him now, rather than standing vulnerably in Forge’s line of fire. It didn’t matter.
Something thunked nearby. From her spot beside the trapdoor, Amaranthe couldn’t see anything other than a few feet of wall and a curtain, but she could tell someone had entered the dining hall. She eased her dagger out and shifted deeper into the shadows.
“…seen Rokkov and Ganz yet?” a man asked.
“ No, those worthless slag heaps are dawdling somewhere, making us do all the work.”
Two sets of footsteps drew closer to the stage. Already crouching, Amaranthe leaned forward on the balls of her feet, ready to spring. A few feet away, clothing rustled. Someone grunted.
“ Well-fed bastard,” the second man growled, thumping against the side of the stage.
Oh. Amaranthe relaxed an iota. The second body, of course. These were the men assigned to carry the dead off the boat. They probably wouldn’t look under the stage.
“ Be respectful, Private. That’s one of our brethren, even if he’s from another district.”
“ I’d be more respectful if he and his mate had left a note telling us what they were doing down there,” the grumpy enforcer said. He raised his voice to holler, “Sarge?”
Amaranthe tensed again. Was he addressing someone on the deck outside? Or one of the men searching under the stage? And if the latter, what if Sicarius had already taken him down? Since she’d gone in, she hadn’t heard a noise aside from the scraping of crates being pushed about, but Sicarius could have rendered half of the search team unconscious by now.
“ What?” came a muffled call from the far side of the stage.
Amaranthe let out a soft exhale.
“ What d’you want us to do after we take this last body into town?”
“ See if you can find blueprints for the steamboat,” the sergeant called back. “We haven’t found a cursed thing down here, but something poisoned those men.”
Amaranthe swore to herself. If Sicarius had learned about the below-deck storage compartment in a few seconds, it wouldn’t take the enforcers much longer.
“ Slagging Sicarius, that’s who,” the grumpy enforcer said.
“ Probably so, but why?” the sergeant responded.
Sicarius had been right. He didn’t have to do anything to get blamed for nearby mayhem. Would people ever be able to get past that?
“ He needs a reason?” Grumpy asked.
“ To crawl around beneath a stage, I’d say so. Get going, Private. Finish up and tell me what those blueprints say.”
“ Yes, Sarge.”
More grunts sounded as the enforcers toted the dead man away. Sicarius had probably taken down everyone except the sergeant during the conversation. That was good, Amaranthe supposed, but when a half squad of enforcers failed to come out from underneath the stage, someone was going to figure out what was going on. She and Sicarius needed to find a way to move those weapons fast, before anyone got a look at that schematic. Or, maybe she should have attacked those two men, to keep them from leaving the dining hall.
She poked her head through the trapdoor. Too late. They were gone. She doubted she could have knocked them out with Sicarius’s quick efficiency anyway. More likely, someone would have gotten a shout out, and she’d have given away her position sooner rather than later.
“ What a nice relaxing trip upriver this has turned out to be,” Amaranthe muttered.
Someone touched her shoulder.
“ Got them all?” she whispered, trusting it’d be Sicarius-an enforcer would have clubbed her shoulder. Or head.
“ They’re all tied in the back,” Sicarius said.
“ I don’t suppose you’ve found any other ways out of here?”
“ Not unless the storage area can be accessed from elsewhere. None of us crawled below to check.”
“ Let’s do that because we may have visitors soon.” Amaranthe summarized the conversation she’d overheard. “If we’re going to move those weapons, it’ll have to be now.”
Sicarius led her through the maze of gear and boxes, including a jaunt along the back wall, where he’d wedged four enforcers into a nook between large crates that brushed the stage’s wooden support beams. One man lacked a uniform jacket-it’d been removed and cut into strips for gags and bonds. Nice of him to donate material for everyone.
As one, the enforcers’ eyes widened when Sicarius entered their view. They exchanged worried glances with each other. After nearly a year with him, Amaranthe forgot how unnerving those knives and emotionless stares could be.
Sicarius moved past the enforcers without comment. The grate lay on the other side of the stage, so he’d probably only come this way to let the men know he was still in the area-and escape attempts would not be wise.
Someone had disturbed the crate Sicarius had moved on top of the floor entrance, revealing a few inches of the grate. Yellow light seeped up between the iron bars.
“ Did they see that?” Amaranthe whispered. “Or was the crate bumped when you attacked someone?”
“ A man was in the area. He nudged the crate but hadn’t noticed the glow yet.” As he spoke, Sicarius stood as much as he could in the low space and, blond hair brushing the beams above, lifted the crate aside, not letting it bump or scrape on the floor such that the enforcers might hear. Judging by the way the tendons in his hands stood out and his thigh muscles bunched against the fabric of his trousers, it was heavy. It occurred to her that with Sespian away from Forge’s clutches, he had little reason to continue to work to thwart the organization, yet he’d been as helpful as ever since rescuing her, if not more so. The weapons probably mattered little to him, so long as his son wasn’t likely to be caught by them. Once again, she wondered if Sicarius hoped to earn Sespian’s trust by helping him regain the throne.
“ I may not have said it,” Amaranthe whispered, “but I appreciate your continued willingness to work against Forge with me.”
Sicarius produced the grate key and slipped it into the lock.
“ You haven’t mentioned… Well, what are your goals now? Do you want to see Sespian on the throne again?”
“ No.”
Amaranthe stared at him. She hadn’t expected such a definitive answer. “You don’t?”
“ If he wants it, I’ll protect him, but I’m not… flawless. He’ll be a target as long as he’s emperor.”
He sounded grim, so Amaranthe said lightly, “You’re not flawless? What flaws do you think you have?”
“ A need for sleep. I can’t watch over him every moment of the day.” Sicarius opened the grate and lowered his legs into the shallow hold.
“ Wait,” Amaranthe said before he could disappear below. “Why are you still working with us against Forge?” If not for Sespian’s sake, might it be for hers?
Sicarius met her eyes. “Whether he wants the throne or not, he would wish a satisfactory outcome for the empire. He would not classify a Forge-backed figurehead as such.”
“ So it is for Sespian’s sake.” Amaranthe told herself not to feel stung-she knew he cared about her too-but she was tempted to point out that she’d had to talk Sespian into coming back up the river with them. That wasn’t fair though. Sespian would have returned to the capital of his own volition eventually. Sicarius was right-Sespian did still feel obligated to protect his people. “I think you’re right,” she said. “If you help set things right in his eyes, he will eventually appreciate it.”
Sicarius nodded once and slithered into the cargo hold.
“ Be careful,” Amaranthe said, remembering that he’d be moving about right next to those weapons.
“ Yes,” came Sicarius’s simple agreement.
Amaranthe grabbed a lantern and her knife and went to check on the enforcers. She trusted Sicarius to tie a good knot, but the odds were against them when it came to keeping trained men immobilized indefinitely.
Indeed, when she returned to their prisoner nook, she found one fellow with a sharp shard of wood clenched between his teeth. Bent over his wrists, he was working the edge back and forth across his bonds. Amaranthe didn’t think he’d escape that way, but she removed it from his mouth regardless.
