CHAPTER 21

Pain brought tears to Amaranthe’s eyes before she opened them. Her breath snagged, and she reached for her abdomen. Her fingers scraped against rough bandages, an act that brought more pain. She yanked her hand away. She tried to draw in a deep inhalation to calm herself, but that hurt too. As she opened her eyes and struggled to focus them, she settled for short, shallow breaths.

She lay on her back. Bare branches stretched below a gray sky promising rain. Daylight had come, though she could not guess whether it was morning or afternoon.

Something touched her cheek. She turned her head slowly since her neck, too, had complaints.

Sicarius sat cross-legged beside her. Relief flooded her at seeing him alive—and at being alive herself.

He lifted his hand, seemed not to know where to put it, and settled for resting it on her shoulder. Though the pain dampened her humor, she managed a smile. “I must look really bad…if you’re deigning to touch me.” It hurt to speak, and her voice rasped like sandpaper on wood.

His eyebrows rose infinitesimally.

“You usually only do that in combat practice.” She kept her voice soft so she need not take big inhalations. “Or to pull me out of the way…because I’ve gotten myself in trouble.”

His jaw flexed, and Amaranthe regretted the last sentence. He might feel he should have been faster and pulled her out of the way this time.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Her ancestors knew it was not his fault she had nearly died. He had tried to stop her from the ludicrous plan.

“For what?” He spoke quietly. His gaze flicked toward the lake.

The susurrus of men’s voices came from that direction. A conversation, not casual but argumentative. There was still trouble. Amaranthe would ask what it was soon, maybe even attempt something ambitious, like sitting up, but she wanted another quiet moment before the need to plan overwhelmed her. Besides, there was a hint of downward pressure from Sicarius’s hand, as if he knew about, and did not approve of, her thoughts to sit up and get involved.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “for risking all our lives on something that we could have left for others to handle, for getting mauled, and for being a burden. I should have listened to you. Next time I will. I’ll…acquiesce to your wisdom.”

His eyes crinkled. “You will not.”

“No, I will. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Doubtful.” Was that a smile on his lips? Ever so slight? If so, it faded quickly.

“Akstyr did his best to close your wounds,” Sicarius said, “but he detected the beginnings of an infection.”

“Those makarovi claws did look dirty.” She smiled, though Sicarius’s tone, even grimmer than usual, warned her worse news was coming.

“The knowledge of how to heal it is beyond him. He did better than I expected, but he lacks experience.”

“Well, I’m tough. I bet my blood schemes just as much as my brain, and it’ll figure a way to destroy any pesky infections.”

Sicarius said nothing. He always said nothing, but this time he avoided her eyes, and she had no trouble reading his silence: he thought she was dying.

“She’s awake!” Maldynado blurted. “She’s alive!”

Footsteps pounded her way. Maldynado, Basilard, and Akstyr knelt around her. Sicarius stood and backed away.

“Boss, are you all right?” Maldynado asked. “How do you feel?

Amaranthe blushed, feeling foolish to have gotten herself in so much trouble that she needed this much attention. But emotion welled inside her too. It meant much that they cared enough to provide that attention.

“I’m alive,” she croaked around the lump her in throat.

Basilard pushed Maldynado to the side, lifted a canteen, and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, right,” Maldynado said. “You need to drink.”

He slid a hand under her shoulders and elevated her head gently. He waved for the canteen. As much as Amaranthe appreciated his solicitude, she would not have minded being taken care of by Sicarius. Just the two of them. Alone. Maybe in her weakened state, he would pity her enough to let slip a few more tidbits about his past. That would almost be worth the price of…being wounded. Yes, being wounded. A temporary state. No way was she going to let some stupid animal claw bring about her death.

She inhaled a touch too deeply, and a pang in her abdomen made her gasp. Water spilled and ran down her chin.

“Oops,” Maldynado said.

Basilard smacked him on the shoulder.

Amaranthe sipped from the canteen more carefully. Sicarius had retreated to the trees to stand guard, though he glanced her way now and then. She sighed and fiddled with one of the bandages wrapping her torso.

