CHAPTER 18

The iron door opened soundlessly on oiled hinges, uncovering a narrow tunnel. Though night had fallen over the lake, a denser darkness waited within.

Amaranthe adjusted her rucksack and steeled herself. “Who’s got the lamps?”

Metal clanked as Maldynado and Basilard withdrew lanterns from their packs. Amaranthe checked her rifle, missing the familiar heft of her crossbow, but she feared these creatures would be even less affected by her quarrels than the forest animals. Best to take firearms. Or maybe cannons.

“Ready.” Maldynado held his lantern aloft.

“Let’s get in, find Books’s supplies, and get out as quickly as possible,” Amaranthe said. “We’ll let the soldiers handle the creatures.”

“If they can,” Akstyr muttered.

The tight passage would force them to walk in a single line. While Amaranthe was debating whether it would be pusillanimous to suggest she and her tasty female organs should let someone else lead, Sicarius headed in first. She thanked him silently and followed.

Inside the tunnel, the scent of mildew permeated the air. Maldynado’s broad shoulders brushed against the gray concrete walls. Rifles and rucksacks scraped and bumped in the confining space.

The passage sloped downward as they traveled deeper. Moisture beaded on the ceiling and rolled down the wall. In spots it dripped with such enthusiasm Amaranthe feared for their lanterns’ flames.

“Should this place be leaking this much?” Maldynado asked.

“This dam would have been constructed one segment at a time,” Books said, “leaving enough room between the joints to allow for the expansion and contraction of the materials in cold and warm weather. Some seepage is to be expected. See that drain in the floor? The design would have—”

“Yes,” Maldynado said, voice raised to cut Books off. “The answer to my question is yes.”

“Forgive me,” Books said. “I thought you might wish to educate yourself on something besides womanizing and drinking.”

“Not at this particular moment.”

Sicarius lifted a hand and stopped. Amaranthe thought he might tell the men to shut their mouths, but he tilted his head, listening.

Gunfire. The concrete and the omnipresent roar of water muffled it, but the sound was distinct. Multiple weapons firing.

“At least we know the soldiers are still alive,” she said.

“That’d be more reassuring if we didn’t have bounties on our heads,” Books muttered.

A deep, guttural bellow sounded in the distance.

“I don’t think that was a soldier,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe tried to see Basilard, who walked at the end of the line, but the men blocked her sight. Did he recognize the bellow? Was it one of the creatures?

Sicarius was the one to answer her unspoken questions. “Makarovi.” He met Amaranthe’s eyes. “Continue?”

She waved him forward. “We have to find Books’s tools.”

Less than a minute later, the tunnel ended in a large chamber, perhaps a cavernous one. The weak flames of their lanterns did little to pierce the darkness more than a few meters away. The walls and ceiling disappeared in blackness. Only the roar of water flowing over their heads proved barriers existed.

Rows of unfamiliar machines stretched ahead of them. Amaranthe could identify some of the parts—flywheels, pistons, and rotating shafts—but boilers and fireboxes were missing, so they were not steam-powered. Whatever purpose they served, they were not serving it now; they simply loomed, giant metal skeletons. Mazes of pipes ran along the floor between the machines, and some rose vertically, disappearing into the dark depths above.

“What are these machines, Books?” Amaranthe asked.

The men had eased from the tunnel and fanned out, weapons ready.

“I’m uncertain,” Books said.

“Two words I never thought I’d hear him string together,” Maldynado said to Akstyr, who muttered something back and snickered.

“Perhaps they’re powered by the water,” Books said. “Some experimental technology?”

Another bellow echoed from the depths ahead, or perhaps to the side. The walls and tunnels distorted sound. Amaranthe had the sense of a vast subterranean complex within this massive concrete tomb. She frowned, not liking that her mind had chosen that last word.

Sicarius strode toward a dark shape on the floor ahead of them. Amaranthe followed with a lantern. A faint odor of blood mingled with the pervasive mildew smell.

“Dead soldier,” Sicarius said before she drew close enough to identify the shape.

The flickering lantern light revealed parallel gashes across the man’s shoulder and neck, so deep they had nearly torn the head off.

Sicarius crouched for a closer look.

“Why do I always end up stumbling over decapitated bodies when I’m with you?” Amaranthe asked him.

Engrossed in his examination, he did not answer.

“He’s probably responsible for most of them,” Books muttered.

“Have you seen anything in here you can use to get us under the water?” she asked him.

