Conspiracy (37 page)

“
Does Am’ranthe know?”
Akstyr asked.

Books gave him a scathing look.

“
That’s a no?” Akstyr
asked.

“
Oh, she knows. We found
out at the same time.
She
wanted to give you another chance. More than
that, she wanted to find a way to raise the money to send you to
school on the Kyatt Islands so you’d no longer feel compelled to
betray us for funds.”

“
She did?” Akstyr tried to
swallow, but a full feeling in his throat made it hard. Tears
pricked his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if they were from pain or
frustration or distress. Why was Amaranthe trying to do stuff like
that anyway? It didn’t make any sense.

“
Yes. And, no, I can’t
fathom why she cares. Maybe she’s decided to make you a special
project. Women do that.” Books reached into a box on the floor,
pulled out a jar of ointment and a bandage, and threw them at
Akstyr. Yes, threw was the right word. Akstyr would have had
another bruise if he hadn’t caught the jar. “Wash your wounds
before you bandage them,” Books said.

It wasn’t exactly like having someone to
take care of him, but Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to feel
indignant just then. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you going to
tell her?”

“
About these gang thugs
that are after you?” Books asked. “Yes, she’ll need to know. When
people attack you in the middle of one of our missions, it affects
the whole group.”

“
I meant about my mother.
It’s not like the meeting with Khaalid. I didn’t mean to tell her
anything about the group. I was just...”

“
Negligent?” Books
suggested.

Again, Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to
bristle with indignation.

“
Possibly a forgivable
sin,” Books said, “but if you have even the tiniest speck of wisdom
floating around in that young head of yours, you’ll apologize to
Amaranthe for mucking up her plans. And, if I were you, I’d make
sure I didn’t get caught alone with Sicarius any time
soon.”

Akstyr gulped. “Does he know too?”

“
Perhaps. Perhaps not. I
haven’t told him you’re targeting him with your schemes, and I
don’t think Amaranthe has either. I suppose we all believe that
Sicarius can take care of himself.” Books returned his focus to the
control panel and shifted a lever an inch. “That said, he’s not a
dumb man, and you’re not a subtle man, so you’d best assume he
knows more than you think he does.”

“
You think he’d kill me
over...?”

“
I don’t think he believes
in special projects.”

“
But Am’ranthe... he kind
of listens to her,” Akstyr said. “Right?”

“
I don’t know what their
agreement is, but he’s his own man, and he seems to pay attention
to her only insofar as it furthers... I don’t know what his reason
is for being here, but I’m positive he has one. Some agenda against
Forge perhaps. He’s shown that he’s perfectly capable of doing
something of which Amaranthe would wholeheartedly disapprove.”
Books gave Akstyr another dark look. “She never would have agreed
to the mass assassination of dozens of businessmen and women in the
capital.”

“
All right,” Akstyr said.
“I’ll heed your warning.”

Books muttered something that sounded like,
“Doubt it.” Before Akstyr could respond, he raised his voice and
pointed out the window. “See that precipice?”

“
Barely. It’s
dark.”

“
Yes, that happens at
night. I need you to bandage yourself up, then go down there and
stand on it. It overlooks the railway about a mile away from the
now-blocked pass. I’m going to hover below you in this canyon, so
the dirigible won’t be visible from the tracks. You watch for the
train. When it comes and it looks like the team is ready for us,
signal to me, so I can come out and pick them up.”

“
That’s kind of an
important job,” Akstyr said. “I’m surprised you trust me to do it
after... everything.”

“
We abandoned the tattooed
pilot, so you’re the only candidate. Hurry up, now. They could be
coming along any time.”

Without objection, Akstyr went off to wash
his leg and wrap the dog bite. For reasons he didn’t quite grasp,
Books was giving him a second chance. Maybe Amaranthe would too.
Sicarius... He’d hope to avoid Sicarius for the near future.

Akstyr was barely able to hobble on the leg
hurt, but he did it without collapsing. If all he had to do was sit
on a ledge and watch a canyon, he could manage. He had a feeling he
should be on good behavior for a while.

