Conspiracy

Chapter 20

Sun shown through the porthole in the tiny cabin, and Akstyr pulled his blanket over his head, trying to block it out. At Amaranthe’s insistence, he’d slept a couple of hours, and he wouldn’t have minded more, but the light was bugging him. Something else was bugging him, too, though he couldn’t put a finger on it. A nagging unease.

Akstyr stretched out with his senses and nearly fell out of the bunk when he felt someone in the cabin with him. A dark cool presence. He tore the blanket off his head, spotted Sicarius standing in the shadows by the door, and bolted to his feet. That was the goal anyway. The blanket tangled around his legs, and he tumbled to the floor in an ungainly heap. Certain Sicarius wasn’t there for any comradely reason, Akstyr rushed to untangle himself and find a standing position. He finally managed, but not without the help of a hand on the wall.

If Sicarius were the type to cackle diabolically before killing someone, he’d surely be doing so now. But he simply stood there, wearing all of his knives, his body unmoving, his face unreadable.

“What do you want?” Akstyr tried to sound gruff and unconcerned, though he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. Also, it was hard to look tough standing barefoot with a blanket pooled at one’s feet.

The quietness of that Science-made dirigible engine meant there were no thrums or reverberations coursing through the craft, and Akstyr could feel his heart thumping against his ribs. Fast. He wondered if Sicarius could hear it too. He wasn’t saying or doing anything, but Akstyr had the impression that Sicarius might be debating whether to kill him.

Akstyr clenched a fist. Sicarius could try. Akstyr knew ways to defend himself that had nothing to do with physical contact.

“Well?” Akstyr demanded.

“You’ve been talking with bounty hunters,” Sicarius said. “I know you’ve thought often of having me killed.”

Akstyr tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He wanted to say something valiant, but he couldn’t get any words out.

“You may have doomed us all by speaking of our plans to your mother.” Sicarius’s eyes bored into him, hard and unwavering.

“That was a mistake, I know. It won’t happen again.”

“I kill those who threaten me.” He wasn’t attempting to intimidate or posture; he was simply stating a fact. That made it worse.

“I saved Am’ranthe that one time. Amaranthe,” Akstyr added, thinking that it might be somehow important to pronounce each and every syllable in her name just then. Respectful-like. “I’m important to the team. She wouldn’t want you to kill anyone important to the team.”

“I’ve studied the schematics for the implant,” Sicarius said.

“Uh?” The topic change surprised Akstyr, but encouraging it seemed like a good idea.

“The artifact is designed to be sensitive to physical tampering. It hides if it’s touched, and if someone attempts to remove it, it kills its victim.”

Why was Sicarius telling him this? Akstyr had studied the schematic too. He already knew all about the devices.

“It’ll take someone with Science training to destroy it,” Sicarius said.

“I know. I’m not sure I can destroy it, on account of that shaman having been so experienced at Making things, and it’s real strong for something so little, but I was thinking I could stun it for a few seconds. Then someone like you could go in and cut it out before it can squirm away. Once it’s out, you can drop it on the floor and stomp on it.” Akstyr finished with a gulp of air. He’d rushed to make sure he got out the second part, about how he might be able to do something, before Sicarius decided he was useless after hearing the first part. Akstyr didn’t know why Sicarius would care about the emperor or the implant, but if he did that was good for him.

“If you are successful in removing the implant,” Sicarius said, “I will forget your prior transgressions.”

A part of Akstyr wanted to be indignant-the man was a notorious criminal, so he hardly had any justification for calling anything Akstyr might have done to get rid of him a “transgression”-but a bigger part of him was so relieved, he could barely think of an answer. If Sicarius was willing to forget the past, then he could start over, work with the team, get the money for school without betraying anyone, and not have to spend his life looking over his shoulder. And he’d been planning to get that implant out anyway. That was why he had joined the group in the first place, so he could work on Science stuff. The challenge of trying to beat that old shaman’s invention intrigued him.

“Agreed?” Sicarius asked, startling Akstyr from his thoughts.

It wasn’t like Sicarius to get impatient and prompt someone for an answer. Usually he didn’t care if someone answered or not.

“I’m planning to get it out, yeah,” Akstyr said. “But, out of curiosity, what happens if something unforeseen happens, and I can’t stop the implant from… doing it’s job?”

Several long breaths passed before Sicarius answered.

“Do not fail,” he said and walked out the door.

Amaranthe and Sicarius stood by the door in Sespian’s suite. Books sat in one of the purple chairs with the schematic of the device spread across his lap. Akstyr stood by a table laden with scissors, suture wire, tweezers, and Sicarius’s black dagger. Sespian waited on the bed, eying the implements. His face was paler than usual, though he was nodding stoically and grunting in a manly I’m-not-scared-about-this-surgery way as Books and Akstyr explained the procedure.