“Akstyr fixed you up real good,” Maldynado said. “I’m sure you’ll pull through. Because we need you. We’ve been squabbling. Without you here to keep us glued to—what are you doing?”

Amaranthe froze in the middle of loosening a bandage. “Er, nothing?”

“You’re not trying to take them off, are you?” Maldynado said, stern as a schoolteacher reprimanding a wayward pupil. “Akstyr helped, but you’re all sorts of messed up under there. Better not remove them.”

“No, I was just…” She cleared her throat. “They were crooked. Akstyr,” she said before her admission could draw comments, “thank you.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sorry I couldn’t…you know. All the way.”

“I’ll just have to talk the shaman into doing it.”

All four men stared at her.

“Not even conscious five minutes, and she’s already concocting crazy plans,” Maldynado said.

“I’m sure it’s been closer to ten,” Amaranthe said.

Maldynado was still propping her up, giving her a decent view of the beach and the diving equipment.

“Where’s Books?”

The men’s faces darkened.

“The shaman got him,” Maldynado said. “Books broke the thing in the lake, but somehow… We didn’t see the shaman go in the water. If we had, we would have thumped him.”

“Got him?” Amaranthe swallowed. “Is he…”

“We think he’s alive, otherwise why would that blond bastard have taken him, right?” Maldynado looked to Basilard and Akstyr for confirmation, but they only shrugged. “But we don’t know where they went. He flew out of the water in this bubble wrapped around himself and Books, and then they poofed away.”

“Teleported,” Akstyr said.

“Either way, we have no idea where they are now. In slagging Mangdoria probably.” Maldynado kicked one of the air pumps across the camp.

Amaranthe closed her eyes. A few raindrops pattered on her cheeks. “I wonder what his reason was for taking Books with him.”

“Torture,” Sicarius said. “Revenge for thwarting his plans.”

“Or perhaps he assumed we’d come after Books,” she said.

“Why would he think that?” Maldynado asked. “Books is a tedious, lecturing know-it-all, something the shaman will figure out after about two seconds of talking with him. Why assume we’d risk our butts to get him back?”

“Because that’s what friends do for each other.” Amaranthe rotated her head to find Basilard, wondering if he would continue to keep things from her with Books’s life at stake. “Will you have a problem battling a countryman to get Books back?”

Basilard gazed at the dam, but not for long before shaking his head. I wouldn’t help someone who harnesses makarovi. Who kills.

Amaranthe pointedly did not mention Basilard’s own record of kills, but his lips twisted wryly, as if he guessed her thoughts.

The wryness shifted to sadness. I wouldn’t help me either.

“Sorry,” she said.

Maldynado lifted a finger. “I’m confused.” He paused, glancing around, almost as if he was waiting for Books to insult him. “Why would the shaman want us to start with? Unless he’s after bounties, but if he can make something like that—” he waved toward the defunct artifact in the lake, “—he could earn a million ranmyas legitimately. Well, legitimately outside the empire.”

“There are other reasons to want someone,” Amaranthe said.

“But he could have had us when you were unconscious and I was concentrating on healing on you,” Akstyr said. “He had Books helpless and just would have had to go through Maldynado and Basilard.”

Maldynado propped his fists on his hips. “Just? Basilard and I are burly and formidable.”

“What were you able to do against that wizard, Arbitan?” Akstyr asked.

Amaranthe watched Sicarius while the men argued with each other. Where had he been during Books’s kidnapping?

“I don’t recall,” Maldynado told Akstyr. “My face was busy being scrubbed by his carpet.”

“May I have a moment alone with Sicarius?” Amaranthe asked.

Maldynado arched his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you surround yourself with pleasant things when you’re healing?”

As Sicarius stepped to Amaranthe’s side, he fixed a glare on Maldynado, who threw his hands up and backed away. Akstyr shrugged and went down to the water. Basilard—the one she most wanted out of earshot—picked up a spyglass and joined Akstyr.

“Where were you during all this?” Amaranthe asked when Sicarius crouched beside her.

“In the dam, looking for the shaman.” His dark glare returned to Maldynado. “I was told he was in there.”

“I agree with Maldynado that it’s strange this fellow would take Books as bait for one of us, but these Mangdorians have made it clear they want you.”