He limped to the hatchway of the navigation
cabin. “I’m going.”

Books waved at him without looking back.

Akstyr hesitated. “Books?”

“
What?”

“
I don’t want to be like my
mother.”

Akstyr left before Books could say anything
pedantic or sappy. He wanted someone in the group to know. That was
all.

The roofs of the passenger cars extended
over the balconies, meaning that less than three feet of open air
lay between them, but making that long step when the train was
rattling along at full speed wasn’t so easy. Especially when
everyone was carrying weapons and had to be careful not to make any
noise that might be heard inside. Amaranthe let the men go first
and, when they crossed the gap from coal car to passenger car
without incident, steeled herself and followed.

A side wind gusted as she stepped across,
upsetting her balance. She managed to recover without flailing
overly much, though she grimaced, expecting a wisecrack from
Maldynado. Nobody spoke. They simply nodded their readiness.

Sicarius took the lead. He used a light,
sweeping step so there would be no footfalls to hear below.
Amaranthe and the others emulated him. Slowly and carefully, they
eased from roof to roof.

Here and there, windows were open, and
laughter spilled out. Occasionally the scent of some officer’s pipe
smoke escaped as well. Good. That meant the soldiers were still
relaxed. Just men passing the time on the tail end of a weeks-long
journey. Maybe they’d be busy playing Tiles or nodding off to
sleep, and no one would be paying attention to what was going on in
the fourth car.

When the team reached that fourth car,
Amaranthe’s heart rate jumped into double time. Maybe triple
time.

Easy, she told herself. We’ve done dozens of
crazy missions, some far more dangerous than this. In trying to
convince herself, she thought of the makarovi they’d fought at that
secret dam. That had been pure insanity. Here they’d only be
dealing with human beings.

Somehow those thoughts failed to help. Maybe
because the stakes were different. The potential for reward was
higher—Sespian could remove their bounties and turn them into
trusted allies of the empire with a wave of a pen—and the price of
failure was greater too. Before they’d been risking their lives,
but now they were risking the emperor’s as well. If everything fell
apart, and bullets starting flying, what if Sespian were hit?
Amaranthe couldn’t imagine how Sicarius would react if he survived
and Sespian didn’t.

“
Ready?” Maldynado
asked.

Sicarius and Basilard had crossed the gap
and reached the end of the emperor’s car. Basilard lifted a
questioning hand, waiting. Amaranthe gave him a wave.

“
Ready,” she
said.

She knelt and poked her head over the lip of
the roof. Unfortunately, the doors had windows in them, meaning
anyone inside could glance out and see her and Maldynado dropping
onto the balcony. Fortunately, the lanterns burning in the third
car had been turned down for the night, and the soldiers she could
see were in their seats, facing away from the back door. She and
Maldynado ought to be able to swing down to the balcony without
being spotted, at least from that direction.

Lights burned more brightly in the emperor’s
car. Instead of rows of identical seats running from end to end, it
had the feel of a clubhouse for the wealthy, with sofas, gaming
tables, and even a kitchen area. She glimpsed the back of Sespian’s
head. His short, light brown hair wasn’t distinctive, but he and
the woman were the only people not in military uniforms.

One of the emperor’s hulking bodyguards
strode toward the door’s barred window, his broad form blocking the
view. Amaranthe yanked her head out of sight. Her mask caught on a
rough corner, and she almost lost it.

“
Problem?” Maldynado
asked.

“
Yes, but I’m hoping it’ll
move in a moment.” Amaranthe looked toward the other end of the
car. Sicarius and Basilard had already disappeared over the edge of
the roof. “Or we could go in anyway,” she muttered.

No choice. Everyone had to go in together,
whether a soldier was staring out the window or not.

Amaranthe took a deep breath to steady
herself, then placed the door key between her teeth, turned
sideways, and dropped between the roofs. She thrust her legs
sideways and swung onto the balcony, landing in a crouch.

