Conspiracy

Chapter 14

The roofs of the passenger cars extended over the balconies, meaning that less than three feet of open air lay between them, but making that long step when the train was rattling along at full speed wasn’t so easy. Especially when everyone was carrying weapons and had to be careful not to make any noise that might be heard inside. Amaranthe let the men go first and, when they crossed the gap from coal car to passenger car without incident, steeled herself and followed.

A side wind gusted as she stepped across, upsetting her balance. She managed to recover without flailing overly much, though she grimaced, expecting a wisecrack from Maldynado. Nobody spoke. They simply nodded their readiness.

Sicarius took the lead. He used a light, sweeping step so there would be no footfalls to hear below. Amaranthe and the others emulated him. Slowly and carefully, they eased from roof to roof.

Here and there, windows were open, and laughter spilled out. Occasionally the scent of some officer’s pipe smoke escaped as well. Good. That meant the soldiers were still relaxed. Just men passing the time on the tail end of a weeks-long journey. Maybe they’d be busy playing Tiles or nodding off to sleep, and no one would be paying attention to what was going on in the fourth car.

When the team reached that fourth car, Amaranthe’s heart rate jumped into double time. Maybe triple time.

Easy, she told herself. We’ve done dozens of crazy missions, some far more dangerous than this. In trying to convince herself, she thought of the makarovi they’d fought at that secret dam. That had been pure insanity. Here they’d only be dealing with human beings.

Somehow those thoughts failed to help. Maybe because the stakes were different. The potential for reward was higher-Sespian could remove their bounties and turn them into trusted allies of the empire with a wave of a pen-and the price of failure was greater too. Before they’d been risking their lives, but now they were risking the emperor’s as well. If everything fell apart, and bullets starting flying, what if Sespian were hit? Amaranthe couldn’t imagine how Sicarius would react if he survived and Sespian didn’t.

“Ready?” Maldynado asked.

Sicarius and Basilard had crossed the gap and reached the end of the emperor’s car. Basilard lifted a questioning hand, waiting. Amaranthe gave him a wave.

“Ready,” she said.

She knelt and poked her head over the lip of the roof. Unfortunately, the doors had windows in them, meaning anyone inside could glance out and see her and Maldynado dropping onto the balcony. Fortunately, the lanterns burning in the third car had been turned down for the night, and the soldiers she could see were in their seats, facing away from the back door. She and Maldynado ought to be able to swing down to the balcony without being spotted, at least from that direction.

Lights burned more brightly in the emperor’s car. Instead of rows of identical seats running from end to end, it had the feel of a clubhouse for the wealthy, with sofas, gaming tables, and even a kitchen area. She glimpsed the back of Sespian’s head. His short, light brown hair wasn’t distinctive, but he and the woman were the only people not in military uniforms.

One of the emperor’s hulking bodyguards strode toward the door’s barred window, his broad form blocking the view. Amaranthe yanked her head out of sight. Her mask caught on a rough corner, and she almost lost it.

“Problem?” Maldynado asked.

“Yes, but I’m hoping it’ll move in a moment.” Amaranthe looked toward the other end of the car. Sicarius and Basilard had already disappeared over the edge of the roof. “Or we could go in anyway,” she muttered.

No choice. Everyone had to go in together, whether a soldier was staring out the window or not.

Amaranthe took a deep breath to steady herself, then placed the door key between her teeth, turned sideways, and dropped between the roofs. She thrust her legs sideways and swung onto the balcony, landing in a crouch.

The bodyguard was still at the door.

Before Amaranthe could think of using the key, the door swung inward. The big guard filled the entry, and he was already whipping out a pistol.

Amaranthe grabbed her canisters of smoke and knockout gas, yanked the tabs, and threw the spewing devices between the guard’s legs. Before she’d finished, Maldynado swung down from the roof, both of his heels slamming into the guard’s chest. His momentum carried them both inside.

Amaranthe lunged through the door after them. She shut it behind her, sparing a glance for the other car. The soldiers over there weren’t charging toward her yet, but she knew they’d notice the trouble before long. Smoke already filled the air, and shouts echoed from the walls. Steel clanged against steel in the back-Sicarius and Basilard were in.

