “If you help set things right in his eyes, he will eventually appreciate it.”
Sicarius nodded once and slithered into the cargo hold.
“Be careful,” Amaranthe said, remembering that he’d be moving about right next to those weapons.
“Yes,” came Sicarius’s simple agreement.
Amaranthe grabbed a lantern and her knife and went to check on the enforcers. She trusted Sicarius to tie a good knot, but the odds were against them when it came to keeping trained men immobilized indefinitely.
Indeed, when she returned to their prisoner nook, she found one fellow with a sharp shard of wood clenched between his teeth. Bent over his wrists, he was working the edge back and forth across his bonds. Amaranthe didn’t think he’d escape that way, but she removed it from his mouth regardless.
One of the other men snarled something at her through his gag. She wouldn’t have recognized the word if she hadn’t heard it from enforcers so often. “Traitor.”
Amaranthe held back a wince. She knew better, and she hoped the rest of the world would one day too. A part of her was tempted to explain the weapons and how she and Sicarius were trying to help, but she didn’t want to leave the entrance unguarded for long. She left without responding and circled back to check on the dining hall.
A thrum ran through the decking. The engines starting up? Great. There’d be more people coming back on board as the steamboat prepared for departure, and it’d be even harder to move the weapons undetected.
Amaranthe headed back to the grate. Sicarius was pulling himself out of the cubby.
“No other exits,” he said, “but there’s a thin bulkhead that way.” He pointed toward one side of the dining hall.
“Engineering is in that direction, isn’t it?”
Sicarius nodded. “With a blow lamp, one might punch a hole through and slip out that way.”
“Except that we don’t have a blow lamp. And engineering isn’t going to be unmanned.”
“I’d rather make a stand in there than in here.” Sicarius eyed the confines of the wooden stage. “Sespian and the others would have an easier time finding us as well.”
“All right,” Amaranthe said. “Do you want to stay here and guard the men while I see if I can find a—”
“Sarge!” came a cry from the dining hall.
Footsteps thundered in the aftermath of the shout, many footsteps belonging to many people.
“See if they’re in there,” a second man called, this one with an older, more authoritative voice. “Surround the stage.”
Amaranthe deflated. Someone must have found the enforcers on the roof. Or located the schematics. Or both. It was too late to fetch any tools or move the weapons.
Sicarius bolted past her, knives in each hand. Amaranthe feared they’d lost the opportunity to merely gag and tie people. They’d have to defend themselves—and access to those weapons—any way they could now. Trusting Sicarius to guard the entrance, she rushed about, extinguishing lanterns. No need to make it easy for those on the outside to see inside. She swung by the enforcers to check on them one more time—the last thing they needed was enemies attacking at their rear as well as their front—but no one had succeeded in freeing himself yet. She blew out the last lantern, one of several the men had brought down for their search. Darkness descended upon the back half of the stage.
Another thrum ran through the deck, this time followed by the sensation of movement. The River Dancer was leaving dock. Amaranthe hoped her men had made it back on board in time. If they hadn’t... She shook her head, refusing to accept the notion. She and Sicarius needed help.
CHAPTER 9
Late in the afternoon, Evrial and Maldynado crested a hill and found themselves overlooking a port town nestled in a riverside hollow. Two wooden docks thrust into the waterway, one empty and one...
Evrial winced. The River Dancer was there, but the dock crew was untying the ropes tethering it to land. Plumes of smoke rose from the twin stacks.
“Come on,” she barked to Maldynado.
“We’ll never catch it,” he said.
Evrial chopped her hand downward. They had to try. Amaranthe and the others had to know about the magical contraband and the threat it represented to the capital. Her jog turned into a sprint as she raced down the road heading into town. Though hungry, cold, and tired from the day’s trek, she willed her legs to new speed. She took deep breaths to fuel her muscles, inhaling the scent of damp leaves and wood-burning fireplaces as she passed log cabins and brick houses on the outskirts of town. At one point during the sprint, it occurred to her to wonder when she’d come to care so much about warning outlaws of danger. She growled and told herself it was Stumps and all of its citizens that concerned her.
A steam whistle blew, the screech drowning out the sounds of machinery and hammer blows coming from factories sharing the waterfront with the docks.
“That means they’re departing, you know,” Maldynado called.
He was keeping pace with Evrial and didn’t sound winded in the least. Was she slowing him down? It stung her ego to think so, but he did have six inches on her, and there was no denying his fitness. “Can you... catch them? I’ll... give you the journal. You can... run ahead.”
He thumped her on the shoulder. “Nah, we’re sticking together. We’ll catch them in the next port if we have to.”
“Next port is... Sunders City. More than... three days... by foot.”
The road widened as they entered town proper, and Maldynado pulled up to run by her side. “I’m sure we can acquire alternate transportation if we need to.”
Evrial glowered at him. “We’re not—” her toe caught in a rut, and she had to flail for balance before finishing, “—stealing anything.”
“Better watch the road,” Maldynado said cheerily.
