Amaranthe had not realized he had learned Basilard’s hand code, nor had she seen him use it, but he did so now flawlessly. She crept up and joined them. They found a spur of high ground where they could gaze down upon the camp with copious trees in between for cover. On the pebbly shore, a huge bonfire burned, easily eight feet long. The two male enforcers tended it, tossing on more wood.
Not a bonfire, Amaranthe realized. A funeral pyre.
“Looks like they had an eventful night,” she murmured, wondering if it had been wise to split her group.
The female enforcer sergeant paced into view.
“We should be in there with them.” The woman clenched her fists as she stalked about the pyre.
“You’ve got to stay here, Sarge,” one man said. “Those monsters like women.”
Basilard’s head jerked up.
“They seemed to like the men fine too.” The sergeant jabbed her hand toward the funeral pyre.
Amaranthe leaned forward, resting her hand on the papery bark of a birch. She wanted more information, but the woman paced back into a tent. The men at the fire said nothing. If there were others in the camp, they were in the tents or otherwise hidden from view.
Sicarius signed, Go?
Amaranthe exhaled slowly, tempted to watch longer or even approach. If there were only three people in there…
She pointed at the camp and signed, Number?
Sicarius’s eyes narrowed slightly. He probably sensed her scheming something.
She smiled innocently.
He flicked a finger for Basilard to go one way while he went the other. Amaranthe stayed by her tree and nibbled on a fingernail while she watched the enforcer men pile more wood onto the fire. The longer she watched, the more sure she became that she wanted to question the sergeant.
Sicarius returned first. Three sleep in tents.
Amaranthe had not seen him get close enough to check inside the tents. Actually, she had not seen him at all between the time he left and the time he returned. She held up six fingers, not sure if he had counted the woman.
He nodded. Basilard checks… “lorry,” he mouthed. No signs in Basilard’s hunting code for steam machinery.
A moment later, Basilard returned and informed them no one was on the road or in the vehicle.
Amaranthe backed away from the camp so they could talk more freely. Irritated birds jabbered at each other in the trees. One dove at another for no reason-neither was carnivorous. The weaker shrieked and flew off, while the larger assumed a surly pose on a branch.
“I want to talk to her,” Amaranthe said. “If there’s something dangerous in the dam, it’d be useful to know what before we walk in.” She recalled the three dead men, men she believed came from this very dam, and the huge gashes on their bodies. Monsters, the enforcer had said. More soul constructs crafted by a wizard or shaman? Or natural creatures twisted by the water’s power?
“Is the dam a priority?” Sicarius asked.
She caught her lip in her teeth. He had a good point. Destroying or nullifying that artifact in the lake had to be their main goal if it was responsible for fouling the water.
“If something’s killing soldiers and city workers, I’m sure the emperor would appreciate us taking care of it,” she said.
He sent men to hunt, Basilard signed. Yes?
“Yes, but they may lack our unique skills,” Amaranthe said.
Basilard looked at her skeptically. Sicarius simply looked at her.
“Fine, fine,” she said. “The artifact is the priority. I still want to talk to the woman and find out what’s going on. Basilard, you recognized something when they were talking of monsters.”
He hesitated, started to shake his head, but turned it into a shrug. He slashed two fingers in a claw-like motion. Amaranthe did not recognize the sign.
She spread her hands. “I don’t-”
“Makarovi,” Sicarius said.
The word sounded familiar. “Isn’t that some mythological creature of old?”
Basilard shrugged again, an embarrassed flush reddening his cheeks.
“They’re real,” Sicarius said.
Basilard flicked him a surprised glance.
“Real but rare,” Sicarius said. “Their habitat is in the drier eastern half of the mountains, especially up north where the Mangdorian tribes were pushed. Centuries ago, they were hunted relentlessly in the empire, and they’ve been absent here since.”
“So, someone from Mangdoria brought them here?” Amaranthe asked.
Basilard slashed his hand in a “no” sign and added: Too dangerous. Nobody could harness them.
“A powerful practitioner could,” Sicarius said.
That drew another “no” from Basilard. Not for a long trek. Shaman must sleep.
“Let’s just worry about the fact that they’re here for now,” Amaranthe said. “And that they’re apparently so awful they were hunted close to extinction. What did they do exactly?”
“When our ancestors first pushed east and encountered them, the creatures killed many of our people,” Sicarius said. “Women in particular were targeted. After numerous gruesome deaths, Emperor Skatovar placed a bounty on them.”
“Why did they target women?”
“Unknown.” Sicarius looked to Basilard.
He grimaced, face apologetic as he signed. Favorite prey. They eat female organs.
“Great,” Amaranthe said. “I’ve always wanted to be some horrible creature’s culinary delicacy.”
A branch snapped nearby. Sicarius disappeared. Basilard darted behind a shrub. Amaranthe ducked behind a knot of roots protruding a couple of feet above the ground. The earthy scent of moss filled her nostrils as she peeked over top.
A soldier came into view, weaving between the trees. Performing a routine patrol or searching for the owners of the abandoned steam lorry? The scouts on the road must have reported back by now.
He drew closer, head rotating from side to side. His hands gripped the rifle tightly. Yes, he anticipated trouble.
Something brushed Amaranthe’s arm, surprising her. Sicarius had joined her behind the roots.
He pointed to the soldier, whose back was to them as he moved past their position. Sicarius said nothing but she guessed his meaning: should he grab the man for questioning?
“I want to talk to the woman,” Amaranthe breathed.
Sicarius stared her in the eye, his gaze hard and unwavering.
A dozen justifications floated through her mind, though she knew any one would sound like an excuse. They could probably get the same information from the soldier. It was curiosity that motivated her choice, nothing wiser. She lifted her chin in what she hoped was a regal commanding expression that proclaimed she had made her decision and would not rescind it.
“If we question her and let her go,” Sicarius said, “she’ll report our presence to the soldiers. They’ll know exactly who is here.”
She grimaced, realizing that meant he had not planned to let this soldier go after questioning. She doubted that meant tying the man up to release later.
“The soldiers knowing we’re here is acceptable,” Amaranthe said. “In fact, it’s good. If nobody knows we’re here, nobody will know we’re the ones who save the city. I know you prefer stealth and secrecy for your work, but if we’re to…” She glanced at Basilard, mindful not to hint too much of Sicarius’s interests in front of anyone. “If we’re to earn exoneration from the emperor, it’s not enough to help the empire. We need Sespian to know we’re helping the empire, so the more people who know of our work, the better.”
“Very well.” Sicarius did not appear happy, but then he never did.
“How shall we arrange this?” Amaranthe rubbed her hands. “I can go in there, and you can cover me while I
