Conspiracy (20 page)

“
You think you can get us
something suitable for a climb into the mountains?” Amaranthe
asked. “For a low price?”

“
For free, I should think.”
Maldynado examined his nails and smiled. “Lady Buckingcrest and I
have a special relationship. We’ve known each other since we were
teenaged youths, first exploring carnal endeavors. She’s married
these days, but she finds me quite fascinating now that I’m
disowned and running with outlaws. Not that I wasn’t fascinating
before. And she owes me for countless hours of—”

Amaranthe flung up a hand. “Those types of
details aren’t necessary.”

Maldynado blinked innocently. “I was going
to say witty conversation.”

“
Please,” Books
said.

“
Either way, I’m certain I
can acquire something suitable.” Maldynado winked, and Amaranthe
had a feeling she should be worried.

“
This isn’t going to go
smoothly, I can tell.” Books pocketed his journal, pulled a chair
up to the table, and laid out the newspaper. “Fraught. Already this
mission is fraught with perilous dangers and morally ambiguous
choices.”

“
Booksie.” Maldynado flung
an arm across Books’s shoulders. “Don’t say things like
that.”

Books shoved the hand off. “Why not? They’re
true.” He scooted his chair out of Maldynado’s reach.

“
Well, of
course
they’re true.
It’s an
Amaranthe
plan after all. But the way you say things makes you sound
old and stodgy. You’ll never get a woman by blathering on like
that.”

Amaranthe arched an eyebrow at Books. “I’m
not sure which one of us he insulted more there.”

“
Oh, it’s me,” Books said.
“It’s always me.”

Maldynado smiled broadly. Books hunched over
the newspaper and ignored him.

Sicarius had moved closer to the table, and,
thinking he wanted to add input, Amaranthe asked him, “Any thoughts
on the plan? Or whether I should feel more insulted than
Books?”

“
No.”

That surprised her. Actually it worried her.
He had more at stake than any of them. If Books thought her plan
was “fraught” she imagined Sicarius would find problems with it
too. If he didn’t have any input, maybe it was because he’d already
decided to go off on his own. He’d given her nothing but steely
glares ever since she’d talked with Sergeant Yara.

“
Any news on us?” Akstyr
asked Books.

“
No,” Books
said.

Amaranthe wondered at Akstyr’s sudden
interest in newspaper articles. He hadn’t noticeably cared when
Books read the previous ones that mentioned the team.

“
This is interesting
though.” Books pointed to a front-page entry. “A banker was found
in his bed, dead of a violent seizure.”

Akstyr’s nose crinkled.
“You think
that’s
interesting?”

“
It might be a signal of
fractures amongst the Forge coalition. Or perhaps not everyone in
the business world is choosing to sign on. This man was only
thirty, and there’s mention of a mysterious bump at his
neck.”

Amaranthe stepped toward Books, lifting a
hand, afraid he would mention Sespian. She hadn’t had a chance to
tell him she was keeping information about the implant from
Sicarius.

Books didn’t see her. His sentence seemed to
flow out as slowly as molasses, but at the same time Amaranthe
couldn’t get to him to stop it in time. “It sounds like what we saw
on Sespian’s throat in his photograph.”

“
What?” Sicarius
demanded.

Books looked up and blinked. “Oh, you didn’t
see the other paper. That’s right.” He removed a torn-out page from
the back of his journal and held it out.

Sicarius’s eyes were frozen, staring at
Amaranthe, piercing her to the soul. She swallowed. Without
breaking eye contact, Sicarius accepted the newspaper, though he
continued to stare at Amaranthe. She wanted to tell him she’d only
meant to keep him from worrying so much, but she didn’t know if she
could say it when, in the back of her mind, she knew she’d also
stayed silent to keep him from storming off and taking action on
his own. Lying now could only make him resent her more. And she
couldn’t explain herself, explain any of it, not with the whole
team looking on. Even now, the men were shifting uneasily and
sharing confused expressions over the icy silence in the attic.

