“You realize what you’re saying,” Amaranthe said, hurrying to speak before an altercation got underway. “If both of these property owners stood to profit, one or both of them may be responsible for the whole scheme.”
Books pointed across the river. “Hagcrest is the one with the quarry.”
“But Hagcrest is dead.”
“He wasn’t when the plot was conceived,” Books said.
“He lived in a sparse, one-room cabin. He doesn’t seem like the type of man who would have been plotting for profits.” Amaranthe understood Books did not want his lady friend to have been one of the guilty parties, but the woman had been down in the real estate library, checking lot lines.
“Vonsha is warrior caste,” Books said. “To suggest she would plot against the entire city for financial gain is preposterous. It’s not as if they’d stand to earn a fortune from selling the family land. The emperor would give them fair market value perhaps but not a vast sum.”
“Hm.” Amaranthe thought of the bottled water sellers in the city. It didn’t seem like anyone stood with enough to gain to mastermind something that threatened the entire capital.
“Besides,” Books said, “if the Spearcrests are involved in a scheme, I’m sure it’s the father who thought things up. Not Vonsha.”
“The old man was a crotchety badger,” Maldynado said.
“We could go talk to them,” Amaranthe said, “or try to find the enforcers and soldiers and maybe the source of the bad water.”
“I don’t think the Spearcrests would take kindly to questions.” Books glanced at Sicarius. He probably wanted to save Vonsha from unpleasant interrogation methods, if possible.
Amaranthe could not blame him. She wanted to hurry after the soldiers anyway. They could always question the Spearcrests later, but her insides clenched at the idea of coming all the way up here and having some other team vanquish the villain and claim the honors. It was selfish-surely the good of the city was what mattered-but it was there in her heart nonetheless.
“Let’s get back to the vehicle,” Amaranthe said. “It’s time to find the source of our tainted water.”
Maldynado fell into step beside her. “Sorry you had to hole up with Sicarius overnight.” Sicarius walked a few paces ahead, so Maldynado kept his voice low. “That must have been torturous.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was angling for something. “I’m surprised you didn’t think there’d been snake greasing going on.”
“With Sicarius and you?” He roared with laughter but caught himself when Sicarius glared back at them. He lowered his voice again. “Not only would that be disturbing to imagine, but I know you can do much better. You need a nice, good-hearted man. Someone noble. Like you.”
She missed a step. “Dear ancestors, you’ve got someone in mind, don’t you?”
“I’m glad you asked. Why, yes, I do. In fact, we had this whole birthday shindig planned, and I was going to introduce you to Lord Deret Mancrest. His father owns The Gazette. He’d be perfect for you. And maybe you could exude your charms and get him to write nice things about our team. Especially me. And how statue-worthy I am.”
Amaranthe had her hand up through most of his speech, intending to reject him instantly, but the mention of The Gazette made her pause. She had no interest in dating this man, but it might be beneficial to know someone with a link to the newspaper business.
“We’ll see,” she said.
“Excellent!”
Sicarius leveled another dark glare over his shoulder at them.
CHAPTER 16
T owering pines rose, their branches blocking the sky and turning the road into a twilight tunnel. The lorry shuddered and wobbled as it groaned up the steep incline.
Amaranthe sat cross-legged in the back, reading a newspaper they had picked up in the last of the tiny towns on the mountain. Across from her, Sicarius sat in an identical pose with his knives, a pistol, and a disassembled rifle lying on a towel before him. The rest of the men rode up front, taking turns driving and tending the firebox.
“This is interesting.” Amaranthe tapped a middle page of the paper. She had already read the news on the “epidemic” and promises that the water was fine. No need for alarm. The empire was taking care of everything, thank you very much. Nothing she had not expected. But this small story in the back… “Remember Farth Textiles? The Kendorian owner was taken into custody by the enforcers on suspicion of magic, and her business is being sold at an auction.”
Sicarius ran a bore brush through the barrel and blew out flecks of carbon.
“Why do I have a feeling she was set up?” Amaranthe said. “First Klume wanted you to assassinate the woman, and then we stumble across those thugs doing…we never did figure out what. I thought they might be stealing something, but if they’re linked to everything else-and they must be if they had the same death-causing bumps under their skin, right?-then they had to be up to more than petty theft. Maybe they were scouting the place in anticipation of a return trip, one where they would plant false evidence of magic. But why would the same people responsible for a Kendorian textiles plant folding want to foul the city water? Is Books’s theory right, and they want to build a dam on that other river, then sell the land to the empire all prettied up and ready to become the city’s new water source? Is all of this about profits?”
Sicarius ran an oiled rag along the outside of his barrel.
“It’s your turn to speak,” Amaranthe said.
“Have you attended to your weapons? If you intend to continue with the rifle instead of the crossbow, you need to clean it frequently to minimize malfunctions.”
She slumped against a pack. “Is that your way of telling me my theories are ludicrous and I should retire from the speculation game? Or were you just ignoring me?”
“No.” He handed her a cleaning kit.
Amaranthe chuckled and fished out her firearms to work on. He was probably right. Thinking and figuring things out were good, but getting killed because of a weapons malfunction would make all her thoughts meaningless. She kept the pistol loaded in case they ran into trouble, but disassembled the rifle to work on.
“Perhaps they intend it to be a privately owned dam,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe grinned. “I knew you were listening.”
“A private dam that the city was forced to use would put a lot of power into the hands of the owners.”
She tapped her bore brush against the rifle barrel thoughtfully. “But would someone be allowed to keep a private dam if the capital city relied upon it? The law says the emperor can go in and take land if he wants to.”
“If he has the power to act freely.” Sicarius laid down his work and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. After a glance toward the cab, where the men chatted, he spoke in a low voice, “With Hollowcrest and Raumesys dead, the only record of my mission in Mangdoria would be in the Imperial Intelligence Office in a locked filing cabinet. That this information is just coming out now is telling.”
“You think Forge or whoever we’re dealing with has a man inside? Someone working at odds with Sespian’s interests? Someone who might be a threat to him if he doesn’t comply?”
Sicarius bent his head and snapped the parts of his rifle back together with more vigor than the task required.
“You’d like to be in there with him, wouldn’t you?” Amaranthe said. “Standing at his side? Glaring at, or killing, anyone who gives him trouble.”
“That was the plan,” he said quietly.
Plan? How long ago had he first imagined that, she wondered. She turned her head to scratch an itch and caught Basilard gazing out the back of the cab at them. He looked away as soon as she met his eyes. She lowered her hand slowly. He could not have heard their conversation, not over the chugging of the engine. But he seemed
