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.
Chapter 14
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
