Deadly Games

CHAPTER 11

When Basilard woke, his head ached worse thanit ever had after a night out carousing with Maldynado. He openedhis eyes to-thankfully-dim lighting emanating from a globe hangingbeside a metal door. The entire room-cubby might be a betterword-was made from dark gray metal. He lay on a narrow cot, staringat riveting running along ridges traversing the walls from floor tocurved ceiling. He had never been on a steam ship, but guessed thatwas his location. Engines somewhere rumbled, the reverberationspulsing through the floor and up his cot.

Was he being transported somewhere? Though hehad never sailed, he had seen maps of the empire and knew that onecould travel from the Chain Lakes down the Goldar River and all theway to the Gulf. From there, one could go…anywhere in the world.Had he been captured to be sold into slavery once again? This timesomeplace far away? Someplace so far away there was no chance hewould ever return home again to see his daughter?

The daughter you could have already gone tosee if you weren’t such a coward, he told himself.

Basilard sat up, and the pounding in his headintensified so much he groaned and grabbed his temples. Toughen up,he told himself. Sicarius would not bellyache so.

He sneered at himself. Why was he holdingSicarius up as a model to emulate?

When the throbbing calmed enough to handle,he swung his legs over the edge of the cot and found the floor-thedeck? Was that what ship people called it? The cold metal numbedhis bare feet. With a twitch of surprise, he realized everythingwas bare. He patted himself down, checking for…he did not knowwhat, but one couldn’t trust people who kidnapped one and stoleone’s clothing.

Soft, rhythmic clangs sounded beyond thedoor. Footsteps.

A scratch and thud echoed through the door.Basilard slipped off the cot and dropped into a defensive crouch.One that could easily turn offensive, if the situation permittedit. Though he should perhaps figure out where he was beforeattacking people. Who knew how long he had been unconscious?

Another thud sounded, then a clank. Multiplelocks being thrown? If so, they had secured him well.

The thick, metal door squeaked open.

A woman stood there, her long red hair pinnedinto a swirling dervish atop her head. Two men framed her. Theywore the black fatigues of army soldiers, though no rank pinsadorned their collars. One appeared to be “the muscle.” He crowdedthe hallway with broad shoulders and tree-trunk arms that evenMaldynado would have dubbed substantial. He aimed a pistol atBasilard, though the challenging sneer curling his lips said hewould be happy to battle barehanded or perhaps with the swordsheathed at his waist. The surname stitched on his jacket read,LEV. The second man had neatly trimmed gray hair and wielded aclipboard instead of a gun. His tag read, TALONCREST. Awarrior-caste officer involved in this scheme? Surprising.

The woman stepped inside first with noapparent fear of Basilard. The men followed after, one at a time,ducking and stepping over the raised frame of the door toenter.

“Greetings,” the woman said. “I havequestions for you.”

Though Basilard would not have been in a rushto answer their questions under any circumstances, he doubted itwas a possibility here. The soldiers would not understand his signlanguage, and he did not think the woman was Mangdorian. Thoughfair-skinned, she was not as pale as his people, and he thought shemight be Kendorian or perhaps from one of the island nationsbetween Turgonia and Nuria.

He touched the scar tissue at his throat andshrugged. Maybe they would not think to ask if he could read,though Arbitan had insisted Basilard learn that skill before hetook over as head of security for the wizard.

“You can’t speak?” the woman asked, eyesnarrowed.

Basilard shook his head and signed, Whoare you? more out of habit than because he wanted a response.In reflection, maybe he should not have done that. Maybe it wasbetter if they believed he could not answer their questions at all.Or would that mean they had no use for him?

The gray-haired officer’s eyebrows rose. “TheMangdorian hunting code?”

Basilard nodded.

“That answers your question, Litya.”Taloncrest scribbled something on his notepad.

“Yes, but race matters little for myexperiments,” the woman said in a lilting, almost musical accentBasilard did not recognize. “I prefer Turgonian stock, given thegoals of my clients, but your people have such muddied bloodlinesthat no one will be the wiser as long as we breed the foreignerswith darker skinned specimens.”

Breed? Basilard caught his mouth danglingopen, and he snapped it shut.

