Deadly Games (21 page)

“Yes, it is,” Maldynado said. “How come he’s
got the afternoon off?”

“He doesn’t.” Amaranthe checked behind them
to make sure no squad of enforcers was huffing and puffing down the
trail after them, then veered past three rows of stands stuffed
with bicycles.

Akstyr saw them coming and sat up, a sheepish
grin on his lips. Children hollered and yelled in the shallows.
Though this particular beach was far from residential
neighborhoods, it sported sand instead of rocks, making it
popular.

“I checked a whole heap of apothecaries and
didn’t learn anything about your red-headed woman or the powder,”
he rushed to say, probably trying to head off a lecture. “Some of
the older clerks knew about the powder, but they said you can’t get
it in the empire.”

“How many apothecaries are in ‘a whole
heap’?” Amaranthe asked.

“Bridger’s on Second and that little
foreign-owned one in the Veterans’ Quarter, and...uhm...”

“Two?” Books said. “Two constitutes a heap?
I’ll send a note to the publishers of the Titanus Imperial
Dictionary so they can update the entry.”

“Ha ha,” Akstyr said. “Look, I was going to
check some more after I relaxed a little.”

Amaranthe held out the vial Books had
retrieved. “We got a sample of the powder.”

Akstyr took it and held it up to the sun.
“Oh, brilliant,” he breathed. His eyes narrowed, and calculation
gleamed in them.

Amaranthe noted his expression. Did he think
he could sell the powder for a handsome profit?

“Where’s Basilard?” Akstyr asked. The hand
holding the vial drifted toward his pocket.

“He was kidnapped after a stellar performance
on the Clank Race.” Amaranthe reached out and caught Akstyr’s hand
before he could pocket the vial. She pried it out of his fingers.
“I’ll keep this for now.”

He reached for her hand, and an objection
seemed on his lips, but he caught himself. “Sure, whatever. Not
like I need it for anything.”

Uh huh. Which assured her he did. She would
have to keep an eye on him.

“What do you mean Basilard was kidnapped?”
Akstyr asked. “Weren’t you there? How could someone take him when
you were watching?”

“He was in the athlete area,” Maldynado said.
“We were spectators.”

“And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t imply
we were negligent,” Books added, his back straight and stiff.

“Fine, but we need Basilard,” Akstyr said.
“He’s important for...stuff.”

“Yes,” Amaranthe said, her own eyes narrowed
now as she considered Akstyr. “Yes, he is.” It was hard for her to
believe Basilard would be a part of some scheme of Akstyr’s, but
she
had
noticed the two talking together more this past week
than ever before. “We’re going to get him back. Sicarius, too. I
need to hunt down a map and make some notes.”

“A map of city fountains?” Maldynado asked,
watching her warily.

“Perhaps,” she said. “You can help me. Books,
are you up for a research assignment? Want to see if you can find a
record of that rail carriage?”

“Of course,” he said.

“This isn’t turning out to be a very good
vacation,” Maldynado observed.

“I agree,” Amaranthe said, as they padded
onto the dusty trail.

Amaranthe examined the map under the soft
light of one of the gas lamps lining the city block around Pyramid
Park. She had a lantern along as well, since the boneyard was black
at night, but this provided better illumination.

Books leaned over her shoulder, also studying
the map, while Akstyr humored Maldynado in a game with the catchy
title of “You Pick a Letter and I’ll Say a Woman I’ve Slept with
Whose Name Beings with That Letter.”

“Z?” Maldynado asked. “That’s easy. Zevinika
and Zela.”

“This isn’t any fun. You could be making
these people up,” Akstyr said.

“Well, traditionally two people alternate
names of women they’ve slept with, and the name one person says has
to start with the last letter of the name the other person
said.”

“How is that more fun?”

“It’d be more fun for
you
because you
could reminisce on past loves as well,” Maldynado said, “but since
I know you’ve a dearth of experience in that area, I chose to
modify the game so you could play.”

“Real thoughtful of you.”

“I know. You’re welcome.”

Attempting to block out their chatter,
Amaranthe pointed at the seven fountains circled on the map. “These
are the closest to the miner’s flat,” she told Books. “Since they
said they were meeting at
the
fountain instead of the Fourth
and Loom Street Fountain or some such, that seems to imply it was a
nearby location they were all familiar with. What do you
think?”

