Conspiracy (23 page)

“
Gee, why didn’t you say
so?” Books asked. “That adds all sorts of veracity to the woman’s
claims.”

“
Whoever is going to the
pass can pick up the flyer in the morning here.” Maldynado handed
Amaranthe a piece of paper.

She gazed at it for a long moment, though it
only contained a street address. Why did she have a feeling she’d
made a mistake in letting him handle transportation?

“
You needn’t look so glum.”
Maldynado draped an arm across her shoulder. “It’ll be fantastic.
Just think of the getaway. Instead of steaming off at ten miles an
hour on windy, snow-filled roads, we’ll be able to take to the
skies, with the soldiers left on the ground, gaping
helplessly.”

“
Who’s going to pilot this
craft?” Books asked.

“
Lady Buckingcrest said
she’d send someone along.”

Great, someone else who would be privy to
their plans. Amaranthe took Books by the arm and led him away from
the others. “What do you think?”

“
That this idea is more
idiotic than Maldynado’s hat,” Books said, “but we don’t have time
for something else.”

“
All right.” Amaranthe
handed him the slip of paper. “Check it out in the morning. If it
doesn’t look feasible, come back and get the pumpkin lorry. We’ll
hope for clear weather and no snow in the mountains.”

“
Very well.”

“
If it does look
feasible... see if you can find a technical manual and learn how to
fly the thing. I don’t want any extra witnesses.”

“
I understand,” Books
said.

Amaranthe was glad he didn’t mention
Sergeant Yara. She didn’t need to be reminded that that might have
been a big mistake. “Also,” she added, “if it’s as fast as
Maldynado’s lady friend claims... go out east and see if those
blasting sticks work to blow open the mines where the shaman’s
workshop is buried. If we can get information on those implants—and
how to remove them—before we pick up the emperor, so much the
better.”

“
You don’t want much, do
you?” Books asked.

“
I know you can handle
it.”

“
I don’t know why I always
believe you when you say things like that.”

“
Because you know
I
believe it, and it’s
true.”

“
Hm.”

Amaranthe rejoined the others. “Did Akstyr
go with you two?” When she and Books had left, he had been reading
one of his Science books. “Or is he still at the hideout?”

“
No, and no.” Maldynado
flipped the blue tail of his cap, so it rested over the other
shoulder. “He went out. Probably for a booze-and-brothels night
before we head off into the savage hinterlands.”

Amaranthe exchanged looks with Books, and,
when he shook his head slowly, she knew exactly what he was
thinking. They hadn’t even left the city yet, and her plan was in
more danger of being mauled than the boulders in the mountain pass
they were targeting.

* * * * *

Akstyr checked over his shoulder often on
the way to West Quay, a modest but clean part of town with shops on
the bottom floors of narrow brick buildings and residences above.
The view of the lake might have made it a more upscale
neighborhood, but factories to the north cast a pall of gray across
the lowland streets, one that lingered even that late at night. Few
pedestrians remained out, and those who did didn’t look like bounty
hunters. For some reason that didn’t quell the nerves dancing in
Akstyr’s stomach.

Hand on the hilt of the short sword hidden
by his coat, he approached a worn brick square dominated by a
fountain-statue of some old general. He eyed the benches around the
area, telling himself not to expect his mother. She’d never been
reliable, so why would that change? Unless she wanted
something.

The bakery they had spoken of had closed for
the day, but Akstyr found her sitting on a bench across from the
building. She wore the same dress, though she’d added a scarf and
mittens. A brown paper bag sat on the bench beside her. When she
spotted him, she waved and smiled.

The friendly gesture did nothing to relax
Akstyr—if anything it made him more uneasy. She’d arranged this
meeting, and she could have very well arranged a trap. What if she
knew about the bounty on his head?

“
Mother,” he said, meeting
her eyes for a moment before resuming his checks of the surrounding
area.

If she noticed his wariness, she didn’t
speak of it. “Sit down, son.” The bag crinkled as she delved into
it, and she held up a frosted cookie shaped into a puppy-dog face.
“I bought these for you.” She offered him the bag.

