Deadly Games (11 page)

Basilard smirked, remembering her memorable
birthday party at the Pirates’ Plunder.

Amaranthe, eyes bright, continued her vision
without acknowledging Maldynado. “Those young athletes will likely
be cowed by Sespian’s royal presence. If you won, you could angle
your way in there and talk with him about your people, about the
underground slavery that still exists in the city.”

Basilard almost sank back down to the earth.
Was that possible? For him to win an interview with the emperor? In
one night, could he truly bring awareness of the slave problem to
Sespian? Basilard glanced at Sicarius, abruptly regretting his vow
to kill the man. That was a task he was not sure he could carry out
without being killed himself. Maybe it could wait until after the
Imperial Games? But perhaps his mind was spinning too quickly. What
were the odds of him actually winning an event? Against agile young
athletes half his age?

“You could take Books to translate for you,”
Amaranthe said.

“Most men would prefer to take a woman on a
dinner date with the emperor,” Maldynado said.

“Well, if Basilard could find one that could
translate for him, I suppose. I’m too notorious to show up at such
a venue these days. But anyway, Basilard are you interested in
entering? Sicarius can help you train.”

I can train on my own,
Basilard signed
swiftly.

Amaranthe gave Sicarius a bemused smile. “I
guess nobody else appreciates your stair-climbing sessions the way
I do.”

Sicarius did not respond. Their
relationship—if they could be said to have one—baffled Basilard.
She treated him like a friend and confidant, and half the time he
did not even respond when she spoke to him.

“Where are Books and Akstyr?” Amaranthe
asked.

“They went back to the hideout,” Maldynado
said. “Akstyr found...I don’t know. Bas, did we decide it was a
cork?”

Magic,
Basilard signed.

“Oh?” Amaranthe asked. “Related to the
kidnappings?”

“I’m not sure precisely,” Maldynado said. “I
was looking for my pants at the time.”

Amaranthe opened her mouth, then shut it,
probably deciding she was better off not knowing. “Have there been
any more kidnappings?” she asked. “Are the people who disappeared
last night still gone?”

Three total,
Basilard signed.
Two
foreigners and one Turgonian man from a different...place.
Though he had added a lot of signs, giving his language versatility
amongst the group, saying “The Chevrok Satrapy” was beyond him for
now, but Amaranthe nodded understanding, and he went on,
The
enforcers I overheard are starting to accept that something strange
is going on. They’re blaming Sicarius since he was sighted this
morning.

“
Supposedly
sighted,” Amaranth said.
“I wonder if we can find out who sent that fellow and what he
wanted to accomplish. Basilard, I apologize, but my reason for
wanting someone from our team in the Imperial Games isn’t entirely
selfless. I’m hoping an insider might be more likely to hear about
what’s going on. Maybe they’ll even target you for one of the
kidnappings.” She bounced on her toes, then caught herself. “Sorry,
that should probably not excite me.”

I’ll take solace knowing you’d be just as
happy if you could pose as an athlete and get kidnapped.

Maldynado snorted. “That’d make her even
happier.”

“Basilard, you’ll need someone to play the
role of trainer and translator,” Amaranthe said. “Akstyr and Books
may be busy, so...”

Maldynado slung an arm over Basilard’s
shoulder. “I’m always happy to spend time at the stadium and watch
all the fine...events.”

Just keep your pants on
, Basilard
signed.

Amaranthe opened her mouth again, shut it
again, and shook her head.

“No promises.” Maldynado winked.

An ice wagon trundled across the grounds,
selling blocks to vendors who turned them into chilled tea and
strawberry juice. Amaranthe thought about buying a glass of the
latter, but the midday sun left few shadows for wanted women to
hide in. Clad in white athlete togs again, she was sitting on a
bench on the edge of the grounds with a wide-brimmed sun hat pulled
low over her eyes while she waited for Fasha to meet her. Sicarius
had pointed out that night meetings would be safer, but Amaranthe
wanted to listen in on the local gossip. The trail leading from the
stadium to the baths and barracks wound past her perch, and she had
already overheard quite a bit.

