“The water tank is below an eighth.”
“We’re cutting off the water, Basilard,” Amaranthe called.
She stepped inside to turn the knob and returned, almost running into a leaping Sicarius as he caught the corner of the door and pulled himself inside. With his momentum, he might have knocked her to the floor, but he caught her about the waist and kept her upright, despite the jostle. Sweat streamed down his face, blood stained his short hair, and rips and holes gouged his shirt. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have survived if she’d taken the decoupling job.
“Welcome back.” Amaranthe might have hugged Sicarius had there not been witnesses around.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “We will discuss what I call a sprint the next time the group trains.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’ll be a fun day.”
Sicarius’s gaze shifted, and he met Sespian’s eyes over Amaranthe’s shoulder. He released her and stepped away.
Still poised before the furnace, Sespian stood straight, his fingers tight about the haft of the shovel. He looked like he was thinking of swinging it at Sicarius’s head. Something between fear and hatred hardened his eyes. Sicarius returned the stare without any of the same rancor, at least not in Amaranthe’s opinion, but many people found that unwavering gaze of his as icy as a glacier.
“Return to full speed?” Yara asked.
“Not yet,” Amaranthe said.
A gunshot fired in the coal car. They still had work to do.
“We need to help Maldynado and Basilard knock the rest of those men off our train.” Amaranthe pulled out her short sword, wincing as the motion drew a new surge of pain from the bullet wound in her shoulder, and tried to step past Sicarius.
He caught her by the arm. “You are injured.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Stay here.” Sicarius jumped out the door, bypassing Basilard by pulling himself straight up onto the roof.
“I give the orders around here, remember?” Amaranthe called after him. As expected, no answers floated down from above. “Difficult man.”
Considering Sicarius appeared much more injured than she did, she didn’t want to hang back and force him and the others to handle the fighting. After checking to make sure Yara and Sespian were fine, Amaranthe climbed outside again.
Sicarius had already cleared the roof. He leaped into the coal bed where Basilard and Maldynado joined him. Already they were advancing as a team, forcing their opponents back. In the confines of the coal bed, the soldiers couldn’t circle around her men to attack from the sides. They had to face the formidable swords and daggers face-on, and their numbers did little to help.
Not sure if she’d do anything except get in the way, Amaranthe waited in the corner, ready to help if someone faltered. But they didn’t. She rarely had a chance to watch the team at work, and admitted to a feeling of pride at the way they attacked as one unit, as if they’d choreographed their movements. Their opponents were forced back and soon ran out of room. Once the numbers were even, Amaranthe expected the soldiers to jump off the train of their own accord, but if anything they fought more tenaciously than ever at the end. True to her wishes, her men did their best not to kill anyone, and the last soldier sailed over the side of the car with nothing but bruises.
When only Maldynado, Sicarius, and Basilard remained standing, Amaranthe sheathed her sword.
“Well done.” She gave Sicarius a sheepish look. “I guess you were right and that you didn’t need me.”
“Of course we did,” Maldynado said. “Someone has to witness our glorious battles in order to relay our deeds to others.” He leaned to the side, eyes toward the locomotive cab. “Yara didn’t come out, eh? I thought she might enjoy seeing me do something more impressive than turning water on and off.”
“She’s with the emperor, and they’re busy keeping the train moving,” Amaranthe said. She remembered her idea about getting Sespian to develop an interest in Yara. It wasn’t the best time to worry about such things, but she couldn’t help but hope they were up there, talking and bonding.
“I’ll see if they need a hand,” Maldynado said.
Amaranthe was tempted to tell him to leave Sespian and Yara alone for a while longer, but he was already climbing past her, heading for the cabin. Basilard came up to her and pointed to her shoulder. It was too dark to read his hand signs, but she assumed he was asking after her health.
“It’s fine, thanks. Do you have any injuries?”
Basilard hesitated, then shook his head. Amaranthe took that for a yes, but not severe.
“We have two hours left before we reach the pass,” she said. “Why don’t you get some rest?”
Basilard pointed at the back of the locomotive.
“Hold on.” Amaranthe hunted about, looking for the lantern one of the men had brought out earlier. “Let me find some light, so I can see what you’re saying.”
Sicarius found the lantern first. He lit it and handed to her.
“Thank you,” Amaranthe said, but almost forgot about Basilard when she saw Sicarius under the light.
Whatever head wound he taken in the woods had bled copiously. Crimson smeared the side of his face and stained his blond hair. If he was bleeding elsewhere, his black clothing hid it, but the number of tears and holes made her uneasy.
Amaranthe caught herself before her hand strayed up to touch his cheek. She cleared her throat instead. “Thanks for…” Getting shot up on behalf of the team? Or protecting her from suffering a worse fate? Surely she couldn’t have run that fast to catch up with the train if she’d had to jump away to avoid gun-slinging soldiers. “Thanks for your help,” she said. That was ridiculously inadequate, but he inclined his head once.
Amaranthe held up the lantern and nodded for Basilard to sign whatever he’d been wondering. The light revealed a number of new gashes amongst the scars on his face, head, and hands as well. One of his sleeves had been torn down to his wrist, and blood ran down his arm. An embarrassed flush ran through Amaranthe because she had been quicker to thank Sicarius for his help-and to show concern over his injuries. Basilard had far less reason to be here, risking himself for this cause.
She gripped his uninjured arm. “Thank you as well, Basilard.”
He nodded solemnly, then signed, Will there be time for me to speak to the emperor on behalf of my people?
Yes, Amaranthe had to remember that Basilard had a reason for being here as well. She had best try to accommodate that if she wanted to keep him happy as a team member. Sometimes, she admitted ruefully, it’d be easier if everyone had joined up for the pay.
“You’ve already told him of the slavery and how your people are targeted, right?” Amaranthe asked.
Briefly.
“So, he knows. If I were you, I’d just try to talk to him while we’re doing… whatever it is he wants us to do for him. I can translate for you, of course, or Maldynado can.”
Basilard’s eyebrows twitched at that, and she recalled that Maldynado had chosen a dubious pseudonym for him when Basilard had signed up for the Imperial Games.
“Books, then,” Amaranthe said. “We should be back with him and Akstyr soon, and I’m sure he would translate for you. You might try teaching the emperor a few of your signs. He seems the curious, inquisitive sort.”
Basilard scratched his chin thoughtfully, then nodded and signed, Thank you. He headed for the locomotive, leaving Amaranthe alone with Sicarius.
Sometime during all the activity, the train had started climbing into the mountains. She wished there were some way to tell Books and Akstyr they didn’t need to cause a landslide, but the deed had probably already been done.
Sicarius was collecting his throwing knives and approached the man he’d dropped when he’d been sprinting alongside the train. The dead soldier lay at the edge of the coal car, his arm dangling over the lip. Amaranthe couldn’t chastise Sicarius for defending himself, not when the man had been about to shoot him in the back of the head, but the body was blatant proof that her plan hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped it would. It upset her that this soldier had died trying to protect Sespian.
