Deadly Games ee-3

by Lindsay Buroker

  Agreed, Basilard signed. Weshouldn’t drink if she’s coming here. She might expect us to beworking.

  Maldynado shrugged. “We can’t find magicstuff.”

  Let’s check the stadium for anythingsuspicious. We haven’t yet, and the athletes should have stoppedtraining for the day.

  His prediction proved true, and nobodyoccupied the arena or the tiers of seating surrounding it. Lanternsburned at periodic intervals, providing enough light for walking.He and Maldynado did a lap of the track, though Basilard did notknow what to look for. Without Akstyr’s nose for magic, they wouldhave to search for mundane clues.

  It took Maldynado only a few minutes to growbored of investigating. He wandered into the middle of the arenawhere the furnace powering the Clank Race still burned. Someonemust have been out training recently.

  Maldynado threw a couple of levers. Gearsturned, pistons clanked, and a moan of releasing steam sounded asthe massive machine powering the obstacle course started up. Whilethe wood and metal structure remained stationary, the moving partscreated a strange sight in the darkness. Arms and spindles rotatedand turned, propelling sharpened axes and battering rams out tothwart someone crossing spinning logs and tiny moving platforms. Inmore than one spot, bloodstains spattered the sand beneath thecontraption.

  Anyone ever die at your Games?Basilard signed.

  “Oh, sure,” Maldynado said, “but I thinkthere are more injuries in the wrestling. Most of the people crazyenough to do this thing are agile as foxes. But, yes, someone diesmost every year, and others lose arms and legs. People get carelesswhen they’re trying to earn the best time.” Maldynado tapped apaper stuck to the side of a support post. “Looks like some cockyathletes have posted their times already. Hm.” He eyed the machinespeculatively.

  What?

  “Want to try it?”

  What? Basilard signed. After youjust told me it’s killed people?

  “Come on. Odds are good Sicarius is going tomake us try it at some point anyway.” Maldynado mimicked Sicarius’sstony face and monotone to say, “Good training.” The serious facadelasted almost a second, before he grinned and said, “Doesn’t itlook fun?”

  Basilard eyed the swinging blades, clankingmachinery, and the puffs of steam escaping into the darkness withsoft hisses. The long lost boy in him admitted it might beenjoyable. They were not competing with anyone, so they did nothave to sprint through recklessly.

  “Ah, you’re tempted, aren’t you?” Maldynadogrinned and trotted over to a giant clock, its hands visible evenin the dim lighting. “Let’s see, how do we time ourselves…. Herewe go. Loser buys the winner drinks tonight. Ready? Go!”

  Maldynado threw a lever on a giant time clockand darted up a ramp leading into the course.

  What? Basilard had not agreed to the terms,but he sprinted after Maldynado anyway. They did not get paidenough for him to buy drinks for that bottomless gullet.

  He raced up the ramp to a wooden platformseesawing up and down. Two spinning logs stretched ahead. Maldynadohad taken the left, so Basilard ran right. He darted across as fastas he could, staying light-footed on the rotating wood, knowingthat going slow or with tense muscles would be more likely to causea misstep.

  He caught up with Maldynado at the nextplatform.

  “Look out,” Maldynado barked.

  Half expecting the warning to be a trickdesigned to slow him down, Basilard almost missed the man-sizeddummy swinging down at him on a series of ropes. Spikes protrudedfrom all of its wooden sides.

  Basilard flung himself to his belly. Thedummy swung past, the draft stirring the hairs on the back of hisneck.

  When he rose, Maldynado was already jumpingonto a rope that dangled from a beam. Something-spikes? — protrudedfrom the ground beneath.

  Basilard growled and chased after Maldynado.After the rope climb, they had to traverse along pegs sticking outof the beam, thirty feet above the ground. A net took them to thenext obstacle. Tiny circular platforms, some only a few incheswide, rotated about while axe blades and battering rams swung outof the darkness. Basilard jumped and darted, relying on instinctsmore than thought. By luck more than design, he reached the nextseesawing platform before Maldynado. He clambered up a mesh wall,over a beam, through a rope swing course, and finally hurledhimself into a net where he scrambled to the bottom and toward aten-foot wall.

