that he didn’t want to give Sespian another reason to hate him. But if Sespian was happily in love with someone else…
“Should I be concerned that you’re grinning?” Yara asked.
“ Yes,” Books said. He stood at the corner of the shed, and he had been staying out of the conversation, but that question apparently tempted him too much.
Amaranthe dropped the smile. She hadn’t realized it had grown light enough to read expressions, but she ought to keep her scheming thoughts off her face anyway. Besides, the threat to the emperor was the paramount concern, not this relationship twaddle. “I was thinking that you might be the perfect person to help us.”
Books sent a wary look in her direction. Amaranthe was glad Sicarius hadn’t reappeared. Telling an enforcer that her team planned to kidnap the emperor might not be a good idea, but if Amaranthe could enlist Yara’s help, it could be worth the risk.
“How so?” Yara asked warily.
“You know the emperor has been out inspecting the various forts around Turgonia?”
“Yes… by train.”
“Indeed so. We believe kidnappers are going to strike at him during the last leg of his journey.”
Books made a choking sound. Amaranthe hoped the look she shot him said, “Sssshh,” sufficiently.
“Kidnappers?” Yara asked. “Who?”
“All we have is a note,” Amaranthe said, being careful not to lie outright. “But if he is in danger, we intend to help him. If you want, you could join us at Forkingrust Station. We intend to slip onto his train there and be ready in case something happens while he’s en route to Stumps. If you come, you could assist us if things get out of hand. Just to be honest with you, I wouldn’t mind having a third party along who, if things go wrong, knows our intent was to help the emperor. Perhaps we’re foolish to want to risk ourselves to help him, but, as I’ve told you, we’re trying to earn exoneration.”
Amaranthe had been speaking rather rapidly, probably because she was afraid Yara would stop her with curses for her dead, deranged ancestors. She paused to collect her breath and wait for a response.
“I have duties here,” Yara said.
Amaranthe had expected a protest or a snort of disbelief. This response startled her. It was as if Yara was actually considering coming.
“Surely you have some leave you could take?” Amaranthe figured she’d better press before the woman came to her senses. “One way or another, this will be wrapped up in a week.” Meaning her team would either be dead for their audacity to challenge a train full of soldiers, or they’d have the emperor with them and… well, she had little idea what would happen at that point. They would have to see what Sespian wanted from them. “You owe him your promotion, don’t you? And he’s your emperor. Can you stand back and let these Forge fiends threaten him?”
“You believe that entity will be behind the kidnapping?” Yara asked.
Careful, Amaranthe told herself. “I believe they’re the major threat to the emperor, and they may represent a threat to the entire empire with the changes they want.”
“What do they want?”
“From what we’ve gathered, power in the government, favorable economic laws for their businesses, and… possibly to get rid of Sespian and replace him with a more amenable figurehead.” Sometimes Amaranthe wondered why Forge hadn’t already made that last move, especially if they had people in the Imperial Barracks where they could strike at Sespian. Maybe they figured they had him sufficiently under control, or maybe they were biding time until they could raise a private army to ensure they could come out on top in the civil war that would likely rise should Sespian die without an heir.
Amaranthe swallowed. Maybe that was what the weapons were for. A private army.
“I see,” Yara said, her tone neutral. “I’ll consider what you’ve told me. I must go to work. My shift starts shortly.”
Her measured words drove a spike of worry into Amaranthe. Had she just made the biggest mistake of the year? What if Yara warned someone and arranged to have swarms of enforcers and soldiers at Forkingrust Station when Amaranthe and her team of outlaws arrived?
Yara pulled her parka tight about her and strode up the street. Thoughts gibbered in Amaranthe’s head. Mistake, mistake, was the foremost cry among them. For a ludicrous moment, she thought of chasing after Yara, cracking her over the head, and kidnapping her, if only to detain her until the team had left for Forkingrust, and it was too late for Yara to do anything.
A shadow stirred beside Amaranthe, and a hand clamped down on her elbow.
“What were you thinking?” Sicarius asked.
Amaranthe jumped. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d finished with the brother and joined them, but his appearance rattled her nonetheless. That she’d been thinking of setting his son up with a date was probably not the right thing to say.
“That we could use another ally,” she said. Yes, that sounded safer. At least he wasn’t asking about her sudden interest in the shaman’s workshop.
“We don’t need her. She hasn’t been training with the team. She’ll be like you were when we first met.”
“Gee, thanks.” Amaranthe clasped Sicarius’s hand and attempted to pry his fingers loose. He wasn’t hurting her, but it was definitely a firm, you’ve-irritated-me-with-your-unpredictable-antics grip. “I want an outside witness in case something goes wrong. I don’t want to lose everything we’ve fought for because the papers assume we’re the villains again.”
Sicarius released her with a swift motion. “It’s more likely that her reputation will be ruined because she associated with us. If she joins and doesn’t simply tell the authorities what you told her.”
True. Amaranthe hated to admit it, but he was probably right. That had been impulsive and foolish of her. She forced herself to smile and say, “We’ll see.”
Sicarius stalked away without a word. Amaranthe had learned nothing useful in regard to those under-skin devices, and her plan to win Sicarius for herself seemed less likely to work than ever. Right now, she’d be lucky if he didn’t strangle her on the way back to the city.
Chapter 7
Akstyr strolled down the street with his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual despite the sweat slithering down his spine. Affluent pedestrians meandered down the cobblestone lane, chatting with vendors selling everything from exotic spices and flavored honeys to engraved wooden swords and shields for children. Now and then, enforcers strode past the carts, batons and short swords dangling from their hips. Akstyr subtly avoided them, glad he had tied his hair back in a knot so his usual spiky tufts wouldn’t draw attention. It seemed a strange neighborhood for his contact to frequent, but then the man wasn’t a criminal himself, so he had no reason to avoid the law.
A couple of thieves tried to “accidentally” bump Akstyr for a chance to fish in his pockets, making him feel a little more at home. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, he didn’t have any money for them to find. Amaranthe and the others weren’t back yet, so payday hadn’t come, and he’d spent his last fifty ranmyas to arrange a meeting with Khaalid, a sharpshooter and blade master who had, his reputation said, gotten wealthy by collecting bounties on gangsters and felons. His reputation also said the meaner the bastard he was hunting, the better. He might be crazy enough to want a stab at Sicarius and wealthy enough to pay for information on his whereabouts.
A brass sign hanging above a doorway ahead of Akstyr read, Juiced. He weaved around vendor stalls, heading for the shop.
To his side, someone darted out of sight, using a vegetable cart for cover. Akstyr paused. It probably had nothing to do with him, but nobody else was acting suspiciously in the neighborhood. He hadn’t had a good look, though he’d glimpsed long hair and a dress.
He waited for a moment, but he didn’t spot the person again. After resolving to keep an eye out on the way