“I’ll look.” Books took a couple of steps but paused when nobody followed him.

Maldynado, Akstyr, and Basilard were watching Sicarius, who was poking at one of the wounds with his knife. Amaranthe’s belly squirmed.

“Company would be appreciated,” Books said.

Maldynado ambled over and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Booksie, you’re not afraid to go off alone in the dark, are you?”

Books shucked the arm. “Of course not. Anything suitable to be used as a diving bell will be heavy. I’ll need someone large, muscle-bound, and brutish to lift it.”

“Maldynado’s your man,” Akstyr said.

“Akstyr is mocking me?” Maldynado pressed a hand to his chest. “That shouldn’t be allowed. He’s barely old enough to show a lady a good time.”

“Go.” Amaranthe shooed Books and Maldynado. “Take Basilard too. Akstyr, you’re with Sicarius and me. I want to know if there’s any magic about. We won’t go far.”

The three men took a lantern and shuffled away. Sicarius had finished his examination of the body.

“Makarovi?” Amaranthe asked.

“Yes.”

“It looks like this fellow was running toward the exit when it caught him,” Amaranthe said. “Shall we take a walk and see where he came from?”

Sicarius’s look reminded her they were supposed to be here for Books’s tools, not a monster hunt, but he led onward. He paused to pick up an army-issue rifle, the hammer uncocked. A bloody knife lay a few meters away.

“Looks like he got a couple of blows in before…” She waved toward the dead man.

“Yes, there are blood drops about,” Sicarius said. “Makarovi are difficult to kill.”

“Good thing we have Akstyr.” Amaranthe noticed the young man’s face had grown pale beneath his unshaven stubble. “Perhaps our fledgling wizard will have a few tricks for them.”

“You should have given me a book on monster slaying if you wanted that,” he said.

More bellows and gunfire sounded in the distance. Sicarius led them through the rows of machinery. Their lanterns reflected off the metal parts, creating tiny eyes in the darkness. Amaranthe found herself wishing for a window, even if it only gazed out upon a night-darkened river or forest.

“Ought to be gaslights in here somewhere…” She trailed off as a new stench came to her nose. Rotting flesh.

“Ungh,” Akstyr grunted.

As they continued forward, the odor grew stronger. Breathing through her mouth did not help as much as Amaranthe wished it would.

Sicarius paused and faced a snarl of pipes and machinery.

“Light,” he said.

Amaranthe handed him the lantern.

He raised it and stepped closer. The light revealed…too much.

A woman in the shredded remains of a city worker’s uniform hung over a horizontal pipe, her back bent in an impossible arch. Her torso was split open, her insides ravaged. No, Amaranthe corrected, feasted upon.

Bile rose in her throat. She ripped her gaze away, turned her back, and bent over her knees. She gasped for air, not wanting to vomit. The sight she could block out, but the stench surrounded her. The air was too close, too confining.

Nearby, somebody retched. Akstyr. She clasped a hand over her own mouth, fighting the reflex to do the same.

Sicarius rested his hand on her shoulder. Amaranthe closed her eyes, and forced calmness into her breaths. Like him.

After a moment she found, if not detachment, control.

She nodded to Sicarius. “I’m all right.”

He went for a closer look at the corpse. Akstyr wiped a sleeve across his mouth. If he had been pale before, he was white now. Though apparently too shaky to make an excuse, he avoided her eyes. She was glad for his presence. While she appreciated Sicarius, especially his support, his unflappability sometimes made her feel too human. Too weak.

“This happened more than a week ago,” Sicarius said when he returned to her side.

“When things were just getting started.” Amaranthe gestured for him to continue onward. She did not want to linger where the stench hung so thickly.

They soon reached another narrow tunnel identical to the one that had brought them into the large chamber. Sicarius paused before the last machine and plucked a tuft of fur off a protruding lever. He sniffed it, then handed it to Amaranthe.

Though smelling fur could do little enlighten her, she obliged him by inhaling. Earthy, musky, and distinct. Her recently riled stomach churned anew at the hint of blood.

“That’s their smell?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“It sounds like you’ve encountered them before. Personally.”

“Once.”

“On your—” she glanced at Akstyr and lowered her voice, “—mission to Mangdoria?”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“Did it attack you? And you killed it?”

He turned his back to Akstyr. “It chased me out of the mountain pass. I sunk several of my throwing knives into its face and torso, but it kept coming. I eventually climbed a cliff where it could not follow to escape it.”

“Oh.”

