CHAPTER 16

Towering pines rose, their branches blocking the sky and turning the road into a twilight tunnel. The lorry shuddered and wobbled as it groaned up the steep incline.

Amaranthe sat cross-legged in the back, reading a newspaper they had picked up in the last of the tiny towns on the mountain. Across from her, Sicarius sat in an identical pose with his knives, a pistol, and a disassembled rifle lying on a towel before him. The rest of the men rode up front, taking turns driving and tending the firebox.

“This is interesting.” Amaranthe tapped a middle page of the paper. She had already read the news on the “epidemic” and promises that the water was fine. No need for alarm. The empire was taking care of everything, thank you very much. Nothing she had not expected. But this small story in the back… “Remember Farth Textiles? The Kendorian owner was taken into custody by the enforcers on suspicion of magic, and her business is being sold at an auction.”

Sicarius ran a bore brush through the barrel and blew out flecks of carbon.

“Why do I have a feeling she was set up?” Amaranthe said. “First Klume wanted you to assassinate the woman, and then we stumble across those thugs doing…we never did figure out what. I thought they might be stealing something, but if they’re linked to everything else—and they must be if they had the same death-causing bumps under their skin, right?—then they had to be up to more than petty theft. Maybe they were scouting the place in anticipation of a return trip, one where they would plant false evidence of magic. But why would the same people responsible for a Kendorian textiles plant folding want to foul the city water? Is Books’s theory right, and they want to build a dam on that other river, then sell the land to the empire all prettied up and ready to become the city’s new water source? Is all of this about profits?”

Sicarius ran an oiled rag along the outside of his barrel.

“It’s your turn to speak,” Amaranthe said.

“Have you attended to your weapons? If you intend to continue with the rifle instead of the crossbow, you need to clean it frequently to minimize malfunctions.”

She slumped against a pack. “Is that your way of telling me my theories are ludicrous and I should retire from the speculation game? Or were you just ignoring me?”

“No.” He handed her a cleaning kit.

Amaranthe chuckled and fished out her firearms to work on. He was probably right. Thinking and figuring things out were good, but getting killed because of a weapons malfunction would make all her thoughts meaningless. She kept the pistol loaded in case they ran into trouble, but disassembled the rifle to work on.

“Perhaps they intend it to be a privately owned dam,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe grinned. “I knew you were listening.”

“A private dam that the city was forced to use would put a lot of power into the hands of the owners.”

She tapped her bore brush against the rifle barrel thoughtfully. “But would someone be allowed to keep a private dam if the capital city relied upon it? The law says the emperor can go in and take land if he wants to.”

“If he has the power to act freely.” Sicarius laid down his work and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. After a glance toward the cab, where the men chatted, he spoke in a low voice, “With Hollowcrest and Raumesys dead, the only record of my mission in Mangdoria would be in the Imperial Intelligence Office in a locked filing cabinet. That this information is just coming out now is telling.”

“You think Forge or whoever we’re dealing with has a man inside? Someone working at odds with Sespian’s interests? Someone who might be a threat to him if he doesn’t comply?”

Sicarius bent his head and snapped the parts of his rifle back together with more vigor than the task required.

“You’d like to be in there with him, wouldn’t you?” Amaranthe said. “Standing at his side? Glaring at, or killing, anyone who gives him trouble.”

“That was the plan,” he said quietly.

Plan? How long ago had he first imagined that, she wondered. She turned her head to scratch an itch and caught Basilard gazing out the back of the cab at them. He looked away as soon as she met his eyes. She lowered her hand slowly. He could not have heard their conversation, not over the chugging of the engine. But he seemed more interested than usual. Because Mangdorians were involved?

“Yo, boss!” Maldynado called. “This fine mountain road is particularly well-maintained, don’t you think? Especially since it goes nowhere.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Amaranthe called back. “I looked over the map earlier, and there’s a recreational area and a small trapping community at the top. There’s some logging on the next mountain over, but it’s still original growth forest here. That in itself is odd considering our proximity to the capital.”

