Maldynado plucked at a thread on the faded rug. “I guess so.”
His words made Books realize how little Vonsha had shown him of her notes. If he had not been distracted, he would have taken them to study. Maybe he could investigate the house that night, see if he could learn a little more. He nodded to himself. Yes, a little nocturnal exploring was in order.
• • • • •
Amaranthe picked her way past ferns and around boulders, following boot prints in a muddy trail. The scent of the campfire wafted through the air.
The forest gave way to a rocky landscape again, and the men she had seen earlier came into view. They sat around their fire, heating cans of carp for a late lunch or perhaps early dinner. Noon had long since passed, and the high peaks would bring twilight early. Clouds closing in further darkened the skies and promised rain.
The two men were the only people in view, though beyond them a canyon mouth parted a fifty-foot-high cliff running parallel to the river far below. From her angle, she could not see into the gap, but, judging by the breadth of the entrance, the ravine could hold an army. Faint clanks and rumbles emanated from within.
Amaranthe left the trees and strolled toward the campfire. As soon as the men noticed her, she spread her arms, palms open. Theirs faces screwed up in suspicion, but they did not reach for the bows propped nearby. One glanced toward the canyon. Was their boss inside? Amaranthe shifted the angle of her approach to ensure no one could come out without her noticing.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. “I’m looking to speak with the, ah, new owner of this property.”
“Is that so?” The speaker, a snaggletoothed fellow with tufts of bristly hair sticking out from beneath a wool cap, gave her a long leer.
Given the unimaginative bun confining her hair and the distinctively unsexy trousers and jacket she wore, she figured he had been up on the mountain without female company for a while. The second man eyed her more professionally and his hand went to a bow.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“The same thing as you are,” she said.
Snaggletooth’s brow furrowed. “Quarrying rock?”
She managed to keep the surprise off her face. Rock? Surely a rock quarry could not justify all the interest in this land. The entire mountain range was made from limestone. It could be quarried from anywhere.
“Looking to acquire this property for my own purposes.” Amaranthe waved in the direction of Hagcrest’s cabin. “I came to see the owner, but it seems he’s passed on recently.”
“No kidding?” Snaggletooth smirked.
“I run a few businesses down in the capital,” she said. “I have funds available for acquisitions. Perhaps I could make an offer to the new owner. I’m guessing Lord Hagcrest had no next-of-kin, and whoever holds the title now holds the land?” In the city, it would not be that simple, but out here it probably was.
“You have money?” Snaggletooth leaned forward, eyes bright. “With you?”
“Of course not. Who would go hiking with a rucksack full of ranmyas? My armed men are watching it somewhere safe and defensible.”
The speculation did not leave Snaggletooth’s eyes.
“Why,” the bowman asked, stroking his chin, “would someone from the capital be interested in land all the way up here?”
“I could use the timber and limestone for my construction business. Since this lot is located on the river, it’d be easy to ship the raw materials out of the mountains.” There. That sounded plausible. Right?
“Shipping stuff down that river won’t be easy for long.” Snaggletooth snickered.
His comrade glared at him.
“Oh?” Amaranthe considered the rocky hillside below. The river flowed past, its view impeded by only a few boulders and scrappy trees sprouting from the cracks. “Changes afoot?”
“Nothing we can talk about,” the bowman said.
“Of course.” Perhaps if she took things in a more roundabout direction… “How’d you fellows get stuck working up here, anyway? It’s kind of a forsaken plot, isn’t it?”
“Got that right,” Snaggletooth said. “Ain’t a woman for miles, unless you count old Lady Spearcrest, but she’s about a hundred and not worth raiding the property for.”
The bowman leaned over to dig an elbow into his comrade’s side. “Shut up,” he whispered. “You’re yapping too much.”
“Slag off,” Snaggletooth said back, not bothering to lower his voice. “We ain’t had no womens to talk to in ages.”
Amaranthe waited, happy to let them argue, hoping they would divulge more.
Someone walked out of the canyon. Braids of pale brown hair swayed around his sleeveless buckskin vest. His bare arms lacked the tattoos she associated with Kendorian shamans, but he otherwise had the look. Or perhaps he was another Mangdorian?
Well over six feet, the man towered over Amaranthe as he approached. If he was a Mangdorian, he was a tall one.
“Greetings.” Amaranthe lifted a hand and hoped she kept the concern off her face. “Are you the new owner of this property? I’m interested in making an offer on it.”
The man’s green eyes lacked the sinister chill of some megalomaniacal villain intent on overthrowing the empire, but he did not appear pleased to see her. His face had a frazzled cast to it.
He waved for the two other men to grab their weapons and scoot out of earshot, though not out of bow range. His eyes shifted to Amaranthe, but they grew unfocused for a moment. A tingle grazed the back of her neck. Her imagination? Or perhaps he was a shaman, inspecting her through some otherworldly skill.
“You want me to believe you are businesswoman?” he asked, voice heavily accented.
Amaranthe had to concentrate to understand him. “Yes. I’m prepared to offer you a respectable sum, considering this is a remote, forsaken piece of land.”
“Not enough forsaken. Too many people are showing up here. Who tells you this land good? Spearcrests?”
Amaranthe kept her face blank, but inside her gut twisted. If the Spearcrests were involved with what was going on over here, which, at the least included their neighbor’s murder, then sending Books and Maldynado to visit may have been a mistake.
“Are you able to discuss selling the land?” Amaranthe asked. “Or are you merely someone’s henchman, here to stand guard?”
“I no henchman.” He jerked his chin up and thumped his chest with a fist, causing his braids to sway about his torso. “I valued partner.”
“I see. And would you and your partners be piqued by an offer of fifty thousand ranmyas?” It was a few thousand below the appraisal amount on the waterlogged note the men had retrieved from the woman’s body. A good starting point to negotiations.
The shaman snarled and slipped a primitive bone-blade knife from a sheath.
Maybe not a good starting point after all.
“That’s not my final offer,” Amaranthe said.
Knife in one hand, the shaman reached for her with the other. She hopped back, evading the grasp. If he was a Mangdorian, he was doing a horrible job following his pacifist religion.
“I see you’re a foreigner and perhaps not educated in Turgonian business practices,” Amaranthe said, “but trying to kill the other party is not an acceptable negotiation tactic.”
“I no here for money, and land is no for sale.”
“Why are you here?” She did not expect him to answer truthfully, but one never knew. Maybe he would feel the urge to confess.
He swiped at her with the knife.
Or not. Amaranthe evaded him again. He had reach with those long arms, but his size stole some of his speed, and she read the attacks easily. He lacked the practiced moves of an experienced fighter, so she decided not to reach for her pistol or signal Sicarius. Not yet. The bowmen were watching, but neither had an arrow nocked.
“To keep people like you from nose about,” he answered.
