from whatever chest armor he’d struck. “I hate dealing with-”
Something gripped Maldynado’s head on either side, applying crushing force to his temples. He swatted at the air, searching for his attacker, but nobody stood near him. The force intensified, as if someone had clamped a giant vise around his head and was tightening the screws. Maldynado sucked in short, pained breaths and tried to think of a way to free himself, to fight back, but how could he attack a man he’d thrown overboard? His knees buckled, and he dropped to the deck, curling onto his side. He imagined the shaman, floating on his back, laughing as he assaulted Maldynado from a distance.
Akstyr. He had to get Akstyr. Surely he could do something.
Not caring that he was gasping and whimpering, Maldynado crawled toward the doorway to the boiler room. He couldn’t hear the scuffles or smacks of a fight. He hoped that meant his comrades had already finished off the guards. Not the other way around.
Something touched Maldynado’s head, and it was all he could do not to scream. He did gasp and pull away.
“Don’t move, Mal,” came Akstyr’s voice. “I’m trying to break the… ”
Blackness descended upon Maldynado’s vision. He expected to pass out, but the light returned in a flash. The pain disappeared so quickly that the cessation made him swoon. He almost threw up.
A pair of shoes came into focus inches away from his nose. Maldynado was looking at the deck, and he sure hoped that was Akstyr standing in front of him and not some guard. He rolled onto his back for a better look. Yes, Akstyr, Basilard, and Books surrounded him, all frowning down at him. Sespian stood in the doorway behind Books, eyeing something farther down the deck.
Yara was kneeling beside Maldynado, a hand on his chest. He thought she might be about to express sympathy, but she stuck to business. “Did you search the shaman for that tracking device before throwing him overboard?”
“Uhm. Oops.” Fearing a rebuke, Maldynado rushed to change the subject. “Thanks for helping me with him, Akstyr.”
Hands stuffed into his pockets, Akstyr merely shrugged. “I didn’t do much, just planted the idea in the shaman’s mind that some of those moat alligators might wander out to the river now and then.”
“You’re developing a subtle streak,” Books told Akstyr. “That’s good.”
Books complimenting Akstyr? That was new. Akstyr only shrugged again, though that might have been a smile tugging at his lips.
“We have a problem.” Sespian pointed at something up the deck. “Your cries of pain seem to have drawn attention.”
Maldynado rolled to his knees. Two young boys crouched on the stairs leading to the middle deck, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared whispers and pointed. When they noticed the group of adults staring at them, they scampered back up the stairs.
“I hope you’re not going to command me to run after those kids and pummel them into silence,” Maldynado said as he climbed to his feet, accepting Basilard’s hand for support. “The way I feel right now, I don’t think I could manage more than a fast hobble.”
“I wasn’t planning to pummel children,” Sespian said, his tone cool.
Before Maldynado could say that he’d been joking-why didn’t anyone understand his sense of humor lately? — Sespian spoke again.
“I was merely pointing out that we’ll be unable to remain hidden here. Between them and the now-missing engineer, not to mention all of your sister-in-law’s minions… ” Sespian waved toward the engine room. A man’s legs were sticking through the door. “Our presence here can’t go unnoticed past morning.”
“Or past midnight, I should think,” Books rubbed his head as if he’d been struck.
“So, what’re we going to do?” Maldynado asked.
“What else can we do?” Sespian was holding Sicarius’s knife again, and he gave it a stern frown. “Take over the ship.”
“Our small team against the crew of the entire steamboat?” Books asked.
“I thought I’d just tell the captain we’re commandeering the steamboat and that he’s bound by imperial law to obey me,” Sespian said.
Akstyr’s nose crinkled. “Does that work?”
“If the captain isn’t loyal to Forge and Ravido, it might,” Books said.
“I don’t know,” Maldynado said. “Nothing’s ever that easy for us.”
We’ve never had an emperor along before, Basilard pointed out.
The small shrug Sespian made implied he wasn’t certain it would be “that easy” either. Not exactly confidence inspiring.
A groan came from the engine room.
Akstyr jerked a thumb toward the door. “Are we going to tie those uglies up? Or throw them overboard like the others?”
“The captain may be more willing to consider my requests-my orders — if we haven’t decimated his crew. On the other hand, Books is correct. It’s possible the officers are on Forge’s payroll, and that’s why Mari chose the Glacial Empress, in which case, it may behoove us to remove some of his support staff before approaching him.” Sespian considered the shoreline where the scattered lights of farmhouses dotted the night. “We haven’t moved into the wilderness yet, so they’ll be able to swim to shore and find a way back to town.”
“That was a yes, chuck those uglies overboard?” Akstyr asked.
“Sire,” Books whispered.
Akstyr rolled his eyes. “Sire, uglies overboard?”
“Yes,” Sespian said.
He, Akstyr, Basilard, and Yara went inside to tend to the task. Maldynado touched his back, probing the beginnings of another bruise, and decided he better go in to help, too, lest Yara accuse him of loafing.
Books was standing outside the door, eyeing him.
“What?” Maldynado asked.
“Spelunking in her cave?” Books asked. “And you accuse me of saying stupid things to women?”
Maldynado winced. How much of his soul-baring conversation with Yara had Books overheard? Hadn’t the others had their heads stuffed behind those pistons? So much for his private conversation. He sighed. This week wasn’t going well, not well at all.
Chapter 11
When the pins retracted, leaving Amaranthe’s arms and legs free, she melted in relief. Many minutes had passed since Retta left, and Amaranthe had begun to fear that, in addition to failing to keep Sicarius’s secret, she would remain at Pike’s mercy. She wanted to spring away from the table and sprint for the door, but coercing her body into movement took a lot of effort. The holes left by the pins oozed blood. She scraped some of the salve away from less damaged areas of her body and smeared it into the wounds. Touching them sent a wave of blackness over her, and she groaned, gripping the edge of the table.
“No, we are not going to be given freedom, only to pass out on the table,” she whispered.
Her first thought as a free woman was that she should find a way to destroy the Behemoth on her way out. Her second thought, which came as she was attempting to slide off the table, was that she’d be lucky if she could even stand up. As much as her mind wanted to rebel, to deal Forge a huge destructive blow in exchange for the pain and indignity she’d suffered, her body lacked the strength. Even if she could hobble around and avoid recapture long enough to locate an engine room, or the vessel’s equivalent, she’d have no idea how to make trouble. Somehow she doubted this ancient craft used something as understandable as steam for power.
When her bare feet hit the floor, Amaranthe flinched. Pike had flayed the skin off the bottoms once. Maybe twice. The hours of torture had blended and grown fuzzy. Unfortunately not in a way that suggested she’d ever forget the experience. Thanks to the healing effects of the salve, she could walk, but each step hurt, like traveling barefoot through a gravel quarry full of particularly prickly pebbles.