“This whole plot would not have been conceived to get at me.”

She checked on Basilard. Too far away to listen in on their conversation, he was scanning the opposite shoreline with the spyglass. Maldynado sat on a stump, ears turned toward Amaranthe and Sicarius. Though she was not sure he was close enough to hear, she caught his eye and waved for him to move farther away.

“Maybe the shaman isn’t worrying about his partners or the water scheme at this point,” Amaranthe said. “Maybe, with you in his sights, he’s changed focus. He could have taken Books, hoping you’d come for him or that Books would provide information on you.” When Sicarius did not respond, she lifted a hand, palm up. “Either way, we have to find the shaman and get Books back.”

“He could be anywhere,” Sicarius said.

“Not if he wants you to find him.”

“I can’t track teleportation,” Sicarius said.

“He has a hideout.”

A beat passed, but Sicarius remembered without prompting. “The enforcer sergeant did not tell you where.”

“No, but she’s on her way back with reinforcements, right?”

Maldynado ambled over. “You two done being private and secretive yet?”

“No,” Sicarius said as Amaranthe said, “Yes.”

Maldynado took that as an invitation to sit down.

“She’s on her way back with reinforcements,” Sicarius said. “Probably a company or two from the garrison. She’ll be surrounded.”

“I just need a few minutes with her.”

“You need to rest,” Sicarius said.

“I agree with him,” Maldynado said. “Did you see yourself when you were unconscious? You looked dead.”

“We need to talk to her,” Amaranthe said.

“I will question the woman,” Sicarius said.

“No!” Amaranthe tried to sit up, but agony ripped through her belly, and she flopped back with a hiss. “No. Sicarius, you’re, uhm, I appreciate your willingness to help, but diplomacy isn’t your biggest strength.”

“I wasn’t going to be diplomatic.”

“I know, and therein lies the problem. When they get back, I need to go. We’ll take it slow, wait for nightfall. Sneak in, chat, then leave. No problem.”

“Five minutes,” Sicarius said.

“What?”

“How long you lasted acquiescing to my wisdom.”

“Oh.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Are you sure it wasn’t closer to ten?”

•  •  •  •  •

Raindrops pattered on the forest floor. Cold water dripped from the branches and splashed onto Amaranthe’s neck, dribbling under her collar. The stink of burning coal hung over the lake and irritated her eyes and nose. The soldiers had brought a caravan of steam vehicles this time.

Though she leaned against Sicarius for support, her abdomen and back stung with each slow, carefully placed step. Sweat bathed her face, and she breathed through gritted teeth. Under other circumstances, she might have appreciated the heat of Sicarius’s body and the corded muscle beneath his sleeve, but she was busy distracting herself from her discomfort by mulling over what she planned to say to Sergeant Yara. Should she explain the whole story? Everything that had happened since last they talked? No, best to keep it succinct. It was unlikely Amaranthe would get more than a few minutes with Yara, if that. Let the woman research on her own and form her own conclusions.

Sicarius steered her away from a route that would have ended with her crashing into a tree. “We’re close,” he said in a tone that implied paying attention would be good.

“We sure this is a good time to infiltrate their camp?” Maldynado asked softly. He, Akstyr, and Basilard gathered close.

All around the lake, lanterns glowed as soldiers searched the area in pairs. Campfires burned ahead, and Amaranthe could make out the outline of tents through the trees. Many more tents than had been there previously.

“Must be nice to get paid to show up after all the work’s done,” Akstyr said.

“Not all the work,” Maldynado said. “We’ve got to get Booksie back.”

Amaranthe smiled. For all that those two sniped at each other, Maldynado actually seemed to consider Books a friend. She was not sure Books reciprocated that feeling, but perhaps he would one day.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a shame the soldiers are too late for the fun. I wonder…”

“What.” Sicarius’s tone did not make it sound like a question.

“Nothing. Let’s find Sergeant Yara.”

“Back to my original question,” Maldynado said. “Shouldn’t we wait until everyone is sleeping? These people are…” He lowered his voice as a pair of soldiers trod past twenty meters ahead. “These people are looking for trouble.”

