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  Deadly Games

  ( Emperor's edge - 3 )

  Lindsay Buroker

  Lindsay Buroker

  Deadly Games

  CHAPTER 1

  In the predawn light, Amaranthe Lokdoncharged up the worn travertine steps of the ancient stadium. Herthighs burned, her calves ached, and sweat streamed into hereyes.

  “Idiotic,” she muttered to herself betweenstrained breaths. “Deranged…masochistic.”

  A dark, round shape blurred out of theshadows. Instinctively, she lifted her hands and caught the heavy,sand-filled ball to keep it from slamming into her chest. Barely.She wobbled, the weight threatening to knock her onto the stonebenches, but she compensated and continued upward. With a lastburst of energy, she hurled the ball back to the shadowy figurethat had appeared at the top of the stairs.

  Amaranthe kept her hands up, thinking hemight throw it again, but he propped it against his hip and waited.Legs trembling, she reached the top step and forced herself tostand up straight instead of collapsing in a sweaty, exhaustedheap.

  “Dedicated,” Sicarius said.

  “What?” she asked when she caught her breath.Stars still lurked in the deep blue sky, and she could not make outhis face, but it would not have hinted at his thoughts anyway.

  “Your list,” he said.

  Amaranthe waited for him to expound. He didnot.

  “You think I’m dedicated for being here, anhour before dawn, training with you? Even though I told everyone totake the week off because we’ve been working so much lately?”

  “Yes.”

  Figuring her pride had kept her on her feet arespectable length of time, she sat down on the closest bench.

  “You don’t think I should be following my ownorders and enjoying a relaxing week? I could be sleeping in ormaybe planning for a day at the beach. It is summer, after all, andthe weather is finally good. Yet I’m here with you, torturingmyself. You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “In general, or for training?”

  She scowled suspiciously at him.

  A clank drifted up from the sand-coveredfloor of the arena below. A yawning man in city worker’s overallsshambled out of a maintenance door carrying a lantern. He headedtoward the towering machine that controlled the Clank Race, asteam-powered obstacle course with a tangle of climbing walls,swaying nets, rocking platforms, and swinging axes. The contraptionoccupied half of the arena floor inside the running track, andboxing and wrestling rings took up the other half. The workerpatted his pockets, cursed, and walked back inside.

  “The athletes will show up soon to starttraining,” Amaranthe said. As a junior, she had competed in asmaller version of the Imperial Games, and she missed training forsomething as innocent as medals and honor. “I suppose we shouldgo.”

  “Yes.” Sicarius offered a hand.

  Surprised, she gazed at it for a couple ofseconds before clasping it. He pulled her to her feet gently andheld the grip for a moment.

  Amaranthe swallowed. A couple of monthsearlier, he had admitted he cared for her, but he had also said itwould be a bad idea for them to act upon such feelings. Outwardly,she had agreed with him; inwardly, she kept hoping he would beovercome by emotion-or she would settle for lust-and tug her intohis arms for a passionate kiss. Unfortunately, she could notremember having too many men overcome by lust because of herpresence. Perhaps it was because she always wore her hair in apractical bun and donned utilitarian clothing more suitable tomercenary life than an evening out. Anyway, Sicarius wasn’t thetype to be overcome by…anything.

  He released her hand without a word and ledthe way down the steps. Amaranthe trailed him, wondering if she hadimagined that pause. They followed a railing toward steps leadingdown from the elevated tiers of seating.

  Sicarius stopped before he reached thestairs. A young woman climbed into view, blond hair and freckledskin illuminated by a pair of gas lamps burning on the landing.Though she wore the loose white togs of one of the athletes, sheclenched a short bow in one hand and had an arrow nocked with theother. Her head turned from side to side, eyes searching the arenabelow.

  A throwing knife appeared in Sicarius’shand.

  “Wait,” Amaranthe whispered, slipping pasthim.

  Fear whitened the woman’s knuckles where shegripped the bow-this was no hardened bounty hunter.

  Amaranthe held her hands out, palms up, andwalked toward the landing. “Greetings.”

  The bow jerked in her direction.