They need not have worried about Akstyr overhearing. He wore a distant expression and faced away from them, toward some corner or object hidden by darkness.

“How did our ancestors kill them?” Amaranthe asked.

“Battles of attrition,” Sicarius said. “If you drive enough holes into them, they’ll eventually die, but even head shots are not certain to kill. They have blubber and skulls thick enough to withstand firearms and bows. There are stories of cannons being used. A couple of drownings. Their density makes them poor swimmers.”

Amaranthe perked up. “Poor swimmers? We’re surrounded by water. Maybe we could convince them to jump in.”

Sicarius grunted dubiously.

A rifle fired. Here, at the tunnel entrance, the noise was louder than it had been earlier. She eyed the stygian passage, debating whether to go deeper.

“If they catch your scent,” Sicarius said, “you won’t be able to escape them, and we lack the firepower to stop them.”

“Right,” Amaranthe said. “Let’s check the rest of this chamber and see if there’s anything of interest.” Such as giant vats of water they could use to drown monsters.

“This way,” Akstyr said, surprising her.

Before she could ask why, he strode to the left, following the wall away from the tunnel. His head was up, almost like a hound following a scent.

Shrugging, Amaranthe trailed after him. His senses led him past a broken machine, its flywheel torn off and bolts scattering the floor. They came to a corner, and she thought Akstyr would turn to follow the new wall, but he stopped and pressed his palms against the concrete.

Amaranthe shifted from foot to foot while Sicarius stood guard. A distant flame glowed, visible between a pair of thick vertical pipes. She assumed the lantern belonged to Books and the others. If they were standing still, perhaps they had found something useful.

“Something Made behind here,” Akstyr said, dropping his hands.

“You’re not sensing the thing at the bottom of the lake, are you?” Amaranthe asked. “We’ve descended below the surface of the water.”

“Wrong side,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe retraced their route in her mind. He was right. This wall stood between them and the waterfall side of the dam, not the lake side.

“It’s a similar feel, but smaller,” Akstyr said. “Less energy and…there are more devices.”

“More magical devices?”

“Intricate ones, yeah.”

“Somebody’s got an active hobby shop going.” Amaranthe touched the wall. It thrummed with the power of thousands of gallons of water flowing overhead, but she could sense nothing else.

“A master Maker,” Akstyr said, his tone reverent. “I can tell from the sophistication of the work. I can’t wait to get a look at the artifact in the lake. I bet it’s brilliant.”

“So…” Amaranthe said. “You think our opponent is some genius craftsman who’s probably a lot smarter than any of us.”

“Daunted?” Sicarius asked quietly.

“Of course not. You know I like a challenge.” She wondered if her confident smile was at all convincing.

They explored the chamber further and found more machinery and more dead bodies: some fresh—soldiers—and some not—dam employees. They came upon the rest of the team in an alcove on the lake-side of the chamber. Basilard, Maldynado, and Books bent over crates, their backs to the entrance. Piles of tubing, tools, and smashed wooden casks scattered the floor, as well as boots and a heap of leather material or perhaps clothing.

Amaranthe cleared her throat.

The men jumped. A large, brass helmet clanked to the floor.

“Watch,” Sicarius said.

Nobody misinterpreted the single word. Basilard grabbed his rifle, jogged to the corner, and put his back against the wall to stand guard.

“Sorry. We got distracted.” Books waved to encompass the alcove. Pegboards full of tools hung from the walls and equipment cluttered workbenches. “This place is perfect.”

Amaranthe shrugged. “You’re the ones who’ll get eaten if a makarovi sneaks up on you.”

“But, we’ll look extra fine when they come.” Maldynado plucked the helmet off the floor and deposited it over his curls. It engulfed his head and neck, and a stiff, leather bib extended a couple of inches down his chest and upper back. A glass faceplate in the center allowed a view of his broad grin. Hinges, bolts, and flat cylinders sticking out at the ears made him look like something that had crawled out of a scrap pile at a smelter. “What do you think?” he asked, voice muffled. “Fetching, eh?”

“You look like a discarded toy built by a drunken automata maker,” Books said.

“Huh?” Maldynado ticked a fingernail against an ear cylinder. “Hard to hear in here.”

“You look great,” Amaranthe said. “The ladies at the Pirates’ Plunder will be sure to give you special rates.”

“Special high rates,” Akstyr said.

Maldynado tugged the helmet off. “The right person could make brass fashionable.”

“What is all this?” Amaranthe asked.

