“Naturally, I don’t expect you to take myword as truth,” Amaranthe said, “for any of these events, but I’dlike to think
“Huh?” Mancrest glanced back at Sicarius,then stared at her.
“Problem?” Amaranthe asked.
“I… When you started talking about thosestories, I assumed you were here to threaten me and force me toprint something more to your liking.” He checked on Sicarius again,who was doing a good imitation of furniture at the moment. “Or isthat activity still forthcoming?”
“No, I’d rather eat now if you don’t mind.I’ve had a busy night.” She tore a chunk of bread, admiring theflaky crust and soft interior-a tasty change from the rice-basedflatbread more common in the empire. A small tin held freshlysmashed peanut butter. It never warmed enough in their satrapy forpeanuts, so the import was a rare treat. She smeared some on thebread, and her mouth watered in anticipation. Though Maldynado hadnearly walked her into a trap, she could forgive him since hisshopping had proved so thoughtful. She lifted the piece of breadand offered the traditional before-meal salute, “A warrior’shealth.”
Mancrest had been watching her, and, aftershe took a few bites, he prepared a plate for himself.
Amaranthe lifted her bread toward Sicarius.Though she knew he would not accept the invitation, she would havefelt awkward eating without offering him something. He gave asingle minute head shake.
“You’re not what I expected,” Mancrestsaid.
“What’d you expect?”
“Given you’re a rogue enforcer and who youwork with now-” Mancrest jerked a thumb over his shoulder atSicarius, “-someone draconian and pugilistic.”
“You think Maldynado would spend time withsomeone like that?”
“If that someone had nice breasts, yes.”
Amaranthe chuckled. “Perhaps so. By the way,did Maldynado tell you who he wanted you to meet, or did youguess?
“Is he going to be in trouble if you find outhe did tell me?” Mancrest sipped from his glass of wine-he hadapparently decided it was safe to drink-and watched her over therim of the glass.
She had a feeling she was being tested. “Thatmight earn him an extra stair-running session.”
Two vertical lines formed between Mancrest’seyebrows. “Stair-running? Like exercise?”
“Yes.”
“If it’ll get him extra work, then maybe Ishould say yes.” Mancrest smiled for the first time that night.“But, no, he just said he knew a nice girl I should meet, someonewho was working too hard and needed to have more fun.” He raisedhis eyebrows. “I figured out the rest on my own. People havenoticed who he’s running with these days. His family is vocal inexpressing their disappointment and quick to point out that thisdemonstrates why he deserved to be disowned.”
So, they had earned enough notoriety thateveryone who knew Maldynado knew he was a potential avenue to herand Sicarius. She would have to remember that.
Mancrest sipped his wine. “How do you getMaldynado to climb stairs? We used to fence together, and he wasalways too unambitious to put any serious effort into histraining.”
“We aim to be a fit group. It helps withdefeating the evil doers of the world. At the least, it helps ifyou’re fast enough to outrun them. We’re all up well before dawnfor distance work or obstacle courses, and there’s usually weaponstraining in the afternoon or evening.”
Mancrest sputtered and almost spilled hiswine. “You can convince Maldynado to get up before dawn?”
Behind him, Sicarius stirred. He pinnedAmaranthe with a hard stare. Not enthused about her sharinginformation on when and where they trained? She raised her fingersand nodded once. He was right. Mancrest was not someone to betrusted yet.
“I didn’t think even breasts could convincehim to get out of bed before nine,” Mancrest continued, notnoticing her exchange with Sicarius. He did glance at her chest, asif wondering if something special might be going on down there. Uhhuh. Right.
“That’s not how I motivate the men,”Amaranthe said dryly. “And I’m sure it would take someone prettierthan I to finagle them into doing things by that method.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Mancrest smiled for thefirst time. “You’re pretty enough. I’d like to see you with yourhair down. It looks like you have a few waves that don’t want to beconfined.”
“Uhm. Maybe another time when I’m sureescaping soldiers and enforcers won’t be a part of the eveningactivities.”
Mancrest’s smile widened. “Is that a requestfor a second date?”
“Er.” She was rescued from having to avoidSicarius’s gaze by the fact that his eyes were boring into the backof Mancrest’s head. “We’ll see. Why don’t you tell me more aboutyour recent story?” She laid the newspaper on the table betweenthem. “The emperor is going to dine with the winners of all theevents?”
Yes, that was good. Talking about work.Sicarius wouldn’t glare disapprovingly then, right? And maybe shecould even get some useful information out of her new contact.
With that in mind, she spent the rest of thedinner chatting with Mancrest about the Imperial Games and avoidingsuch fraught topics as hair. He had not heard of the kidnappings,so she managed to pique his interest with those tidbits. Though hemade no promises in regard to Forge or retracting stories, by theend of the evening, she had hope that she might make an ally out ofhim one day.
After almost an hour of wandering thegrounds, Basilard and Akstyr found something. Rather Akstyr foundsomething, and Basilard waited while the younger man knelt in thegrass behind the bathhouse examining it.
Head bent low, Akstyr did not see thequestion.
Basilard nudged Akstyr’s arm, drawing theyounger man’s gaze, and repeated himself.
“It’s too dark back here,” Akstyr whispered.“I can’t see your fingers.”
Basilard waved toward a glass globe lanternhanging from a post and took a couple of steps that direction, butAkstyr did not follow. His head was down again, his eyes focused onsome tiny object in his hand. Something magical? That was the onlything Basilard could think of that would explain Akstyr’sfascination-especially since it was too dark to examine much witheyes alone.
He headed to the lantern, figuring Akstyrwould come show him his find sooner or later.
The number of people enjoying the summerevening had dwindled, but people still ambled along the trails.Voices drifted from the men’s and women’s bathhouses every timesomeone opened a door. Athletes strolled back to the barracks inpairs and groups, all friends now, but that would likely changeonce the events started.
The faint scent of blackberries lingered inthe evening air. Basilard patted himself down, found one of hiscollection bags, and followed his nose toward a bramble patch inthe shadows.
Frenzied grunts coming from nearby bushesmade him pause, thinking someone might be embroiled in a battle andneed help. His cheeks warmed when he realized it wasn’t the sort ofbattle from which one wanted to be extricated. He supposed heshould move farther up the path and give the enthusiastic grunterstheir privacy, but a post-coital chuckle made him freeze. Thatlaugh sounded familiar.
Basilard plucked the lantern from its wroughtiron perch and returned to the bushes. He parted the branches,lifted the light, and revealed…
“Oh, hullo, Basilard.” A nude Maldynadopropped himself up on an elbow.
A young woman squealed, snatched agrass-stained towel off the ground, covered herself, and sprintedtoward the women’s barracks. Judging by the speed her long barelegs managed, she was one of the athletes, a rather embarrassedone.
“Not exactly.” Maldynado stood, brushed grassoff himself, and started retrieving clothing. A shoe from under thebush, a belt from the grass, and-how did that shirt get ten feet upin that tree? “The boss sent me to find you fellows and let youknow she’d be late. I hunted all over and didn’t see you. I did seethat exquisite young lady coming out of the baths all by herself,though, and she appeared lonesome so I struck up a conversation,asking if she knew how in the old days women used to compete at theImperial Games to win the eye of eligible warrior-
