Deadly Games

He poked a brick with his toe for a moment,shrugged, then stood. Thank you, he signed and went into thesleeping car.

Amaranthe sighed, not sure if she had helped,or that she knew how to help him.

A steam whistle blew, and workers streamedout of factories. Positioned between the industrial district andthe shops and studios of the northern waterfront area, the oldGazette building overlooked one of the canals that flowedthrough the city. From the mouth of an alley across the waterway,Amaranthe, Sicarius, and Maldynado observed men exiting, shuckingtheir single-breasted jackets and frock coats to walk home in thewarm air.

Though evening had come, the sun still shone,offering few shadows to cloak the alley. The idea of heading alongthe broad waterfront street and over the wide canal bridge madeAmaranthe uneasy. This was part of her old patrol route, and anyenforcers she ran into here would recognize her.

“It’s not going to be a trap,” Maldynadosaid. “I know this fellow. We used to fence together back before hetook a spear in the hip at Amentar. He earned a medal of valorbecause he was leading the attack to save some border town andrisked his life to save a bunch of children. He’s a good, nobleman.”

“Good, noble people are the types who feelobligated to turn in outlaws,” Amaranthe said, drawing an approvingnod from Sicarius.

“He’ll expect you to come in through thefront,” Sicarius said. “I’ll see if there’s another entrance.”

He went down the alley instead of walking outthe front, presumably choosing a route that would keep him out ofsight.

“He’ll probably find us a third-story windowto crawl through,” Maldynado muttered. “Look, I’ve had brandy withDeret twice since I became an outlaw. He hasn’t turned me in yet.And he doesn’t look down on me because I’m disowned. He’sone of the few who don’t.”

“I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,” Amaranthesaid. “We’re just being cautious.”

While they waited for Sicarius to return, thetraffic leaving the front of the building dwindled. A pair ofenforcers strode along the timeworn cobblestone street lining thecanal, and Amaranthe eased deeper into the alley. An ordinarypatrol, she told herself. Nothing that suggested they wereconveniently around to play a role in a trap being sprung.

She nibbled on a finger, wondering if she wasletting Sicarius’s paranoia get to her.

“This way.” Sicarius appeared at hershoulder.

Maldynado was the one to jump. “Alwayssneaking up on people,” he muttered under his breath.

Without a word, Sicarius led them through thealley and around the building to a ladder leading down to a ledgealong the canal. Keelboats and cargo rafts floated up and down thewaterway, but nobody paid attention to Amaranthe’s team. The pilotswere too busy navigating past houseboats, skiffs, and each other towatch the foot traffic.

Sicarius stopped at the base of one of thecity’s newer steel bridges and gripped one of the support beams.Legs dangling, he swung from handhold to handhold, like a monkeyskimming through the treetops.

Amaranthe and Maldynado exchanged incredulouslooks.

“Is he joking?” Maldynado asked. “Why can’twe walk across the bridge?”

“Training?” Amaranthe guessed.

Sicarius, midway across, paused and peeredback over his shoulder. “The top of the bridge is visible fromThe Gazette’s upper windows.”

“So?” Maldynado said.

“It would be unwise to let them see uscoming.” Sicarius returned to the climb, apparently considering thediscussion over.

“Does he truly believe someone is sitting ata window, watching the bridge for your arrival?” Maldynado asked.“I didn’t tell Deret you were that cute.”

“Thanks,” Amaranthe said dryly.

Sicarius had already reached the other side.Glad she had rejected Maldynado’s suggestion that she wear a dressfor the night, Amaranthe hopped and caught the girder. A couple ofkeelboats were coming; she had best not delay.

The smooth, cool steel did not make the mostideal handhold, but she navigated it without trouble. Sicarius’sfrequent obstacle-course runs had given her experience with awkwardmoves that relied on upper body strength, and she could perform asmany pull-ups as the men. As many as Books and Akstyr anyway.

She landed with a grunt on the other side,and Maldynado soon plopped down behind her. Sicarius jogged a fewmeters and stopped above a storm-water-runoff grate on the canalwall beneath the ledge. Thanks to the recent dry weather, nothingflowed out of it. When he crouched to wait for the river traffic todwindle, Amaranthe groaned.

“We’re not going in there, are we?”

Sicarius dropped to his belly, fiddled with alock, and opened the grate. He rolled off the ledge, twisting toland on his feet inside a tunnel that led inland from thecanal.

“I think you’re right,” Maldynado said. “He’sdoing this because he can’t pass up a chance to torment, er, trainus.”

“Come,” Sicarius said, his voice soundinghollow in the concrete passage.

Amaranthe was starting to get the feeling hehad a reason for this circuitous route, so she slithered off theledge and into the tunnel without answering Maldynado. Aftersighing dramatically, he followed her. Sicarius closed the gratebehind them and jogged into the darkness.

“I forgot to bring a torch,” Maldynado said.“I wasn’t aware you’d preface your date with a spelunkingexpedition.”

Amaranthe headed up the tunnel at a slowerpace, keeping one hand on the cool cement wall for guidance. Thoughdry, the surface sported frequent lumps of indeterminate fuzzy orsquishy-or fuzzy and squishy-growth. She wiped her handoften, wishing she had a glove.

Fortunately, their subterranean trek did notlast long. Light appeared ahead-Sicarius lifting an access cover.He slithered out before Amaranthe could ask where they would comeup. Trusting him to guard the top, she jumped, caught the lip, andpulled herself out.

Sicarius crouched in the shadow of a steamlorry stamped with the newspaper’s name. The travertine of the oldGazette building rose behind it. They were on the back siderather than the front, and no windows gazed out upon the alley.Closed loading bay doors loomed nearby, but nobody was shippingpapers out this time of day.

Maldynado clambered out of the tunnel, andSicarius closed the manhole cover.

“We did all that just so we could go inthrough the loading bay?” Maldynado asked.

“No.” Sicarius pointed at a vent under theeaves of the four-story building. Before they could debate withhim, he grabbed a ceramic drainpipe and started climbing.

Amaranthe shook her head in bemusement. “Andyou thought he’d settle for a window.”

Maldynado groaned. “You did tell himthis isn’t one of our morning training sessions, right?”

Amaranthe headed for the drainpipe, wonderingif she should put her foot down and say this was too ridiculous andthat they would go in through the loading bay. Then something hardpoked into the bottom of her shoe. She lifted her foot to check fora chunk of gravel. It wasn’t a rock that had prodded her though; ashiny metal rifle ball rested in the groove between twocobblestones. A dark, fine powder sprinkled the ground. She swipedher finger through it and sniffed. Black powder.

“You’re right.” She picked up the rifle ball.“I don’t think this is a training session.”

Within city limits, firearms were forbiddento all except the military. Though it was true that gang membersand criminals risked enforcer ire to carry pistols now and then, itwas rare to see evidence of their use.

“Attic entry it is,” she said, grabbing thepipe.

Maldynado issued another dramatic sigh.Sicarius had already unfastened the vent and disappeared