Despite the truck’s struggle with the incline, the road remained smooth with no potholes or gouges marring the concrete. Though branches grew overhead, lower ones had been cut back to ensure they did not impede a vehicle’s progress.

“We just going to keep driving until we reach the end?” Maldynado asked.

Something tan flashed from the trees behind Sicarius.

“Down,” Amaranthe barked, lifting the pistol and firing.

The ball took the cougar in the chest, but its momentum carried it into the lorry. Sicarius had rolled away before she voiced her warning, but she lost sight of him as the mass of fur filled her vision. She grabbed for a sword. Paws hit the floor of the bed, scattering the weapons and sending them out of reach.

Glowing eyes skewered her.

Claws flashed at her face. Amaranthe scrambled backward, and her shoulders rammed against the side.

Sicarius leaped in and plunged his black dagger downward. The sturdy blade crunched through the cougar’s skull, sinking to the hilt. The huge cat shuddered and dropped.

Amaranthe willed her heart out of her throat and pointed at the blade. “Clean that one extra well. It deserves the imperial treatment.”

She tried to push herself to her feet, but her palm slipped in blood. She thumped down, slamming her elbow on unyielding metal.

Sicarius gripped her other arm and pulled her up.

“Good shot,” he said.

“Thank you.”

She doubted the cougar would have landed on him before he sensed the attack and rolled away, but his simple praise warmed her. Though she had needed help to vanquish the darned cat, she was glad no accusation of acting like a footstool came from Sicarius’s lips this time. Indeed, he held her eyes for a long moment, and she thought a hint of appreciation lingered there.

“Amaranthe, are you all right?” Books scrambled out of the cab and looked her up and down.

The lorry had stopped, and the men piled into the back.

Maldynado put a hand on her shoulder. “Did you get gouged?”

As they surrounded her, Sicarius backed away. He retrieved his dagger with a yank.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her hands. “It jumped at Sicarius, not me. It came out of nowhere. Well, actually it came out of those trees over there.”

Even as she pointed that direction, Sicarius hopped to the ground and headed into the forest.

“More crazy glowy-eyed creatures?” Maldynado nudged the dead cougar. “Guess that means we’re heading the right direction.”

Amaranthe picked up the towel and wiped the blood off her hands. “So you’re saying this attack is good news, eh?”

“Maybe?”

“Let’s get this critter out of here,” she said. “Then you boys can fight over who gets to help me clean.”

They groaned in unison, all except Akstyr, who held up his book. “Not me, I’m on an extra important section. Need to keep studying.”

“I’m going to start learning magic so I can get out of work all the time,” Maldynado said.

“When do you do work as it is?” Books asked.

Amidst more sniping, the men rolled the cougar over the side and off into a ditch. Amaranthe risked Maldynado’s ire by using a bottle of his “safe water” for washing away blood. She paused. Blood stained the corner of the towel Sicarius had been using for weapons cleaning, and it held a faint glow.

At this point, she was not surprised, but she wondered again at the effects on people in the city, people who might still be drinking the water. Were these creatures worse off because they were closer to the source where the concentration might be denser? Or did these strange symptoms represent prolonged exposure?

Sicarius reappeared. “There’s nothing else in the forest, but there’s a road up ahead that isn’t on the map.”

They climbed back into the lorry and drove a quarter of a mile to a gravel lane veering to the right. A chain dangled between mossy posts on either side, and a rusty metal sign read: LOGGING CAMP.

“Could be nothing,” Amaranthe said.

“Could be a logging camp,” Akstyr said.

“A vehicle passed this way recently.” Sicarius, who had remained on foot, pointed to a muddy divot in the ground.

“Might as well check it out,” Amaranthe said.

Sicarius picked the lock on the chain, and the lorry turned onto the gravel road.

