return en masse. She frowned at the thought. As aloof as Yara had been, she already knew about Amaranthe. It would be harder to stalk in and convince a stranger of her team’s deeds.
“Still plenty in the camp,” Sicarius said.
True. Several men stood guard at points around the perimeter, while others dug latrines, shoveled coal for the steam vehicles, and performed other tasks they had probably not anticipated when they enlisted. A couple of soldiers stood outside the tent Sergeant Yara had occupied the last time Sicarius dragged her out to talk. A flag proclaimed it had been turned into headquarters.
“We’ll have to create a distraction.” Amaranthe considered Maldynado.
“I’m always happy to be distracting,” he said, “though it’s usually the ladies who are likely to stop and ogle. What if we get in a tussle with these boys? How do you want us to defend ourselves?”
“We can’t kill anybody,” Amaranthe said. “All the work we’ve done out here will mean nothing if we kill a single soldier. They won’t believe anything we say.”
“Don’t we have that problem anyway?” Akstyr asked. “Nobody is left alive who saw us in the dam.”
“That’s right,” Maldynado said. “As far as the soldiers know, they can credit this to some anonymous good- deed-doer.”
“That licks donkey crotch,” Akstyr said.
“Relax, gentlemen,” Amaranthe said. “I intend to make sure we get credit and find out where Books is located.”
She waited, anticipating more of an argument. Surely, they would realize she had nothing with which to back up her promise. Sicarius, especially, would know she had not won over Sergeant Yara. Even if Amaranthe could convince her their story was true, having a rural, female enforcer on their side was hardly the fast route to a pardon. Yara would have little power or sway outside her precinct and perhaps not much more inside.
“All right, boss,” Maldynado said. “We trust you. What’s this distraction you want?”
Amaranthe smiled bleakly. Skepticism would have been easier to deal with. Instead the mantel of expectation weighed upon her shoulders.
“We could grab a couple men,” Maldynado said when she did not answer right away. “Knock ‘em out, steal their clothes, and walk in, pretending we’re soldiers.”
“They have a challenge and password system to prevent that,” Sicarius said.
Akstyr snorted. “Even gangs aren’t moronic enough that they wouldn’t recognize their own people.”
“Well, it’s dark,” Maldynado said.
Amaranthe was only half-listening to them. To one side of the camp, partially visible through the trees, the trampers and lorries idled. A soldier opened a furnace door and shoveled coal inside. Someone must fear the company would need a quick escape.
“Couldn’t we thump the password out of someone when we’re stealing his clothes?” Maldynado said.
“Depends how much damage you want done,” Sicarius said. “Soldiers are trained to resist torture.”
“Maldynado really wants to take someone’s clothes off,” Akstyr said. “Maybe he prefers men.”
Maldynado sniffed. “If I do, your homeliness will save you from ever knowing.”
“Whatever.”
“Let’s go with my idea,” Amaranthe said, watching the soldier close the grate and move onto the next vehicle in the line. “Maldynado, Basilard, and Akstyr, it’s been a while since you stole someone’s vehicle. Are you interested in reacquainting yourselves with that hobby?” She leaned, trying to find Basilard in the shadows. His inability to talk made it difficult to communicate with him in the dark. He touched her shoulder. She hoped that was an affirmative.
“You want us to march into this camp full of well-armed men,” Maldynado said, “jump into their vehicles, race off chaotically, and lead a posse of soldiers on a crazy chase?”
“Yes,” she said. “Problem?” It seemed like the type of ludicrous sport someone who had ridden a printing press down an icy hill would appreciate.
“Nope,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure I got the order right.”
“Keep them busy, and meet us up the road, where we left our lorry, when you’re done. If it’s guarded, stay hidden. We’ll find you.”
“Got it, boss.”
“And don’t get caught this time, please,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t know where the closest jail is.”
Maldynado thumped Akstyr on the back as the three men slipped away. “This’ll be fun.”
Amaranthe hoped they were careful. Soldiers would be harder to rattle than enforcers.
She shook away the worry. She needed to focus on her part of the mission.
“Think the sergeant has been good enough to locate herself in the same tent?” she asked Sicarius. “It had a lovely water view.”
“A primary tactical consideration.”
“Let’s get closer.”
Before they had gone far, two lights appeared behind them-soldiers approaching. Amaranthe stepped around a tree, hoping it would be enough to hide her. She dared not dive for cover, not when her wounds might make her cry out. Sicarius eased in front of her, guarding her. By night, his black clothing helped him blend in.
The soldiers drew even with the tree. One glanced toward Amaranthe and Sicarius, and she held her breath.
“Halt.” A man stepped from behind a tree several paces ahead. A rifle, the barrel wet from the rain, gleamed in his hands. His appearance drew the other two soldiers’ attention. “The coyote cries.”
“By night’s full moon,” one of the soldiers responded. “Archton and Bedloe. Dog Platoon.”
“Pass.”
After the soldiers went into camp, Sicarius whispered, “Stay here. I’ll nullify the sentries. They’ll be less alert now than when the commotion starts.”
Amaranthe kept herself from reminding him to choose a non-lethal nullification method. He knew what she wanted by now, and he was probably tired of her nagging.
After he disappeared, she slumped against the tree, a hand to her belly. Her scabs had flexed and torn as they walked, and she knew she was bleeding beneath the bandages. She shivered, too, and it was not that cold. She touched her forehead and tried to decide if it felt feverish. Sicarius never should have said anything about the infection. It would prey on her mind now. Either way, she feared she would be useless in a physical encounter and might prove a liability for the men. If not for Books, and her growing fear that she needed magical aid, she would be inclined to leave the shaman for someone else to confront. Though maybe that was still a possibility. She scratched her jaw. Those soldiers might be disappointed if they came all the way up the mountain for nothing.
“Look out!” someone shouted on the other side of the camp. Surprised curses followed. “They’re taking the lorry!”
“Stop them!”
“Go get-” Steam brakes squealed. “Look out!”
Amaranthe allowed herself a small grin. A tent went down amongst snapping poles and shouts of fury. If Maldynado had a skill beyond charming women, it had to be crafting mayhem.
Sicarius appeared a few feet in front of Amaranthe, limned by torchlight. He strode toward her and offered an arm.
“That’s not your usual entrance.” She shifted her weight from the tree to him. “You usually sneak up so softly I don’t know you’re there until you startle me into jumping.”
“I didn’t want you to aggravate your injuries.” He guided her toward the back of the command tent.
“That’s considerate.”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed. It was as if he wanted her to know he was going out of his way to be thoughtful.
They stepped around a pair of gagged and unconscious men tied to a tree. Two officers and a woman- Sergeant Yara-were standing in front of the tent, gesturing expansively. The noise from the vehicles and the shouts about camp made it impossible to hear the discussion.
Another tent went down. Someone fired at the cab of a second stolen lorry, and metal clanged like a
