seemed to be trying to do that very same thing with Sicarius.
“ People are strange,” Evrial muttered.
“ What?” Maldynado asked.
“ I said… you’re a good man, Maldynado. Thank you.”
This time a thump and a grunt came from behind her-Maldynado tripping and righting himself? Had her compliment surprised him that much?
“ Right, you’re welcome,” he said. “Ah, just to be clear, it’s for hauling you out of the river, right? Not entertaining you and keeping you warm until the wee hours of the morning?”
“ Are you going to bring up sex in every conversation we have from now on?” Evrial asked.
“ Until the novelty fades, probably so.”
“ And after the novelty fades?” Evrial asked it lightly, but she wondered what he planned for the future. He’d admitted he cared, sort of, and that was promising, but would it last?
“ After that, I’ll bring it up less often. In no more than half our conversations, I should think.”
Not exactly what she’d been fishing for, but she smiled anyway. Maybe that was enough.
CHAPTER 8
Amaranthe lay on her belly at the edge of the roof, watching the town in case her men offered a signal. One of the earlier river settlements, Port Medar maintained a rustic, early-empire feel with narrow streets lined with one- and two-story buildings. Most of the steamboat’s passengers had disembarked to explore the town, so those streets were busy. Somewhere out there, Akstyr and Basilard were searching for Maldynado and Yara while Books and Sespian hunted for bags of cement mix. Only Sicarius remained on board with Amaranthe. He stood near the smokestack, his black clothing blending in with the black paint, as he kept an eye on the pilothouse and the roof access points.
Getting her men off the steamboat hadn’t been a problem. It’d been early as they approached town, and under dawn’s dimness, they’d stolen a lifeboat and gone ashore. Once they’d reached a safe distance, they’d made a clamor so the enforcers couldn’t miss that “those scurrilous outlaws” were escaping. Getting her team back on the steamboat without anyone noticing would doubtlessly prove more difficult. Especially if they were going to be toting a few hundred pounds of cement mix. “Trust me,” Books had said, eliciting memories of Maldynado riding a tottering printing press down a hill at breakneck speed to their first team hideout. Not for the first time, Amaranthe wondered if she should have gone with them. But Sespian had suggested-no, it’d been more of an order, and she smiled at the memory-that someone had to remain with the weapons, in case the others weren’t able to sneak past security and get back on board. Those rockets couldn’t be allowed to reach the capital.
A squad of enforcers in crisp gray uniforms marched toward the docks. Uh oh. Were they coming aboard because of the team? Or had they found out about the weapons?
Amaranthe scooted away from the edge, lest the enforcers check the roofline as they approached. She joined Sicarius, wiping moisture from the front of her parka. The sun had come out, melting the snow and leaving the roof damp. She leaned against him for warmth.
Sicarius collapsed a spyglass. “The cement will make it onboard.”
“ Oh?”
“ It’s been added to those supplies.” Sicarius pointed to pallets of foodstuffs and bins of coal sitting on the dock, waiting for the attention of a steam crane. “I did not see Books or Sespian. They did well.”
The compliment-and the hint of pride in his voice-pleased Amaranthe. She caught Sicarius’s arm as he lowered it and molded it around her waist. “If we are to be a we, one of your jobs will be to anticipate when I’m wet and cold, then seek to warm me.”
“ Really.” Amazing how the man could sound dry without changing his tone whatsoever. At least he didn’t remove his arm. “What will your jobs be?”
“ I’m sure they’ll be many and varied,” Amaranthe said.
“ Such as?”
She wondered what he might have in mind. “Bringing warmth and cheer to your soul?”
Amaranthe kept hoping for a day when she said something like that and it surprised a laugh out of him. It had to be possible. She’d seen him amused before, and he’d even given her the faintest touch of a smile from time to time. But maybe he had something else in mind when it came to “jobs.” Something less amusing and more… physical. When he didn’t answer, she tilted her head back to check his face, then rolled her eyes. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was peering around the smokestack toward the pilothouse. The last time she’d checked, the man on duty in there had his heels up on the console, his head back as he snoozed in the chair. Apparently being on watch when docked wasn’t a demanding task for a helmsman.
“ All right, we’ll come up with some better jobs,” Amaranthe said. “We can work on a list together.”
Sicarius dropped his arm. “We’re about to have company.”
Amaranthe heard the voices then, two men coming up the stairs. Maybe they were heading to the pilothouse.
“…check up here.”
“…know some are still on board.”
Erg, no such luck.
“ Where to?” Amaranthe whispered. If they slipped over the edge of the roof, they could drop onto the upper deck, but they might run into someone down there.
Sicarius was looking up instead of down, toward the lip of their smokestack. The furnaces weren’t stoked while in port, so there weren’t any black plumes pouring from either stack, but Amaranthe couldn’t imagine hiding inside of them. For one thing, the lip was fifteen feet above the roof, and they didn’t have any rope. For another, the walls of the black cylinder rose vertically and smoothly, with only a couple of slight circular ridges where segments had been soldered together.
“ You’re not serious,” Amaranthe whispered.
“ We’ve practiced this.”
“ On stone or brick walls, not some slick, frictionless metal.” She waved to the nearby roof edge. “There’s not even any space to get momentum going.”
The voices grew louder, each word distinct. Security was definitely looking for them, and tossing men overboard wouldn’t be nearly as effective when the boat wasn’t moving. They’d simply climb back up. Not to mention that people flying from the roof might draw the attention of the approaching squad.
“ Follow,” Sicarius said.
He backed up three steps, not all the way to the edge of the roof, lest someone spot him from below, then sprinted straight at the smokestack. He ran up the side, legs churning, propelling him upward. He gripped the lip before gravity caught up with him. In a blink, he disappeared over the side.
Amaranthe grumbled to herself but backed up to give it a try. If he thought she could do it, who was she to argue?
“ A mortal person more effected by gravity than he,” she muttered.
“ Check behind the stacks,” one of the men said.
They were both on the roof now, walking in her direction. She’d be in their sight in a few seconds.
Amaranthe raced for the stack, then up it. Taking large steps, she kicked into the wall, throwing the knee of her opposite leg up, propelling herself upward. All too soon, her momentum faded. She threw her arm up, hoping she was close to the top. Her fingers brushed the lip, but she couldn’t quite get a grip.
Before she started to drop, Sicarius’s hand whipped out with a viper’s speed. He caught her wrist and hauled her up as if she weighed mere ounces.
Conscious of the men below, Amaranthe kept from grunting when her stomach rammed into the stack’s lip. A little abdomen battering didn’t compare to what she’d endured at Pike’s hands. She slithered the rest of the way over as quietly as possible. Inside, she groped about for someplace to put her feet, but didn’t find anything. Sicarius was bracing himself with one boot and one hand against each side of the interior. The smokestack wasn’t wide, and she bumped him several times as she maneuvered about, attempting to find a similar position. She finally settled in,