Overgrown branches slapped the cab and clawed at the sides. Amaranthe, sitting in the back, ducked frequently to keep pine-needle brushes from combing her hair. Sicarius did not return to the lorry. The bumpy road forced a slow pace, and he trotted ahead, sometimes in sight, sometimes not.

Miles rolled past. Amaranthe finished scrubbing the blood off the floor of the bed, tidied the gear, and loaded her weapons. As she worked, she tried to keep a watch on the woods as well, not sure what creature might leap out at them next.

Sicarius sprinted back to the lorry, arm raised for them to stop. The steam brakes squealed. Amaranthe grabbed the side to keep from being hurled on top of the gear.

“What’s wrong?” She jumped to the ground.

“There’s a lake ahead, and your soldiers are camped alongside it.” Sicarius’s gaze shifted to the black plumes of smoke rising from the lorry’s stack.

Amaranthe winced. The smoke probably wafted above the tree canopy. “Think they’ve spotted us?”

“If their man on watch is conscious,” Sicarius said.

“So there’s hope they haven’t?”

“Depends on whether the enforcers are in charge or the soldiers.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Was that a slur against enforcers?”

The men had joined them on the ground, and Maldynado leaned an elbow on her shoulder. “Motley lot. Good thing you’re not one of them any more.”

Sicarius glared at him. Maldynado removed his elbow.

“Park over there and cut off the engine,” Amaranthe said. “Everyone, grab your gear. We’ll take a roundabout route through the forest to get to the lake. Sicarius, lead please. Basilard, can you cover our trail?”

Basilard rubbed his head dubiously. Maldynado, Books, and Akstyr leave trail like marching army.

“Do your best,” she said, delighted he had not lumped her in with them.

The swiftness with which her team prepared and departed made her proud. Though they chatted—bickered—a lot, they were developing an efficient, professional streak.

Maldynado paused to pee on a fern, not bothering to turn his back or give himself any privacy.

“There’s a lady here, you crude troglodyte,” Books said.

“I know. That’s why I’m displaying my wares.” Maldynado winked at Amaranthe.

She sighed and amended her earlier thought. Her team might be efficient, but the term “professional” was a stretch.

Walking through the forest without the benefit of a trail proved more difficult than her city-raised mind had thought. Verdant underbrush and brambles clogged the ground between the trees. Branches protruded in every direction, snagging at her weapons and rucksack. Invisible strands of something—spider webs?—stretched across every other gap and stuck to her face.

A squirrel reared on an overhead branch and chattered at them.

Basilard thumped Akstyr on the chest, pointed at it, and signed: Watch out.

Akstyr scowled. “Not funny.”

Basilard grinned.

“What’s your sign for shut up?” Akstyr asked.

“Quiet,” Sicarius said.

He lifted a hand and stopped. Everyone hunkered down. Voices grew audible on the road behind them. They belonged to men, but distance muddled the words.

Though it would have been better not to have their vehicle discovered, Amaranthe was almost happy to hear the soldiers. Their presence validated her choice to take this arduous route.

The conversation continued for a while. They must have reached the lorry and were deciding what to do. Amaranthe’s thighs started to burn from crouching down. Sicarius could have continued on without making a noise, and perhaps Basilard as well, but she figured the group should remain still until the men left.

“Well, someone’s here,” one voice said, loudly and distinctly.

The other answered in a hushed tone.

As Amaranthe listened to the men, she wondered where the enforcer woman was and if she was in charge. She had enough rank to be the leader of the enforcer mission, but surely the soldiers would not obey her. They never would have obeyed Amaranthe anyway. She rolled her eyes at her thoughts. She should wait until she actually met the woman before growing jealous of her.

The voices faded. After a few moments, Sicarius waved for her team to continue.

Thanks to the absence of trails, it took an hour to push through to the lake where the trees gave way to reeds and marsh. A blue heron standing on one leg turned a malevolent glowing eye upon them. Amaranthe touched the hilt of her sword, but the creature did not attack.

“Guess this is the right place.” Maldynado nodded toward the leggy bird.