She found the lock on the latch and threw it, then looked around for something to further bar the door.

A piece of furniture flew out of the smoke toward her. Amaranthe dropped so low her butt bumped the floor. Wood slammed into the wall beside the door. It bounced off and landed in front of her. A chair. That would do. She snatched it and braced it under the knob.

When she turned, intending to help Maldynado, a man in black grabbed her by the throat. Before she had time to react, he jammed her against the wall, her legs dangling inches above the floor. His fingers tightened, bringing a burst of pain and cutting off her air. She grasped for his hands, trying to pry off a finger, so she could yank it backward and hurt him enough that he’d let go.

Those fingers were like wrought-iron bars. She couldn’t budge them. Hard unyielding eyes stared into her own, and the soldier’s grip only tightened.

Fear surged through Amaranthe’s limbs, and she had to force herself to think calmly, not to flail uselessly. She kicked out, trying to find his groin. The bottom of her mask and his thick arms blocked her view. She connected with flesh, but his grip didn’t lessen, and no pain bloomed across his face, so she must have hit his thigh.

The pressure on her neck tightened further, and heat rushed to her head. Her lungs urged her to find air, one way or another. Amaranthe tried another kick. It was less effective on the big man than the first. Black dots swam through her vision.

He drew back one of his arms to punch her or maybe to thrust a knife into her belly. She couldn’t dodge, not when he had her pinned by the neck, but she still had her arms free. She timed the blow and threw all the power she could into a block. The inside of her forearm struck his hand, deflecting the attack just enough. A knife sank into the door an inch from her ribcage.

The blade caught in the wall, and pulling it out distracted the soldier for a heartbeat. The grip on Amaranthe’s neck lessened a hair.

She used the door against her back to brace herself as she tucked her legs up to her chest, her knees bumping the undersides of his arms. She kicked out, this time with both legs, aiming higher than before. Her heels slammed into his solar plexus.

The blow would have felled a lesser man, but the big guard only grunted and stumbled back a half a step. It was enough. He lost his grip on Amaranthe’s neck.

Before he could recover, she grabbed one of his meaty hands in both of hers. She twisted it and pressed her thumbs into the backside, forcing it against the wrist joint. It worked for a second-he went down on one knee and his face contorted-but he yanked his arm back, pulling Amaranthe with it. She lost her grip and almost tumbled into him. She stopped by bracing herself against a table flipped onto its side. By now, the entire car was a jumble of overturned furniture.

Amaranthe skittered backward and yanked her crossbow off her back. The soldier’s glare seared her like flames, but he didn’t rise from his one-knee crouch. Surprised he didn’t lunge at her, she aimed the bow between his eyes.

“Stay,” she said.

Beyond the soldier, the shouts and clashes of steel had grown less frenzied. The knockout gas, Amaranthe realized. It was working. Good. All they had to do was-

Fierce bangs sounded behind her, and she jumped. On the other side of the door, armed soldiers crowded the balcony. More men waited on the balcony of the car behind them.

One soldier smashed the butt of his rifle against the door’s window. Amaranthe expected the glass to shatter into pieces, but the thick material held, at least under this first assault.

Amaranthe spun, thinking to find Maldynado and get his smoke grenade. The less those soldiers outside could see the better.

She almost tripped over her first attacker-he’d collapsed onto the carpet. A step past him, Maldynado knelt over a prone soldier, seemingly having the upper hand, but he was gripping a chair for support. His mask hung askew, leaving his nose exposed to the air.

Amaranthe adjusted it for him while keeping an eye on the action-even as she watched, a body flew through the air, landing hard against a bank of windows before sliding down onto a sofa. The smoke made it impossible to see who was where, but she was relieved that the numerous inert figures sprawled on the floor or draped over furniture were all wearing uniforms.

“No falling asleep,” Amaranthe told Maldynado, yelling to be heard over the shouts and bangs coming from without as well as lingering ones from within. She tightened the strap around his head and added, “You’re too heavy for anyone to carry out of here.”

Maldynado blinked at her with glassy eyes, but he managed to lever himself to his feet. “What, only the emperor gets a free ride?”

