“It’s my plan,” she said. “He’s going along with it for now.”
“But you’re giving him orders?” Akstyr asked.
“I’d call them suggestions.”
Sicarius chose that moment to return from wherever he had been skulking. She wondered how much he had heard.
“We should go,” he said. “That body is likely to draw enforcers.”
“Lead the way,” Amaranthe said.
Several more inches of snow had dropped during the night, obliterating the creature’s footprints. Sicarius stepped around the corpse, which dogs had partially uncovered. Amaranthe could not keep herself from looking and remembering. If she had been faster, if she had not hesitated, she might have saved the man’s life.
Under the surface gnawing, longer and deeper wounds ravaged the chest. Wind gusted, and a few snowflakes flitted off the corpse’s frozen hand, revealing a Panthers’ mark. Amaranthe never thought she would feel sympathy for gang members, but it seemed these folks were being preyed on from every front.
Her group traveled along the bottom of the hill fronting the lake. Despite the fresh snow, a handful of young athletes jogged past on their way to the lake trail. It was months until the summer Games, but the dedicated souls trained all year around.
A wagon loaded with ice rumbled through a cross street, and the driver whistled at Amaranthe. Maldynado snickered, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Sorry,” he said. “Am I supposed to defend your honor when they do that? I’m a little unclear on the boundaries of our agreement.”
“No, I was just wondering why it was funny.”
“Because he was eyeing you like he thought you’d be a good time, and you’re…ah…”
“Reserved?” Books suggested. “Dignified?”
“No,” Maldynado said. “Do you think you’re a dictionary or something?”
“A thesaurus perhaps,” Books said.
“Proper?” Akstyr asked. “She’s kind of proper.”
“No,” Maldynado said. “It’s more…”
“Focused,” Sicarius said.
The others considered, then nodded and grunted agreement of this pinpoint description. Amaranthe smirked; at least dissecting her character together kept them from snapping at each other. She might be able to create a cohesive unit after all.
“Yes, exactly,” Maldynado said. “You didn’t notice any of the men at the gym last night, I guess because you’re busy with your emperor scheme. You didn’t even look at me when you first saw me, and I was very look-at- able at the time.”
Amaranthe blushed. She had looked.
“Praise her good taste,” Books muttered, stepping into the street to avoid a lamppost-or perhaps Maldynado’s glare.
“Old man,” Maldynado said, “you are crippling my serenity. If you keep insulting me, I might have to come over there and-”
“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said. “I believe we’re almost there.”
She decided to forgo her ambitions of creating a cohesive unit. An occasionally functional one with tendencies toward violence seemed more within reach.
They passed the last of the city’s industrial buildings and crossed the railroad tracks skirting the lake. Along the waterfront, fisheries, warehouses, and boatyards reigned, their long docks stretching into the frozen water. In spring and summer, the area would bustle with activity. For now, it lay sedately under its snowy blanket.
“This is it.” Sicarius stopped before a tottering wooden structure on a dilapidated dock.
The building hunched over the lake like an old soldier, arthritic from a lifetime’s worth of battle wounds. Icicles hung from the eaves, and frost edged the panes of broken windows. Age-yellowed buoys and frayed nets dangled from the walls, someone’s idea of decorating. Amaranthe touched a splintered piece of cedar siding. It fell off. The odds of this building keeping that creature out were not good.
She leaned over the edge of the dock. A few feet below, ice and snow gathered around the pylons.
Akstyr peered in a window. “A fish cannery?”
“There are bunks inside, and it has a large work space,” Sicarius said. “It’s winter. Nobody human will bother us.”
And the inhuman? Amaranthe would wait until she had him alone to ask.
She withdrew a ten-ranmya bill and handed it to Maldynado. “Will you find the nearest market and buy as much food as you can, please?”
“Will do.” Maldynado trotted up a street running perpendicular to the waterfront.
“You’re sending him to purchase supplies?” Books asked. “That overgrown fop from the warmonger caste has probably never shopped in his life.”
“He’ll get a good deal,” Amaranthe said.
A sizable lock on the front door of the cannery precluded a direct entrance.
“I bet I can get in.” Akstyr produced a large clip with at least three dozen keys of various shapes and sophistication dangling from it. “I’ve got a couple of skeleton keys that-”
“Unnecessary,” Sicarius said.
He led them to the lake side of the building. The lock in the back also remained in place; however, the door had been removed and was leaning against the wall.
When Amaranthe stepped inside, glass crunched beneath her boots. Weak light filtering through grimy windows, revealing rows of long counters littered with salt, dented cans, and torn labels. Rotting wooden bunk beds lined one wall. Here and there, rats scurried beneath the fish-gut-spattered sawdust spread across the floor. Only the cold kept the smell tolerable. Sort of.
“Lovely place,” Books murmured.
“At least it comes without a meddling landlady,” Amaranthe said.
“This is true.”
“Pick out a bunk and settle in,” she said. “As soon as Maldynado gets back, we’ll get started. Sicarius, a word?”
He stepped over to a corner counter with her as Akstyr and Books explored their new home.
Amaranthe stacked a few of the scattered cans into a neat pile. “You went shopping for this building before we knew there was a man-slaying creature roaming the streets. Do you still think it’s a suitable hideout.”
Sicarius lifted his gaze toward the rafters. Some thirty feet up, solid beams ran from wall to wall below the peaked ceiling. If one could clamber up there, one might be safe. As long as that creature couldn’t jump that high.
“I don’t see a ladder,” she said.
“You can climb the support posts,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe eyed the dented and scarred wood of the nearest post. “ You can do that, I’m sure. The rest of us might find that feat challenging, especially with a monster crashing through the door.”
“Hang rope.”
“I guess that works.” The last of the rusted cans went into her organized pile. One counter down, thirty to go. “I’m going to send Books and Akstyr to get a press. I’ll take Maldynado ink and paper shopping. I want to start researching the Forge people, but that’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow. We need to get the press set up, and we need to get money plates made. I don’t suppose you know an engraver and can get that done?”
“Easy,” Sicarius said.
“Really?” She had expected this to be a sticking point. Maybe she ought to just let him go and do it, but… “Easy because you know a criminal engraver who owes you a favor, or easy because you’ll pick someone with the skill set, force him to do it, and kill him afterwards?”
“The latter.”
“Oh.”
“Asking someone to help you commit a crime and then leaving him alive to point you out to the enforcers is foolish.”