Beyond the wetlands, a blue lake gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Steep, valley slopes marked the northern and eastern boundaries while, to the south, a massive gray concrete wall stretched. A watch tower rose on either end. If men observed from within, Amaranthe could not see them. The roar of water drifted from beyond the wall.

“Waterton Dam?” she guessed.

“This is not on the map.” Books sounded affronted, as if he could not believe some cartographer had betrayed his integrity to misrepresent the mountain.

“The camp is over there.” Sicarius pointed toward a tree-filled peninsula between them and the dam. If the road they had been following had continued on straight, it would have come out there.

“Not a logging camp?” she asked dryly.

“No,” Sicarius said. “Tents and the enforcer vehicle.”

“Many people there?”

“Not immediately visible, but I came back to find you before scouting.”

The heron ruffled its wings and turned to face them squarely. Amaranthe wondered if a shaman could spy on people through an animal’s eyes.

“I sense something.” Akstyr stood, eyes closed, hands spread.

“Indigestion?” Maldynado asked. “You didn’t eat any of that glowing vomit, did you?”

Akstyr opened one eye and issued a cold glare Sicarius could not have topped. “It’s a presence, an…emanation. Yes, that’s the word. Like you feel handling that key fob from the gambling house.”

Amaranthe had felt nothing except warmth when she handled the fob, but she nodded for him to explain further.

“Much, much stronger though.” Akstyr closed his eyes again. “Like the difference in light between a star and the sun.”

“It’s a device?” Amaranthe asked. “Not a person?”

“A Made artifact, yes.”

“Is it what’s causing the problem with the water?” she asked.

“I can’t tell what it is or does, just that it’s here.”

Amaranthe turned to Sicarius and Books. “Thoughts?”

“Nothing natural is causing the peculiarities with the wildlife,” Sicarius said.

“Agreed,” Books said. “I don’t know much about magical devices—”

“Made artifacts,” Akstyr said.

“Right,” Books said. “I don’t know much about them, but it seems likely this is the source of our problems.”

“Where is this artifact?” Maldynado was lounging against a tree, exchanging glowers with the heron. The bird seemed transfixed by the feathered plume jutting from his hat—angry that some fellow bird had died for fashion? “We’ll send Amaranthe in with her pistol to shoot it like she did the other one.”

She sighed. She should not have shared the details of her brief incarceration in the gambling house.

“I think,” Akstyr said, “it’s at the bottom of the lake.”

“That sounds…problematic,” Amaranthe said. The steep walls of the valley, carved from glaciers long ago, probably extended below the water’s surface. She doubted this reservoir had many shallow spots.

Maldynado stroked his chin. “How long can you hold your breath, boss?”

“Even if it was a long time,” she said, “black powder doesn’t light underwater.”

“What’s the plan?” Sicarius asked.

Yes, time for action. “You, Basilard, and I will check the camp. Books, Akstyr, and Maldynado, I’m putting you on artifact-investigation duty.”

“Investigating something at the bottom of a lake will be difficult,” Books said.

“I agree,” she said. “That’s why I want your brain cogitating on how to do it.”

Books lifted his chin. “I understand.”

Maldynado snorted. “Books’s brain will probably tell him to give it a lecture.”

Books sneered at him.

“Books, you’re in charge of those two,” Amaranthe said. “Use them as you see fit.”

His irritated expression turned speculative, and a faint smile crept onto his lips. “In charge, you say?”

“Wait a minute.” Maldynado pushed away from his tree. “Books is in charge of me?”

Amaranthe waved his objection away. “Akstyr, get them as close as you can to the artifact. Books will figure out a way to take a look at it. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours, so you better get moving. I probably needn’t say it, but stay out of sight. The soldiers are here to investigate the same thing we are, and they may have patrols around the lake. Patrols that would be happy to shoot outlaws foolish enough to cross their path.”

The heron ruffled its wings, then flapped them and took off.