“If you don’t need him,” Taloncrest said,eyeing Basilard as he tapped his pen on his clipboard, “I’m sure Icould use him.”

“You can have them all for your cuttingsafter I’ve taken my samples.”

“Excellent,” Taloncrest said.

“I can move ahead with him as soon as mysister returns with the anesthesia ingredients.”

Cuts were nothing new to Basilard, butTaloncrest’s smile and the enthusiastic way he scribbled notes onhis clipboard made Basilard uneasy. As did the talk of “samples”and “anesthesia.”

“Your speed in the race,” thewoman-Litya-said, “is that typical for you, or do you believe itwas a fluke performance? Your agility must have impressed our boy,because he’d had another pegged as our last acquisition. I have nodata on you however.”

Basilard clasped his hands behind his back.These people had nothing good planned for him, so he saw no reasonto assist them.

“Taloncrest,” Litya said, “can you understandhis hand codes? Can you make him speak?”

Basilard raised his chin. They couldtry to make him speak.

The young soldier stepped forward at this, aneager smile tightening his lips.

“I don’t know enough of the signs,”Taloncrest said.

“Maybe he’s learned to write Turgonian?”Litya asked. “Or does anybody here read Mangdorian? They’re vaguelyliterate, aren’t they?”

Basilard thought about waving for a pen, ifonly so he could attempt to stab the woman in the belly with itbefore the men stopped him, but it was probably better to pretendhe could not write and did not understand much of what they weresaying.

“When Metya gets back, we’ll question himunder the influence of pok-tah,” the woman said. “If heknows anything, he’ll be eager to share it with us then, one way oranother.”

“It didn’t work on Sicarius,” Taloncrestmuttered, head down, scrawling notes again.

Had Basilard thought about it, he would haveassumed Sicarius was here somewhere, too, but hearing the namestartled him. He covered his surprise quickly and hoped nobodynoticed.

He waited, hoping they would say somethingthat would indicate whether Sicarius was alive or if they hadalready…disposed of him, but nobody spoke again. After Taloncrestfinished scribbling his notes, he nodded to the woman, and the trioleft.

The door clanged shut, and the locks thunkedinto place.

Basilard could only guess at what thesepeople were up to, but he knew he wanted to be no part of it. If hewas on a ship, steaming away from the city, he could not count onAmaranthe and the others finding him and rescuing him. He wouldhave to escape.

He eyed the solid metal walls and the sparseconfines of the cabin. It would not be easy.

Amaranthe swept dust and food crumbs off thetop of the lookout car. Despite the busy night, she had sleptpoorly when she, Maldynado, and Books returned to their camp in theboneyard. She had woken at dawn, the lump on her head throbbing,and frequent yawns had been tearing her gritty eyes ever since.Morning sun beat against her back, making the night’s rain a faintmemory, but the warmth failed to cheer her. Akstyr had notreturned, and she was beginning to fear he had been captured, too.Or worse.

She could not stop picturing Fasha’s deadbody in her mind. Though the girl had never officially hired herteam, or asked for protection, Amaranthe knew she had failed her.She should have kept better tabs on the girl, or at least warnedher not to go hunting for clues on her own.

She swept more vigorously.

“Amaranthe?” Books called. “Are you upthere?”

She swept a walnut shell off the edge,sending it clanging against the rail car on the far side of theircamp.

“Must be a yes,” Books muttered as he climbedup. He frowned over the top of the ladder at her. “I can seecleaning the cars we’re dwelling in, but the tops of them? Is thatnecessary?”

Books held a napkin full of food, andAmaranthe stopped sweeping. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her thatmany hours had passed since her last meal.

“Someone ate walnuts up here and left shellseverywhere,” she said.

“Yes, but is it necessary to cleanthat?”

“No, it’s not necessary, Books, but this iswhat I do when-” She broke off, not wanting to start ranting overnothing. He was not the one upsetting her; it was the cursedsituation and the fact that she was losing men every time sheturned around. “This is what I do.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I just thought…youshould get more rest.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.” Books cleared his throat, glanced down,and seemed to remember he held food. “Breakfast?” He offered her acouple of hard-boiled eggs and a slab of ham.