“Yes, but most of them are outside of the camp,” Amaranthe said. “If they’re still worried about the makarovi, Sergeant Yara will likely be inside.” Unless the soldiers left the enforcers behind when they decided to return en masse. She frowned at the thought. As aloof as Yara had been, she already knew about Amaranthe. It would be harder to stalk in and convince a stranger of her team’s deeds.

“Still plenty in the camp,” Sicarius said.

True. Several men stood guard at points around the perimeter, while others dug latrines, shoveled coal for the steam vehicles, and performed other tasks they had probably not anticipated when they enlisted. A couple of soldiers stood outside the tent Sergeant Yara had occupied the last time Sicarius dragged her out to talk. A flag proclaimed it had been turned into headquarters.

“We’ll have to create a distraction.” Amaranthe considered Maldynado.

“I’m always happy to be distracting,” he said, “though it’s usually the ladies who are likely to stop and ogle. What if we get in a tussle with these boys? How do you want us to defend ourselves?”

“We can’t kill anybody,” Amaranthe said. “All the work we’ve done out here will mean nothing if we kill a single soldier. They won’t believe anything we say.”

“Don’t we have that problem anyway?” Akstyr asked. “Nobody is left alive who saw us in the dam.”

“That’s right,” Maldynado said. “As far as the soldiers know, they can credit this to some anonymous good-deed-doer.”

“That licks donkey crotch,” Akstyr said.

“Relax, gentlemen,” Amaranthe said. “I intend to make sure we get credit and find out where Books is located.”

She waited, anticipating more of an argument. Surely, they would realize she had nothing with which to back up her promise. Sicarius, especially, would know she had not won over Sergeant Yara. Even if Amaranthe could convince her their story was true, having a rural, female enforcer on their side was hardly the fast route to a pardon. Yara would have little power or sway outside her precinct and perhaps not much more inside.

“All right, boss,” Maldynado said. “We trust you. What’s this distraction you want?”

Amaranthe smiled bleakly. Skepticism would have been easier to deal with. Instead the mantel of expectation weighed upon her shoulders.

“We could grab a couple men,” Maldynado said when she did not answer right away. “Knock ‘em out, steal their clothes, and walk in, pretending we’re soldiers.”

“They have a challenge and password system to prevent that,” Sicarius said.

Akstyr snorted. “Even gangs aren’t moronic enough that they wouldn’t recognize their own people.”

“Well, it’s dark,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe was only half-listening to them. To one side of the camp, partially visible through the trees, the trampers and lorries idled. A soldier opened a furnace door and shoveled coal inside. Someone must fear the company would need a quick escape.

“Couldn’t we thump the password out of someone when we’re stealing his clothes?” Maldynado said.

“Depends how much damage you want done,” Sicarius said. “Soldiers are trained to resist torture.”

“Maldynado really wants to take someone’s clothes off,” Akstyr said. “Maybe he prefers men.”

Maldynado sniffed. “If I do, your homeliness will save you from ever knowing.”

“Whatever.”

“Let’s go with my idea,” Amaranthe said, watching the soldier close the grate and move onto the next vehicle in the line. “Maldynado, Basilard, and Akstyr, it’s been a while since you stole someone’s vehicle. Are you interested in reacquainting yourselves with that hobby?” She leaned, trying to find Basilard in the shadows. His inability to talk made it difficult to communicate with him in the dark. He touched her shoulder. She hoped that was an affirmative.

“You want us to march into this camp full of well-armed men,” Maldynado said, “jump into their vehicles, race off chaotically, and lead a posse of soldiers on a crazy chase?”

“Yes,” she said. “Problem?” It seemed like the type of ludicrous sport someone who had ridden a printing press down an icy hill would appreciate.

“Nope,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure I got the order right.”

“Keep them busy, and meet us up the road, where we left our lorry, when you’re done. If it’s guarded, stay hidden. We’ll find you.”

“Got it, boss.”

“And don’t get caught this time, please,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t know where the closest jail is.”

Maldynado thumped Akstyr on the back as the three men slipped away. “This’ll be fun.”

Amaranthe hoped they were careful. Soldiers would be harder to rattle than enforcers.

