Maldynado hoped any people they encountered would be just as busy with their inner thoughts. Sespian, he imagined, wanted to stay incognito. He didn’t have a costume beyond torn clothes, an unshaven face, and dirty nails, but he was being careful to walk between Basilard and Books, with Akstyr ahead of him and Yara lagging behind. Somehow Maldynado had ended up leading the yawning and beleaguered team toward the Goldar River and Sunders City. It was a little thing, but it made him uneasy. He did not want the responsibility of leading. As he’d learned long ago in life, people who let themselves be put in charge got blamed when things went wrong. Unfortunately, he’d let Sicarius do just that, and now he had to keep track of Sespian.
Maldynado eyed the rustic houses and outbuildings on either side of the road. If he remembered the area correctly-he hadn’t been through town since those childhood trips to Lake Seventy-three-the main bridge across the river and into the city core lay only a few miles away. The group would reach Sespian’s money stash by nightfall, and then what? He’d have no more reason to stay with the team. Not unless someone convinced him they were indispensable.
Every time they passed people walking in the opposite direction, Maldynado hoped they’d turn into a covey of highwaymen who would leap out and give him a chance to protect the emperor. Unfortunately, the pedestrians walking, cycling, and riding past on mule-drawn carts only regarded the team with wariness. Even if any of them had highwayman aspirations, they’d probably prove smart enough to leave this group alone. Though tired, grimy, and missing half of their gear, the men-Yara included-had the tempered-in-blood look of war veterans. These days, even Books managed to look moderately dangerous when he rested his hand on the hilt of a weapon.
Sespian lacked the mercenary visage, but his face did earn a few second glances from passersby. That was a cause for concern.
“Sire,” Maldynado said, struck by inspiration, “would you like me to go into the city first and acquire a costume for you? Even though you’re a touch scraggily at the moment, your face is on the ranmya bills. People might recognize you and report you to local Forge minions.” Maldynado had no idea if Sunders City had local Forge minions, but it sounded good.
“Hm.” Sespian stepped around a pothole in the muddy road and kicked aside a few soggy brown leaves. They might have left the wetlands, but no one would call this part of the satrapy dry. Plenty of moss carpeted the stumps in the farmers’ fields. “You did say you’re the group shopper, didn’t you?”
“When it comes to clothing, yes. Fashion consciousness is one of my gifts, and I always stay abreast of the latest trends. I can make sure people are so busy admiring your outfit that they won’t notice your face.” Maldynado paused, not certain that had been a good selling point.
“Sire,” Books said, “I strongly, no, vehemently suggest you don’t let Maldynado purchase clothing for you.”
“Vehemently?” A hint of a smile touched Sespian’s his lips for the first time since the crash.
“ Most vehemently.”
“Don’t listen to him, Sire.” Maldynado was glad the emperor couldn’t read Basilard’s contribution-he was back there signing, Tell the emperor I agree and that letting Maldynado choose a costume would be unwise. Maldynado dropped back, butting Books out of the way and waving for Basilard to tie his fingers together. “I’ve often chosen appropriate ensembles for the boss,” he told Sespian. “She trusts my taste and understands my value in this area.”
Books made a choking sound, but Akstyr was the one to say, “Has she ever worn one of your costumes for more than two hours?”
“No,” Books said. “In fact, she was distinctly put out over that… minimalist ensemble you acquired last spring. The glares she hurled about rivaled some of Sicarius’s best ones.”
Maldynado waved at the men, trying to shush them. For once, he had a serious-life-threateningly serious- agenda to pursue, and these jesters insisted on fooling around. Sergeant Yara, battling fits of yawns, had been tagging along several paces to the rear, but she was drawing closer now. Maldynado did not want her to join the chorus of critics.
“Ignore them, Sire.” Maldynado turned his back on the others and waved toward the road ahead, inviting Sespian to focus in that direction rather than to the rear. “They wouldn’t know fine fashion if it sashayed up to them in the form of a beautiful woman inviting them to an evening of debauchery.”
“Did he just say sashayed?” Akstyr asked. “Men aren’t supposed to use words like that.”
“I’m surprised he knows what it means,” Books said.
Keeping his back to them, Maldynado said, “I’m certain I can find something dignified and appropriate for a bookly sort such as yourself, Sire.”
Sespian’s lips flattened at the word “bookly,” and Maldynado realized that might not be considered complimentary.
“It’s true that, when given a chance, I do acquire alluring costumes for the boss,” Maldynado went on, hurrying to cover his blunder, “but it’s intentional. I wish to encourage male interest. She spends entirely too much time plotting and scheming and training with Sicarius of all people. One shouldn’t spend that much time alone with someone like that. It could stunt one’s social skills.” Maldynado had wandered away from his target topic, but maybe if Sespian saw that he cared about Amaranthe’s happiness, he’d realize Maldynado was an all-right sort of fellow.
“Training with Sicarius?” Sespian lifted his eyebrows.
“Sure, fencing, sparring, calisthenics, running obstacle courses.” A thought occurred to Maldynado. “You didn’t think I meant anything… venereal, did you? There’s nothing like that going on between them.” He glanced back at the others. “There’s not, right?”
To Maldynado’s surprise, Sespian glanced back too.
Books opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Basilard pointed at the road ahead. No, at the bridge, which had come into view, though it remained a mile or so away. A wagon sat atop it, and there seemed to be a knot of people around it.
Maldynado squinted. “Anyone have a spyglass?”
“We lost most of our gear along with the dirigible,” Books said.
They’re soldiers, Basilard signed. They’re stopping people.
Maldynado was about to translate for the emperor, but he was looking at the bridge, too, and he’d slowed his pace.
“Soldiers,” Sespian said.
“You have good eyes, Sire,” Maldynado said.
“For a bookly sort?”
“Er, yes. Do you… want to be seen by soldiers?” Maldynado hoped not-what good could he and the team do if Sespian could simply walk up and fetch a team of grunts to follow him around and keep him safe?
“Not particularly,” Sespian said. “I don’t have any way to know which ones are-” He caught himself with a frown, and repeated, “not particularly.”
Maldynado had no trouble seeing through the gap. Sespian couldn’t be sure who might be loyal to Ravido.
“Is there another way across?” Sespian asked. “The place where I arranged to have funds stashed is south of downtown, on the other side of the bridge.”
Good, Maldynado thought. “Not for many miles. My costume idea might be necessary, after all.” Technically, they could filch a boat, but if soldiers were guarding the bridge, they’d be watching the docks too.
Sespian sighed, as if whatever plan he’d meant to pursue had been dashed to the ground, and he was being forced to pluck a new one from a barrel full of rotten apples. “Do you think you can get past the soldiers without attracting notice?” he asked.
“That’s asking a lot of Lord Flamboyantcrest, isn’t it?” Sergeant Yara asked. Thanks to the slower pace, she’d caught up and joined the conversation. Wonderful.
“So long as the soldiers aren’t female, I’m sure they won’t look twice at me,” Maldynado said. “You can all camp out in one of the parks on this side of the river. I’ll go on my own, so you needn’t risk yourself on my noticeableness.”
“Noticeability,” Books corrected.
“That too.”
Books muttered a comment that included the word sashay, but Maldynado didn’t pay attention. Sespian was