  Amaranthe dropped to her belly, wincing asthe hard edge of a travertine step rammed her chest. A clinksounded as the arrow skipped off the railing. Amaranthe sprang toher feet, hoping to reach the woman before she could reload.

  Sicarius was already behind the woman, aknife pressed against her throat. The bow clattered to the stonefloor.

  Amaranthe flung her hand out, saying,“Don’t,” but Sicarius had already paused, waiting to see what shewanted to do. A few months ago, he would not have. He simply wouldhave killed someone-anyone-who dared lift a weapon in hisdirection.

  Amaranthe straightened her shirt and walkedforward. “Care to explain why you’re shooting at the shadows? Inparticular, the portion of shadows I was occupying?”

  Rings of white shown around the young woman’sblue irises. She opened her mouth a couple of times but did notmanage to speak. She could not be more than eighteen or nineteen,and with that pale skin she was not likely a Turgonian.

  Amaranthe waved a hand toward Sicarius tosuggest he could loosen his grip. He did not.

  “He’ll only kill you if you don’t talk,”Amaranthe said.

  “Accident,” the woman whispered, a faintlilting accent marking the word. “I was tense. My sister…someonetook her.”

  “Oh? Like a kidnapping?” Eagerness thrummedthrough Amaranthe, revitalizing her tired limbs even more thanbeing shot at had. Was there some trouble afoot? Something her teamcould handle? Something that could earn them attention-goodattention?

  “Kidnapping.” The woman started to nod butwinced when the movement drew blood. Sicarius kept his knives sharpenough to split the hairs on a flea.

  “Let her go, please,” Amaranthe told him. “Ido believe that’s a client.”

  Though Sicarius had drawn the woman back intothe shadows, to stay out of the light on the landing, Amaranthe hadno trouble reading the cool expression he leveled her way.

  “What?” she asked him. “It’s not as if youwere going to spend the week sunbathing at the beach.”

  Sicarius released the woman, but he did notput away his dagger. As soon as she was free, the girl clasped ahand to her throat and lunged away from him.

  “We might be able to help you,” Amaranthesaid. “My name is Amaranthe. What’s yours?”

  “Fasha,” she said, still holding her hand toher neck. She eased closer to Amaranthe while throwing uneasyglances at Sicarius. “Are you…athletes?”

  “We’re swords for hire,” Amaranthe said.

  “Mercenaries?” Fasha tensed. “Lowlifedung-crawlers that work for the highest bidder? How do I knowyou’re not the people who took my sister?”

  “We don’t work for the highest bidder, andI’m reasonably certain I haven’t mingled with dung lately. You?”Amaranthe raised her chin toward Sicarius.

  He said nothing.

  “He hasn’t either,” Amaranthe said. “He’squite fastidious.” When neither person commented, she cleared herthroat and got back on topic. “We work for the good of the empire,taking on missions that the emperor would approve of in the hopesof-” getting the cursed bounties off their heads, she thought,“-winning his favor. In fact we-”

  Whistling came from the arena. The worker hadreturned, a box of matches in hand, and he was veering toward thefurnace.

  �
�But perhaps we should discuss it elsewhere,”Amaranthe murmured.

  She led the way into the shadows outside thestadium. Despite her criticism of mercenaries, Fasha picked up herbow and followed. Sicarius disappeared, but Amaranthe trusted himto stay nearby. More than anybody, he knew how good she was atfinding trouble.

  Voices sounded-two male athletes walking pastthe stadium a few dozen meters away. Amaranthe chewed on her lip.The idea of a mission excited her, but it would be foolish tolinger at Barlovoc Stadium after sunrise. Though a week would passbefore the Imperial Games themselves started, enforcers werealready patrolling the barracks and training areas to keep thepeace amongst the athletes. That thought made her wonder why Fashahad not sought out the law for help.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Amarantheasked.

  “My sister and I are here from Kendor tocompete. This is the first year your Games have been open tooutsiders.”

