defense, against aristocrats.
“What’s your name? My lord.” The guard tacked the latter on, no doubt covering himself should it prove to be true.
“Maldynado Montichelu Marblecrest,” he said in his most pompous tone, then removed his hat and offered a slight bow, not the deep one a man might issue to a colleague or a lady, but the type that was considered a gesture of respect when given to commoners.
“Aren’t you disowned? My lord?” the man in charge of talking said after another exchange of looks with his colleague.
“He runs with mercenaries and outlaws, doesn’t he?” the other one whispered and eyed the rest of the “boat crew.”
Ugh, not good. “Ah, you’ve heard about my exploits down in the capital? I hadn’t realized that my tales had traveled this far downriver. I’m done with that life though.” Maldynado waved toward Yara, hoping to get the guards looking at her, and that oh-so-lovely bosom, instead of at the men. “I’ve been told that my father has invited me to rejoin the family and that Mari has the details. Do be a good lad and run along to let her know I’ve come, won’t you? My fiancee is eager to meet her.” He kept his hand extended toward Yara, and the guards’ eyes were indeed lingering on her, and not her face either. Fortunately Yara’s growl was too low for them to hear.
After another shared glance-Maldynado was beginning to think those two might share a brain as well-one of the guards said, “Go check,” and the other scampered off the dock.
Maldynado took this as an invitation to climb out of the boat. This drew a frown from the remaining guard, especially since Maldynado stood a half a foot taller than the man, but he stepped back without a word. Still trying to figure out if Maldynado deserved warrior-caste respect perhaps. Or maybe he knew that other guards stood at the base of the pier and would have plenty of time to shoot if anyone tried something. And then there were those additional men on the steamboat.
“My lady?” Maldynado offered a hand, inviting Yara to join him on the dock.
She stood, frowned at the hand, and proceeded to climb out herself. She tried to, anyway. The brass-tipped slippers Maldynado had chosen to match the dress lacked the sturdy soles of enforcer boots, and one of her feet slipped in a damp spot on the dock. Though she probably would have recovered her balance before she pitched sideways and fell into the river, Maldynado caught her about the waist and kept her upright. He needn’t have pulled her against his chest to achieve that goal, but opportunities to have a woman feel one’s pectoral muscles couldn’t be ignored.
Alas, Yara shoved him away before she had a chance to feel much of anything. “Men,” she said in a tone that made it clear it was a curse. “Not only do they buy you clothes designed for the benefit of their eyes, but they consider it a coup if those clothes also make it more likely that you’ll need their help.” She glared at the guard, as if he had colluded with Maldynado to bring about the moment.
The guard skittered back, apparently more alarmed at risking her ire than that of Maldynado, warrior caste or not. He decided it wasn’t bad walking beside a woman who could quell men with a glare. If she’d just stop sending that glare his way so often…
“It’s a nice dress, ma’am,” the guard finally managed.
“Do you like it?” Maldynado withdrew the stacks of business cards the shopkeepers had pressed onto him. “Save up and visit Madame Mimi’s Fashion Boutique. I’m sure you’ll find something nice for your lady.”
The guard gaped at the card in his hand, a perplexed wrinkle to his nose. So long as the man didn’t find them suspicious.
A soft clatter arose from the direction of the road. None of the guards reacted, and, a moment later, a bronze-and-wood sphere on a tiny cart rolled out of the darkness and onto the dock. The knee-high contraption hissed and spat smoke from a tiny vent pipe on the top. Maldynado’s hand drifted to his rapier hilt. He’d suffered enough at the hands of magical devices of late.
In the back of the boat, Akstyr’s head perked in interest for the first time. When Maldynado met his eyes, he used Basilard’s hand code to sign, Magic.
Lovely complication.
The guards didn’t blink at the sphere’s appearance. Given how scarce-and utterly forbidden-magic was in the empire, that must mean they thought it some steam-powered automata.
The closest guard bent, opened a door in the sphere, and pulled out a scroll tied with silk. Maldynado tried not to be obvious about peeking over his shoulder as the man read. Most of the writing was too small to make out, but he spotted Mari’s flowing signature.
“You can go up,” the guard said, “my lord.”
Huh.
“Naturally.” Maldynado snapped his fingers at Basilard. “Gather our bags, boy.”
Basilard’s eyes widened, and his hands moved together, as if to sign a few choice imprecations, but Sespian cleared his throat softly. After a quick glare at Maldynado, Basilard fetched a trunk. Maldynado had found it in the junkyard and done his best to refurbish it, figuring Mari and her cronies would think it odd if he arrived without any luggage, especially when he was traveling with a woman.
Basilard plopped the trunk onto the dock, nearly catching Maldynado’s toe beneath the corner. Maldynado moved his foot in time.
I thought I was going to be the bodyguard, Basilard signed.
Bodyguard, lackey, it’s all the same to someone in the warrior caste, Maldynado signed back when the guard wasn’t paying attention.
One wonders how hard bodyguards try to save their clients from harm.
“You boys, tie the boat up and mind these security fellows. We’ll be back later tonight or in the morning.” Maldynado flipped the emperor a coin, hoping Sespian wasn’t the type to order public floggings for impudence.
Sespian kept his head down, but he caught the coin with a quick snatch and pocketed it. “Yes, my lord.”
“He’s the best actor among us,” Maldynado muttered to himself, then raised his voice for the guard’s benefit. “Do we have to walk up? Or are there carriages?” He waved at the message-delivery sphere still hissing where it idled. “It seems there’s some technology on this remote rock.”
“Sorry, my lord,” the guard said. “No steam carriages, but there are porters available if your lady is disinclined toward walking.”
“The lady can walk just fine.” Yara strode off the dock at a brisk pace, wobbling only slightly in the slippers.
“Come, boy,” Maldynado said and hurried to catch up to her.
Had Basilard the ability to mutter under his breath, he surely would have been doing so. But, in silence, he hefted the trunk over his shoulder and followed after Maldynado and Yara.
As soon as Maldynado passed the trio of guards waiting on the road, he pretended to trip on the cobblestones.
“Blast, this is a rough road,” he said. “Poorly lit too. Torches would be brighter than these twenty-year-old gas lamps.” Two of the guards carried lanterns, and, without asking, Maldynado plucked one from the hands of a fellow who didn’t appear particularly alert. “I’ll see this is returned to you, lad.”
“What? I-”
One of his comrades elbowed him. “Yes, my lord.”
Maldynado jogged and caught up to Yara. She said nothing about his delay. The woman wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
Bumps and clanks followed them up the hill. At first, Maldynado thought it was something in the trunk, but Basilard wasn’t the one making the noise. The message-delivery device, trembling and hissing from the strain of rolling up the bumpy road, had decided to trail after them. That could prove problematic, as Maldynado had planned to create his distraction as soon as they rounded a bend and trees hid them from sight.
“You two see Akstyr’s warning?” Maldynado asked, keeping his voice low in case the device could somehow report their goings on to its master. He wagered it did more than deliver messages. When Yara gave him a blank look, Maldynado remembered she wouldn’t have understood the sign if she’d seen it. He tilted his head backward. “We seem to have picked up a spy.”
“Does it matter?” Yara asked.
Not sure she understood the device’s magical significance, Maldynado said, “If it’s here to observe us,