A few pedestrians paused to watch as he and Evrial sprinted past, but nobody called out or tried to stop them. Back home, Evrial would have found such a fast-moving pair suspicious and given chase. She hoped the enforcers here weren’t as well-trained—or paranoid.
Another whistle blew. With buildings on either side of the road, Evrial could no longer see the river—or whether the steamboat remained at the dock. She sprinted around a pair of donkey carts loaded with wood and into a four-way intersection. A glance to the left revealed the waterfront. Without waiting to see if Maldynado was still with her, she took off, barreling past candle shops and general mercantile stores. When she reached the cobblestone street fronting the river, she raced straight to the second dock. She was halfway to the end before her footsteps faltered. The steamboat’s stern paddlewheel churned water fifty meters upriver.
Chest heaving as she sucked in air, Evrial slowed to a stop. Her wounded shoulder screamed at her, annoyed at all the vigorous exertion, and probably at the fact that she briefly considered sprinting up the bank and trying to catch the boat north of the town. A few stout trees that had survived loggers’ axes perched along the edge, their bare branches stretching over the water. But the steamboat was already pulling away from the banks and into the center of the river.
“Cursed ancestors,” Evrial growled.
Maldynado tapped her shoulder.
“What?” she snarled.
Maldynado drew back. “Drat.”
“What?” This time, Evrial wrenched her gaze from the steamboat and looked at Maldynado.
“I thought we’d reached a
new stage in our relationship, one where you don’t snarl and growl at me.”
“That wasn’t at you. It was at the world in general. You were just nearby.”
“Ah, but I’m a helpful part of the world. As evinced by the fact that I’m drawing your attention to these lovely enforcer boats tied up at the next dock.” Maldynado pointed to a pair of sleek black vessel identical to the ones that had attacked their steamboat on the way downriver.
“We’re definitely not stealing those.”
“Steal? We could simply borrow one and leave it tied up on the bank somewhere once we catch up with the steamboat.”
“Borrow without asking?”
“You don’t think the local enforcers would actually let us take one, do you?” Maldynado asked.
“No, and that’s why it’s stealing, you dolt.”
Maldynado sighed. “How quickly the ladies forget their whispered terms of endearment from the night before. Listen, it’s for the greater good, right? If we don’t catch up and warn the others before the troupe unloads its cargo and disappears into Stumps...”
Evrial held a finger to his lips and nodded toward the waterfront. A pair of enforcers was walking up the street, frowning in her and Maldynado’s direction. “Someone may have noticed our mad sprint through town and found it suspicious.”
“Let’s take a walk then, shall we?” Maldynado bowed, then strode down the dock.
Evrial hurried after him. They reached the head of the dock before the enforcers and turned north, toward a handful of factories and warehouses.
“Are they following us?” Maldynado murmured.
Evrial risked a glance. “They stopped at the second dock. They’re discussing something.”
“Us?”
“They did look this way.” She glanced again. “No, we’re fine. They turned down the dock, probably to check their boats.”
“If anything is locked, they’ll have the keys. This might be a good time to proposition them about borrowing one of their lovely conveyances.”
Evrial grabbed Maldynado’s arm and tugged him into a weed-choked alley between a warehouse and a factory. “We’re not beating up any enforcers. Any more enforcers anyway.” She leaned against a cedar-shingled wall and pushed a hand through her hair. “A few weeks ago, I was an enforcer. I can’t believe I’m now getting in fights with them and... contemplating stealing a fifty-thousand-ranmya boat. Do you have any idea how much trouble those two would be in if they lost a boat on their watch? You can’t exactly deduct that from an enforcer’s pay. We don’t make that much in two years.” Aware that her words were coming out rapidly, and with a hysterical edge, she forced herself to take a deep breath.
“Listen, Evrial.” Maldynado leaned against the wall opposite of hers. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine, but I need to get back on that steamboat. It’s not just about the magical whatchamacallits. Those enforcers knew about Akstyr and they knew about me, so that means they know the rest of the team is on board too. They’ll be looking for them. And it’s at least partially my fault.”
“Lokdon has Sicarius. They’ll be fine. We can walk or catch a train and meet up with them in Stumps.”
“Maybe,” Maldynado said, “but what if it’s not in time to keep the whatever-they-ares from slipping away into the city where they can be used against the emperor—er, us?”
Evrial jabbed a finger toward his chest. “You don’t even know who you’re backing, and you expect me to go along with your people, just because?” Evrial pinned Maldynado with her exasperated glare. None of this was his fault, but he was the only one there to yell at.
“I don’t know because I haven’t talked with Books, as I prefer to avoid his lengthy babbles about history and politics and such. But I trust Amaranthe. I’m sure she’s got a scheme all worked out that’s for the good of the empire. You need to talk to Books though, to figure out if you’re staying with us. I know, I get that.”
“It’s hard to talk to people who are heading upriver while you’re stuck in a trash-littered alley that stinks of... what is that smell?”