Akstyr accepted it, but he didn’t sit down.
He didn’t want to have his back to the square and make it easy for
someone to sneak up behind him.

“
Thanks,” he said, lifting
the bag, though the idea of returning to the hideout with it made
him feel foolish. Sure, he’d liked the cookies as a little kid, but
grown men didn’t eat sweets shaped like puppies. Maldynado would
mock him for ages if he showed up with them.

“
I’m glad you came,” his
mother said. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

Ah, here it came. A request.

“
Oh?” Akstyr
asked.

“
It seems you’re on the
path to becoming somebody important. You’re working as a mercenary,
but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

“
Sort of.”

“
The pay
decent?”

“
Not really.”

“
Oh.” Her smile only
faltered for a second before she added, “Maybe it will be one
day.”

Akstyr shrugged and checked his surroundings
again. A pair of soldiers in fatigues strode across the other side
of the square. They looked like nothing more than men returning
from a long day’s work at Fort Urgot, but he shifted to keep his
face out of their view.

“
If it does get decent,”
his mother said, “maybe you’ll forget some of the wrong your ma’s
done by you and help her out one day.”

Akstyr focused on her. “What?”

“
I know you don’t have any
reason to think fondly of me, but it’s hard getting work when you
live where we live and got the skills that we got. Or don’t got.”
Her lips twisted. “I’m making a way now, but my joints are already
stiffening up.” She flexed her fingers and winced. “I don’t expect
I’ll be able to work forever. I’m just hoping, if you end up in a
good place, you’ll see fit to let me have a room somewhere in your
home.”

Though she’d proven his suspicions founded
by asking for something, Akstyr relaxed an iota while she spoke. If
all she was looking for was a handout, then he probably didn’t need
to worry about getting a dagger in his back, at least not that
night.

“
I guess,” Akstyr
said.

Something flickered in her
eyes—surprise?

“
I mean, I’m not in a place
to do much now, but maybe someday,” he said.

“
That’s wonderful, son.
Where are you off to now? Will it be dangerous?”

He wondered if she was only concerned
because she’d learned he might be a meal ticket. Probably. “It was
going to be Forkingrust, but now I think I might get stuck doing
something in the Scarlet Pass, but probably it’ll be dangerous
either way. It usually is.”

“
Oh, dear. Up in the
mountains? It’s getting cold. Take a scarf.”

If she hadn’t looked so earnest, Akstyr
would have laughed. Where had this mothering instinct been when
he’d been growing up? He remembered a time when he’d been playing
on the floor, she’d stepped on him, then kicked him and cursed him
for being in the way. Of course, he’d never known her when she
wasn’t on some drug or another.

She wrapped her own scarf around his
shoulders. “I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I’ll find
you when you get back. Take care of yourself.” She smiled again and
walked away.

Akstyr glanced around again, but nobody
jumped out to attack him.

Though a hint of pink brightened the eastern
horizon, darkness filled the nooks and alleys of the train yard.
Engines rumbled in the distance, and the scent of burning coal
lingered in the crisp air.

Amaranthe, Maldynado, and Basilard padded
alongside a freight train scheduled to depart for Forkingrust soon.
A rucksack, her repeating crossbow, and the clunky blowtorch
weighed down Amaranthe’s shoulders. A utility belt hung low on her
waist, laden with her short sword, ammunition for the bow, vials of
poison, and a couple of Ms. Sarevic’s smoke grenades. Canisters of
knockout gas were nestled in her rucksack along with food, water,
and other necessities for the trip. Maldynado and Basilard were
similarly loaded down with supplies and weapons. It was a testament
to good packing skills that nobody clanked and rattled as they
walked. They weren’t paying for passage—Amaranthe didn’t want a
record of their passing—so they needed to hop the train like the
listless hobos who rode the empire’s rails, never staying in one
place for long.

They’d left Books and Akstyr with orders to
pick up the flying craft as soon as Lady Buckingcrest’s business
opened. Only Sicarius was unaccounted for. Every few meters,
Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him jogging
up behind them. She knew he was annoyed with her, and he had a
right to be, but she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t show up.