Amaranthe drew her kerchief from her pocket,found it soot-stained, and sighed. She set it aside to wash laterand grabbed the food barehanded. “Thank you.”

“It’s an all-protein breakfast,” Books said.“I believe Sicarius would approve.”

She tried to smile. “He’d add seeds and rawvegetables to counteract the saltiness of the ham. Or maybe they’reto keep morning movements regular. I think I’ve finally got hisdiet down, but I can’t remember all the reasons for all therules.”

“I just know we’re lucky to have food at allwith Basilard gone. What are we going to do next to find them?”

“I’m not sure.” Which meant she had no idea.“They know we’re looking for them now. I wish we had some soldierfriends at Fort Urgot, so we could ask if anyone knew whatTaloncrest was last working on.” Amaranthe took a bigger bite ofham than normal, tearing it off with a savage chomp.

“Yes, soldiers have that tedious tendency totry and capture us when we get close. Or shoot us on sight.”

“We were this close….” She held upher thumb and forefinger, a millimeter between them. “I don’t knowif that was their hideout or simply a transfer station, but thefire surely destroyed any evidence left behind. They must haverealized there were witnesses to Basilard’s kidnapping. Or maybethey intended him to be the last person they stole, and they didn’tneed the fire brigade building any more.”

“I know it seems bleak now,” Books said, “butwe can’t give up.”

“Of course not. We’re just…” Amaranthetouched the lump on her head, eliciting a stab of pain. “Recoveringfor a few hours.”

“Anyone home?” a familiar voice called.

Akstyr. Amaranthe rose to her feet andstepped to the edge of the car roof. He slouched into camp, hisspiky hair drooping, and dark circles beneath his eyes. He appeareduninjured.

Amaranthe knew it was uncharitable, but shewished it were Sicarius striding into camp instead. Akstyr mighthave information though. She waved for him to come up.

“Busy night?” she asked.

“Boring night,” Akstyr said.

That didn’t sound promising. “Did you learnanything?”

“Enh.”

She circled her hand in the air, implying hecould explain further.

“I spotted the woman and the man running outof the smoke and into an alley,” Akstyr said.

“Woman and man? From inside the carriage?”Amaranthe asked. “What did they look like?”

“The woman had red hair and she was nice andcurvy. The man was older. Short, gray hair. Looked like a soldier,but he was just wearing a black shirt, so it was hard to tell.”

That sounded like Taloncrest and the womanthe young thieves had described. Amaranthe nodded. “Go on.”

“I followed them, figured you’d want to knowwhere they went.”

“Yes, I do. Thank you. And?” Sometimes sheappreciated that Maldynado launched into the whole story at thetiniest prompting. Surely soldiers could get information out ofprisoners of war more easily than she could dig it out of Akstyr attimes.

“Stayed back in the shadows so they wouldn’tsee me. Almost lost them a couple of times, but I found ‘em againon the docks. They went out on Pier Thirteen to a warehouse at theend.”

Amaranthe frowned at Books. “That’s theBolidot’s Imports warehouse, isn’t it? She has a huge business witha big turnover, and cargo ships go in and out of there every day.Kidnappers needing to maintain a low profile couldn’t use such abusy place.”

“Agreed,” Books said.

“They never came out,” Akstyr said.

“That seems unlikely,” Books said.

Akstyr stepped toward him, chest puffed out.“You thinking I’m blind? Or lying? While you were sleeping, I wassitting there watching and waiting for them to come back down thedock and they never did. I stayed until workers showed up and wentinside. What’d you do? Come back here and snore all night?”

“Four hours, perhaps,” Books murmured.

Amaranthe rested a hand on Akstyr’s arm,drawing his attention to her. “Is it possible they slipped away ina boat?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. “I thought of thatand checked how many boats were around. Didn’t see anydisappear.”

“I guess we can take a look,” Amaranthe toldBooks.

Akstyr yawned. “You two do that. I’m going tomake it thunderous in the sleeping car.” He emulated a noisy snore,then jumped to the ground.

“Akstyr,” Amaranthe called. She stifled atwinge of annoyance that he had dismissed himself without asking ifshe needed anything else. He had to be tired after staying up allnight, and he was surly even on a perky day. “We need you tocome.”