“They’re fragile once you get them out of your body, so you can smash them with a hammer, but that’s not a real good option when they’re still inside,” Akstyr said.

“I’d imagine not,” Sespian said.

Amaranthe lifted a thumbnail to nibble on only to remember she’d already chomped it down to the nub. She was going to have to find a way to encourage faster nail growth if she was going to be in stressful situations so often. Sicarius’s face seemed a tad paler than usual, too, as he listened at her side. He hadn’t said a word about the handholding, but Amaranthe hadn’t had a chance to pull him aside and explain it either. She wasn’t sure what to explain anyway. Sespian apparently did still care. That was a problem, but one for another day. She forced herself to focus on Akstyr.

“Don’t worry,” Akstyr said. “With Books’s help, I figured that I could stun them with a… uhm, are you squirrelly about the mental sciences?”

“ Sire,” Books whispered.

“Are you squirrelly, Sire?” Akstyr asked.

“Though I don’t have much experience in such matters, I’ve read many of the files in the Imperial Intelligence Office, and I’m aware of reports suggesting the human brain is capable of more than Turgonians officially believe and acknowledge.”

Akstyr gave him a blank look.

“Not squirrelly, no,” Sespian said.

“Good.” Akstyr held a tiger-striped sphere up to one of several lanterns placed around the bed, adding to the light that flowed in through a pair of portholes. “I’ve been practicing on the ones we filched from the shaman’s cave.”

Sespian leaned close to study the details of the small but intricate sphere. “Hard to believe such an insignificant-looking device could kill a person.”

A tiny barb sprang from the surface, and Sespian jerked backward. Sicarius stirred at Amaranthe’s side, and she imagined him springing to Sespian’s defense, should the need arise. It seemed Akstyr was merely showing off a… feature though.

“Slicker than a greased prick, isn’t it?” Akstyr asked.

Books leaned out of his chair to cuff him. “Don’t say things like that in front of the emperor.”

Akstyr rolled his eyes.

“And say Sire,” Books whispered, as if Sespian weren’t right there, watching their exchange. Fortunately, a hint of a smile touched the emperor’s lips.

“Slick, isn’t it, Sire?” Akstyr asked.

“I’ve translated the shaman’s notes to determine how they work,” Books said, launching into his best lecturing professor tone. “There are four of these prongs in each sphere. If someone tries to remove the device from the victim’s flesh-”

“Me,” Sespian said.

“Ah, yes, you. If someone tries to remove it prematurely, the device attaches to the jugular, and the barbs spring out like that.” Books pointed to the protrusion on the sphere. “The barbs pierce your vein, and poison flows into your bloodstream. It’s a near-instantaneous process. The poison induces a seizure, and the victim dies within seconds.”

Sespian was staring, transfixed, at the barb.

“Why don’t you skip to telling him how we’re going to remove it?” Amaranthe suggested.

Sespian tore his gaze from the sphere. “A splendid idea.”

“I couldn’t figure out how to destroy them or turn one off,” Akstyr said, “but I have managed to stun some of them for several seconds.”

“ Some?” Sespian asked.

“Four out of five.” Akstyr shrugged. “Those’re good odds, aren’t they? Each one is a little different. They’re machines but individual hand-Made artifacts too.”

“Magical,” Sespian said for clarification.

“If you insist on using that ignorant Turgonian word, I suppose.”

“ Sire,” Books hissed. “And don’t question the emperor’s education, which I’m certain is far superior to yours.”

Sespian lifted a hand. “It’s all right. I prefer straight talk here. Akstyr, what happens after you stun it?”

“I’ll have to keep concentrating to make sure it doesn’t wake up, so someone else will cut open your neck, dig around in there, and pry it out.”

Amaranthe winced at Akstyr’s bluntness. Surely that had to be straighter talk than anyone would want.

“I see,” Sespian said. “And who will be wielding the knife?” He didn’t look at Sicarius. In fact, he seemed to be making a point of not looking at Sicarius, as if he feared that someone might have already chosen him, but by pretending he wasn’t there, Sespian could change the outcome.

“You’ll want our swiftest, most agile person with a blade, Sire,” Amaranthe said and tilted her head toward Sicarius.

“I’ll try to stun it real fast, so it doesn’t start moving around,” Akstyr said, “but it has this reflex to burrow deeper when there’s a chance it’ll be discovered.”