“I think we may want to focus on the rail
tracks instead.” He tapped the hatched line on the map. “That
locomotive headed into town, but, given its clandestine purpose, I
doubt it ever made it to the station where its arrival would have
been logged. There are a limited number of stubs it could have
turned up before then. A hideout might be located along one of
those routes, as kidnappers wouldn’t want to carry famous athletes
through the open city for far.”

“True, but they could have transferred their
cargo to a steam carriage.”

“If they did, they might have left evidence
behind, or someone might have seen them,” Books said. “There are
only six possible stubs before the station and only two near the
fountains you circled.”

Amaranthe would not get her hopes up, but she
said, “It’s worth checking out.”

“Since these are residential neighborhoods,
there are limited places where one could store a number of
kidnapped athletes,” Books went on. “I doubt anyone would choose a
flat surrounded by nosy residents, so we can narrow our search to
abandoned buildings or perhaps those with large basements with
exterior entrances. If we split our team up, we could check the
buildings along both of these stubs tonight.”

“Agreed,” Amaranthe said, “though I hate the
idea of splitting up when we’re already missing two people. I don’t
want to lose anyone else.”

“I’m surprised nobody’s tried to kidnap me,”
Maldynado said. “I’m at least as good of a find as Basilard and
Sicarius. It’s obvious these kidnappers aren’t basing their choices
on looks.”

“We believe they’re basing their acquisitions
on athletic prowess,” Books said.

“I have that, too. I should have entered an
event, so I could get noticed.”

“Are you actually jealous that you weren’t
kidnapped?” Amaranthe asked.

“Not jealous. I just think they’re
shortsighted if they didn’t consider me.”

“Why would you care?” Akstyr asked. “They’re
probably getting tortured and forced to do unpleasant stuff.”

Amaranthe winced. She did not need to hear
about those possibilities, not for her men. Her
friends
.

“I would have entered if not for the bounty
on my head,” Maldynado said.

“It’s not like anyone ever tries to collect
your bounty,” Akstyr said. “It’s not worth it.”

“That’s not true. Just the other day a
bounty-hunting miscreant tried to apprehend me. I was lucky to
escape with my life.”

“Is that the child I saw chasing you through
the boneyard with a slingshot?” Amaranthe asked.

“What? No! Er. You saw that?”

Amaranthe drew her pocket watch. “A quarter
past ten. If Lord Mancrest doesn’t show up in five minutes, we’re
going rail-carriage hunting.”

“It’s that late?” Maldynado asked. “That’s
not like him.”

Amaranthe picked up her lantern and headed
for the gated entrance to the pyramid. It was set into a wall
around the corner from the steep stone stairs leading to the
ancient dais. The gate ought to be locked—the woman who owned the
property ran tours during the day and presumably wanted to keep the
tacky souvenir merchandise inside safe—but maybe someone had left
the door open and Mancrest had gone in to wait. It seemed unlikely,
but it did not hurt to check.

“What’s that?” Maldynado asked.

Amaranthe squinted at a shape on the ground
under the gate. She stepped closer, holding her lantern aloft. At
first she had no idea what the object might be because it was
squished beneath the metal frame. Then recognition jolted her.

“Mancrest’s hat,” she said.

Maldynado grabbed a metal handle, turned it,
and swung the gate open with a soft creak. A stone tunnel led away
into darkness.

“Think someone snatched him?” Akstyr
asked.

“Our kidnappers?” Books scratched his jaw.
“How would they know he was here? And why would they want him?
Mancrest, with his cane and spectacles, doesn’t fit into the same
category as the superb athletes they’ve abducted thus far.”

“He was a decent duelist before he got hurt,”
Maldynado said.

“We going in after him?” Akstyr asked, his
tone suggesting the idea held no appeal for him.

“Amaranthe?” Books asked. “What do you
think?”

She was standing, head down, chin in her hand
as she considered the hat. “I think...if Sicarius were here, he’d
say this is a trap.”

“Set by Mancrest?” Books asked. “Or the
kidnappers?”

“Do we believe there’s any connection between
Mancrest and the kidnappers?” Amaranthe did not. “He hasn’t covered
them in the newspaper, other than to say some people are missing.
I’m skeptical they’d be aware of him.”