He pointed toward the left side of the car, and Amaranthe was tempted to head in that direction, but glass broke behind her. Someone was going to have to fight off the soldiers trying to get in on her end. She swapped the crossbow for the blowtorch and handed the tool to Maldynado, then took a smoke grenade clipped to his belt.

“Let’s trade,” she said. “Find the others, and as soon as they have Sespian, cut a hole in the ceiling so we can get out that way.” Amaranthe didn’t like the vision she had of leaping from rooftop to rooftop with soldiers shooting at them from each balcony, but now that they’d been forced to move before the landslide distraction, she didn’t see that they had another choice, not if they wanted to get back to the locomotive.

More glass cracked behind her. Amaranthe grabbed her crossbow and strode back to the door, only to find the glass hadn’t yet broken under the soldiers’ assault.

She spun around, looking for what had shattered.

A weapon fired, and a bullet whizzed past her ear, stealing a tuft of hair. She lunged behind an upturned table, her heart thundering in her chest, and tried to see where the shot had come from.

There. A soldier was hanging from the roof by one hand and knocking broken shards of glass away from one of the side windows, trying to make a hole large enough to crawl through. He’d discarded the one shot pistol, but the determined fury on his face said he’d have no trouble strangling Amaranthe with his bare hands once he got inside.

Amaranthe thumbed the tab open on the smoke grenade and set it where it’d cloud the air between her and the soldier and also between her and the door. Crossbow in hand, she jumped onto a chair near the intruder. He saw her coming, but he couldn’t stop her when he was dangling from one hand outside the train.

“Go back to the other car,” Amaranthe said, trying to look like a crazy woman who would love shooting him, as she aimed the crossbow at his face.

Thanks to the smoke wafting everywhere, her bloodshot eyes probably were crazy looking, but there was no fear on the soldier’s face. Lips curled into a ferocious snarl, he thrust his arm through the window, grabbing for the crossbow. The length of his reach surprised Amaranthe, but she pulled the weapon back, evading him. The soldier let go of the roof and gripped the glass-filled frame of the window with both hands. Blood streamed down the broken pane, but he didn’t seem to notice. He pulled himself forward, trying to thrust his broad shoulders through the window, even as his legs dangled outside, thumping where they bumped against the train wall.

Amaranthe’s finger tightened on the trigger. She couldn’t let him in, not when more would follow, but if she shot him, if they shot anyone…

Bashes continued at the door she’d come through, and the chair she’d used to add strength to the lock fell away. A crack sounded, the thick glass finally giving.

Amaranthe flipped the crossbow around, gripping it by the lathe. She swung the weapon at the soldier’s face like a club. He couldn’t dodge, not when he was wedged part way through the window, and it cracked against his skull. Reverberations coursed up Amaranthe’s arm. She gritted her teeth and swung again.

It wasn’t a good solution, but it was the best she could come up with. If he was forced to let go and fell, he might still live. If she had to shoot him…

The man roared in pain, but hung on with the tenacity of a tick. She refined her attack and aimed for his hands instead of his head. Despite battered, broken fingers, he refused to let go.

Footsteps beat against the roof. Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder, hoping Maldynado had burned an escape hatch and that was the sound of her men climbing out, but that wasn’t the case. Maldynado and Basilard were standing in the middle of the aisle, pointing upward and arguing. She didn’t see Sicarius, but smoke obscured the back half of the car. Either way, that wasn’t him up there. There was far more than one pair of feet making those thumps.

Another window broke on the other side of the train. In the seconds she’d been distracted, Amaranthe’s soldier had crawled farther inside. Her swings grew harder and more desperate. He knew she wasn’t trying to kill him, and he wasn’t going to give up.

Frustration burned Amaranthe’s eyes almost as must as the smoke. They weren’t going to be able to get out of this. If soldiers were on the roof and on either end of the car, where could her team go to escape?

“Let go, curse your ancestors,” Amaranthe growled at the soldier.

“Die, bitch,” he spat back.

Something in his tone made her pause. Defeat? The soldier had stopped pushing through, and he was glaring at her and breathing heavily, but his eyes had a glassy mien. Maybe he’d sucked in enough knockout gas to dull his senses. Or maybe he’d lost enough blood to do the same. He’d probably done more damage to himself crawling through the glass than he’d received from her beating.