Sicarius looked down at the paper. Amaranthe
felt like she’d been released from the clutches of a glacier. She
braced herself against the table while he scrutinized the
picture.

“
I have an idea,” Amaranthe
said quietly. “We’ll get him first—there’s no time to alter our
plans for the kidnapping—but then we’ll take him to—”

Sicarius crumpled the newspaper, dropped it,
and stalked out the door.

Amaranthe groaned to herself. That was
exactly what she’d been afraid would happen. There was no telling
what he’d do now.

“
What’s his problem?”
Akstyr asked.

Books looked back and forth from Amaranthe
to the door through which Sicarius had disappeared. His brown eyes
were narrowed thoughtfully, and Amaranthe avoided them.

“
The man obviously needs to
find a woman,” Maldynado said. “Or a man. Whatever he
prefers.”

“
You offering?” Akstyr
smirked.

“
Oh, please.” Maldynado
sniffed. “I can do far better than him.”

Basilard lifted his eyebrows.

“
Speaking of the emperor
and this device that may be in his neck,” Books said, pointedly
ignoring the side conversation, “should this change our plans? What
if we kidnap him, and Forge is able to... end his life from a
remote location?”

“
They’ve kept him alive
this long,” Amaranthe said. “They must have some use for
him.”

“
Maybe they’re just keeping
him to ensure peace in the city while Forge readies themselves for
something,” Books said.

“
Something involving the
army and a lot of weapons?” Amaranthe asked and glanced at
Maldynado. “Or a certain faction in the army?”

“
Maybe the emperor wants us
to kidnap him, so he gets out of range of that neck-bump thing,”
Maldynado said, and Amaranthe wondered if he was deliberately
steering the conversation away from family matters.

Perhaps that old woman we
saw escorting him at the dinner last summer holds the controls to
the device
, Basilard signed.

“
You’re suggesting there’s
a range of effectiveness and he hopes that we can take him beyond
that range so he can act freely?” Books asked. “If he couldn’t get
away on his own, that might explain why he wanted to hire us. He
must
know
about
the device.” Books patted his pockets. “I wish I’d thought to
research some of the technology and gadgets we’ve seen Forge
employ. As it is, I’ve only got...” He frowned, gave himself
another pat down, and delved into his pockets only to come out
empty-handed. “It’s gone.”

“
What is?” Amaranthe
asked.

“
My journal with the list
of Forge names and addresses and everything I know about the
outfit.” Frowning, he checked his pockets again. “That represents
three months worth of research. I just had it. I didn’t leave it in
the lorry, did I?”

Amaranthe stared at the open door, the door
Sicarius had long since disappeared through.

Metal shutters secured the windows of Ms.
Sarevic’s Custom Works, and a lock secured the patchwork
copper-and-steel door. Aside from a streetlamp burning at the
closest intersection, darkness blanketed Molten Street. The owners
of the smithies and metalworking shops along either side had gone
home for the night. Mounted on the brick wall above Ms. Sarevic’s
sign, a perpetual motion clock ticked softly, its gears turning
behind a clear glass display. Five minutes until ten.

“
I guess we didn’t need to
rush.” Amaranthe waved at the clock. “We’re early.”

Books stood to her side, wearing an
expression of disapproval. Amaranthe suspected it was for the shop
and what one could purchase there rather than her overzealous
punctuality. Maldynado would have been a more suitable companion
for the night. She hoped his side-trip proved fruitful.

“
One wouldn’t think someone
who deals with the nocturnal criminal element would be able to
worry about keeping precise shop hours,” Books said.

“
I’ve heard Ms. Sarevic is
a stickler.” Though only recently. Amaranthe had patrolled this
neighborhood as an enforcer for years, and she’d had no idea that
the proprietor kept
two
sets of shop hours.

Books’s lips puckered, reminding Amaranthe
of an old lady contemplating a diatribe on the wayward nature of
today’s youth. He’d been in a rotten mood all evening, railing at
the others and demanding that whoever took his journal return it.
As far as she knew, he didn’t suspect Sicarius. Amaranthe hadn’t
told Books where the journal had gone or that it’d likely be
returned with blood on the pages.

