to let a winner walk out with so much. That’s understandable. You need something equally valuable in exchange. Perhaps Sicarius could spend the evening going over the games with you, suggesting improvements so even people with his sharp eyes would have difficulty winning often.”
And while Sicarius was wandering around, advising Ellaya and the bouncers, perhaps nobody would pay attention to Amaranthe, and she could explore the premises.
Ellaya tilted her head, considering Sicarius. “Did you cheat or did you actually win all those games?”
“There was no need to cheat,” he said.
“Hm.”
Amaranthe nodded. Hm was promising. “Surely, the best way to improve your games to a level where you can ensure the house always comes out on top would be to employ someone who can beat them.”
“Possibly.”
“And,” Amaranthe went on, “as you can guess from his reputation, Sicarius is a master of entering establishments undetected. Perhaps if you’re willing to let him walk out with his winnings, he could survey your security and advise you on improvements.”
Sicarius’s gaze settled on Amaranthe. Yes, she was volunteering him for a lot of stuff, especially considering he had won the money without violating any rules, but she figured he knew her well enough to guess her motives.
“Interesting.” Ellaya pushed her chair away from the desk, stood, clasped her hands behind her back, and strolled to a bookcase. She picked up a feather duster and ran it over a spotless shelf. Moments ticked past before she turned to face them again. “Interesting, but I don’t want a one-time consultation. Advisement on the games would be helpful, but I could use you for ongoing security, protection, and…other tasks.” Her eyes bored into Sicarius. “I want you full time.”
“Uhm.” Amaranthe raised a finger. “That’s not the offer.”
“How much is she paying you?” Ellaya pointed her nose in Amaranthe’s direction and sniffed haughtily. “I can double it.”
Amaranthe dismissed her initial objection and lowered her finger. Playing along should not hurt.
“Perhaps…” She scuffed the carpet with her boot and pretended to mull. “Perhaps you should consider the offer.”
Sicarius turned an unfriendly stare Amaranthe’s direction, letting her know he did not care to play along. Dead ancestors knew he was not, for all his skills, a good actor. She had found that out before, but if he could buy her even a half hour, the ploy could prove beneficial. She ignored his glare and focused on Ellaya.
The woman arched her eyebrows. “You’d let him go so easily?”
“I haven’t been able to afford to pay him much, and Sicarius is too good to be working with our scruffy group anyway.” She did nothing so obvious as tap the pocket where the key rested, but she hoped he gathered that she wanted him to keep Ellaya busy so she could snoop.
“Make your offer,” Sicarius told Ellaya.
“Happy to.” The woman opened a file and withdrew a pen and paper. “Let’s go over the expected duties first.” She flicked a dismissive hand toward Amaranthe. “You’re no longer needed, child.”
Amaranthe walked out. The bouncers stayed inside, no doubt viewing Sicarius as the prime threat to their boss. Perfect.
She slipped the key out of her pocket. Simple and bronze, it appeared little different from hundreds of others. The same logo that marked the key fobs was etched in one side. She rubbed it and it glowed softly. Ah.
Amaranthe padded down the hall. She eased a couple of doors open and found dark offices inside. Others were locked, but her key did not fit the holes. She wound deeper into the maze of hallways.
She tried a door near an intersection, pushing it open as retching sounds came from inside. She halted. A bouncer hunched over a washout, clutching his stomach. Fortunately, his heaving kept him from noticing her. She shut the door again and mulled as she continued forward. Checking every room might not be feasible, and her luck probably wouldn’t hold-sooner or later she would run into someone and her spying hour would be up.
A clank came from behind her-a trap door in the floor being thrown open.
Amaranthe jumped around the corner and slipped through an open door opposite the retching bouncer. The cluttered shelves of a storage room rose around her. She left the door cracked and peeped out.
“That deposit ought to even things out,” a woman’s voice said.
A man laughed. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Ell will get that blond bub’s money back.”
The pair turned into Amaranthe’s hallway and strode past.
“True, he went in the back not out the front. Probably already dead.”
“Or in her bed.”
The two shared laughter.
The conversation continued, but distance muffled the words. When the hallway grew silent, Amaranthe headed straight for the trap door. The pattern of the tiles hid the cracks, but knowing where to look made it discernible. She found a slight gap, enough to wedge her knife into, and pulled the door open.
A ladder stretched down into blackness.
She tapped one of the gas lamps on the hallway walls, but they were permanent fixtures. Aware of time passing, she ran back to the storage closet and dug around until she found kerosene and lanterns. A few moments later, she slipped down the ladder, pulling the door shut over her head.
A short hall stretched both directions at the bottom. Identical steel vault doors waited at each end. Amaranthe eyed the key in her hand, doubting it would open either. The existence of two doors piqued her interest, though, and she went to investigate. One would doubtlessly hold funds. What about the other?
The doors had wheels instead of knobs. She tried one on the chance the employees had left it open, but it did not budge. To her surprise, a sliver in the center looked like a keyhole.
Her key went in, and a pulse of red light flashed. Amaranthe nearly dropped the lantern in surprise. Despite the red glow, the key did not turn. She tried the wheel, but it did not move.
“Huh,” she muttered.
Amaranthe jogged to the other vault door. Her key slid into an identical hole. This time a pale blue light flashed. Red, fail, blue, pass? She applied pressure, and the key turned in the lock.
In the stillness of the subterranean hall, she felt her heart thumping against her ribs.
The wheel turned.
She hesitated before trying to open the door. If magic controlled the locking system, might not some otherworldly trap wait inside as well? Or was it presumed that someone with a key had a right to go in? Akstyr would not have handed it to her if he thought she would get herself killed. Probably.
Amaranthe pulled on the wheel. She had to bend her legs and lean away from the six-inch-wide door to get it to open, but it moved silently on oiled hinges. Soft clanks came from within.
Inside lay an eight-foot-by-eight-foot vault dominated by a contraption that reminded her vaguely of a steam loom with spinning belts and a large flywheel. No visible furnace or boiler powered the machinery, but a fist-sized red orb was bolted to the top where it glowed softly. A small pedestal up front held a round indention the size of one of the key fobs. Maybe this machine made them. That defied what little she knew about magic though. Only a trained Maker ought to be able to craft imbued objects.
She dug out the fob and snugged it into the indention. The orb pulsed.
“Adner Farr. Government employee, Waterton Dam.” It was Ellaya’s voice, her tone utterly bored. “Salary five-thousand ranmyas a year. Saved funds, meager. Return compulsion stored.”
Amaranthe had never heard of Waterton Dam. She waited for more, but the recitation was complete.
“Maybe that’s information stored in the key fob,” she guessed. “Maybe they’re individualized for each person, a quick way to look up how much money people can spend here.” Footsteps sounded overhead, someone walking down the hallway. “And maybe I should stop talking to myself and get out of here,” she finished.
A draft whispered against her cheek. The flame in her lantern wavered. She spun as the massive door thumped shut.
She cursed and lunged for it. Too late. It did not move.