  Amaranthe nodded. She had read the article inThe Gazette and knew Emperor Sespian was responsible forthat. Though monetary rewards had never been a prize in theempire’s biennial competition, every young citizen dreamed ofcompeting and winning. Also there had been instances of superbathletes sweeping the events and being granted a ticket into thewarrior caste, something usually reserved for outstanding wartimeperformances. A foreigner would not be eligible for that, but thenewspaper article had mentioned a citizenship prize for those whowished it-an offer that had traditionalists grumbling in ciderhouses across the city.

  “She didn’t come back to the barracks lastnight,” Fasha went on.

  Amaranthe’s shoulders drooped. That was it?The girl had only been missing for a few hours? “Maybe she found ahandsome young man and spent the night with him.”

  “No. She’s been training too hard for this.She may celebrate after it’s all over, but for the last week she’sbeen in bed early and up before dawn to train. Keisha is good. Verygood. She’s won every race back home. She even beats the men inanything over a hundred meters. She’s utterly serious about winninghere.”

  “Did you try going to the enforcers?”Amaranthe asked.

  “Yes, late last night. I returned from myevening run, and Keisha wasn’t in our room. Right away, I knewsomething was wrong. I went to the men who guard the barracks, butthey were derisive. They said nothing got past them. And theythreatened to throw me in jail when I mentioned…”

  Amaranthe straightened, her interestreturning. “The Science?”

  “You…know about the mental sciences?”

  “My team has had run-ins with practitionersbefore.”

  “Oh!” Fasha’s clothing rustled as she brushedAmaranthe’s shoulder with a pat made clumsy by the darkness. It wasan enthusiastic pat though. “Maybe you can help. Theenforcers told me it’s forbidden to talk about magic-that was theirignorant word for it. Two breaths later, they told me magic doesn’texist. If it doesn’t exist, why would it be forbidden to speak ofit? Ignorant heathens.”

  “Yes, the empire’s stance isn’t entirelylogical,” Amaranthe admitted. “What did you actually sense? Are youa practitioner yourself?”

  “No, but there’s a shaman in our tribe, andyou come to recognize the Science being practiced when you grow uparound it. I sensed…a definite residue. I believe something wasdone to my sister so she’d be easy to steal away.”

  Amaranthe tapped her fingers against herthigh. “I’d like to see your room. I used to be an-” she stoppedherself from saying enforcer, since that might not breed confidencein the girl, “-an investigator. Is it private, or are there othersstaying in there?”

  “We paid for a private room.”

  “Any windows?” Amaranthe supposed she wouldhave to admit she was a wanted woman at some point and that shecould not stroll past enforcers without risk of being recognizedand captured-or shot.

  “No, it’s a little room on the inside of thebuilding.”

  “Near a backdoor, by chance?”

  “No….” Fasha sounded puzzled. “Does itmatter? We can bring guests in.”

  “My comrade and I are wanted by the law.”

  Fasha’s lips formed an “Oh,” but no soundcame out.

  Amaranthe eyed the brightening sky. More andmore athletes were on the road leading past the stadium, and thebarracks would be an active place. “Don’t worry about it. I’llthink of something. Let’s go.”

  Amaranthe had taken only a few steps when adark figure appeared at her shoulder. She jumped despite the factshe ought to know better by now.

  “We’re going inside the barracks?” Sicariusasked.

  Now Fasha jumped and sidled several stepsaway. The brightening sky revealed Sicarius’s unexpressive angularface, his fitted, black clothing, and the variety of daggers andthrowing knives adorning it. Fasha fingered her bow.

  “It’s fine,” Amaranthe said. “He’s my mosttrusted ally.”

  “That’d be more comforting if you hadn’t justadmitted to being wanted by the law,” Fasha said.

  “You didn’t think you’d find a Science-savvymercenary team in the empire without a few eccentricities, didyou?” Amaranthe asked.

  “The barracks,” Sicarius repeated, cuttingout whatever reply Fasha might have made.

  “I’ll sneak by the enforcers and check itout,” Amaranthe told him. “I won’t be long. You can wait outside.If they try to drag me off to Enforcer Headquarters, you can benice and provide a distraction so I can slip away. Anon-death-causing distraction.”

  “The last time you went into the enemy campwhile I waited outside,” Sicarius said, “someone threw a blastingstick at me.”