Something brushed Amaranthe’s shoulder, and she spun, crossbow clenched in her hands.

Sicarius stood in the aisle with Sespian slung over his shoulder and a pistol in his hand. His eyes were grim above his mask, and blood spattered his hands and face. Sespian wasn’t moving.

“They’re on the roof,” Sicarius said, his voice distorted by the mask. “We’ll have to start shooting people if we hope to escape.”

“No,” Amaranthe said.

A slam sounded at the door, and more glass cracked. Smoke hid the window, but she knew it was weakening.

“Then we’ll be captured,” Sicarius said.

“No, give me another option.”

Maldynado and Basilard joined them. Maldynado waved the torch. “I stopped trying to cut through the roof when people started climbing around up there. There’s all sorts of wood in here. I could light the place on fire.”

“With us inside?” Amaranthe asked. “That’s not the option I had in mind.”

A window broke in the middle of the car, and shards of glass flew inward. Basilard ran to take care of the intruder.

“Everyone in here is down, but there’s a man in the corner that was trying to get up,” Maldynado said. “I think this stuff is already wearing off.”

Amaranthe stood, eyes searching the car, seeking inspiration. If they couldn’t go out the windows, through the doors, or through the roof, the only way open was…

She arched her eyebrows. Down. Was down a possibility?

“How much clearance is there beneath the cars?” Amaranthe tried to picture the area between the wheels in her mind.

“You’re not serious,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe looked at Sicarius, figuring that with Books not around he’d be most likely to know the answer. He was staring at her, probably thinking exactly what Maldynado had said.

“Could we crawl underneath the cars and couplings to bypass the soldiers and get back to the engine?” Amaranthe asked, though she grimaced as her gaze fell on Sespian. With him unconscious, someone would have to carry him, and she couldn’t imagine there was enough clearance for that.

“Boss, you’re not serious,” Maldynado repeated. “Are you? That’d be hard enough if the train were standing still. Even if there’s enough room…” He shook his head. “Miss one handhold or let your foot slip free, and you’d fall and be mangled to death under the wheels.”

Amaranthe grabbed the cutting torch from him. “I’m going to take a look. Give me two minutes.” She waved to encompass the windows and doors, or, more specifically, the soldiers trying to batter them down.

She stepped over unconscious bodies to find a spot in the middle of the car, then yanked out a dagger to cut away a square of the carpet. She wasn’t ready to start a fire. Yet.

A shot fired, and a lantern on the wall exploded.

“You idiots are going to shoot your own emperor!” Amaranthe yelled.

“Surrender or die!” someone yelled back.

“Surrender and die is more likely,” she huffed, shoving the severed carpet patch away.

Amaranthe maneuvered the blowtorch into position and found the trigger. A funnel of flames shot out, and she cursed, yanking it back so it wouldn’t light a nearby chair on fire. She found an adjustment knob, and the flame narrowed into a tight beam. She applied it to the floor, hoping it would perform as promised and cut through metal. The floor, she feared, would be thicker and sturdier than the roof.

The flame scorched the metal, but a hole appeared. A small hole. She moved the torch a half an inch. This might work, but it was going to take time. Maybe more time than they had.

A shot fired, this time from within the car.

“Who’s shooting?” Amaranthe demanded without taking her eyes from the torch.

“I’m not aiming to kill,” Maldynado said, “but they’ll be less eager to thrust themselves inside if they’re convinced I’m trying to shoot ’em.”

On the other side of the square she was cutting, Sicarius knelt to face Amaranthe. He hadn’t said anything about her plan. He set Sespian down, and the emperor’s head lolled to the side. With his eyes closed, soft brown hair across his brow, and his face peaceful with sleep, he appeared young, like a kid, not an emperor. Akstyr was younger, but Amaranthe doubted many people would guess on looks alone.

Her gaze slid to Sespian’s neck, and queasiness rolled into her stomach. The bump they had seen in the newspaper picture was there. Not a mole or wart or any sort of growth on top of the skin. It was definitely something burrowed beneath the flesh, leaving a bulge the size of a pencil top. It was identical to nodules they’d seen on the necks of other people who’d crossed Forge. All too well, Amaranthe remembered the thug Sicarius had been questioning in a warehouse and how the man had launched into convulsions before pitching to the floor, dead.