Books took the helmet from Maldynado, tossing in a shoulder shove to butt him out of the way. “Diving gear. Helmets, body suits, and even gloves. I wasn’t hoping for anything this ideal, but it makes sense that workers would have to be able to go out and inspect the dam from time to time.”

“You mean we can put those on and go down to the bottom of the lake?” Dare she hope it would be that easy?

“Well, there’s a problem.”

Ah, she knew it.

Books nudged one of the shattered casks. “The suits are more advanced than what I’ve read about, and I’m not positive how everything works, but I believe these are—were—for supplying air. They’ve all been destroyed.”

“Whoever stuck that device on the lake bottom probably didn’t want people visiting it,” Amaranthe said.

“I imagine not.” Books scratched his jaw. “But there’s a lot of tubing in that crate over there. Naval diving is done with surface supplied air. Perhaps with time I could rig something up. Enough for two suits anyway.”

“Take whatever and whomever you need to help,” Amaranthe said.

“Akstyr definitely needs to go down,” Books said.

“And see the artifact up close?” Akstyr grinned and plucked a helmet out of a crate. “Nice.”

“And probably me as well.” Books sighed.

“Not me?” Maldynado reached for the helmet in Books’s hands.

“No.” Books wrapped his arms more tightly about it. “Akstyr knows about magic, so he must go. And I know…everything else.”

Maldynado snorted. “Fine, then I can stay up top and watch. I want to see these things working.”

“I require a serious and trustworthy assistant up above, watching over things.”

“You insult me, Books,” Maldynado said. “More than usual.”

“Take Basilard instead,” Amaranthe said. “As for the rest of us, shall we go back outside and help Books or go find…” The soldiers? The makarovi? The new magical doodads Akstyr sensed?

“Trouble?” Sicarius suggested.

“That’s…probably a word that encompasses everything I’m thinking of,” she admitted.

“Was not the plan to leave the makarovi for the soldiers?” he said.

“That was before we knew about the additional magic. And if they’ve sent for reinforcements, they may really need our help.”

“Amaranthe,” Sicarius said, voice low. The others had turned back to the equipment, all save Basilard who remained on watch, attention outward. Sicarius drew her to the side. “If there are many makarovi, we’ll not be able to defeat them.”

“We’ll think of something. Besides, wouldn’t it be great if we could do something heroic right in front of the soldiers?”

“Heroics get people killed,” Sicarius said.

Clanks sounded as Akstyr and Maldynado rummaged in a new crate.

“They get people noticed too.” Amaranthe held his gaze but did not sense any give behind his eyes. “We’ll be fine. We have a well-trained group of men with unique talents and skills.”

“Ouch, ouch, get it off!” Maldynado hollered.

He was hopping about with a hand clamp hanging from…ah, that was a nipple. Amaranthe dropped her face into her hands.

“Oops,” Akstyr said.

Amaranthe avoided Sicarius’s gaze as she helped Maldynado unfasten himself. “Need anything else, Books? How long will it take you to set up?”

He lifted a hand. “I should not wish to make promises about time or even success. If that artifact is as deep as Maldynado believes, we may have trouble with water pressure. Bones and muscle can hold up, but air-filled spaces in our bodies, such as the ears and lungs—”

“Books,” Maldynado groaned.

“If we do go in, we should walk in from the shore and gradually let our bodies acclimate. Likewise, it could be hazardous to come up quickly.”

“All right,” Amaranthe said. “Go get set up. You can wait for us to return to go into the water. I don’t want you somewhere vulnerable without lots of help up above to ensure you’re kept safe.”

Books blew out a relieved breath. “Good.”

“Of course, if we all get eaten, you’ll have to do it on your own,” she said.

Books’s relieved expression turned to a worried frown. Even Sicarius gave her a dark stare.

Amaranthe patted Books on the arm. “We’ll be careful.”

She headed for the main chamber, but Maldynado paused and pointed at Books.

“Watch out for the giant man-sized catfish while you’re down on the lake bottom. I hear they’re carnivorous.”

Books scoffed. “Those are stories told by uneducated rural mountain folk, nothing more.”

“Sure, Booksie. You believe what you want to believe. Just make sure to take a sword down there. Can’t fire a rifle underwater, you know.”

“You’re a bastard at times,” Amaranthe told Maldynado when he fell in beside her. Sicarius was already leading the way toward the tunnel.

“Yup, but he deserved it. I wouldn’t have done anything unsafe when he was underwater.”