Sespian lay back on the bed, and Amaranthe wondered if he was thinking it’d be better to take his chances and leave the implant in there. If he decided that, she’d have to try and talk him out of it. With the shaman gone, there wasn’t likely anyone better around than her team for this surgery.

“All right,” Sespian said. “Let’s do it. I’m going after Forge people, so it’d be better if they didn’t have this control over me, or the ability to see me coming.”

That hint of what his mission was made Amaranthe want to grab his arm and wheedle details out of him, but the surgery had to be the first priority. Afterward, she could-

“Company’s coming,” Maldynado bellowed from the cargo hold.

Amaranthe groaned. What was he doing in there? Maldynado should be in the navigation room with Yara. Books, after grudgingly acknowledging that his expertise might be needed for translations during the surgery, had given them a flying lesson.

When Amaranthe opened the door, Sicarius lifted his head, a question in his eyes.

“You, Akstyr, and Books have a job to do,” Amaranthe told him. “Stay here. The rest of us will buy you the time you need.” She hoped that sounded half as confident as she meant for it to sound.

“Understood,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe slipped into the corridor and trotted to the cargo hold. Maldynado had both hands pressed against the exterior hatch, his face close to the porthole in the center. When he saw Amaranthe, he stepped back and pointed. A dark dome was flying above the mountains behind them. Though daylight had come, it did nothing to alleviate the inky blackness of the craft.

“How far until we get out of the mountains?” Amaranthe asked.

“We’ve been cruising along to the northwest all night,” Maldynado said, “and we’re almost out, but we have sixty miles of lakes and wetlands to cross before we reach Sunders City.”

“If we can make it to the populated areas on the outskirts of town, they might veer off. You’d think that monstrosity would be something they’d want to keep a secret from people.”

“That’d still be fifty miles.” Maldynado stabbed a finger at the porthole. “They’ve gotten closer, just while we’ve been talking. There’s no way they won’t catch up with us.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance they’re just flying in the same direction as we are and haven’t seen us yet?” Amaranthe murmured.

“About as much chance as there is of Sicarius joining us for drinks, whoring, and bouts of unbridled laughter after the mission is over.”

“Us?” Amaranthe asked. “You think there’s a chance of me joining you for that?”

“You’d be more likely to do it than him.”

“I… think it’s safer if I neither agree nor disagree with that.” Convinced the trailing craft was only going to get bigger instead of smaller, Amaranthe spun a slow circle, taking in everything in the cargo bay. “We still have half a box of blasting sticks,” she mused.

“Unfortunately, they’re in here and the enemy is way out there. Not only did Lady Buckingcrest betray us by sending along ambushers, but she gave us a tub with no weapons. Unbelievable. Pleasuring a woman all night doesn’t count for as much as it used to.”

Amaranthe hadn’t mentioned Books’s hypothesis that Maldynado might somehow be behind the stowaways and the fact that this black craft had found them in the first place. She trusted Maldynado and couldn’t believe he would betray her. Besides, if by some remote chance he was a spy, wouldn’t he have arranged things so that he wouldn’t be on the dirigible when it was attacked?

“Maybe you’re getting older and less appealing,” Amaranthe said as she dug through lockers, hoping to find useful equipment that had come with the craft.

Maldynado sniffed. “We’re about to face death together. Do you really think this is the time to insult me?”

“Sorry, you’re right. Insults after battles. Come help me with this, will you?” Amaranthe waved to a locker where she’d found long, wide strips of canvas-like fabric and buckets of a black tarry goo. “Repair supplies for the balloon, I’d guess, though maybe we can-” A shudder ran through the floor. “Actually, why don’t you check on navigation?” Amaranthe might tease Maldynado about his proclivity for crashing vehicles, but most of those crashes had been a result of her orders. In truth, she’d always found him competent at working machinery. She knew less about Basilard and Yara’s capabilities. “Send Basilard back to help.”

“You got it, boss.” Maldynado jogged for the corridor.

“And keep this boat as steady as you can,” she called after him. “That’s a delicate surgery they’re performing on the emperor in there.”

Amaranthe eyed the cargo bay door, wondering if they could open it while flying.

Maldynado paused inside the corridor. “Maybe we should put off the surgery. What if those blokes start attacking us?”

Amaranthe frowned. She trusted Maldynado, she did, but now that Books had brought up his suspicions, she couldn’t help but think there might be a reason Maldynado didn’t want that device out of Sespian’s neck. If his family was angling for the throne and was in position to seize it if Sespian disappeared…

She shook her head. “If that’s their plan, Sespian will want that thing out of his neck before we crash and get captured by someone who can make it kill him at any time.”

“That’s not a very optimistic thought.”