“...need more guards,” a woman with
sweat-dampened bangs told her comrade as they strolled past.

“The enforcers aren’t admitting to anything,”
the other woman answered. “They’re saying nothing’s going on, that
the missing athletes probably went home.”

“Oh, sure, they trained all year, and then
just went home before the competition even...”

The women walked out of hearing range.
Amaranthe bent her head to study the short list of names on a
notepad in her lap. Five athletes were missing now: two foreigners,
including Fasha’s sister; and three Turgonians, one a local, and
two from other satrapies. She recognized the local man, a
warrior-caste wrestler, because they were the same age and had
competed in the junior events at the same time. What eluded her was
the common theme. All of the missing people had disappeared in the
middle of the night from their barracks or, in the wrestler’s case,
a private room in the lodge.

“You should pay attention to your
surroundings when you’re in a public area,” Sicarius said from the
shrubs a couple of feet behind the bench.

Amaranthe stifled her usual twitch of
surprise and did not lift her head, wondering if she could wheedle
her way out of a lecture. “I knew you were on the grounds.”

A long moment passed before he answered. “You
are assuming that you’re safe, simply because I’m in the area?”

“You know I’m not at my most attentive when
I’m plotting and mulling. I’ve come to trust you’ll keep an eye on
me.”

“That’s reckless,” Sicarius said. “I’m your
colleague, not your bodyguard, nor can I guarantee your safety
since I cannot walk about freely here. If you must study papers in
a public area, you should scan your surroundings every fifteen
seconds, ensuring you are aware of the movements and interests of
everyone within a radius of at least… Why are you smiling?”

Actually, it was more of a grin. “You called
me a colleague,” Amaranthe said. “I’m flattered.”

“You are not taking my admonishment
seriously.”

“I am, too,” Amaranthe said.

Another pair of athletes was approaching, so
Amaranthe left the bench to join Sicarius in the foliage.
Mischievous branches tugged at her hat and rained leaves onto her
shoulders. She dusted them off. As much as she liked the idea of
nature, it was difficult to maintain a tidy appearance when
surrounded by it.

“I’m just bad at admitting out loud that I’m
wrong about something,” Amaranthe added.

“A character flaw you should correct.”

“Likely so.” She lifted her notepad,
intending to ask his opinions about the names, but he surprised her
by continuing.

“It would bother me if you died while I was
attending to biological needs.”

Amaranthe’s grin returned at the admission.
“It would bother me if I died then, too. Or any time.” She handed
him the notepad. “These are the people missing thus far. One
disappeared three nights ago, two the night before last—that was
when Fasha’s sister went—and one last night. I’m trying to figure
out what the common link is. After talking with Fasha, I figured it
might be another ploy against foreigners, but we now have more
Turgonians missing than outsiders. The wrestler, Deercrest, has won
often, so I could see him being targeted as someone to get rid of.
Though it’s not honorable to make opponents disappear, it’s
certainly not without precedent in the history of the Imperial
Games. But the other four are young no-names. One isn’t even old
enough to compete in the regular events; he was entered into the
junior Clank Race.”

“Perhaps they are promising contenders for
this year’s competitions,” Sicarius said.

“How would a kidnapper know? The qualifiers
don’t start until tomorrow. Sure, some people post their practice
times, but most don’t, and the best athletes often only compete
hard enough to make the cut in the early rounds.” Amaranthe leaned
against a tree. “Besides, who would want to get rid of multiple
good athletes? I could see rigging your own event, or your child’s
event, but why wrestling, running,
and
the Clank Race?”

As was often the case, Sicarius did not
answer, but she knew he was listening.

“Could it be a gambling scheme?” she mused.
“People bet on the events, and some people bet a
lot
. Is
someone trying to set things up so they can guess the winners?”

“With athletes disappearing days prior to the
race, the odds will be adjusted accordingly.”