  He burst over that last obstacle and sprintedto a finish line, beating Maldynado by several seconds. Hestaggered a couple of weary steps and collapsed in the sand torest.

  Stars had come out overhead, though they werenot as bright as those he had once known in his mountain home. Heinhaled deeply; here, surrounded by grass and trees, the air wascleaner than in the city core, but it still smelled of burning woodand coal. A homesick twinge ran through him, an aching for a lifeto which he could never return.

  “Great time, Bas.” Maldynado stood by thegiant clock. “You were as fast as some of these athletes. Prettyimpressive considering this is your first time doing it. Of course,I would have beaten you, but I was a touch weary from my earliervigorous exertions.”

  Basilard was about to sit up when a darkfigure loomed over him. Sicarius.

  The flickering illumination from a lanternhanging on the obstacle course frame cast his face half in shadow,half in light, enhancing his hard, angular features. When he stareddown, Basilard struggled not to cringe or show any nervousreaction. Sicarius could not know what he and Akstyr had beendiscussing earlier. He had just arrived.

  “What’s going on, gentlemen?” Amaranthe’svoice came from a few paces away. “Finding anythinginteresting?”

  Basilard jumped to his feet and faced her,glad for the excuse to turn his shoulder toward Sicarius. He hadsensed Sicarius’s suspicions toward him since the incident in theshaman’s hideout, and now he knew why. He must suspect Basilardwould one day find out about his crimes in Mangdoria. That warinesswould make it all the more difficult to surprise him.

  “We found out Basilard can run the Clank Raceas fast as some of these pampered athletes,” Maldynado said.

  “Oh?” Amaranthe regarded him with moreinterest than Basilard thought the statement warranted. “That mightbe perfect,” she said, talking more to herself than him.

  What? Basilard signed.

  “It seems the winners of each event get tohave dinner with the emperor. That’ll be…thirty-six people, butmost of those youngsters won’t have anything to talk about.”

  Maldynado smirked. “I like how you talk aboutyoungsters as if your twenty-six years make you venerable and wise,boss.”

  Basilard smirked, remembering her memorablebirthday party at the Pirates’ Plunder.

  Amaranthe, eyes bright, continued her visionwithout acknowledging Maldynado. “Those young athletes will likelybe cowed by Sespian’s royal presence. If you won, you could angleyour way in there and talk with him about your people, about theunderground slavery that still exists in the city.”

  Basilard almost sank back down to the earth.Was that possible? For him to win an interview with the emperor? Inone night, could he truly bring awareness of the slave problem toSespian? Basilard glanced at Sicarius, abruptly regretting his vowto kill the man. That was a task he was not sure he could carry outwithout being killed himself. Maybe it could wait until after theImperial Games? But perhaps his mind was spinning too quickly. Whatwere the odds of him actually winning an event? Against agile youngathletes half his age?

  “You could take Books to translate for you,”Amaranthe said.

  “Most men would prefer to take a woman on adinner date with the emperor,” Maldynado said.

  “Well, if Basilard could find one that couldtranslate for him, I suppose. I’m too notorious to show up at sucha venue these days. But anyway, Basilard are you interested inentering? Sicarius can help you train.”

  I can train on my own, Basilard signedswiftly.

  Amaranthe gave Sicarius a bemused smile. “Iguess nobody else appreciates your stair-climbing sessions the wayI do.”

&nb
sp; Sicarius did not respond. Theirrelationship-if they could be said to have one-baffled Basilard.She treated him like a friend and confidant, and half the time hedid not even respond when she spoke to him.

  “Where are Books and Akstyr?” Amarantheasked.

  “They went back to the hideout,” Maldynadosaid. “Akstyr found…I don’t know. Bas, did we decide it was acork?”

  Magic, Basilard signed.

  “Oh?” Amaranthe asked. “Related to thekidnappings?”

  “I’m not sure precisely,” Maldynado said. “Iwas looking for my pants at the time.”

  Amaranthe opened her mouth, then shut it,probably deciding she was better off not knowing. “Have there beenany more kidnappings?” she asked. “Are the people who disappearedlast night still gone?”

