the doors, or through the roof, the only way open was…
She arched her eyebrows. Down. Was down a possibility?
“How much clearance is there beneath the cars?” Amaranthe tried to picture the area between the wheels in her mind.
“You’re not serious,” Maldynado said.
Amaranthe looked at Sicarius, figuring that with Books not around he’d be most likely to know the answer. He was staring at her, probably thinking exactly what Maldynado had said.
“Could we crawl underneath the cars and couplings to bypass the soldiers and get back to the engine?” Amaranthe asked, though she grimaced as her gaze fell on Sespian. With him unconscious, someone would have to carry him, and she couldn’t imagine there was enough clearance for that.
“Boss, you’re not serious,” Maldynado repeated. “Are you? That’d be hard enough if the train were standing still. Even if there’s enough room…” He shook his head. “Miss one handhold or let your foot slip free, and you’d fall and be mangled to death under the wheels.”
Amaranthe grabbed the cutting torch from him. “I’m going to take a look. Give me two minutes.” She waved to encompass the windows and doors, or, more specifically, the soldiers trying to batter them down.
She stepped over unconscious bodies to find a spot in the middle of the car, then yanked out a dagger to cut away a square of the carpet. She wasn’t ready to start a fire. Yet.
A shot fired, and a lantern on the wall exploded.
“You idiots are going to shoot your own emperor!” Amaranthe yelled.
“Surrender or die!” someone yelled back.
“Surrender and die is more likely,” she huffed, shoving the severed carpet patch away.
Amaranthe maneuvered the blowtorch into position and found the trigger. A funnel of flames shot out, and she cursed, yanking it back so it wouldn’t light a nearby chair on fire. She found an adjustment knob, and the flame narrowed into a tight beam. She applied it to the floor, hoping it would perform as promised and cut through metal. The floor, she feared, would be thicker and sturdier than the roof.
The flame scorched the metal, but a hole appeared. A small hole. She moved the torch a half an inch. This might work, but it was going to take time. Maybe more time than they had.
A shot fired, this time from within the car.
“Who’s shooting?” Amaranthe demanded without taking her eyes from the torch.
“I’m not aiming to kill,” Maldynado said, “but they’ll be less eager to thrust themselves inside if they’re convinced I’m trying to shoot ’em.”
On the other side of the square she was cutting, Sicarius knelt to face Amaranthe. He hadn’t said anything about her plan. He set Sespian down, and the emperor’s head lolled to the side. With his eyes closed, soft brown hair across his brow, and his face peaceful with sleep, he appeared young, like a kid, not an emperor. Akstyr was younger, but Amaranthe doubted many people would guess on looks alone.
Her gaze slid to Sespian’s neck, and queasiness rolled into her stomach. The bump they had seen in the newspaper picture was there. Not a mole or wart or any sort of growth on top of the skin. It was definitely something burrowed beneath the flesh, leaving a bulge the size of a pencil top. It was identical to nodules they’d seen on the necks of other people who’d crossed Forge. All too well, Amaranthe remembered the thug Sicarius had been questioning in a warehouse and how the man had launched into convulsions before pitching to the floor, dead.
Sicarius caught her wrist and took the cutting torch. Amaranthe hadn’t been paying enough attention, and she’d strayed away from her line. He went to work, moving the tool along more efficiently than she had been.
“Does this mean you’re willing to try my idea?” Amaranthe asked.
Gunshots punctuated her words.
“We have few options,” Sicarius said. “I won’t surrender him.” He gave her a quick, determined look, and it sent a wave of fear over her. Not for herself, but for the soldiers shooting, chopping, and hacking their way into the car. Sespian would never forgive Sicarius for killing all of his men, and Sicarius had to know that, but maybe he was afraid that leaving Sespian here would mean his death at the hands of Forge, and he was willing to risk Sespian’s eternal hatred to save his life.
“Sicarius…”
He ignored her. The flame burning through the floor reflected off the textured metal around it and cast a wavering orange glow upon Sicarius’s face, creating a dance of shadows and light across it and showing his intense determination.
“Boss!” Maldynado called. “I almost lost my left nut with that shot. These soldiers aren’t worrying about- ouch! I mean, they’re not worrying about where they’re shooting. We can’t hold ’em back for long.”
“Light off any more smoke grenades you have,” Amaranthe yelled. “And pile up any loose furniture in front of the doors.”
Sicarius finished cutting the square in the floor. He set the torch aside and wedged his black dagger into one of the cracks.
“Be careful.” Amaranthe eyed the smoke rising from the blackened metal. “That’ll be hot.”
Sicarius flicked her a dry glance before prying open their new trapdoor without touching the edges.
“I know, I’m stating the obvious again,” Amaranthe said, “but remember, that saves you from something gooey and sentimental.”
Sicarius had stuck his head through the opening, and she didn’t know if he heard her. It was a good thing her aim had been ragged and the hole had ended up on the wide side, because there was a thick beam running beneath the right three inches.
Sicarius popped back up. “It’s doable. You go first.”
“Because this was my absurd idea?” Amaranthe joined Sicarius on the other side of the hole, so that she faced the front of the train, and dropped to her belly. She could hardly object to leading the way. It was her idea.
“Because you need to get to the engine first to figure out your plan for keeping the soldiers busy until we reach the pass.”
Amaranthe offered a bleak, “Ah.” Yes, she had promised to come up with something.
“And the farther back someone is, the more likely it is that one of the soldiers will have noticed someone going under the couplings and will be ready to shoot,” Sicarius added. “You’re not expendable. Neither is Sespian, so I’ll go after you.”
Amaranthe hoped Basilard and Maldynado weren’t listening just then. She also hoped her plan wasn’t going to condemn anyone.
She ducked her head through the hole. It was deafening down there, with the wheels grinding and clacking past each section of the tracks. There was no light either, so they’d have to go by touch. She had a vague sense of a two-foot clearance but also saw the dark bumps of beams and protuberances that would make it closer to a foot in places.
“Boss?” Maldynado was behind her, and Basilard behind him. Blood streaked both of their faces, and a bruise swelled on Basilard’s temple. “We piled up the furniture,” Maldynado said.
“We’re taking the shortcut back.” Amaranthe pointed to the hole. “You two can figure out who’s coming last.” She lifted the torch. “Last one to leave gets to light the place on fire.”
Basilard’s eyebrows flew up. Maldynado grinned and grabbed the tool.
“It’ll distract them,” Amaranthe told Basilard, “keep them from figuring out where we went at first. It might split their forces, too, if it means nobody from the back cars can get to the front.”
“Enough,” Sicarius said. “Go.”
“I’ve got the lock,” someone shouted from outside the backdoor.
Amaranthe nodded. Yes, no time to waste. She squirmed onto her back so she would be facing upward after she slid headfirst through the hole. She paused to look Sicarius in the eye.
“Are you going to be able to carry Sespian through this? There’s not much clearance.”
“I’ll figure it out.” He pointed at the hole. “If you want these soldiers to live, go now.”
“Right.” Amaranthe caught Basilard looking at her with concern in his blue eyes, and she forced a reassuring grin onto her face. “Someone told me cleaning fish doesn’t get any easier for having put the task off.” That was one of his grandfather’s sayings, as she recalled.
