Deadly Games

couldn’t use such abusy place.”

“Agreed,” Books said.

“They never came out,” Akstyr said.

“That seems unlikely,” Books said.

Akstyr stepped toward him, chest puffed out.“You thinking I’m blind? Or lying? While you were sleeping, I wassitting there watching and waiting for them to come back down thedock and they never did. I stayed until workers showed up and wentinside. What’d you do? Come back here and snore all night?”

“Four hours, perhaps,” Books murmured.

Amaranthe rested a hand on Akstyr’s arm,drawing his attention to her. “Is it possible they slipped away ina boat?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. “I thought of thatand checked how many boats were around. Didn’t see anydisappear.”

“I guess we can take a look,” Amaranthe toldBooks.

Akstyr yawned. “You two do that. I’m going tomake it thunderous in the sleeping car.” He emulated a noisy snore,then jumped to the ground.

“Akstyr,” Amaranthe called. She stifled atwinge of annoyance that he had dismissed himself without asking ifshe needed anything else. He had to be tired after staying up allnight, and he was surly even on a perky day. “We need you tocome.”

“What?” he called up in a whiny voice a fiveyear old could not have bested.

“I’ll bet you ten ranmyas Taloncrest and hisforeign lady aren’t working out of that warehouse.”

“So?”

“So, if you didn’t see them leave bymundane means, isn’t it possible they used the mentalsciences?”

“Oh,” Akstyr said. “Well, yeah.”

“Then we’ll need you to stick yourmagic-sniffing nose in the corners,” Amaranthe said, “see if youcan catch a scent.”

“I’m not a hound, you know.”

“We know,” Books said. “Hounds work alot harder for a lot less incentive.”

“You’re not helping,” Amaranthe said.

“We can’t go until night, right?” Akstyrasked. “Lots of people will be working, so we can’t sniff arounduntil they go home.”

Amaranthe leaned over the edge of the roofand smiled down at him. “I’ll get us in. Have some breakfast, andwe’ll head over. You can sleep later.”

Akstyr stabbed a finger at the open door ofthe sleeping car. “Does Maldynado get to stay here?”

“That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Amarantheasked. “You better go wake him up.”

“Good.” Akstyr smiled for the first time andleaped into the car with zealousness.

“Misery is more palatable when shared withothers,” Amaranthe noted to Books.

“Indeed.”

Amaranthe led Maldynado, Akstyr, and Booksonto Pier Thirteen, her strides long and her chin high beneath thebrim of her sunhat. It hid her face to some extent, and, on thetrolley ride over, she had arranged her hair in a number of braids,then pinned them up in a creative bundle that looked nothing likethe style on any of her wanted posters. She supposed she could lookinto cosmetics to disguise her facial features, but shewanted to be recognized when she was doing something good,something that might help her clear her name.

A massive crane belched smoke as it liftedshipping containers from the bowels of a merchant steamer andlowered them to the dock. Dozens of burly, bare-chested stevedoresunloaded the cargo and ported it inside the towering warehouse. Theshirtless workers seemed to be competing with each other for therole of Tattoo Emperor. Amaranthe decided the man with the krakenwas the winner-its head emblazoned his neck while tentacles randown his back, both arms, and his chest, with the largest pairdisappearing beneath his trousers. Of its own wayward volition, hermind wondered how far beneath the waistband the tentacle motifmight continue and what exactly it would be doing down there.

The tattooed man glanced her way beforeheading into the warehouse with a crate in his arms. He caught hereye and winked.

“If Deret doesn’t turn out to be your dreamman,” Maldynado said, “we can always find you someone here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you dolt,” Books said.“If Amaranthe must copulate at all, it should be with a man whoknows how to read and preferably how to use the Imperial LocusSystem to pluck appropriately intellectual books from the libraryshelves.”

“A skill that would be completely useless forsatisfying her in bed,” Maldynado said.

“Surely, finger dexterity has crossoverapplications.”

“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said, wondering whensuch commentary had ceased to make her blush. “Let’s go over ourstory.”

“You’re going to pose,” Books said, “as theowner of an escort service, with Maldynado as your employeeand-”

“Star employee,” Maldynado said.

“Uh huh.” Books stepped around a man carryinga massive ceramic jar and continued. “And you’re shopping forimported silks and tapestries and such for your…office? Is thatthe correct term for a place where someone like Maldynado would beprostituted out?”

“Close enough,” Amaranthe said.

“Costasce called her viewing room ‘TheParlor’,” Maldynado said.

They had reached the roll-up door of thewarehouse, so Amaranthe stopped. None of the men streaming in andout spared her group a glance. Maybe they could simply walk in andsnoop about without anyone caring. She peeped through thedoorway.

A woman in spectacles checked off items on aclipboard and directed men toward different areas in the warehouseor toward a massive lift that could deliver cargo to an upperlevel. The men might not care about interlopers, but she wouldsurely notice strangers strolling through the premises. Theplatform sandals crossing her feet with thin straps promised shewasn’t going to wander far to do lifting or other work.

“As to our role,” Books started, butAmaranthe cut him off with a raised hand.

“Akstyr?” she asked. With his disinterest forthings non-magical, she never knew how much he was payingattention. “Your role?”

“We’re your porters.” He yawned. “Me andBooks.”

“Good,” Amaranthe said.

“As long as we don’t have to really portthings.”

“You just sniff about,” she said.

“Are we sure this is wise?” Books ask.“Should this turn…confrontational, we don’t have our two mostproficient fighters here.”

Maldynado propped his hands on his hips. “Youhave me.”

Books looked him up and down, then focused onAmaranthe again. “We don’t have our two most proficient fightershere.”

“You believe Basilard a better brawler thanme?” Maldynado asked. “Truly?”

“We’ll be fine,” she said and headed in.

The clipboard-toting lady’s head swiveledtoward the door before Amaranthe had gone more than three steps.No, this woman would not allow random snoopers, not without a coverstory.

“Morning,” Amaranthe said, strollingcloser.

“What do you want?” the woman snapped.

Ah, the friendly sort. Wonderful.

“Hello, I’m Darva,” Amaranthe said. “DarvaLarkcrest.” As long as she was making up names, she might as wellattach herself to a warrior caste family. “Who are you?”