“What?” he called up in a whiny voice a fiveyear old could not have bested.

“I’ll bet you ten ranmyas Taloncrest and hisforeign lady aren’t working out of that warehouse.”

“So?”

“So, if you didn’t see them leave bymundane means, isn’t it possible they used the mentalsciences?”

“Oh,” Akstyr said. “Well, yeah.”

“Then we’ll need you to stick yourmagic-sniffing nose in the corners,” Amaranthe said, “see if youcan catch a scent.”

“I’m not a hound, you know.”

“We know,” Books said. “Hounds work alot harder for a lot less incentive.”

“You’re not helping,” Amaranthe said.

“We can’t go until night, right?” Akstyrasked. “Lots of people will be working, so we can’t sniff arounduntil they go home.”

Amaranthe leaned over the edge of the roofand smiled down at him. “I’ll get us in. Have some breakfast, andwe’ll head over. You can sleep later.”

Akstyr stabbed a finger at the open door ofthe sleeping car. “Does Maldynado get to stay here?”

“That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Amarantheasked. “You better go wake him up.”

“Good.” Akstyr smiled for the first time andleaped into the car with zealousness.

“Misery is more palatable when shared withothers,” Amaranthe noted to Books.

“Indeed.”

Amaranthe led Maldynado, Akstyr, and Booksonto Pier Thirteen, her strides long and her chin high beneath thebrim of her sunhat. It hid her face to some extent, and, on thetrolley ride over, she had arranged her hair in a number of braids,then pinned them up in a creative bundle that looked nothing likethe style on any of her wanted posters. She supposed she could lookinto cosmetics to disguise her facial features, but shewanted to be recognized when she was doing something good,something that might help her clear her name.

A massive crane belched smoke as it liftedshipping containers from the bowels of a merchant steamer andlowered them to the dock. Dozens of burly, bare-chested stevedoresunloaded the cargo and ported it inside the towering warehouse. Theshirtless workers seemed to be competing with each other for therole of Tattoo Emperor. Amaranthe decided the man with the krakenwas the winner-its head emblazoned his neck while tentacles randown his back, both arms, and his chest, with the largest pairdisappearing beneath his trousers. Of its own wayward volition, hermind wondered how far beneath the waistband the tentacle motifmight continue and what exactly it would be doing down there.

The tattooed man glanced her way beforeheading into the warehouse with a crate in his arms. He caught hereye and winked.

“If Deret doesn’t turn out to be your dreamman,” Maldynado said, “we can always find you someone here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you dolt,” Books said.“If Amaranthe must copulate at all, it should be with a man whoknows how to read and preferably how to use the Imperial LocusSystem to pluck appropriately intellectual books from the libraryshelves.”

“A skill that would be completely useless forsatisfying her in bed,” Maldynado said.

“Surely, finger dexterity has crossoverapplications.”

“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said, wondering whensuch commentary had ceased to make her blush. “Let’s go over ourstory.”

“You’re going to pose,” Books said, “as theowner of an escort service, with Maldynado as your employeeand-”

“Star employee,” Maldynado said.

“Uh huh.” Books stepped around a man carryinga massive ceramic jar and continued. “And you’re shopping forimported silks and tapestries and such for your…office? Is thatthe correct term for a place where someone like Maldynado would beprostituted out?”

“Close enough,” Amaranthe said.

“Costasce called her viewing room ‘TheParlor’,” Maldynado said.

They had reached the roll-up door of thewarehouse, so Amaranthe stopped. None of the men streaming in andout spared her group a glance. Maybe they could simply walk in andsnoop about without anyone caring. She peeped through thedoorway.

A woman in spectacles checked off items on aclipboard and directed men toward different areas in the warehouseor toward a massive lift that could deliver cargo to an upperlevel. The men might not care about interlopers, but she wouldsurely notice strangers strolling through the premises. Theplatform sandals crossing her feet with thin straps promised shewasn’t going to wander far to do lifting or other work.

“As to our role,” Books started, butAmaranthe cut him off with a raised hand.

“Akstyr?” she asked. With his disinterest forthings non-magical, she never knew how much he was payingattention. “Your role?”

