on herfist. “What do you think, Books? I value your opinion.”

“I don’t think we’d have accomplished what wehave without your ideas. Don’t get rid of them, and don’t stopbeing…”

She waited for him to say “crazy.”

“Creative,” Books said.

Well, that was nicer than crazy.

“But…”

Amaranthe braced herself. She hadasked.

“You lack prudence,” Books said. “I suspectit’s a combination of youth and the fact that, until recently, youlived your life under strict rules, first as a child obedient toyour father and your school teachers, and then as an enforcer,obedient to superiors and indeed in charge of enforcing lawsyourself. For the first time, you have utter freedom, and it’snatural for you to struggle to find a way that works. We all say wecrave freedom, but the truth is many people hang themselves withoutthe structure society imposes. Nobody’s done what you’re trying todo, so there’s no precedent, no guideline to follow.”

“That is true,” Amaranthe said.

“Since that’s the case, you should thinktwice and consider all possible outcomes before embarking on a planthat could get you, or someone else, captured.”

“It’s not as if that’s alwaysforeseeable.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Youhave a tendency to wander into the enemy camp to chat with the headvillain.”

“I don’t…” She stopped, since his eyebrowswere threatening to crawl up to the top of his scalp and leap forthe sky. Yes, she had done exactly that with Hollowcrest, thewizard Arbitan, and the shamans from Mangdoria. And now she hadsent Sicarius off to spy on what might be the head villain.

“You do,” Books said, “and I understand why.You get a lot of information from talking to people, and you’resmarter than average, so you probably believe you can get yourselfout of any trouble you get into. When I was a professor, I foundthat bright people sometimes make the worst students. They don’twant to simply do the assignment; they want to add creative flairand sophistication, and they make things so complicated that theyfail to finish on time.”

“What did you say to thosechallenged-by-their-own-creative-flair students?” Amaranthe asked.“How did you teach them more…prudence?” She smiled, thinking hewould appreciate that she used his word.

His face grew long though, and he shook hishead. “I couldn’t teach them that. Only experience could. There area lot of platitudes that suggest age makes us wise, but the truthis it’s losing that teaches best. Making mistakes. Failing.Some people are wise enough to learn from the mistakes of others,but most need to experience failure first hand. You may need tolose something important before the lessons of life sink in.” Hegrimaced, perhaps thinking of his son and his own past.

“I liked it better when you were justgrunting,” Amaranthe said.

“I’m sorry, but you asked-”

She lifted a hand. “I know. I did. Thank you.I’ll think about your words. And I hope they’re not prophetic. I’mnot ready to lose anything, especially not one of you.”

“Well,” Books said lightly, “if youhad to lose someone, Sicarius would be the leastmissed.”

Amaranthe stared at him, stricken.

“Er.” This time he raised an apologetic hand.“Sorry. It was a joke. A poor joke.”

“He’s the only reason I’m alive, Books. Hesaves my life again and again, and I repay him by sending him offto be abducted or killed by whatever nefarious magic-hurlingzealots are swiping athletes from the Imperial Games. Whodoes that to people they-” Amaranthe stopped herself fromfinishing the sentence, certain Books would be horrified by aproclamation that she loved Sicarius. She cleared her throat andswitched subjects. “I’m hoping he’s only detained, but I feel it’dbe best to go forward on the assumption he’s in trouble. If that isthe case, I’d like to prudently extract him from it.” Shedug out the note they had swiped from the miner’s pocket. “We losenothing by working toward that goal, since I’m guessing, if heis missing, he’s where the rest of the athletes are.”

While Books studied the note, she wondered ather own words. Rest of the athletes? It was applicable, ifnot official. Sicarius might not have ever competed in a publicvenue, but she had little doubt, even older than most of the field,he would be at the top if he did enter. Maybe this had nothing todo with the Imperial Games at all. Could it be someone was roundingup the most physically gifted men and women around and using thisevent to shop for likely candidates? Sicarius’s reputation couldplace him at the top of such a list even if the people doing theshopping had not seen him perform.

If her theory were true, to what ends wouldsomeone want these people? To create some sort of mercenary army?An elite force? She curled her lip at the idea. That was herown fantasy for the Emperor’s Edge. Aside from perhaps thewrestlers, the other athletes who had been taken were notnecessarily warriors. Being able to run fast or maneuver throughthe Clank Race did not mean one had studied fencing or unarmedcombat.

“Any thoughts?” she asked Books.

“Horrible penmanship.”

“You better give me more than that if you’regoing to save me from doing something imprudent.” She smiled.

“Oh? You have an idea?”

“I was just ruminating on the common linkbetween the names I know. Superior athleticism.”

“Why don’t you let me go to the stadium withBasilard today? I’ll see if I can get a copy of the list ofentrants and match these two unknown names. If it turns out they,like Sicarius, are not athletes that might give us more to goon.”

“Agreed,” Amaranthe said. “If we can figureout exactly why these people were taken, we might be able to get abead on who might want to take them. Akstyr’s going aroundto the apothecaries in the city to see if any of them has that rootin stock and if they remember anyone buying it recently. If youfinish early, you and Basilard can join up with him. He may needhelp researching and finding all the apothecaries.”

“Huh, and I thought it was going to be alight work day,” Books said, but he smiled, and she suspected hewas happy for the chance to do research.

“I’ll take Maldynado and go back to theminer’s flat to see if the family is back or if anyone hasinformation on where those men meet. Maybe if we work this fromboth ends we can find the kidnappers’ lair somewhere in themiddle.”

“Assuming we are dealing with kidnappers andnot someone who merely wants to kill irritatingly gifted people,”Books said.

She stared at him. “This would be a case whena grunt or a nod would have been more appreciated.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

CHAPTER 8

Under the light of day, the brick buildingwhere Raydevk and his wife lived seemed poorer. Every few minutes,a train chugged through, shaking the ground. Surly men hunkered indoorways, drinking from ceramic applejack mugs stamped with theThree Legged Dog logo, a homely mark for the satrapy’s cheapestdistillery. Some said the outfit used the bruised worm-filledapples left in the orchard grass after the other distilleries hadtheir pick.

“Charming neighborhood,” Maldynado drawledafter a gaunt old man stepped out of an alley, buttoning his pants.Amaranthe hoped all he had been doing in there was peeing.

As she and Maldynado approached the building,they stayed near the wall, so the wife, Pella, would not see themcoming if she glanced out the window.

“This is the kind of place Sicarius takes youfor evenings out, eh?” Maldynado added.

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