This was the last train heading south in
time to catch Sespian at Forkingrust. If Sicarius didn’t make it...
he’d miss everything. Worse, she’d have to infiltrate a train full
of elite soldiers without her best man.

A soft knock, knuckles against metal, drew
Amaranthe back to the moment.

“
That one?” Maldynado
asked.

Basilard opened a freight
door and peered inside.
Yes. Only a few
crates.

Maldynado stuck his head inside. “Completely
empty. No chairs, sofas, bunks, or other decent furnishings. Again.
Really, boss, when are we going to be established enough that we
can afford a few comforts?”

“
It’s a freight train, not
a luxury passenger transport,” Amaranthe said.

“
You say that as if it’s
not a problem.”

“
We’re lucky to find an
empty car.” Most of the ones Amaranthe had peeked into were filled
with apples, potatoes, turnips, carrots, and other local produce
being shipped to various parts of the empire.

Basilard signed,
In?

“
Yes, you two go ahead,”
Amaranthe said. “I’ll wait to see if Sicarius shows up.”

A dog barked in another part of the train
yard.

“
Maybe you should wait
inside with us,” Maldynado said. “Station security will likely be
along, banging on the doors and making sure there aren’t too many
train-hopping vagrants weighing down the cars.”

Like us?
Basilard signed.

“
No, we’re vigilantes, not
vagrants. They ought to feel lucky to have us along. I bet if
highway men jump the train, the boss’ll insist we do something
heroic like save the engineer’s life.”

Who would rob a train full of potatoes?

“
Someone without my
charisma and good looks,” Maldynado said. “In other words, poor
saps who have to pay full price for groceries.”

“
Get inside, you two,”
Amaranthe said.

She wondered if leading these men was good
practice for having children someday. If she kept herself alive
long enough for that eventuality to come to pass.

Gravel crunched, someone jogging. The noise
meant it wasn’t Sicarius.

Amaranthe pressed her back against the train
to hide in its shadows and peered into the predawn gloom. Two
figures were running her way. Before she could worry that it might
be security, she recognized the familiar, long-legged gait of one.
Books, and that must be Akstyr at his side.

Amaranthe stepped out of the shadows.
“Here.”

Books jumped and Akstyr skidded to a stop,
arms flailing for balance.

“
Emperor’s bunions,” Akstyr
whispered. “Don’t scare a man.”

He was out of breath. Books swiped sweat out
of his eyes.

“
News?” Amaranthe
asked.

“
News,” Books
said.

“
Good or bad?”

“
When is it ever good?” A
newspaper crinkled as Books pulled it out from his waistband and
handed it to Amaranthe.

“
It’s a little dark
for—”

Akstyr waved a hand, and a small globe of
light flared to life.

“—
reading without an Akstyr
around,” Amaranthe finished.

He smirked. The light did not reveal a hint
of humor on Books’s flushed face. He simply pointed at the
front-page headline.

ASSASSIN STRIKES: TWENTY-ONE PROMINENT
ENTREPRENEURS FOUND MURDERED.

“
I didn’t spend months
putting that list together so your thrice-cursed assassin could
kill everybody on it,” Books whispered, his voice cracking on the
word kill.

Amaranthe sagged against the rail car and
used the excuse of reading the story to avoid Books’s stare.

“
That’s the tally as of
last night when the paper was prepared.” Books started pacing back
and forth, gravel crunching beneath his feet. “Only his dead
ancestors know how many more he killed under the stars. Those
people may all have been aligned with Forge, perhaps working toward
a goal that’s at cross-purposes with ours, but you
know
they’re not all
responsible for the threats to the city, to the empire. I’m sure
some of them were just joining the coalition because they thought
it was better to be with Forge than against them. Some of those
names—” Books thrust a hand toward the paper, his movements stiff
and jerky, “—weren’t even confirmed members. They were just people
loosely associated with the organization. Dear emperor, I wasn’t
sure on some of them. I put them on the list because they were
suspects, people to research in more depth later. I—” Books sank
into a crouch and buried his face in his hands.