“Tobacco.” Maldynado pointed to the brick wall above Evrial’s head. In red paint, letters over a side door spelled Darkencrest Cigars: Deliveries. He peeked inside a dusty window. “Looks like the workers are off today, though I see a cart of cleaning supplies, so there might be one fellow about. Maybe we can convince him to take a break while we set up a diversion in here, something that would draw the enforcers over to investigate. Then we can sneak out the back and invite ourselves onto one of their boats. Yes, I could see Amaranthe approving of that plan.”
“We’re not blowing up a factory,” Evrial said.
Maldynado tilted his head. “Who said anything about explosions?”
“When Lokdon and I were stuck in that cabin together, she used cleaning supplies to blow a door off its hinges. I assumed it was a team tendency.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t know how to do that. I’m surprised the boss did. Knowing about chemicals and useless trivia is more of a Booksie trait.” Maldynado tried the door, found it unlocked, and eased it open. He stuck his head inside. “The janitor may have taken a break anyway. I don’t see anyone.”
Evrial didn’t move. She was still balking at the idea of stealing an enforcer boat, though she had to admit, she was beginning to see how Amaranthe had ended up with a bounty on her head. One decision to pursue justice outside of the realm of the law, and getting back on the righteous railway could become a daunting feat. “What sort of diversion do you have in mind?”
“Nothing major,” Maldynado said, poised on the threshold. “There’s certainly no reason to blow up a building. A small fire should suffice.”
“Maldynado!”
“What?” He smiled innocently. “Let’s look around and see what inspirations come to us.” He disappeared into the dim interior.
Evrial groaned. When she followed him into the building, she had a feeling she’d regret it, but someone had to keep him from burning down the town.
* * * * *
Amaranthe’s legs and back ached from crouching in the darkness for so long. She wanted to sit down, but didn’t dare. Every few minutes, the enforcers made another attempt to gain entrance. Blood spattered the floorboards in front of the trapdoor. Sicarius hadn’t killed anyone, but he’d injured enough enforcers to deter them from barreling inside. Amaranthe had made attempts at negotiating, but it seemed men who’d just carried out dead comrades weren’t in the right state of mind to consider the words of outlaws. Despite her efforts at informing them otherwise, the enforcers were determined to believe that Sicarius had killed their comrades and had sought the magical devices all along, for his own nefarious uses.
The scent of smoke wafted to her nose. Since Sicarius had thrown a knife, pinning an enforcer’s shoulder to the nearby wall, the men had been careful to stay out of sight, but Amaranthe guessed at least fifteen were out there, plotting his demise. And hers too, since she was crouching in the darkness next to him.
“It was so nice of the captain to pick up all these reinforcements along with sugar, rice, and persimmons,” Amaranthe muttered. She wondered if the cement had made it on board, and her men for that matter. The vibrations of the paddlewheel hummed through the boat, and she suspected Port Medar had long passed out of view.
“They’re going to try and smoke us out again,” Sicarius said. “Be ready.”
No hint of worry crept into his voice. Not the way it did when dealing with the ancient technology. Amaranthe wished she could view the enforcers as calmly. Though he might be the superior warrior, they could win through sheer numbers.
“Ready.” She waved a short sword she’d taken from their prisoners’ gear pile, though in the darkness, Sicarius probably couldn’t see the gesture.
“It may be a distraction,” he added.
“I wish Books and the others would show up with a distraction of their own,” Amaranthe said, though she hated that she’d put herself and Sicarius
into a situation where they needed rescuing. Oh, Sicarius could probably escape, even if it meant dodging a dozen crossbow quarrels from enforcers poised around the dining hall, and she might be able to slip out in the wake of his destruction, but what then? They’d be unlikely to find a hiding place on the boat, so they’d have to dive overboard, leaving the rockets. Either the enforcers would break them out of ignorance or the artifacts would continue upriver to those who had ordered them for their own nefarious purposes. Neither alternative appealed.
“Is it questionable that I’m considering sinking the steamboat as our only option?” Amaranthe said.
“Yes,” Sicarius said.
“Would you like to recommend a better option?”
“Escape overboard. We can run upriver ahead of the boat and steal the weapons when the crew is less prepared.”
He might be able to manage that. Amaranthe questioned her own ability to outrun the boat—perhaps during the day she could, but she’d have to sleep, while the tireless steam-powered paddlewheel would keep churning all night. And what of the rest of the team? “You’d go without the others? Without Sespian?”
Sicarius hesitated. “They’d realize where we’d gone and follow our example.”
Movement stirred near the curtain. Something glinted. A can arched toward the trapdoor opening, smoke streaming from a fuse. Sicarius’s knife arm shot out. His blade deflected the projectile, knocking it aside before it crossed through the opening. Crossbows twanged, but he whipped his arm back out of sight before the bolts struck.
The can skidded into a corner, popped, and a sickly greenish smoke flooded the air. A sulfuric odor assailed Amaranthe’s nostrils. She lifted her shirt over her mouth and nose, glad the smoke grenade hadn’t landed inside with them. Even so, a gray-green haze filled the air, obscuring visibility, and its stench teased her gag reflex. Enforcers would be able to get within a few feet without being seen, though she couldn’t imagine them trying, knowing Sicarius waited within.
“Distraction?” Amaranthe whispered.
Beneath the Surface Page 14