Sicarius caught her wrist and took the cutting torch. Amaranthe hadn’t been paying enough attention, and she’d strayed away from her line. He went to work, moving the tool along more efficiently than she had been.

“Does this mean you’re willing to try my idea?” Amaranthe asked.

Gunshots punctuated her words.

“We have few options,” Sicarius said. “I won’t surrender him.” He gave her a quick, determined look, and it sent a wave of fear over her. Not for herself, but for the soldiers shooting, chopping, and hacking their way into the car. Sespian would never forgive Sicarius for killing all of his men, and Sicarius had to know that, but maybe he was afraid that leaving Sespian here would mean his death at the hands of Forge, and he was willing to risk Sespian’s eternal hatred to save his life.

“Sicarius…”

He ignored her. The flame burning through the floor reflected off the textured metal around it and cast a wavering orange glow upon Sicarius’s face, creating a dance of shadows and light across it and showing his intense determination.

“Boss!” Maldynado called. “I almost lost my left nut with that shot. These soldiers aren’t worrying about-ouch! I mean, they’re not worrying about where they’re shooting. We can’t hold ’em back for long.”

“Light off any more smoke grenades you have,” Amaranthe yelled. “And pile up any loose furniture in front of the doors.”

Sicarius finished cutting the square in the floor. He set the torch aside and wedged his black dagger into one of the cracks.

“Be careful.” Amaranthe eyed the smoke rising from the blackened metal. “That’ll be hot.”

Sicarius flicked her a dry glance before prying open their new trapdoor without touching the edges.

“I know, I’m stating the obvious again,” Amaranthe said, “but remember, that saves you from something gooey and sentimental.”

Sicarius had stuck his head through the opening, and she didn’t know if he heard her. It was a good thing her aim had been ragged and the hole had ended up on the wide side, because there was a thick beam running beneath the right three inches.

Sicarius popped back up. “It’s doable. You go first.”

“Because this was my absurd idea?” Amaranthe joined Sicarius on the other side of the hole, so that she faced the front of the train, and dropped to her belly. She could hardly object to leading the way. It was her idea.

“Because you need to get to the engine first to figure out your plan for keeping the soldiers busy until we reach the pass.”

Amaranthe offered a bleak, “Ah.” Yes, she had promised to come up with something.

“And the farther back someone is, the more likely it is that one of the soldiers will have noticed someone going under the couplings and will be ready to shoot,” Sicarius added. “You’re not expendable. Neither is Sespian, so I’ll go after you.”

Amaranthe hoped Basilard and Maldynado weren’t listening just then. She also hoped her plan wasn’t going to condemn anyone.

She ducked her head through the hole. It was deafening down there, with the wheels grinding and clacking past each section of the tracks. There was no light either, so they’d have to go by touch. She had a vague sense of a two-foot clearance but also saw the dark bumps of beams and protuberances that would make it closer to a foot in places.

“Boss?” Maldynado was behind her, and Basilard behind him. Blood streaked both of their faces, and a bruise swelled on Basilard’s temple. “We piled up the furniture,” Maldynado said.

“We’re taking the shortcut back.” Amaranthe pointed to the hole. “You two can figure out who’s coming last.” She lifted the torch. “Last one to leave gets to light the place on fire.”

Basilard’s eyebrows flew up. Maldynado grinned and grabbed the tool.

“It’ll distract them,” Amaranthe told Basilard, “keep them from figuring out where we went at first. It might split their forces, too, if it means nobody from the back cars can get to the front.”

“Enough,” Sicarius said. “Go.”

“I’ve got the lock,” someone shouted from outside the backdoor.

Amaranthe nodded. Yes, no time to waste. She squirmed onto her back so she would be facing upward after she slid headfirst through the hole. She paused to look Sicarius in the eye.

“Are you going to be able to carry Sespian through this? There’s not much clearance.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He pointed at the hole. “If you want these soldiers to live, go now.”