“We’re your porters.” He yawned. “Me andBooks.”

“Good,” Amaranthe said.

“As long as we don’t have to really portthings.”

“You just sniff about,” she said.

“Are we sure this is wise?” Books ask.“Should this turn…confrontational, we don’t have our two mostproficient fighters here.”

Maldynado propped his hands on his hips. “Youhave me.”

Books looked him up and down, then focused onAmaranthe again. “We don’t have our two most proficient fightershere.”

“You believe Basilard a better brawler thanme?” Maldynado asked. “Truly?”

“We’ll be fine,” she said and headed in.

The clipboard-toting lady’s head swiveledtoward the door before Amaranthe had gone more than three steps.No, this woman would not allow random snoopers, not without a coverstory.

“Morning,” Amaranthe said, strollingcloser.

“What do you want?” the woman snapped.

Ah, the friendly sort. Wonderful.

“Hello, I’m Darva,” Amaranthe said. “DarvaLarkcrest.” As long as she was making up names, she might as wellattach herself to a warrior caste family. “Who are you?”

Amaranthe’s invocation of warrior-castestatus did nothing to impress the woman. In fact, she scowled moredeeply. New money, perhaps, one who had no respect for thearistocracy. Still, if she was the owner, or someone high up in thebusiness, she ought to be interested in pleasing clients.

“Ms. Setjareth,” she said. “Partial owner.What do you want? This is my warehouse, and unless you’re carryingin cargo, I’m not interested in talking to you. You, Squid Tat,take that one to the second floor.”

“I’m interested in purchasing some of yourinventory,” Amaranthe said.

“Shop’s on Third and Canal.” The woman’s gazelowered to her clipboard again.

Amaranthe stepped closer so she blocked thewoman’s view of Akstyr. Behind her back, she flicked a finger tosend him to snoop. “I thought it might save us both some money if Icame directly to the source. No need for you to transport and stockyour inventory when I can-”

“Shop’s on Third and Canal,” the womanrepeated.

“I see. You’re the half of the ownership teamthat isn’t in charge of dealing with customers.”

“Correct,” the woman said without thefaintest hint of an eyebrow to suggest she took reproach atAmaranthe’s dry tone.

Akstyr had moved away from the group, but hehad scarcely begun to search. Time for another tactic. Maldynadowas leaning against a post nearby, an amused smile on his lips. Shejerked her chin toward the woman.

Maldynado gave her a small bow and strolledforward. He crouched down so the woman could see past the clipboardto his face.

“Ms. Setjareth,” Maldynado drawled. “I’llwager you’ve got the prettiest smile this side of Wharf Street. Whydon’t you give me a demonstration so I can more properlyjudge?”

“If I tried a line like that, I’d get stabbedin the eye with a pen,” Books muttered.

“Ssh,” Amaranthe whispered. “Let the masterwork.”

“Master?” Books said. “Please.”

“There are less than ten females this side ofWharf Street,” Setjareth growled. “Not much of a competition.”

Amaranthe grinned. Though it wasn’t exactlyan instant melting, the woman didn’t order Maldynado to go away orleave her alone, so it was promising. There was no talk of stabbingeyeballs with pens either.

“Ah, but some of your stevedores might haveattractive smiles,” Maldynado said.

Setjareth snorted.

“Also my own employer stands a mere five feetaway.” Maldynado waved at Amaranthe. “Do you understand the risk Itake to my livelihood by suggesting your smile might be prettierthan hers?”

Setjareth’s snort was mellower this time witha slight upward curl of her lips. Amaranthe eased a few stepsbackward to let Maldynado ooze his charms in private. She shouldhave started with that.

“What are you doing?” Setjareth shouted.

The bellow startled Amaranthe, and at firstshe thought Maldynado had offended the woman, but that wasn’t it.Setjareth was pointing into a corner of the warehouse where Akstyrstood, a trapdoor in the floor lifted.

He offered a blank look in response to thequestion.

“Don’t worry about him.” Maldynado slung anarm over Setjareth’s shoulder and attempted to turn her about.“He’s a dull lad. Got run over by a steam carriage as a boy andhasn’t been strong in the head since. Harmless though. If-”

Setjareth shoved Maldynado’s arm from hershoulders and stalked toward Akstyr. “What’re you doing pokingaround my warehouse?”

