“Or, we can track their craft,” Books said, “and whatever else they’ve unearthed.”
“And take it for our own, right?” Maldynado couldn’t help it; the idea of controlling that thing made him grin like a boy. Maybe he could learn to fly it.
Books sighed. “Haven’t you crashed enough types of vehicles already?”
“No, not yet.” Maldynado smiled.
Sespian lifted a finger. “While I’m not opposed to depriving Forge of this tracking device, how can we set a trap without alerting them to our presence on the steamboat? If Mari knows I’m onboard, she’ll get off and make other arrangements for travel, arrangements I might not be able to track. Or she might simply send all the armed men on the ship down to kill us all.”
She can try, Basilard signed.
“I fear it’ll be difficult to keep our presence masked, regardless,” Books said. “Do you have any idea where the final destination is?”
“I don’t know if the steamboat is taking her all the way, or only part of the way. She might not be staying on the river.” Sespian frowned. “Or in the empire.”
“Why do we have to follow this Marblecrest lady?” Akstyr asked. “Why can’t we tie her up, thump on her a while, and force her to tell us what you want to know?”
Sespian stared at Akstyr. Books winced. Even Maldynado winced. Thumping on women wasn’t honorable, even irksome sisters-in-law.
Akstyr scowled back at everyone. “How is that not more practical than hiding down here, risking discovery, and hoping she’ll lead us where we want to go?”
He has a point, Basilard signed, though he didn’t look happy about it.
“Not that I’m partial to Mari,” Maldynado said, “but could we explore other options before we start torturing the womenfolk in my family?”
“Yes,” Sespian said. “Give me more ideas. Preferably ideas that don’t involve violence.”
“Wait.” Maldynado snapped his fingers. “We do know the final destination, don’t we? Sicarius drew those lines on the map, right? And Markworth and Deerlick Wood were the only possible spots within five hundred miles.”
Books’s brow wrinkled. “Even if that craft were flying in a straight line, and those cities represented likely landing spots, Sicarius was hypothesizing about the destination of that aircraft, not the Forge meeting place.”
“Wouldn’t it be going to the meeting place?” Maldynado asked. “Mari’s heading south, and that craft was heading south. You don’t really think that’s a coincidence, do you? What else would they have been heading south for? What with the coup going on and all, I can’t imagine they’re planning an escape to the Gulf for beach bumper ball.”
Books lifted a finger, as if to object, but he lowered it again. He looked around, a faintly perplexed expression on his face. “As unlikely as it seems, I believe Maldynado has a point.”
“You needn’t sound so surprised,” Maldynado said.
“Typically, the only thing pointed about you is your sword.”
“Swords.” Maldynado winked, never able to resist ribbing Books.
Books rolled his eyes.
“Markworth and Lake Seventy-three are accessible via a river that flows into this waterway,” Sespian said without so much as an eyelid flicker at Maldynado’s innuendo.
Maybe it went over the kid’s head; he probably didn’t get out of the Imperial Barracks much. When all this was over, Maldynado ought to take him under his arm and show him how to have a good time.
“There are all those islands down there, owned by the wealthy and warrior caste,” Sespian added. “Perhaps one of them is the meeting place.”
“Sure,” Maldynado said, “I’ve been there. The family has a little island in the middle.”
Everyone stared at him.
“What?” Maldynado asked.
“Could it be that obvious?” Sespian mused. “Did your brother invite his Forge allies to enjoy the family manor while they scheme plots that will, among other things, put him on the throne?”
Maldynado shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t get an invitation.”
Clangs sounded outside, boots on one of the exterior staircases. Guards on patrol, Maldynado guessed, the noise reminding him that someone might come looking for Sicarius’s knife soon.
“Are we going to set a trap?” he asked. “I only bring it up because it might be inconvenient if we’re still standing here, chatting about our plans, when a bunch of guards burst in on us.”
Sespian sighed. “I am reluctant to abandon my plan to remain in hiding, with Mari unaware of my presence, but I suppose your assassin has taken that option from me.” He frowned down at the knife.
Maldynado hoped Sicarius hadn’t been planning to ask the emperor for a pardon or any other favors. Trying to be helpful-or at least cheer the kid up-Maldynado patted Sespian on the shoulder and said, “Our plans go awry all the time, Sire. Amaranthe always finds a way, through explosions, scheming, and battles with mechanical monsters, to make things work out in the end.”
“She’s not here.” Sespian eyed the hand on his shoulder.
“Er, that’s true.” Maldynado lowered his hand. “But you have us. We’re excellent at two out of three of those things.” He wasn’t going to make any claims about scheming, because that hadn’t turned out well for him thus far.
Books was shaking his head. Perhaps Maldynado needed to work on his skills at cheering people up.
Sespian said nothing. His eyes were bleak.
Chapter 10
Someone came into the room during the middle of one of Pike’s torture sessions, and, after they exchanged a few words spoken too softly for Amaranthe to make out, he slathered some salve on her body and walked out. She wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for the reprieve or not. The cold, gelatinous paste provided some relief as it permeated her wounds, but she was still stuck on the table with the pins driven through her limbs. Blood trickled from the gouges as well as from other wounds Pike had missed with his rushed application.
This had been his second visit of the day, and he’d seemed agitated, rushing through his “work” and trying harder than ever to pull the answer to that one question from her. The aircraft had been on the ground for days, if Amaranthe guessed right, so she couldn’t imagine what fire ants might be crawling over his toes just then.
Sicarius’s face floated through her thoughts. What if he had left Sespian behind to come for her, and what if he had found a way to track the craft? It seemed unlikely, but she dreamed that he’d caught up with them anyway and that Pike was worried because he knew it.
The lighting had winked out when Pike left, pitching Amaranthe into blackness, but a door whispered open and a slash of brightness flowed in from the corridor. A tiny butterfly of hope fluttered in her breast. Sicarius?
Amaranthe craned her neck, trying to see the entrance.
“Amaranthe?” a soft voice whispered. Retta.
The hope-butterfly didn’t stop fluttering. People whispered when they didn’t want to be discovered, and people didn’t want to be discovered when they were doing something of which others would disapprove. Like maybe, just maybe, helping a prisoner escape…
“Still alive,” Amaranthe croaked.
Footfalls sounded. The lighting level rose. Retta gasped, and her footsteps faltered. “You look… I can’t imagine how you… ”
Ah, yes, Retta hadn’t seen Amaranthe outside of the crate since the first day.
“You should have seen me before he put on the salve,” Amaranthe said.
“I should’ve told Ms. Worgavic before she left. If she knew-”
“She knows,” Amaranthe said. “Any chance my battered state is inspiring you to let me go?”
“I figured out a way to help.”
Help. That wasn’t the same as letting go, and Amaranthe feared Retta’s version of help might not match her