“Right.” Amaranthe caught Basilard looking at her with concern in his blue eyes, and she forced a reassuring grin onto her face. “Someone told me cleaning fish doesn’t get any easier for having put the task off.” That was one of his grandfather’s sayings, as she recalled.

Basilard managed a quick grin, but the concern didn’t leave his eyes. Then a bang drew his attention, and he vaulted over the hole with his weapons in hand. Sicarius was busy with a coil of rope, figuring out a way to tie Sespian so he could carry him.

Amaranthe lowered her head below the floor, reaching her arm through the hole to grip the far side of the beam. The cold, coarse steel offered a ledge a couple of inches wide on either side, and, if it stretched the length of the car, she thought she could climb along it reasonably well. Holding on with her feet might prove more difficult, and she tried not to think about what would happen if her heels thumped down on the railroad ties at fifty miles an hour.

“Stop thinking,” Amaranthe muttered to herself. The men didn’t have time for her to stall.

She scooted forward, ready to go, when Sicarius touched her leg. Amaranthe met his eyes.

“Be careful,” he said, a slight widening of his eyes letting her know he’d been listening earlier and meant it the same way she had.

“I will.” Amaranthe slid her other hand through the hole to grip the beam. “No need to get sentimental.”

He kept a light touch on her leg as she wriggled the rest of the way through the hole, and she missed it when it was gone.

As she’d thought, gripping the beam with her hands was doable-all of Sicarius’s training had its uses, for she suspected she could hold her body weight from her hands for a long time-but when it was time to pull her legs through the hole, finding a place to put them was more of a challenge. The beam was attached to the bottom of the car, so there was nothing to wrap her limbs around. She experimented with a couple of positions and almost wished she’d left her boots behind, because it would have been easier to grab hold with her toes. She settled for turning her boots outward and propping her heels on the inside ledges of the beam. Though she couldn’t imagine a way to feel more awkward, it took some of the weight away from her fingers, and she was able to inch forward, one hand at a time, her heels sliding along behind her.

Less wind whistled beneath the train than Amaranthe had expected. If not for the noise in her ears, and the reverberations emanating from the beam, she could have pretended they were standing still.

She came to an axle and had to squeeze between it and the beam. How Sicarius was going to get through with Sespian, she had no idea. He’d probably need to go underneath it, but it would take more strength than she had to manage that feat.

Light filtered down from somewhere ahead of her. Amaranthe reached the end of the beam, and tilted her chin up, trying to see the balcony. A hint of vertigo struck her as she viewed the railway ties in two places, in the light seeping down from the nearest balconies and several cars ahead where the locomotive chugged toward the mountains, its own lights illuminating the track.

Amaranthe closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself, then focused on the balcony. She’d hoped she might get lucky and that she’d be going under the coupling after the men had already charged inside, but that wasn’t the case. The noisy hum of the wheels kept her from hearing voices, but people’s movements stirred the shadows.

Something touched her foot. Sicarius, inching along the beam after her. The other men would be coming through if they hadn’t already. Amaranthe couldn’t delay.

She stretched her hand toward a bar at the base of the balcony. Her forearms were starting to burn from the effort of holding her body above the rails, but she told herself to toughen up. There were still three more cars to pass under.

Picking her way from bar to metal protrusion to bar, she eased into the space between the cars. Dots of light came through the grating on the balconies, and boots stamped about, inches above Amaranthe’s nose. She thought the darkness would protect her if anyone looked down, but crawling beneath all those soldiers made her nervous. Sweat moistened her palms. She winced. The last thing she wanted now was a damp grip.

She reached the end of the balcony and considered the sturdy coupling between the cars. Grabbing it would take an athletic feat, but she was more worried about the soldiers looking down and spotting an arm wrapped around it. The darkness might be enough to hide her through the grate of the balcony, but this was far more exposed.

Amaranthe inched forward and watched the faces through the grating. Men were standing on both balconies, not pushing at each other but leaning forward, poised to surge in to help the emperor as soon as they got the chance.

“Fire!” someone shouted. “The bastards lit the car on fire!”

“They’ll only fry themselves.”

“And the emperor. Get in there, private!”