“Perhaps it’s your insouciant manner that leads others to believe you shouldn’t be placed in positions of responsibility.”

“Yes,” Maldynado said, “but I thought Books bright enough to see past a man’s painstakingly cultivated levels of insouciance.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

“Are you saying you have hidden depths?”

Maldynado scratched an armpit. “Naturally.”

“Hm,” was all she said.

The new tunnel, too, dripped copious amounts of water and stank of mildew. It continued to slope downward and soon came to a T-section. A faint draft of fresh air whispered from the right. Maybe that passage led to the top of the dam where those towers perched.

“Left,” Amaranthe said when Sicarius paused. “Akstyr’s magic is that direction, right?”

Wordlessly, Sicarius headed left. They reached a doorway in the side of the tunnel. Inside lay a small room with a panel on a wall, hanging diagrams, a desk and chair, and a series of levers.

Amaranthe unclasped a bolt and pushed on the panel. It slid sideways, opening a window of sorts. The roar of water intensified, and cool misty air gusted inside, spraying dampness onto her face. A panoply of stars gleamed in a clear, black sky, while a quarter moon shone silver on three streams of water pouring from flood gates open beneath them. A half a dozen more closed flood gates marked the dam wall.

Maldynado joined her. “Looks like we found the control room.”

“I wonder how they open and close those heavy gates.” Amaranthe leaned out and twisted her neck to peer upward, but whatever mechanism did the work was hidden in the walls.

“Here.” Sicarius stood behind them, an eye toward the exit, but he pointed at one in a series of diagrams on the wall.

Amaranthe studied it. “Ah, I see. Those things on the top of the dam aren’t watchtowers after all. Or at least they’re not just watchtowers.”

The diagram showed cranes housed in each structure with cables that could pull up the heavy gates. The next display riveted her attention for longer. It displayed vertical and horizontal lines—pipelines—and the topography of the surrounding area, all the way down to Stumps and the lake.

She ran her finger along the diagram. “This pipe routes water to the aqueducts that lead into the city. These go to fields. The river itself flows south and empties into Little Sister Lake over one hundred miles from the capital. Whichever emperor was in charge when this was built sure didn’t mind making a lot of extra work for people.”

“Isn’t that every emperor that’s ever existed?” Maldynado asked. “Making work, that’s their job, isn’t it?”

“Are warrior-caste men allowed to make snide remarks about our rulers?” Amaranthe poked into the desk drawers, hoping for something illuminating.

“They are if they’re disowned with bounties on their heads.”

She spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the floor behind a desk leg and grabbed it. “Hm.”

“Is that a page from the dastardly villain’s diary?” Maldynado asked. “One carelessly dropped that conveniently reveals the secret to destroying these vile artifacts?”

“It’s an invoice.”

“Villains get bills?”

“It’s the invoice for the appraisal on Hagcrest’s land,” Amaranthe said. “The woman must have brought it up here to meet with her client, expecting to get paid…”

“And she got a knife across the throat. Who would have thought being an appraiser could be a deadly line of work?”

Amaranthe tucked the paper into her pocket, though it held nothing so helpful as a name and address for the person who ordered the appraisal.

Rifle shots cracked, clear and close.

“Guess the dam tour is over,” Maldynado said. “Too bad. I liked this room. Fresh air, a good view…”

“No corpses,” Amaranthe said.

“That did improve the general ambiance.”

Sicarius was already heading back into the tunnels.

“Time to see what they’re firing at,” she murmured.

They did not walk far before the darkness ahead changed from black to a greenish gray. Amaranthe frowned at the unnatural hue. No lantern could be responsible for that.

Moist, guttural snorts and snarls filled the air. A stench wafted from ahead: blood again, along with the musky, earthy odor of that fur. Amaranthe’s grip tightened on her rifle. It was not too late to back out, to leave the soldiers to their fate. If her team destroyed the artifact, that would be enough, wouldn’t it?

Agitated voices murmured, barely audible over the animalistic sounds.

“Hurry up,” someone said.

Sicarius paused. Amaranthe stood on tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. A few paces ahead, the tunnel changed from an enclosed passage to a metal walkway, open on one side.

“Let me by,” she whispered.

Sicarius did not, though he moved forward. He stopped again as soon as they stepped onto the metal grating of the walkway.