Akstyr looked at Amaranthe. “Uhm.”

“Are you spying on our inventory?” Setjarethasked, voice rising. “Are you reporting to Lady Devirk orBucktooth?”

Several of the stevedores who had been ontheir way out the door to pick up more cargo stopped and turnedaround. Chests out, arms flexed and wide at their sides, themuscled men strode toward their boss.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Amaranthegrabbed Akstyr’s arm and tugged him away from the trapdoor. Shecaught a glimpse of a ladder and water less than a foot below.There was no way a boat could have waited down there. “I see you’renot interested in easy sales, and that’s your loss. We’ll leavenow.”

“Not until you answer some questions.”Setjareth snapped her fingers, and the stevedores loomedcloser.

Amaranthe’s instinct was to flee rather thanrisking injury to these people or her team, but Akstyr gave her aminute nod. He was onto something. Besides, it would be nice ifBooks realized he was capable of more than he gave himself creditfor. She counted the men. Eight of them against her four. Thanks totheir work, the stevedores were large and brawny, but they had thecultivated swagger of street bravos rather than the cool,competence of soldiers, and she doubted there were manydistinguished veterans among the bunch.

“You wish us to stay?” Amaranthe asked. “Verywell.” She gave her men a single nod.

Books blanched, but he did not object.Maldynado grinned. Akstyr gave his “whatever” shrug.

“Wants me to grab ‘em, boss?” One of thestevedores stretched a meaty hand toward Amaranthe.

She caught it by the wrist, twisted it over,and smashed the palm of her free hand into the back of the man’slocked elbow. He blurted a surprised yelp. She forced him to theground with a kick to the inside of his knee, and something poppedin his arm.

“My shoulder!” he bellowed.

Amaranthe yanked the knife at his belt freeand spun on a second man advancing upon her.

A few feet away, Maldynado had already thrownhimself into three others and gone down with them in a tangle.Despite the chaos of flailing arms and scissor-kicking legs, he wason top, seemingly in control. Akstyr, his dagger out, was tradingopening swipes with another man. Books had a blade in hand as well,though he crouched in a defensive stance, waiting for an opponentto advance on him, rather than jumping into the fray.

The man nearest Amaranthe lunged for her. Hehad chosen fists over blades, and he grabbed at her arm with hisright hand while drawing his left arm back for a blow. She blockedthe grasp, ducked the punch, and slammed the heel of her hand intohis solar plexus, twisting her hips to throw her entire body intothe move.

His hard sheath of muscle provided some armorfor his torso, but she hit her spot. He hunched over, clutching hischest. His mouth gaped open, but his stunned muscles denied himair.

Eyes huge with concern, he did not seeAmaranthe’s knee coming. She rammed it into his groin. His nosescraped his knees as his hunch turned into a collapse. The big manhit the ground and rolled into a protective ball next to the firststevedore Amaranthe had dropped.

That fellow lay on his back, eyes watering,his hand clutching a dislocated shoulder. He glowered at her andseemed to be considering whether to hurl himself back into thefight.

“I wouldn’t,” Amaranthe said. “I know how todislocate other body parts as well.”

He eyed his comrade who was still hunched onthe floor, grabbing at his groin and moaning. “I don’t doubt it,”the stevedore muttered.

Amaranthe checked on her men. Maldynado stoodnext to three bodies stacked on each other like Strat Tiles. He hadone foot atop the pile, as if to keep them pinned down, but none somuch as twitched in an escape attempt.

Nearby, blood trickled out of Akstyr’s nose,but he had dropped one man and was boxing with another. Akstyrdodged a swift series of punches, but barely. Though layers ofblubber sheathed the towering stevedore’s broad torso, he movedwith the speed and precision of someone who had been the recipientof training at one time.

“Need help?” Amaranthe asked.

The big man glanced in her direction.

Akstyr’s eyes narrowed in concentration. Heclenched a fist and flung it open again when his opponent turnedback.