  Three total, Basilard signed. Twoforeigners and one Turgonian man from a different…place.Though he had added a lot of signs, giving his language versatilityamongst the group, saying “The Chevrok Satrapy” was beyond him fornow, but Amaranthe nodded understanding, and he went on, Theenforcers I overheard are starting to accept that something strangeis going on. They’re blaming Sicarius since he was sighted thismorning.

  “Supposedly sighted,” Amaranth said.“I wonder if we can find out who sent that fellow and what hewanted to accomplish. Basilard, I apologize, but my reason forwanting someone from our team in the Imperial Games isn’t entirelyselfless. I’m hoping an insider might be more likely to hear aboutwhat’s going on. Maybe they’ll even target you for one of thekidnappings.” She bounced on her toes, then caught herself. “Sorry,that should probably not excite me.”

  I’ll take solace knowing you’d be just ashappy if you could pose as an athlete and get kidnapped.

  Maldynado snorted. “That’d make her evenhappier.”

  “Basilard, you’ll need someone to play therole of trainer and translator,” Amaranthe said. “Akstyr and Booksmay be busy, so…”

  Maldynado slung an arm over Basilard’sshoulder. “I’m always happy to spend time at the stadium and watchall the fine…events.”

  Just keep your pants on, Basilardsigned.

  Amaranthe opened her mouth again, shut itagain, and shook her head.

  “No promises.” Maldynado winked.

  CHAPTER 5

  An ice wagon trundled across the grounds,selling blocks to vendors who turned them into chilled tea andstrawberry juice. Amaranthe thought about buying a glass of thelatter, but the midday sun left few shadows for wanted women tohide in. Clad in white athlete togs again, she was sitting on abench on the edge of the grounds with a wide-brimmed sun hat pulledlow over her eyes while she waited for Fasha to meet her. Sicariushad pointed out that night meetings would be safer, but Amaranthewanted to listen in on the local gossip. The trail leading from thestadium to the baths and barracks wound past her perch, and she hadalready overheard quite a bit.

  “…need more guards,” a woman withsweat-dampened bangs told her comrade as they strolled past.

  “The enforcers aren’t admitting to anything,”the other woman answered. “They’re saying nothing’s going on, thatthe missing athletes probably went home.”

  “Oh, sure, they trained all year, and thenjust went home before the competition even…”

  The women walked out of hearing range.Amaranthe bent her head to study the short list of names on anotepad in her lap. Five athletes were missing now: two foreigners,including Fasha’s sister; and three Turgonians, one a local, andtwo from other satrapies. She recognized the local man, awarrior-caste wrestler, because they were the same age and hadcompeted in the junior events at the same time. What eluded her wasthe common theme. All of the missing people had disappeared in themiddle of the night from their barracks or, in the wrestler’s case,a private room in the lodge.

  “You should pay attention to yoursurroundings when you’re in a public area,” Sicarius said from theshrubs a couple of feet behind the bench.

  Amaranthe stifled her usual twitch ofsurprise and did not lift her head, wondering if she could wheedleher way out of a lecture. “I knew you were on the grounds.”

  A long moment passed before he answered. “Youare assuming that you’re safe, simply because I’m in the area?”

  “You know I’m not at my most attentive whenI’m plotting and mulling. I’ve come to trust you’ll keep an eye onme.”

  “That’s reckless,” Sicarius said. “I’m yourcolleague, not your bodyguard, nor can I guarantee your safetysince I cannot walk about freely here. If you must study papers ina public area, you should scan your surroundings every fifteenseconds, ensuring you are aware of the movements and interests ofeveryone within a radius of at least… Why are you smiling?”

  Actually, it was more of a grin. “You calledme a colleague,” Amaranthe said. “I’m flattered.”

  “You are not taking my admonishmentseriously.”

  “I am, too,” Amaranthe said.

  Another pair of athletes was approaching, soAmaranthe left the bench to join Sicarius in the foliage.Mischievous branches tugged at her hat and rained leaves onto hershoulders. She dusted them off. As much as she liked the idea ofnature, it was difficult to maintain a tidy appearance whensurrounded by it.

  “I’m just bad at admitting out loud that I’mwrong about something,” Amaranthe added.