“
You could have gone with
Maldynado if you find this errand distasteful,” Amaranthe
said.

“
You think I’d find
watching him seduce some businesswoman for the use of her very
expensive private vehicle less reprehensible than purchasing
illegal blasting sticks? A private vehicle that will likely, under
our care, be shot full of bullets or perhaps crashed.”

“
Should I be more offended
that you find my shopping list reprehensible or that you’re certain
we’ll wreck our getaway vehicle?”

“
Given our history with
stolen conveyances, it’d be shocking if we didn’t damage
it.”

Amaranthe checked the clock. Three minutes
to go. “We won’t be stealing this one, simply borrowing it,
assuming Maldynado can sufficiently woo this woman with his
talents.”

“
Please, he’s as talented
as a sock,” Books said. “Besides, didn’t you
borrow
that garbage lorry last
summer? The most recent newspaper article I read on the subject
said the Imperial Ash and Refuse Collection Service is still
looking for one of the articulating arms.”

“
It is
not
,” Amaranthe said, though the
deadpan way Books had said it caused her to eye him with concern.
There hadn’t truly been an article, had there? “As to the
borrowing, no, I think the magistrate would find us guilty of theft
in that case.”

As they so often did, Books’s comments
showed her how flexible her morals had become of late. Amaranthe
hoped the team would successfully snatch Sespian and earn a chance
to talk to him. With a hand wave, he could remove their bounties
and her new hobby of crime could come to an end. So long as he
still had the power to act within the Imperial Barracks. Amaranthe
winced, thinking of the implant.

Two minutes to go.

“
You haven’t mentioned who
will be responsible for the landslide,” Books said.

“
I haven’t?”

“
No.”

“
Ah.

One minute to go on the clock. Amaranthe was
tempted to knock early, so she wouldn’t have to answer Books right
away, but she needed a good deal from Ms. Sarevic, and she didn’t
want to risk irking her.

“
Who
is
planting the blasting sticks?”
Books asked.

Amaranthe cleared her throat. “I need my
best fighters on the train. Even with smoke grenades and knockout
gas—” she pointed to the appropriate items on her shopping list,
“—it’s likely we’ll have to brawl with numerous well-trained
soldiers.”

“
I see. So, Akstyr and I
get this portion of the mission.” Books couldn’t have sounded less
tickled if a dog had peed on his leg.

“
Why,
thank
you for volunteering, Books,”
Amaranthe said, hoping enthusiasm on her part would encourage the
same from him. “You’re the only one I can trust with an independent
mission of such importance.”

“
Uh huh. Even if you hadn’t
just admitted you were choosing based on fighting prowess, I know
you trust Sicarius more than me, though only your dead ancestors
could guess why.”

“
That’s... actually not
true. I’d trust him to protect my back in a fight, but not
necessarily to do things in a way that doesn’t endanger my plans.”
Indeed, Amaranthe worried that he was off doing something like that
as she spoke. “Trust me, you’re far more steady and reliable in
this regard.”

“
All right, you already
have me. You can save your flattery for outsiders,” Books said,
though his tone had lightened, and Amaranthe thought her words
might mean something to him.

“
If it makes you feel
better, you’ll only be dealing with blasting sticks, not the
empire’s elite bodyguard and a train full of soldiers. If the
infiltration team gets itself killed, you’ll still be alive, and
you can escape.”

“
We’ll see. I’m not
convinced sharing a vehicle with blasting sticks and a young wizard
who likes to light things on fire with his mind is healthier than
fighting soldiers.”

The minute hand had passed the hour, so
Amaranthe knocked, a precise pattern she’d learned from Rockjaw,
one of her rather despicable but frequently useful, underworld
contacts. One of the “patches” on the multi-metaled door slid to
the side, revealing a shallow cubby with a key nestled within.