To their left, the wall continued, but to the right, a dim chamber opened up with a floor twenty-five or thirty feet below them. A massive pipe, perhaps twenty feet in diameter ran through the chamber parallel to the walkway. Ten soldiers stood or crouched atop it. They were busy reloading their rifles and watching huge, bulky creatures that milled on the floor. Lanterns perched between the soldiers, but the source of the sickly green light was a small, flat glowing device attached to the top of the pipe. Men knelt on either side, tools out, trying to disarm it or perhaps pry it loose.

Amaranthe pictured the schematic from the control room. “That’s the pipe leading to the city.”

“Figures.” Maldynado had come up behind them. He was tall enough to observe over her head. “Those the makarovi down there?”

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

The shadows made it hard to count, and the great pipe hid the back half of the chamber, but Amaranthe guessed at least six beasts prowled, each one more than ten feet tall.

Without warning, one leaped. It made it to the top, but could not gain purchase on the smooth, sloping side of the pipe. It hung, claws squealing as it tried to dig in.

A soldier fired a rifle at its face. The creature dropped. It landed on its feet, shook itself like a dog recovering from a smack on the nose, then began stalking about again.

“I guess it does take a cannon to drop one,” Amaranthe whispered.

“I knew we were forgetting something,” Maldynado said.

“Though…if they can be drowned, we might not need a cannon.” She nibbled on a fingernail, thinking of Sicarius’s earlier words and the diagrams in the control room.

“Whatever scheme you’re concocting,” Sicarius said, “remember there are several down there. Several who will go after you first and be impossible to deter once they get your scent.”

“Funny they haven’t noticed her yet,” Maldynado said.

“Yes,” Sicarius said. “It must be the collars.”

Collars? Amaranthe squinted into the gloom.

A second makarovi leaped, hurling itself toward the soldiers tinkering with the glowing box. One man jerked back and almost fell off the opposite side of the pipe. Only a reflexive grab from his comrade saved him.

Three rifles fired, and the creature dropped out of sight again, but not before Amaranthe, watching for it this time, glimpsed the collar. Partially hidden by the shaggy black fur, the silver chain wrapped the makarovi’s neck like a choker.

“Now there’s a sexy look for the homeliest beast in the mountains,” Maldynado muttered.

“The collars are magical?” she asked, figuring they had found the multiple devices Akstyr sensed.

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“Who’s there?” a soldier called. He faced the walkway, rifle gripped in both hands. The wan green light illuminated crossed muskets embroidered on his sleeve, the rank of a sergeant.

“Is it the enforcers?” another asked while Amaranthe debated how to answer.

“Did you get the rest of the garrison to come up here?”

“Ssh,” the sergeant said, his gaze never turning from Amaranthe and her men. “It’s too soon to be them.”

He lifted his rifle, not yet aiming it at her, but the barrel pointed at the walkway below her feet.

Sicarius tried to draw her back into the tunnel where the walls would protect them from fire, but she braced herself with a hand on the corner.

“We’re from the city,” she called. “Can we help?”

The snarls intensified below, and the makarovi shuffled closer to the walkway below her. Something seemed to stop them, though, some invisible pull. It drew them back to the pipe below the glowing box.

“Who are you?” the sergeant asked again, brow furrowed. “Random people from the city don’t know about this dam.” His finger flexed on the trigger.

“Maybe she’s the one behind all this,” another said. “Some witch who made these slagging contraptions.”

“No,” Amaranthe said. “We’re just typical imperial citizens, but we can help. We have weapons.”

“We have weapons too,” one of the men fiddling with the box said. “They’re not doing much.”

“We are running low on ammo,” someone muttered, so quietly Amaranthe almost missed it.

“We talked to Sergeant Yara,” she said, hoping the soldiers would prove more amenable if she implied she knew their ally. “She said you needed help.”

“She told you to come in here?” The sergeant stared, mouth slack. “You know what these things do to women?”

“We saw,” Amaranthe said. Even as they spoke two beasts broke away from the pipe again and drew closer to her. Moist snuffles and smacking lips assaulted her ears. The creatures’ stench floated up, stronger than ever. “We have a man who may be able to disarm that device.” Maybe if they hurried back to the machine room, she could catch Akstyr before he went outside with Books and Basilard.

“Help disarm a magical device?” The sergeant scowled. “That’s an unlikely skill for ‘typical imperial citizens.’ Who are you?”

She hesitated. They might believe Sicarius ecumenical enough to help, but they would never let him. He was watching her, and he shook his head once when she met his eyes. All right, she would simply tell them her name. She could bring Akstyr out, and Sicarius could stay in the shadows.