Flesh never touched flesh, but the manstaggered back, arms wide, face stunned. With flexibility that hadgreatly improved over the last few months of training, Akstyrlaunched a straight kick that smashed the stevedore beneath thechin. The big man toppled backward, felled like an oak.

“That was good,” Akstyr told Amaranthe.

She did not know if he referred to thetimeliness of her brief distraction or his ability to employ themental sciences during a fight. The latter probably. He wasn’t thesort to praise anyone.

“Yes,” Amaranthe said, agreeing eitherway.

“Look out.” Akstyr pointed over hershoulder.

She ducked and slid to the side, avoiding astevedore’s attempt at a grasp. A knife glinted in his hand.

Books stalked after the man. Surprisingintensity burned in his eyes, and Amaranthe danced further awayfrom the confrontation, figuring this was the middle of somethingbetween the two men.

“You think you can grab her and use heragainst us?” Books growled as the stevedore spun back to face him.“I don’t think so.”

The man limped backward, hands raised, andAmaranthe wondered what Books had done to him.

Movement to the side distracted her from therest of the fight. Ms. Setjareth had discarded her clipboard andwas scurrying toward the door, steps short and awkward thanks tothose sandals.

Amaranthe ran over to cut her off. They didnot need the woman calling for reinforcements-many more stevedoresstill labored on the dock.

Setjareth tried to evade Amaranthe buttripped, sprawling face first onto the hard floor. Amaranthegripped the woman by the triceps and hauled her upright.

“One who has a personality that grates likeglass paper should probably choose footwear sufficient for fleeingfrom irritated people,” Amaranthe said.

“You’re no business woman,” Setjarethgrowled.

“Not true. I run a mercenary business.”

“What do you want?” Setjareth tried to yankher arm away.

Amaranthe did not let go. After skirmishingwith the brawny stevedores, restraining another woman was easy.“Tell the workers out there to take a ten-minute break, then closethe door.”

The woman leaned outside and filled herlungs. Recognizing the nascent scream for what it was, Amaranthegripped the back of Setjareth’s neck and dug her thumb into one ofSicarius’s favorite pressure points. The would-be scream came outas a soft whimper.

“Listen,” Amaranthe said. “Nobody’s planningto harm you or your business. We just need a few minutes to lookaround to make sure you’re not harboring fugitives.” She decidednot to point out that she was a fugitive herself.

“What?” Genuine bewilderment blossomed onSetjareth’s face.

“A couple of suspicious folks took refuge inyour warehouse last night.”

With the sounds of fighting fading, Amaranthechecked on her men. They had routed the impromptu security team andwere forcing the stevedores to sit against the wall in a neat row.Akstyr had returned to peering into corners and prodding atcrates.

“Maybe that’s why the lock was destroyed,”Setjareth muttered.

“What?” Amaranthe asked.

“When I came in this morning, the padlock onthe door was dangling open. It didn’t look like it’d been forced,and it still works.”

Amaranthe removed her hand from Setjareth’sneck. Akstyr knew a few atypical methods of bypassing locks; maybethe red-headed woman was a practitioner herself.

“First time this happened?” Amarantheasked.

“Yes,” Setjareth said. “I spent two hoursrunning inventory this morning.” That might account for some of herdourness. “Nothing was missing, and I didn’t find anyoneinside.”

“I’m sorry. Checking through all yourinventory must have made for a tedious morning.”

“Ancestors know that’s true.”

“And we must have fueled your suspicions,”Amaranthe said, thinking she might yet win the woman’s cooperationif she commiserated.

“You’re mercenaries, you say?” Setjarethasked.

Books, who had been supervising the disarmingand lining up of the men, looked in the women’s direction at thequestion. A grin played across his lips. Pleased with himself, washe? He had done well. No falling apart as he had done in thepast. Amaranthe smiled and nodded at him.

“More or less,” she told Setjareth.

“Do you have a card?”

“A what?”

“A business card. My partner and Ioccasionally have problems the enforcers are lax about solving.They’re professional and thorough when it comes to protectingcitizens, but much less enthusiastic when they’re tasked withprotecting a business’s interests.”