“True, it’d make more sense to kidnap someone
the night before, or minutes before the event if you wanted to
upset the odds-makers.” Amaranthe took the notepad back and tapped
it. “Still, it might be worth talking to some of the
bookmakers.”

Male voices sounded on the path in front of
the bench. She parted the branches as a trio of muscular young men
walked past. They did not wear athletes’ togs, but instead the
sleeveless overalls of miners. That was odd. Most local companies
only gave workers the final two days of the Imperial Games off
because they were considered a holiday in the capital. Even if one
man had finagled a day off somehow, it seemed unlikely a group
could have managed the same. Mining outfits were particularly
stingy with leave, as Amaranthe well knew. She had seen little of
her father when she was growing up. Yet here these men were,
wandering about, a day before the qualifying events were to start
and a week before the holiday finals.

“
They
are not bookmakers,” Sicarius
said.

The branches rustled as Amaranthe released
them. “No, I know. I was just thinking...” She paused as the
possible connotations of his comment slid over her. Was he
displeased to have caught her ogling handsome young men? No hint of
consternation marked his face; maybe she had imagined his words had
underlying meaning. Besides, he knew she would happily ogle him if
he gave her more opportunities. “I’m going to follow those men. I
have a hunch.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but all he said
was, “There are numerous enforcers about.”

“I know. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

“Doubtful.”

“Just don’t wander off for too long at a time
to attend biological needs.”

Amaranthe tossed him a wink and slipped out
of the brush without waiting for a response. She tugged the brim of
her hat low over her eyes. It did a decent job of hiding her
features, especially considering most enforcers were men, and her
five-and-a-half feet put her face below their eye level, but she
had best not chance getting too close.

She trailed after the miners at a distance,
keeping other people between her and them. One had a rolled up
newspaper and a small leather-bound journal protruding from back
pockets. That piqued her interest even more. Most miners only had
the mandatory six years of schooling and started working young, so
it was rare to find one who was comfortable looking to books or
newspapers for information.

A bent, old woman stepped out from the
courtyard of an eating tent, and the miners stopped abruptly. She
leaned on a cane and wore her gray hair in buns on either side of
her head—hardly a formidable-looking person, but the young men
darted back the way they had come, nearly running into Amaranthe.
She hopped off the path to let them by. They must have been in
their twenties, but they tore away like truant children avoiding a
school teacher.

“I saw you, Rill and Stemmic,” the old woman
hollered after them, “and your mother will hear from me. You being
off work this many days, you ought to be helping her out.”

The men ran into the stadium and disappeared
from view, but Amaranthe barely noticed. That woman’s voice... It
was familiar. Something from her childhood.

She squinted at the old lady, and it took a
moment to place her. She was the mother of a friend of her
father’s, and Amaranthe had stayed at her flat once as a girl when
Auntie Memela had been sick.

The woman had stopped yelling after the young
men, but she continued to stand there, leaning on her cane and
grousing under her breath. Though Amaranthe was curious what the
exchange had been about, she found herself hesitant to go up to the
woman. She had avoided everyone from her old life since becoming an
outlaw, in part to keep them out of trouble, but also because she
did not want their pity or condemnation. Once she found her
exoneration, she could reconnect with old comrades.

But this was different. This might be some
sort of lead.

Amaranthe girded herself and strode up to the
woman. “Hello, ma’am?” She decided not to mention her name. What
were the odds that the woman would remember her? “Do you need any
help? Did those boys do something to you?”

The woman tilted her head and squinted up at
Amaranthe, peering beneath the hat. “Amaranthe Lokdon?”

“Er, you remember me?”

“I remember you.” Her face was difficult to
read. No hint of a smile stretched her lips. “I see you remember
me, too.”

“Yes, but you look the same.”

“That’s good. I think,” the woman said.

“Wasn’t I only seven or eight the last time
we met?”

“Yes, but I’ve recently seen your face
decorating a poster.”

“Ah.” Amaranthe tugged her hat a little
lower, reminded of the public nature of the place.