“My name is—”

Sicarius gripped her arm. “Do not—”

One of the creatures below jumped and hit the bottom of the walkway. The floor heaved, and Amaranthe stumbled back. Claws slipped through the grating. One bear-like paw gripped the edge of the walkway. Sicarius stomped on it, then stepped back, joining her in the tunnel mouth.

His boot had no effect on the makarovi, and it continued to cling to the bottom of the walkway. Its lower half thrashed as it tried to pull itself up. Another creature jumped, banging its head. The walkway trembled and shuddered.

Maldynado brushed past Amaranthe. He lowered his rifle so the barrel poked through the grate, and he fired into the makarovi’s eye. The orb exploded, splattering liquid. The creature dropped. For a moment, the scent of black powder overpowered the animal stink.

Amaranthe expected—hoped for—the thing to die, but it rose again after it hit the ground.

“You better get out of here, woman,” the sergeant said. “These things aren’t fierce bright, but you might excite them enough to figure out the way from the lower level to the upper. And we don’t want them where they can jump across and get to us. We’ve got to…” He waved at the device.

While Maldynado reloaded his rifle, Amaranthe mulled. She could retrieve Akstyr to work on the device, but only if the soldiers allowed them onto the pipe. However Akstyr’s knowledge of magic would make him suspect in their eyes and perhaps earn him a quick death. She had to win the sergeant over somehow. If—

Sicarius bent over the rail, distracting her from her thoughts. He sighted down his rifle and shot a makarovi. The creature’s collar snapped, and the broken band clanked to the floor.

The soldiers murmured. Sicarius withdrew into the tunnel to reload.

“How’d he manage that shot in the dark? Who is that over there?”

Amaranthe was too busy watching the creature to answer. As soon as it was free of the collar, it bolted to her corner of the chamber. It jumped, claws scraping at the metal grating. Saliva flung from its jowls, spattering the wall. As soon as it fell, it leaped again. It snorted and whined in frustration, unable to reach its target—her. For the moment. If there was another way up…

For the first time, true fear clutched Amaranthe’s heart, and she had to fight to stay there instead of fleeing back outside. “Any particular reason you did that?” She meant her tone to sound casual, not terrified, but the last word cracked.

“To see if it was possible,” Sicarius said. “Without the collars, they’ll return to the wilds eventually.”

“Eventually.”

“Look.” The sergeant pointed at the makarovi trying so hard to reach her. “It’s stopped being a guard dog for this ancestors-cursed contraption. It’s acting more like a normal hungry predator now. An agitated hungry predator denied its favorite food.”

“Lovely way to put it,” Amaranthe said.

“Sergeant.” One of the soldiers leaned close to his leader and whispered in his ear.

“We should try to get the rest of those collars off,” a corporal said. “It’ll be easier to figure out that device without those bastards leapfrogging over each other, trying to get to us.”

“Wait!” Amaranthe said, a plan solidifying in her head, a plan that would be much easier to implement if they only had to face one makarovi at a time. “I have an idea how to kill them. If you leave the collars in place for just a half an hour, I can—”

“Are you sure?” the sergeant asked, responding to his soldier’s whispered comments. He squinted into the gloom on the walkway, eyes toward the tunnel and Sicarius.

“Uh oh,” she muttered. “I think they figured out who—”

Sicarius brushed past her and stepped onto the walkway again. He ignored the leaping makarovi below him and, in one swift motion, brought his rifle up and shot the device.

The ball clanged off without damaging it or diminishing the glow. The soldiers near it fell to their bellies in surprise.

Amaranthe jumped, almost as startled.

“You lunatic!” the sergeant yelled. “You could have shot one of us.”

“Unlikely,” Sicarius said.

“It is Sicarius,” one said.

“Fire!” the sergeant yelled.

Atop the pipe, all the soldiers lifted their rifles, sights seeking Sicarius. This time, Amaranthe went with him when he pulled her back into the tunnel. A rifle cracked and the ball slammed against the wall above the walkway.

“Give us a half an hour,” Amaranthe called into the chamber without poking her head around the corner. “Don’t shoot off any more collars!”

Nobody answered. She hoped the soldiers listened to her, though that seemed unlikely now.

“You need to stop taking Cold and Flinty here with you when you’re trying to talk people onto our side,” Maldynado told Amaranthe.

“We’ve talked enough.” Sicarius strode back the way they had come, reloading the rifle as he went.