  “A character flaw you should correct.”

  “Likely so.” She lifted her notepad,intending to ask his opinions about the names, but he surprised herby continuing.

  “It would bother me if you died while I wasattending to biological needs.”

  Amaranthe’s grin returned at the admission.“It would bother me if I died then, too. Or any time.” She handedhim the notepad. “These are the people missing thus far. Onedisappeared three nights ago, two the night before last-that waswhen Fasha’s sister went-and one last night. I’m trying to figureout what the common link is. After talking with Fasha, I figured itmight be another ploy against foreigners, but we now have moreTurgonians missing than outsiders. The wrestler, Deercrest, has wonoften, so I could see him being targeted as someone to get rid of.Though it’s not honorable to make opponents disappear, it’scertainly not without precedent in the history of the ImperialGames. But the other four are young no-names. One isn’t even oldenough to compete in the regular events; he was entered into thejunior Clank Race.”

  “Perhaps they are promising contenders forthis year’s competitions,” Sicarius said.

  “How would a kidnapper know? The qualifiersdon’t start until tomorrow. Sure, some people post their practicetimes, but most don’t, and the best athletes often only competehard enough to make the cut in the early rounds.” Amaranthe leanedagainst a tree. “Besides, who would want to get rid of multiplegood athletes? I could see rigging your own event, or your child’sevent, but why wrestling, running, and the Clank Race?”

  As was often the case, Sicarius did notanswer, but she knew he was listening.

  “Could it be a gambling scheme?” she mused.“People bet on the events, and some people bet a lot. Issomeone trying to set things up so they can guess the winners?”

  “With athletes disappearing days prior to therace, the odds will be adjusted accordingly.”

  “True, it’d make more sense to kidnap someonethe night before, or minutes before the event if you wanted toupset the odds-makers.” Amaranthe took the notepad back and tappedit. “Still, it might be worth talking to some of thebookmakers.”

  Male voices sounded on the path in front ofthe bench. She parted the branches as a trio of muscular young menwalked past. They did not wear athletes’ togs, but instead thesleeveless overalls of miners. That was odd. Most local companiesonly gave workers the final two days of the Imperial Games offbecause they were considered a holiday in the capital. Even if oneman had finagled a day off somehow, it seemed unlikely a groupcould have managed the same. Mining outfits were particularlystingy with leave, as Amaranthe well knew. She had seen little ofher father when she was growing up. Yet here these men were,wandering
about, a day before the qualifying events were to startand a week before the holiday finals.

  “They are not bookmakers,” Sicariussaid.

  The branches rustled as Amaranthe releasedthem. “No, I know. I was just thinking…” She paused as thepossible connotations of his comment slid over her. Was hedispleased to have caught her ogling handsome young men? No hint ofconsternation marked his face; maybe she had imagined his words hadunderlying meaning. Besides, he knew she would happily ogle him ifhe gave her more opportunities. “I’m going to follow those men. Ihave a hunch.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, but all he saidwas, “There are numerous enforcers about.”

  “I know. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Just don’t wander off for too long at a timeto attend biological needs.”

  Amaranthe tossed him a wink and slipped outof the brush without waiting for a response. She tugged the brim ofher hat low over her eyes. It did a decent job of hiding herfeatures, especially considering most enforcers were men, and herfive-and-a-half feet put her face below their eye level, but shehad best not chance getting too close.

  She trailed after the miners at a distance,keeping other people between her and them. One had a rolled upnewspaper and a small leather-bound journal protruding from backpockets. That piqued her interest even more. Most miners only hadthe mandatory six years of schooling and started working young, soit was rare to find one who was comfortable looking to books ornewspapers for information.

  A bent, old woman stepped out from thecourtyard of an eating tent, and the miners stopped abruptly. Sheleaned on a cane and wore her gray hair in buns on either side ofher head-hardly a formidable-looking person, but the young mendarted back the way they had come, nearly running into Amaranthe.She hopped off the path to let them by. They must have been intheir twenties, but they tore away like truant children avoiding aschool teacher.

  “I saw you, Rill and Stemmic,” the old womanhollered after them, “and your mother will hear from me. You beingoff work this many days, you ought to be helping her out.”