She shook away the worry. She needed to focus on her part of the mission.

“Think the sergeant has been good enough to locate herself in the same tent?” she asked Sicarius. “It had a lovely water view.”

“A primary tactical consideration.”

“Let’s get closer.”

Before they had gone far, two lights appeared behind them—soldiers approaching. Amaranthe stepped around a tree, hoping it would be enough to hide her. She dared not dive for cover, not when her wounds might make her cry out. Sicarius eased in front of her, guarding her. By night, his black clothing helped him blend in.

The soldiers drew even with the tree. One glanced toward Amaranthe and Sicarius, and she held her breath.

“Halt.” A man stepped from behind a tree several paces ahead. A rifle, the barrel wet from the rain, gleamed in his hands. His appearance drew the other two soldiers’ attention. “The coyote cries.”

“By night’s full moon,” one of the soldiers responded. “Archton and Bedloe. Dog Platoon.”

“Pass.”

After the soldiers went into camp, Sicarius whispered, “Stay here. I’ll nullify the sentries. They’ll be less alert now than when the commotion starts.”

Amaranthe kept herself from reminding him to choose a non-lethal nullification method. He knew what she wanted by now, and he was probably tired of her nagging.

After he disappeared, she slumped against the tree, a hand to her belly. Her scabs had flexed and torn as they walked, and she knew she was bleeding beneath the bandages. She shivered, too, and it was not that cold. She touched her forehead and tried to decide if it felt feverish. Sicarius never should have said anything about the infection. It would prey on her mind now. Either way, she feared she would be useless in a physical encounter and might prove a liability for the men. If not for Books, and her growing fear that she needed magical aid, she would be inclined to leave the shaman for someone else to confront. Though maybe that was still a possibility. She scratched her jaw. Those soldiers might be disappointed if they came all the way up the mountain for nothing.

“Look out!” someone shouted on the other side of the camp. Surprised curses followed. “They’re taking the lorry!”

“Stop them!”

“Go get—” Steam brakes squealed. “Look out!”

Amaranthe allowed herself a small grin. A tent went down amongst snapping poles and shouts of fury. If Maldynado had a skill beyond charming women, it had to be crafting mayhem.

Sicarius appeared a few feet in front of Amaranthe, limned by torchlight. He strode toward her and offered an arm.

“That’s not your usual entrance.” She shifted her weight from the tree to him. “You usually sneak up so softly I don’t know you’re there until you startle me into jumping.”

“I didn’t want you to aggravate your injuries.” He guided her toward the back of the command tent.

“That’s considerate.”

“Yes.”

She almost laughed. It was as if he wanted her to know he was going out of his way to be thoughtful.

They stepped around a pair of gagged and unconscious men tied to a tree. Two officers and a woman—Sergeant Yara—were standing in front of the tent, gesturing expansively. The noise from the vehicles and the shouts about camp made it impossible to hear the discussion.

Another tent went down. Someone fired at the cab of a second stolen lorry, and metal clanged like a bell.

Maldynado, or maybe Akstyr was driving that one, veered out of camp and up the road, though not before flattening several crates of supplies.

“Are you sure killing them wouldn’t have annoyed them less?” Sicarius asked.

“Not entirely, no.”

Sergeant Yara took a step toward the chaos, as if she meant to lead the pursuit herself.

One of the officers stopped her with an outstretched hand. “I’ll take care of it. You stay here.”

“That’s one of our vehicles,” Yara said. “I can help.”

“It’s too dangerous for a woman.”

“I doubt the makarovi are the ones stealing our vehicles.”

“You shouldn’t even be up here,” the officer said. “Stay with Lieutenant Berkvar. Sergeant Betlor’s team should report in soon. Keep updating the map.” He jogged away.

Amaranthe squeezed Sicarius’s arm. This was probably the closest they would get to finding the sergeant alone. He left her to slip around the tent. Amaranthe moved around the opposite side, carefully choosing her steps through the churned mud.

“Too dangerous for a woman,” Yara grumbled. “I’m tired of hearing that. Do I look frail and incapable, LT?”

Sicarius chose that moment to grab the lieutenant in a headlock, his arm snaking around the man’s throat, cutting off air. He dragged the officer behind the tent.