  “As I recall it was at the positionyou’d recently vacated, but, thanks to your hyper-vigilance, fastreflexes, and quick mind, you evaded the attack and were long gonewhen the cliff top crumbled.”

  Amaranthe smiled, hoping to tease a lightresponse out of Sicarius, something that might show Fasha he had aside that was not entirely dark and scary.

  Birds twittered in the branches of treeslining the road. Thunks and whistles of steam came from within thestadium, signifying the Clank Race gearing up.

  Finally, Sicarius spoke. “I see. Your plan isto flatter your way past the enforcers.”

  Amaranthe’s smile did not fade. “If the plandoesn’t work, maybe so.”

  She left Sicarius to the shadows and ledFasha to the athlete complex, a mix of permanent structures andbrightly colored tents set up to house visiting competitors fromacross the empire. Men and women jogged or bicycled past, someheading off to train, others stopping at the food pavilions first.A steam carriage chugged past, rumbling up a circular drive to themajestic travertine lodge reserved for warrior caste athletes.Enforcers guarded the front door of the women’s barracks. Amaranthemulled over how to get in and out before full daylight came, makingit easy to recognize faces.

  Instead of veering in that direction, sheangled off the main road toward a pair of dome-shaped brickbuildings: men’s and women’s bathhouses. Smoke wafted from thechimneys, signifying the floors and pools were already warm.

  “You wish to bathe before investigating?”Fasha asked.

  “I could use it.” Amaranthe plucked at hershirt, still damp from the stair-running session. “But, no.”

  She headed for the entrance of the women’sbathhouse-no enforcers guarded those doors.

  Steam wrapped about them as they headed in,obscuring visibility, but Amaranthe had visited the complex beforeand knew the layout. She slipped into the dressing room, found noone inside changing, and plucked someone’s white togs out of aniche.

  “You’re stealing people’s clothing?” Fashaasked.

  Already changing, Amaranthe thought aboutspouting some justification about it being for the good of theempire, but she never would have bought that from a thief when shehad been an enforcer. Oh, well. “Sandals, too,” she said.

  On the way out, she grabbed a few towels. Shewound one around her hair, draped another across her shoulders, andhanded Fasha a third. She found a satchel and hid her own c
lothingand her knife-the closest thing to a weapon she had brought for themorning training session-inside.

  “Two lady athletes returning from the bathsto change before breakfast,” Amaranthe said.

  Fasha sniffed at her. “Let’s hope theenforcers’ sense of smell is as poor as their sense of magic.”

  “Your Turgonian is quite good,” Amaranthesaid instead of responding to the dig.

  It occurred to her that this could be asetup. What if some early-rising enforcer had spotted Sicarius andher training and, knowing he could not take them on in the open,arranged a trap? More than one bounty hunter had attempted to getclose by feigning an interest in hiring them.

  “I’m the daughter of a chief,” Fasha said.“I’ve been educated.”

  “What did you say your sister’s name isagain?”

  “Keisha.”

  “And she’s how old?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Why don’t you tell me more about your tribeand why you’re here competing,” Amaranthe said, heading toward thebarracks.

  Fasha’s brow crinkled, but she complied.Amaranthe listened to the story and asked more questions as theywalked, seeking inconsistencies or hesitations that would suggestthe woman was making it up as she went. Everything soundedplausible, though, and by the time they neared the barracks,Amaranthe decided she was being paranoid.

  Two men with short swords and crossbows stoodguard on either side of the front door. She did not recognizeeither-since Barlovoc Stadium was located on the southern end ofthe city, there was little chance of her running into someone shehad worked with-but that did not mean they would not recognize her.Though her wanted poster did not decorate the city as profusely asSicarius’s, it was out there.

  Amaranthe adjusted her towel wrap and climbedthe stairs. “You didn’t run here last year, so you don’t know,” shetold Fasha, “but the sand on the track doesn’t feel very wellpacked. It might make it easy to lose your footing.”

  “Uhm, yes, maybe so,” Fasha said. “Do youthink…”

  One of the enforcers grabbed Amaranthe’s armas she tried to walk through the door. Cursed ancestors, she hadhoped to at least get inside to snoop about before beingcaught.