As illogical as it was, Amaranthe stillbristled at slights toward enforcers, but she had to admit thatmembers of the predominantly male force did sometimes showresentment toward the growing power women in the city wielded.Maybe she should tailor her services to fill that gap. As themen-especially Akstyr-were quick to remind her, charity work donein the name of the emperor didn’t pay well. Especially when theemperor never learned of that work….

Setjareth, waiting for an answer, lifted hereyebrows.

“Sorry, no card,” Amaranthe said. “We find itprudent to move our base of operations often, but…” She retrievedthe woman’s clipboard, scribbled the name and address of one oftheir contacts on a page, and tore it off. “Either one of thesefellows usually knows how to contact us. Uhm, take some of yourstevedores-the big ones-if you go to that neighborhood. And don’tgo at night. Or without some alcohol to bribe your way out of…”Amaranthe leaned over and scribbled the name out. “Actually, justgo to that fellow. It’s usually safer. And if you get there beforenoon, he’s usually sober.”

“You might want to think your contact chainthrough a little, dear,” Setjareth said.

“Yes, thank you.”

Since the woman no longer seemed inclined toscream for help, Amaranthe joined Akstyr to see what he had found.He had returned to the trapdoor and was peering down the ladderagain.

“Think they swam away?” she asked, though itseemed unlikely. Why go through the effort of breaking in when onecould simply dive off the end of the dock?

“There’s a residue here.” Akstyr swiped afinger along the edge of the square hole.

“Something physically visible?” Amaranthesquinted but saw nothing more interesting than algae sliming thetwo ladder rungs visible above the water’s surface.

“No, just a sensation. Someone used the-” heglanced about and lowered his voice, “-mental sciences. Rememberwhen that Mangdorian shaman flew out of the lake with Books andthere was a glimmering globe wrapped around them?”

“I was unconscious at the time, but Maldynadotold me the story, yes. You think this practitioner lady envelopedherself and Taloncrest in magic?” She almost choked at the idea ofa Turgonian army officer agreeing to such a mode of transportation,especially when the man had sneered at the idea of magic when he’dexplained his medical experiments in the Imperial Barracks dungeon.“If so, where did they go? For a flight? Or into the lake?”

“I didn’t see anyone fly away in a glowysphere,” Akstyr said.

“Glowing,” Books said.

“What?”

“Glowy isn’t a word.”

“Books…” Maldynado groaned. “I was gettingready to compliment you on doing a decent job in that fight andbeing less of a pedantic know-it-all, but you’re ruining myenthusiasm for the idea.”

“Impressive,” Books said.

“What is?”

“That you used the word pedantic.Correctly.”

“You’re always going to be a stodgyprofessor, aren’t you?”

Books’s eyes crinkled. “It does seemlikely.”

Amaranthe held up a hand to silence them.“Akstyr, are you suggesting the perpetrators have ahideout…in the lake?”

“I’m not wearing a diving suit again,” Bookssaid.

Amaranthe watched Akstyr, hoping he wouldsuggest another explanation, but he merely shrugged.

“Is it even possible to have a hideout on thebottom of the lake?” she asked Books.

“If we were talking about something madeentirely with imperial technology, I’d say no, but with magic…”He spread his arms. “I have no idea.”

“All right,” Amaranthe said. “This is allspeculation at this point. We need to find out if there’s anythingto it or not.”

“So…we need diving suits?” Booksgrimaced.

“Unless Akstyr knows how to make one of thosebubbles to steer us around the lake depths.”

“Nope,” Akstyr said. “I’d sure like to learnfrom someone who could though.”

“You’re not thinking of apprenticing yourselfto the enemy, are you?” Amaranthe teased, though it was not as muchof a joke as she pretended. She watched him carefully for areaction.

“Naw,” he said. “Not unless… Do you thinkshe’d have me?”

“She seems the type who would prefer a manwho could grow a real mustache,” Maldynado said.

“I can!” Akstyr probed his upper lip. “It’sgetting there.”

Amaranthe nodded to Books. “I know you’re notexcited by the idea, but I think we’re going to need those divingsuits. Can you do some research and see where we might getsome?”

Books sighed. “Why do I have the feelingnothing good is going to come of this?”

“Because you lack optimism?” Amaranthesuggested.

“That must be it.”