Yara ripped a sword free, but Amaranthe closed in and poked her in the back with stiff fingers to mimic a pistol. Since her men were trashing the camp, she decided pulling an actual weapon would not help matters.

Yara glanced over her shoulder. “You!” Disgust curled her lip. Sicarius returned to the front of the tent, and she added, “And you!”

“Us,” Amaranthe agreed. “Inside, please.”

Not sure if others awaited within, she nudged Yara, encouraging her to lead the way. Fortunately, only cots and a map-strewn table occupied the tent.

“Sit, please.” Amaranthe pointed to a cot. “I need to talk, and it’d be appreciated if you’d listen.”

“What polite outlaws.” Yara pulled away from Amaranthe and spun, hand hovering near her sword.

Sicarius appeared at the sergeant’s side. He did not draw a weapon, but his presence convinced Yara to lower her hands. She did not sit down.

Amaranthe nodded for Sicarius to guard the entrance, then met Yara’s eyes and launched into her spiel. “We weren’t fast enough to save the soldiers, but we got the makarovi out of the dam and over the falls. You may be able to verify that if some of the corpses get washed up on the shore downriver with, er, interestingly placed puncture wounds, as if from a giant hook.”

Skepticism twisted Yara’s face, but Amaranthe hurried on before she could interrupt. “Also, my man, Books—Marl Mugdildor—single-handedly deactivated the contraption tainting the water. He’s a good person who doesn’t deserve a bounty on his head. I doubt the device left inside the dam on the pipe will be trouble without the main artifact, but, with the makarovi gone, it should be easier to destroy now. Books saved the city a lot of trouble. He deserves a pardon. And, if you’re later able to gather evidence that corroborates our story, we would appreciate it if you would inform any of your superiors or co-workers who might listen. Since the emperor is aware of you, a note sent to his office would also be appreciated.”

“Oh, really?” Yara jammed her fists against her hips. “Perhaps I could arrange a parade for you as well. Or commission a statue that we could put on display at the entrance to the pass? No, better, a giant carving of your team’s faces in the side of the mountain. How would that be?”

Amaranthe almost quipped that Maldynado would love Yara forever if she could arrange the mountain carving, but she suspected they did not have much time before someone returned to the tent.

“We need to know where the shaman’s hideout is,” she said. “He has Books.”

Her lack of response to the sarcastic tirade deflated the sergeant. Yara’s hands lowered, though she still glowered.

“Please,” Amaranthe said. “If you hate me and you hate Sicarius, fine, but Books has done nothing to harm the enforcers or the empire. The only one with reason to hate him is the one holding him prisoner, doing ancestors only know what to him. Books risked his life to destroy that artifact. To help the city and make your job easier.”

Yara sighed. “The northern-most of the abandoned Kaker Mines. Base of the mountains.”

“Thank you.” Amaranthe nodded. Time to play her last tile. “The shaman’s artifact is destroyed, but he’s not done attacking the city. He believes the empire responsible for the slaying of the Mangdorian royal family years ago, and he’ll not stop until he’s exacted revenge.” She could not yet know how much of that was true, but she had to worry the soldiers if she wanted them to help.

“We didn’t have anything to do with that.” Yara frowned at Amaranthe, then considered Sicarius, and her frown deepened. “Did we?”

Amaranthe had not meant to implicate Sicarius, and she had to smother a wince at the quickness with which Yara put together the pieces. She imagined his eyes boring into the back of her head. Oh, well. It was not as if he could have stuffed this secret back into the Imperial Intelligence files to lock it away; too many people already knew.

“It’s what the Mangdorians believe,” Amaranthe said. “That’s all that matters. If I were you, I’d make sure these soldiers get to those mines before it’s too late.”

“If you were me,” Yara said, “you never would have betrayed the city and killed your co-workers.”

Amaranthe gritted her teeth. She wanted to issue a biting retort, but if there was any hope whatsoever of Yara acting on these words, Amaranthe dared not irritate her more. “Don’t make the mistakes I did then. Warn the soldiers. Protect the city.”

She strode out, trusting Sicarius to guard her back.