Maldynado picked up the hat. “If that bastard
tried to get me to set you up again, I’ll...” He squinted at
something inside the hat, then held it close to Amaranthe’s
lantern. “That looks like blood.”

Amaranthe closed her eyes, trying to decide
whether she wanted to devote more time to Mancrest when her
comrades were missing. If he
was
in trouble, rescuing him
might endear him to her, but she found the location of the hat
suspicious. It couldn’t have been better placed if someone wanted
her to find it.

“Books,” she said, moving away from the gate,
“do you know another way in?”

“Hm, I believe so.” Books stroked his chin.
“I researched the pyramid extensively when I wrote a paper on the
civilization that lived around the lake two thousand years ago.
They were a fascinating people, primitive and cannibalistic, but
surprisingly advanced insofar as literacy and mathematics. They
worshiped a—”

“Books,” Amaranthe said. “I’d like to have
time to look for Sicarius and Basilard tonight. The entrances?”

“Ah, of course. There’s an underground
entrance coming up from the ancient tunnels beneath Stumps, but the
installation of the city sewer system destroyed a lot of those
passages. Oh, wait. I recall a reference to a trapdoor under the
dais up top.”

Amaranthe nodded, remembering how Sicarius
had appeared up there without using the stairs. She had wondered if
there might be a door up there somewhere.

“And it connects with this tunnel?” She
pointed through the gate.

“I believe so. The passages do wind around in
there, and I can’t promise to be an unerring guide, but I have some
memory of the layout from the maps in the texts I... Where are you
going?”

Already heading for the stairs, Amaranthe
waved toward the top of the pyramid. “Up. You can keep talking on
the way if you want.”

“But it’s not a requirement,” Maldynado said,
jogging after her.

Books muttered something to Akstyr about his
knowledge not being fully appreciated. Akstyr responded with his
usual, “Whatever.”

When Amaranthe reached the top, she hunted
around for signs of the trapdoor. Sicarius, she remembered, had
appeared behind her when she had been near the stairs, looking
down. She knelt and prodded around the base of the altar, which
still sported the headless statue with its two wings, clawed feet,
and furry torso.

“Did your studies tell you how to open this
trapdoor?” Amaranthe asked Books.

“Not that I recall,” he said.

“You can recite the dates of each reign of
every emperor since Dorok the First,” Maldynado said. “Why can’t
you remember something useful like this?”

“Historical tomes rarely advise people on how
to break into ancient structures through unguarded entrances,”
Books said. “I believe they like to discourage the pillaging of
goods inside.”

“We’re not pillaging anything,” Maldynado
said.

“Unless there’s something good to pillage,”
Akstyr said. “Is there?”

“Not that I’d tell you about,” Books
said.

Amaranthe groped about the stone floor. The
lantern light did little to illuminate the subtle nuances in the
ancient blocks, but her fingers found dents and divots. She poked a
few and nothing happened. She moved to the two rear columns
supporting the roof covering the altar.

Her knee clunked against a bump, and she
winced. She investigated the object, a slightly elevated triangular
stone. She—and her knee—found it suspicious that it stuck out when
nothing else did. Amaranthe tried pulling and pushing it. Neither
worked. Maybe a turn? She rotated it to the left, as if she were
unscrewing a lid on a jar.

The floor disappeared beneath her.

Amaranthe dropped into darkness with a
startled squawk. Though surprised, she twisted in the air, moving
quickly enough to get her feet beneath her. The landing jarred her,
but she softened her knees enough that she did not injure
herself.

Unfortunately, her lantern did not survive
the fall unscathed. It had gone out as it dropped, and clanks and
clatters echoed from the stone walls as it bounced several times,
then rolled to a stop in the darkness. Close, dusty air wrapped
about Amaranthe, intruding upon her nostrils. It smelled like
vermin had died nearby. Maybe other things as well.

“Amaranthe?” Books called from above. “Are
you...well?”

She had their only lantern—well, the darkness
had it at the moment—but she could make out the men’s silhouettes
as they leaned over a three-by-three-foot hole in the ceiling. She
opened her mouth to respond, but a sneeze assailed her nostrils
instead.