“Sorry, we haven’t had much sleep, and I’m finding it hard to remain hopeful about the future.” Amaranthe pulled out one of the fabric strips and tugged at it experimentally. No stretchiness, hm. Maybe she could find some rubber.

Maldynado muttered something in parting, but she was too focused on her new plan to hear the words. By the time Basilard joined her, Amaranthe had buckets, fabric strips, and rubber cords strewn across the deck in front of the cargo door.

Basilard signed, What are we making?

“Slingshot,” Amaranthe said. “I could use some help.”

Basilard’s eyebrows rose. That probably meant she should be worried about her plan, but there wasn’t time for self-doubt. She peeked through the porthole. Its massive size might mean the black ship was farther back than it appeared, but either way it had halved the distance between them. The sun’s light glinted off the snowcaps on the last of the mountains, but its rays failed to reflect off of that craft. It almost looked like a black hole in the sky, coming to swallow them.

“I’m going to fly lower,” Maldynado called down the corridor. “Maybe we can lose them in the wetlands.”

That other craft could likely do anything the dirigible could do when it came to navigating, but Amaranthe kept the thought to herself and simply pointed for Basilard to come help her. She hoped her slingshot idea wouldn’t end up being laughable to the enemy. Whatever that craft had fired at the cliff to collapse the railway tunnel could doubtlessly pulverize the dirigible, perhaps from a great distance. It might never need to get within range of Amaranthe’s weapon-and calling the clunky slingshot a weapon was surely delusional. She kept working anyway.

Akstyr sat next to the bed, his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes half closed. He could see the faint bulge at the side of the emperor’s throat, but he needed to sense it as well. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time concentrating. Sicarius stood on the opposite side of the emperor’s bed, his black dagger in hand. His role might be to cut out the implant, but Akstyr couldn’t help but remember his earlier words and wonder if Sicarius might cut his neck, should he fail here.

“No pressure,” he murmured.

“Should I be worried that you look more nervous than I do?” the emperor asked. He was lying on the bed, his hands folded over his belly, as if in relaxed repose, but tension tightened his interlaced fingers.

“Nah, I’m not nervous,” Akstyr said out of some notion that doctors should be brave for their patients. “Just…”

“Pensive?”

“Right.”

“There may be little time,” Sicarius said, his tone hard, the words clipped.

“Right,” Akstyr repeated.

Sespian sighed, lay his head back, and closed his eyes. The tension didn’t ebb from his fingers.

“Is there anything I can do?” Books asked softly from behind Akstyr.

“No,” Akstyr said. “I’ve memorized everything you’ve translated for me. I just need quiet.”

He took a deep breath and closed his own eyes. He stretched out, trying to sense the artifact without letting it sense him.

Since Akstyr knew what the devices looked like, he was able to picture the buried one in his mind. He imagined it nestled beneath the skin, a knot burrowed into the muscle, and slowly the made-up picture in his head coalesced into the real one. It had life of a sort. An awareness. It emitted… a question or perhaps a probe, as if it knew something, or someone, was there.

Akstyr fought for calmness. It wasn’t certain yet, or it would have already moved. He summoned energy in his mind, like coiling one’s body before springing into the air. He was about to unleash the energy, to attempt to stun the device, when the floor tilted. It nearly threw him from his seat, and he only caught himself by grabbing the emperor’s footboard. The dirigible groaned and tilted back the other way.

“Check on it,” Sicarius said.

At first, Akstyr thought Sicarius was talking to him, but the door slammed, and he realized Books had left. Akstyr shifted on his seat, not thrilled at being left alone with Sicarius. Well, Sicarius and the emperor, who was sitting up, frowning.

“Lie down, Sire,” Sicarius said. There was no deference in the way he said sire, and it was clearly an order. “Continue,” he told Akstyr in the same tone.

“Maybe,” Akstyr said, directing his words to the emperor instead of Sicarius, “we should wait until-”

The floor titled again, this time toward the nose of the craft. Akstyr’s heart jumped. They weren’t heading toward a crash, were they?

“-someone besides Maldynado is driving,” he finished. Nobody smiled at his attempt at humor. It didn’t amuse him much either. He wanted to lunge to his feet and run up to the navigation cabin to check on what was happening.

“Continue,” Sicarius repeated. The way he said it made Akstyr suspect he didn’t have the option to leave. “Before this gets worse,” Sicarius added.

Sespian nodded grimly. “Do it,” he told Akstyr and lay back down.

As if it was so easy. Akstyr closed his eyes again and struggled to regain his focus. He probed the area beneath the scar tissue, trying to find the device. He frowned. It wasn’t there.