knowing you.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Isn’t that the sort of thing you were going to say?” she asked.
“I just wanted to ask…” Maldynado cleared his throat. “If I get porcupined full of arrows tonight, could you tell my mother I died a hero?”
“Of course. And if this does work out, you never know, you could be a hero.”
“Like with a statue?”
“Sure, why not? The emperor is an artist. Maybe he’d design it himself.”
“That’d be a step up from a wanted poster,” Maldynado said. “As long as it isn’t a small statue.”
“Still miffed about the meagerness of your bounty?”
“Two hundred and fifty lousy ranmyas.” He kicked a rusted doorknob into a pile of equally rusted scrap metal.
The silver light of a quarter moon easing over the smelter made maneuvering through the metal heaps easier, so Amaranthe dimmed her lantern. They reached the center of the yard, a rubble-free area with a steam shovel quiescent on one side. Against the night sky, its tall silhouette reminded her of a skeleton she had seen in the Stumps Museum as a girl, the bones of a giant carnivorous reptile from a southern rainforest.
She deemed the clearing the most likely meeting place and tugged Maldynado into a shadowy nook where they could observe.
At midnight, voices sounded, accompanied by the clanking of mail armor. Amaranthe tried to count the people based on the sounds of their footfalls, but there were too many. Sicarius would know. He would probably know not only the numbers but the height and weight of each man. She wished she had him at her side, stern and dangerous as he glared at her foes.
Before she could decide whose troops approached, another collection of voices and clanking armor arose from the other side of the yard.
“You weren’t supposed to tell them to bring armies,” Maldynado whispered in her ear.
“I didn’t. Considering they’re both committing treason, I didn’t think they’d want to involve many people. Seems they’re more paranoid of each other than of revealing their secrets.”
The two parties entered Amaranthe’s vision. They met in the cleared space and faced off, Hollowcrest on one side, Larocka and Arbitan on the other. Fifteen to twenty armed fighters backed each party. They bristled with swords, muskets, and pistols. Apparently, neither side was concerned about the legality of the weapons choices. Several men carried lanterns as well, which illuminated the clearing but left the junk piles in the shadows.
“Sorry, Hollow,” Arbitan said with none of the respect the office of Commander of the Armies required. “You weren’t willing to put into place any of our reasonable requests, and we’ve decided the emperor must die. The Strat Tiles have already been laid, so it’s too late for whatever scheme you’ve thought up.”
“What are you talking about, you power-hungry commoner?” Hollowcrest glared. “You’re the one who wanted a meeting.”
The two men fell silent, staring at each other, gazes more frigid than the surrounding air. Larocka, arm-in- arm with Arbitan, whispered something in his ear.
A howl sounded in the distance. Amaranthe recognized it immediately. Arbitan’s lips curved into a disconcerting smile.
Amaranthe nudged Maldynado, cleared her throat, and approached the circle of light.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” She wanted to surprise no one, especially not the nervous guards with firearms, so she kept her movements slow. “I’m the one who sent the messages, Amaranthe Lokdon. Please forgive my presumptuousness, but I needed to speak with all three of you together.”
She paused at the edge of the light, making the third point of a triangle between herself, Hollowcrest, and the Forge duo. Sword drawn, Maldynado guarded her back.
“Aren’t you dead yet?” Hollowcrest asked, sounding far more annoyed than intrigued by her declaration.
“Indeed, I thought the enforcers I tipped off had slain you.” Arbitan sniffed and added, “What do you want that you didn’t find snooping around our house?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Larocka’s face at Arbitan’s words, but she recovered quickly and joined the two men in glaring at Amaranthe.
“I don’t think they like you,” Maldynado whispered.
Amaranthe waved him to silence. She had to lay out her proposition quickly, before one of the guards decided to fire a musket ball into her chest.
“I want the emperor to live-free of drugs-and be permitted to do the job the people depend on him to do. In order to ensure my wishes are fulfilled, I’ve printed five million ranmyas in counterfeit bills.” Closer to two million. “If you do not cease your manipulations-” she looked at Hollowcrest, “-and drop your assassination plans-” a look at Arbitan and Larocka, “-I will flood Stumps with this fake currency, and I will continue to make more until the entire monetary system of the empire is devalued. Hyperinflation will destroy the economy. If you kill me tonight, it will change nothing. My team will carry on.” Doubtful. “Even now, men are guarding the money. They will begin distributing it at dawn if I do not return and countermand the order.” And finish with a lie.
Would any of them believe her?
A furrow between Hollowcrest’s lowered eyebrows suggested concern. Larocka wore an open-mouthed, appalled expression. The smug condescending smile on Arbitan’s face never wavered.
Amaranthe shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder and tossed it between the two parties. “To prove what I say is true, I’ve brought a small sample of my work. The paper isn’t quite the same, but every time we’ve used the bills, they’ve passed easily.” Well, Akstyr managed to buy pastries once.
Hollowcrest eyed the bag as if it writhed with live snakes. “You crawled out of my dungeon half-dead-no, dying -less than two weeks ago. You haven’t had time.”
“It’s amazing what a good team can accomplish,” Amaranthe said.
“What team?” Hollowcrest demanded. “You had nothing. I turned the enforcers against you. We confiscated everything in your apartment. You’re lying.”
Amaranthe extended her hand toward the bag. Any satisfaction she might have felt at Hollowcrest’s disbelief was dashed by the amusement on Arbitan’s face. Larocka looked alarmed at the prospect of economic upheaval, but Arbitan…pleased. If he was bluffing, he was doing an utterly convincing job. Why do I get the feeling he’s not fighting in the same ring as the rest of us?
“Let’s see if this young lady is in earnest.” Arbitan sauntered forward and plucked up the bag. He shuffled through its contents, withdrew a bill, and examined it near a lantern. “Excellent forgeries. I’d estimate at least thirty thousand ranmyas here.”
“We can’t let this happen,” Larocka said. “My investments-most of them are in Turgonia. Even global commerce would be affected. The imperial ranmya is the world’s anchor currency!”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Hollowcrest said. “I’ve read the woman’s record; she’s not going to do anything illegal.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. Good.
“You’re wrong, sir,” Amaranthe said. “It’s true you have forced me to do something I would have once never considered, but I believe in what I’m doing. Illegal or not, I am committed.”
“How noble for you,” Arbitan said.
A faint click sounded on one of the nearby junk heaps. A crossbow quarrel zipped out of the darkness and struck Arbitan’s chest.
The air in front of him shimmered, and the bolt bounced off, as if it had hit metal.
Instead of crying out in pain or being thrown back, Arbitan merely smiled.
Hollowcrest’s eyes grew round. Amaranthe grimaced; it seemed her suspicions about Arbitan being a wizard were correct. But who had fired the shot? Sicarius?
“Emperor’s blood,” Maldynado whispered. “How are we supposed to-”
“Basilard!” Arbitan called. “How progresses the hunt?”
Amaranthe glanced around. Hollowcrest, too, searched about, brow furrowed. He waved and his men gathered closer about him.
Soon a reluctant shuffling of footsteps grew audible. Books and Akstyr marched into view, their crossbows and other weapons absent. Behind them came Arbitan’s shaven-headed security man and several more guards. Amaranthe spotted the confiscated weapons in their keeping. Apparently, Arbitan’s men had not found Sicarius. She