Hoping they were suitably distracted, Amaranthe stretched an arm toward the coupling. Her fingers brushed the cold iron several times before she found a good grip. The men, with their longer limbs would have an easier time of it.

She managed to get her other hand on it, but her feet had reached the end of the beam. She tried find a spot to brace them on the underside of the balcony. Her foot slipped and her heel bumped the ground before she jerked it back up. A jolt of pain surged up her leg. She bit back a yelp-any noise would draw the soldiers’ attention-and flexed every muscle in her torso to keep her legs up as she pulled herself across to the next balcony.

No shouts arose as she squirmed beneath the next car. Good. So long as the others made it through too. Maldynado might have trouble because of his size, and Sicarius… She couldn’t even fathom taking this route with a full-grown man strapped to her chest.

Amaranthe found a beam to follow on the next car and continued forward. A few shouts drifted to her, loud enough to be heard above the roar of the rails, but she couldn’t distinguish words. She could only hope the soldiers were yelling about the fire, not that they’d spotted her men.

By the time Amaranthe reached the coupling for the next car, her fingers and forearms were quivering. Sweat bathed her face, dripping down the sides of her upturned cheeks. More than once her fingers slipped, and she had to react quickly to keep from losing a hand or arm between the wheels.

There were no soldiers waiting on the next set of balconies, and she took her time crossing beneath the coupling. She thought about crawling out and finishing the trek via the roofs or even running through the car, but with the luck she’d had thus far that day, she’d probably run smack into a platoon of soldiers hanging back to solidify their strategy.

By the time she reached the next coupling, her shaking forearms were cramping up. She pulled her legs up and hooked them around the entwined pieces of metal, trying to give her upper body a break. The position left her staring at the coupling. It’d certainly be convenient if she could simply have Maldynado unhook it after he passed through. The idea of her team pulling away on the locomotive while the rest of the train rolled to a stop was an appealing one, but the stout metal hooks looked like they’d take machinery or at least stout tools to unfasten.

A touch on her boot reminded her that Sicarius was behind her. Enough resting.

Amaranthe pulled herself beneath the next balcony and didn’t pause again until she approached the coal car. Once there, a new thought invaded her mind. What if some of the soldiers had thought to check on the locomotive as soon as they realized they’d been invaded? What if men were even now waiting in the coal car, prepared to attack any intruders who showed up there?

Those thoughts stirred anxiety in her belly, and the more she dwelled on them the more certain she became that the soldiers would have sent someone to check on the engine. But, when the balcony came into view, nothing but cold, dark sky waited above the grate.

Arms trembling more fiercely than the train itself, Amaranthe gripped the thin balustrades on the end of the balcony and hauled herself upright, again having to flex every muscle she had to keep her legs from dipping down to strike the ground. When she finally pulled herself over the rail and both feet stood upon solid metal, she wanted nothing more than to flop down on her back for a rest. Sicarius’s hand fastened onto the edge of the balcony, though, and she squatted down to see if he needed help.

He pulled his way up, using the balustrades with one hand and the back of the coal car with the other. With Sespian strapped to his chest, he couldn’t easily climb facing a surface, but he scaled his way up between the two, like someone crawling up the inside of a chimney. Sicarius bypassed the balcony and pulled himself straight into the coal car.

Amaranthe leaned over the side to check on Basilard and Maldynado. In the blackness beneath the train, it was hard to see anything, but she thought she spotted two promising lumps. She thought to wait and help them up, but Sicarius called down from the coal car, his voice low and barely audible.

“Amaranthe, come.”

She crawled up to join him. At first, she thought he needed help unfastening Sespian, but Sicarius jerked his head toward the front of the car.

Amaranthe sank to her knees in the hard coal. The soldiers they’d tied up were gone.

“They got free,” she said, then chastised herself for stating the obvious again.

“Or were set free,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe thought of Yara. Unless the soldiers had rushed back to help with the emperor, they had to have found her in the locomotive. What if Amaranthe had recruited Yara to help, only to get her killed?

Sicarius finished untying his load. Sespian startled Amaranthe by scrambling backward, duck-crawling several feet before dropping to his backside, hands bracing him, his chest heaving as he stared at Sicarius.