The bodyguard was still at the door.

Before Amaranthe could think of using the
key, the door swung inward. The big guard filled the entry, and he
was already whipping out a pistol.

Amaranthe grabbed her canisters of smoke and
knockout gas, yanked the tabs, and threw the spewing devices
between the guard’s legs. Before she’d finished, Maldynado swung
down from the roof, both of his heels slamming into the guard’s
chest. His momentum carried them both inside.

Amaranthe lunged through the door after
them. She shut it behind her, sparing a glance for the other car.
The soldiers over there weren’t charging toward her yet, but she
knew they’d notice the trouble before long. Smoke already filled
the air, and shouts echoed from the walls. Steel clanged against
steel in the back—Sicarius and Basilard were in.

She found the lock on the latch and threw
it, then looked around for something to further bar the door.

A piece of furniture flew out of the smoke
toward her. Amaranthe dropped so low her butt bumped the floor.
Wood slammed into the wall beside the door. It bounced off and
landed in front of her. A chair. That would do. She snatched it and
braced it under the knob.

When she turned, intending to help
Maldynado, a man in black grabbed her by the throat. Before she had
time to react, he jammed her against the wall, her legs dangling
inches above the floor. His fingers tightened, bringing a burst of
pain and cutting off her air. She grasped for his hands, trying to
pry off a finger, so she could yank it backward and hurt him enough
that he’d let go.

Those fingers were like wrought-iron bars.
She couldn’t budge them. Hard unyielding eyes stared into her own,
and the soldier’s grip only tightened.

Fear surged through Amaranthe’s limbs, and
she had to force herself to think calmly, not to flail uselessly.
She kicked out, trying to find his groin. The bottom of her mask
and his thick arms blocked her view. She connected with flesh, but
his grip didn’t lessen, and no pain bloomed across his face, so she
must have hit his thigh.

The pressure on her neck tightened further,
and heat rushed to her head. Her lungs urged her to find air, one
way or another. Amaranthe tried another kick. It was less effective
on the big man than the first. Black dots swam through her
vision.

He drew back one of his arms to punch her or
maybe to thrust a knife into her belly. She couldn’t dodge, not
when he had her pinned by the neck, but she still had her arms
free. She timed the blow and threw all the power she could into a
block. The inside of her forearm struck his hand, deflecting the
attack just enough. A knife sank into the door an inch from her
ribcage.

The blade caught in the wall, and pulling it
out distracted the soldier for a heartbeat. The grip on Amaranthe’s
neck lessened a hair.

She used the door against her back to brace
herself as she tucked her legs up to her chest, her knees bumping
the undersides of his arms. She kicked out, this time with both
legs, aiming higher than before. Her heels slammed into his solar
plexus.

The blow would have felled a lesser man, but
the big guard only grunted and stumbled back a half a step. It was
enough. He lost his grip on Amaranthe’s neck.

Before he could recover, she grabbed one of
his meaty hands in both of hers. She twisted it and pressed her
thumbs into the backside, forcing it against the wrist joint. It
worked for a second—he went down on one knee and his face
contorted—but he yanked his arm back, pulling Amaranthe with it.
She lost her grip and almost tumbled into him. She stopped by
bracing herself against a table flipped onto its side. By now, the
entire car was a jumble of overturned furniture.

Amaranthe skittered backward and yanked her
crossbow off her back. The soldier’s glare seared her like flames,
but he didn’t rise from his one-knee crouch. Surprised he didn’t
lunge at her, she aimed the bow between his eyes.

“
Stay,” she
said.

Beyond the soldier, the shouts and clashes
of steel had grown less frenzied. The knockout gas, Amaranthe
realized. It was working. Good. All they had to do was—

Fierce bangs sounded behind her, and she
jumped. On the other side of the door, armed soldiers crowded the
balcony. More men waited on the balcony of the car behind them.

One soldier smashed the butt of his rifle
against the door’s window. Amaranthe expected the glass to shatter
into pieces, but the thick material held, at least under this first
assault.