that book.”
He was studying magic from an ancient Nurian tome, a project that frequently involved pestering Books for translations. If the youth learned anything that way, Books would be shocked, but he had no interest in arguing.
“They were using their own non-imperial tricks.” Akstyr threw another knife, clipping the log this time. “That one isn’t weighted right.”
“We’ll check it out tomorrow night.” Amaranthe tossed the fob to Akstyr, then considered the numbers on the damp note.
“Why don’t I research that while you take the others to the gambling house?” Books could use a break from his belligerent-minded brethren. A long break.
“Sounds good,” Amaranthe said. “I like a man who volunteers to do research.”
He straightened, pleased at the thought of proving himself useful.
“I’ve run into trouble at the real estate library before though,” she said. “Why don’t you take Maldynado? Even if there aren’t any assassins lurking on the upper tiers-” she tossed a significant look at Sicarius, “-Maldynado can distract the clerk if you need to sneak out with documents.”
Books had his mouth open to complain that Maldynado was the last person he wanted to spend more time with when his brain circled back to the first thing she said. “Real estate library?”
“Isn’t that where you were planning to research? That’s a lot number, isn’t it?”
Books scrutinized the note, but he knew little about real estate, so he had no idea. His shoulders slumped. He read and wrote six languages, had taught world history for a decade, and could find anything in a library in under a minute. He was supposed to be the expert on research. If he wasn’t that, what was he in this group? “Well, there were a number of possibilities that came to mind, but that’s certainly on my list of items to check.”
Amaranthe smiled, brown eyes knowing, but all she said was, “If that does match up with a lot on record, see if the other number represents a recent appraisal.”
“Right.” He tried not to feel disappointed that his scrap of paper was not something more interesting. Like that cipher he’d mused about. He would have enjoyed a cryptographic challenge, but real estate? Enh. Worse, he had to take Maldynado.
“That’ll get you out of tomorrow’s fun.” Amaranthe winked at Books.
“What fun?” Akstyr asked suspiciously.
“The rest of us can dig out the as-built drawings for the aqueducts and figure out where those bodies came from.”
“Looking at pictures all day?” Akstyr grimaced.
“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be some field work.” Amaranthe’s eyes twinkled. “Got any magic tricks for waterproofing boots?”
“Uhm, maybe?”
Without comment, Sicarius left the room. Unless the team was planning a mission, or he was leading training, he never spent time with the men. It would not surprise Books if he randomly killed everybody in their sleep some night.
Basilard and Akstyr returned to knife throwing. Books fiddled with the sheet of paper, though his thoughts were elsewhere, particularly on how he could sneak out in the morning, leaving Maldynado behind.
“You doing all right?” Amaranthe asked him.
“I’m fine.”
She nodded for him to follow her to a quiet area of the room, near the warmth of the furnace. “You look glum.”
“That’s my normal expression.”
“I’ve noticed. With those perennially dour faces, you and Basilard could start a convincing crematory business.”
Books shrugged. “I’ve just been wondering if…perhaps this was a mistake. I’m not sure how I…enhance the group. Research skills, I thought, but you’ve proven adept in that area yourself.”
“Only in matters where I have previous experience. I studied business-including real estate-in school before my father died and I had to drop out. Please don’t underestimate what you have to offer.”
“It’s not only that. I’ve little in common with a band of mercenaries, so I don’t fit here, not like I did at the University. But, of course, I can’t go back there.”
“Having a record as someone who cavorts with outlaws isn’t usually a draw for employers,” Amaranthe agreed.
Books prodded the corner of the coal bin with his boot. “Maybe I should leave the capital, find a small town where nobody knows me. Start over.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“Or peaceful. I’m grateful to you for the role you played in helping me get past my grief.” And out of the bottle. “I’m just not sure this is a life I’m suited for long-term.”
“I’d certainly miss you if you left, but you don’t owe me anything, and I can’t make you stay. Well, with Sicarius’s help I probably could.” Amaranthe smiled.
He returned the gesture warily.
“No, I’m joking.” She patted his arm. “Think on it for a while, please. You may feel that you don’t have much in common with the others, but don’t mistake not fitting in with not having a place. We care about you.”
Books snorted. “You, I believe do. The others, less so.”
“Maldynado would be bored if he didn’t have you to trade insults with.”
“I see. And Sicarius?”
“Ah, he believes you’re progressing with your training.”
“And that’s equivalent to caring about me?” Books asked.
“Most people he ignores. Or kills.”
“True.”
“Think about it,” she said. “No leaving while we have a mystery to solve though. I expect we’ll find some excitement tomorrow, one way or another.”
Noting the gleam in her eyes, he said, “Why does that worry me and excite you?”
“You’re saner than I am?”
“That must be it.”
CHAPTER 4
W ater pattered onto the mildew-slick walkway, and Amaranthe struggled to keep her map dry. The maze of pipes, tunnels, and holding tanks was tough enough to decipher without soggy stains. Occasionally a trolley or steam vehicle rumbled by on an overhead street, but for the most part only the sound of running water stole the silence.
Akstyr and Basilard followed her while Sicarius scouted ahead. What he expected to find in the darkness without a lantern, she could not guess, but he seemed to prefer the shadows.
“Huh,” she muttered, pausing to peer about. “This should be a four-way intersection, not a three-way one.” Unless they were lost. She frowned at the map and pictured the tunnels they had traversed. She had taken note of each turn they made, so she did not see how they could have gone astray.
Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder. If they were lost, she did not want to admit it. She had a notion leaders were supposed to be unflappable and infallible, or, at the least, have good senses of direction.
The two men behind her were not paying attention.
“Truth, Basilard?” Akstyr asked. “You can’t tell me anything about how your people work the mental sciences?”
Basilard shook his head.
“But you’re not from the empire,” Akstyr said. “I thought all Kendorians knew something about rakinyaw.”
