regrets that she had somehow gotten him noticed by the law.
“No,” Maldynado admitted, “but you’re just a girl. How can yours be for…” He stuck out his fingers and started figuring under his breath.
“Forty times more, you dolt,” Books said, eyes glinting with apparent appreciation for the poster.
“Forty times?” Maldynado clasped his forehead. “That’s insulting. I’m much more, er… I’m… Look!” He stood sideways, thrust out his chest, and flexed his biceps.
“Indeed,” Amaranthe said, struggling not to laugh.
“Two-fifty.” His head dropped, and his hair flopped about his angular cheekbones as he slunk back to the paper cutter. “Bounty hunters won’t even bother to get up from the table when they see me in an eating house. Why risk a muscle pull drawing a sword for such a measly reward? I’ll be lucky if they throw a fork.”
A moment later, Akstyr sauntered through the doorway. Amaranthe stared at a frosting-drenched pastry hanging from his mouth. He clutched a greasy sack that read Curi’s Bakery.
Apparently forgetting his disgruntlement, Maldynado sidled up and smiled at the sack. Akstyr graciously offered him a pastry, which Maldynado stuffed in his mouth.
“I thought you didn’t have any money,” Maldynado said.
“Don’t.” Akstyr grinned at Amaranthe. “Your fake money works real good.”
She almost fell off her stool. “You used the counterfeits?”
“Uh huh.”
“How could you? You’ve put us all in danger. That merchant is going to realize it’s not genuine eventually, if she hasn’t already. If it gets traced back to us…” Amaranthe resisted the urge to run to the front of the building and peer through the boarded windows facing the street. It was probably too soon for a squad of enforcers to tramp down the dock to their door.
“Imbecile,” Books said to Akstyr. “How could you be so thoughtless? To jeopardize everything for a sweet.”
“I didn’t know it’d be a problem.”
“How could you not know? What you mean is you didn’t think.”
Akstyr threw the sack on the table. “This chews rat balls.”
“What a colorful colloquialism,” Books said. “Clearly your gang years educated you well.”
Akstyr’s hands clenched into fists. “I’ve been working night and day, and I’m getting nothing out of this. If you’re going to treat me like an idiot, I’m leaving.”
Amaranthe frowned, tempted to let him go. If he was going to be more of a liability than a help, why keep him? But, no, she needed all the man power possible to finish printing bills and stage the meeting with Forge and Hollowcrest.
“It’ll be fine,” she soothed. “Just don’t spend anymore. And you make a good point. We’ve all been working hard. From now on, we’ll only have two people working the press and one standing watch. The other two can relax.” She opened her hand, palm up to Akstyr. “Or study.”
“Whatever.” Akstyr grabbed his sack and headed for a corner.
Maybe involving him more in the plotting and planning would engage his interest, or at least keep him focused and loyal.
“Akstyr,” she said, “can you arrange a meeting between me and your old gang boss?”
“Whatever.”
“Is that a yes?” she asked.
A silent glare answered her. Lovely. A Sicarius in training.
Amaranthe joined Books at the press. Eyes wide with concern, he shook his head. She shared the feeling.
“Let’s start packing the dry bills in Maldynado’s chicken crate,” she said. “Just in case we have to leave in a hurry.”
Chapter 17
C olonel Backcrest’s first intelligence report arrived well before dawn, and Sespian shuffled to his desk to read it. Still wearing slippers and pajamas, he slid into the icy wooden chair without bothering to shovel coal into the stove. Someone would figure out he was awake and come in to feed the fire shortly. The staff always wrung their hands in respectful distress when he did that sort of thing himself.
According to the report, the borders were oddly untroubled and no one had seen a Nurian warship in months. Perhaps that signified a lessened interest in hostilities, but more likely it represented a pause for plotting and planning. An unidentified creature murdering citizens on the waterfront struck him as a more immediate concern. He scribbled a note for Backcrest that requested more information.
When Sespian set the report aside, he glimpsed the sketches he had made a few weeks earlier for a new art wing at the university. Pretty but not structurally stable. His mind had truly been affected by that drug. Poor Amaranthe Lokdon-harassed by a simpleton.
His frown deepened as he again considered that evening she had leaped from Hollowcrest’s window. Why had she even been in the Barracks? She must have been returning from Hollowcrest’s special mission, a mission Sespian still knew nothing about. Maybe Dunn would find out more. Why would Hollowcrest have chosen her for secret work? He was barely cognizant of the city’s enforcers-why would he have brought one to the Barracks?
Because of me. Fool. With his love-struck babbling, he had brought Amaranthe to Hollowcrest’s attention. Dully, he realized whatever trouble she had found since was very likely his fault. But how had she ended up with Sicarius’s knife? Surely Hollowcrest had been lying; she couldn’t possibly be working with that monster.
A tentative knock sounded on the door.
“Come in, Lieutenant,” Sespian guessed. Hollowcrest never knocked tentatively or showed up that early.
Papers in hand, Dunn entered the office. Despite the early hour, his uniform was pressed, his hair combed, his beard shaved, and his boots polished. Wondering whether he should feel pleased at the dedication or embarrassed of his own pajama-clad state, Sespian waved the lieutenant to a seat opposite the desk.
“I’ve identified some of Hollowcrest’s cronies, Sire,” Dunn said. “It’s going to take time to complete a thorough list without drawing attention, but I’ve started with the higher ups. They’d have more power to influence subordinates, I imagine.”
Sespian nodded and leaned forward to examine three papers Dunn laid out.
“Those are men loyal to you.” Dunn pointed to each list as he spoke of it. “Those are Hollowcrest’s men, and these are the indifferent ones who said they’re just here to work and don’t care who’s in charge.”
“Those men don’t worry me.” Sespian’s chin drooped as he read the long list of names under Hollowcrest. “The Commander Lord General for every satrapy?”
“Regrettably, yes, Sire.”
Don’t panic, Sespian. It was alarming, but those men were hundreds or thousands of miles away and a less immediate threat than the traitors in and near the Imperial Barracks. “General Lakecrest,” he named the base commander for Fort Urgot, outside of Stumps. “That’s a problem.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“I see you’ve placed yourself on my list,” Sespian said. “Right at the top too.” He smiled.
“Of course, Sire.”
“We’re outnumbered. Sure you don’t want to change sides?”
Dunn’s nostrils flared with indignation. “I would never back someone who would drug his emperor. Hollowcrest has no honor.”
“Indeed not.” Sespian slid the papers into a stack and cleared his throat. He strove for the appearance of no-more-than-casual interest on his next question. “I’m sure this kept you very busy, but did you happen to find out anything about Corporal Lokdon?”
A guarded expression came over Dunn, and Sespian braced himself for bad news.
“She’s still alive, Sire.”
“Oh?” Excitement fluttered in Sespian’s belly, but Dunn’s grim expression stole his pleasure. “But?”