“He’s such a warm fellow,” Maldynado said. “Can’t see why people try to kill him so often.”

Amaranthe trotted after Sicarius—why was she always running after that man?—and caught up with him in the machine room. Books and the others had cleared out of the alcove. She would have to get Akstyr to look at the device later.

“Where are you going?” Amaranthe had to jog to keep up. “I have a plan.”

Sicarius did not slow down. “Telling a room full of armed soldiers our names should not be part of it.”

Ah, so that was why he was miffed. “I wasn’t going to give them your name, just mine. And they figured it out on their own anyway. It doesn’t matter. They have to know who we are if the emperor is to find out about our work.”

“Leave them a note afterwards.”

He entered the narrow tunnel and she could no longer walk beside him. She stopped. Her plan did not involve leaving yet.

Maldynado caught up and patted her on the shoulder. “Problem, boss?”

“I don’t think he appreciates my strategy of obtaining information and making friends by talking to people.”

“Probably because it doesn’t work on him.”

Her first inclination was to argue that it did work on him, somewhat, but the splinters of information she teased from Sicarius would not impress any interrogators. And whether or not he would call her a friend was no sure bet either.

“Coming?” Sicarius asked from the shadows.

She had not realized he was still there. “We’ve work to do here.”

“The soldiers can shoot the rest of the collars off,” Sicarius said. “You don’t want to be nearby when they’ve completed that. We should assist with destroying the lake artifact. It may be unnecessary to remove the other if the first is nullified.”

“That still leaves a pack of makarovi alive and roaming the dam. How will the soldiers get off that pipe? They’re running out of ammunition, and what they have isn’t effective anyway. I want to get rid of the makarovi.”

“How?”

“Yes, how?” Maldynado asked.

“Lure them up top one at a time, use those cranes that open the floodgates to hook the creatures, and dump them over the side of the dam. If they truly have trouble swimming, they’ll drown. Even if they don’t, they’ll probably travel miles downriver before they escape the water. That’ll leave them far from the dam in unpopulated wilderness.”

“That’s…a crazy plan, boss,” Maldynado said.

“Too dangerous,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe gave them her best smile. “We can do it. Look who I have with me: the deadliest assassin in the empire and the best duelist in the city.”

Maldynado lifted a finger. “Which of those professions was supposed to prepare us for hooking giant man-eating monsters with cranes?” He turned to Sicarius. “Did you learn that in little assassins school? Because I don’t remember that lesson from the fencing academy.”

“You’re both agile and smart,” Amaranthe said. “That’ll be enough. Besides, we’ll just lure one up at a time, snare it from the safety of the tower, and then go back for the next.”

“Lure,” Sicarius said, tone flat.

“How?” Maldynado asked.

Amaranthe swallowed. “Since I’m the most appealing bait, I figure that will be my job.”

“That’s a bad idea, boss,” Maldynado said. “We won’t be able to get them off you. Our rifle balls are bugging them less than mosquito bites.”

Though Sicarius said nothing, the way he crossed his arms over his chest and glared let her know his opinion.

“Maldynado, give us a moment, please,” Amaranthe said.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just go hang out with one of the corpses.”

“We won’t be able to draw them into reach without bait,” she said after Maldynado moved away.

“I’ll do it,” Sicarius said.

She supposed it was cowardly, but she was tempted to agree. She was a decent athlete, but she could envision all too many scenarios in which she could trip at the wrong time and be overcome by a snarling beast. But, no. She could do it. “Unless you’ve been keeping even more secrets from me than I thought, I’m the more logical choice to attract them.”

“No.”

“It makes sense.”

“You’re not—”

“Fast enough? Strong enough? Agile enough?” She did not necessarily disagree, but she wanted him to have faith she could do this.

“Expendable,” Sicarius said.

“Oh.” She blinked. “Because you care and would miss me or because nobody else would be around to come up with these crazy schemes if I weren’t here?”

“It would be…” The lantern light kept his angular features in shadow, but they seemed to soften an iota. “Inconvenient.”

“We better set this up so there’s no chance of me dying then. Coming to help?” She pointed back toward the T-section where she guessed the unexplored tunnel led to the higher levels. Maldynado yawned and scuffed his feet a few meters away.

“One more concern,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe met his eyes. “Yes?”

“Removing the collars. It’s likely the person who placed them there will sense their dormancy.”

“And come to check on his guard dogs?”

“Yes.”

“We’d best hurry then.” Her smile was grim.