Deadly Games ee-3 Read online

  “Bonfire?” Amaranthe guessed.

  “No. Listen.”

  Amaranthe closed her eyes and cocked an earin the direction of the smoke. Despite the homeless and hunted thatcamped in the boneyard, quiet ruled there, except for the cicadasthat favored the trees on the southern end. She and Sicarius wereat the northern entrance, though, closest to the city, and sheheard nothing beyond chirping birds. A working train rumbled by tothe west, following the tracks along the lake and into Stumps.Wait. She listened harder. Maybe that was not a locomotive, andmaybe it was not far enough west to be on the tracks.

  “Steam carriage?” she asked. “No, I can’timagine anyone wealthy enough to own one spending time here.Enforcer wagon more likely.”

  Amaranthe took a step in the direction of thesmoke, intending to check it out, but Sicarius had not released herarm.

  “Don’t you want to investigate?” she asked.“Or did you want to stand here and fondle my arm for a while?”

  He released her. “I was alerting you to thepotential of trouble so we could avoid it.”

  “So…no interest in arm fondling, eh?”

  She expected him to ignore her or perhapssigh. Instead, he said, “Were that my goal, your armwouldn’t be my target.”

  Amaranthe blinked. “Why, Sicarius, is itpossible you have a playful side beneath your razor-edged knives,severe black clothing, and humorless glares?”

  “I will lead.” Sicarius headed into theboneyard. “Make no noise.”

  She was the one to sigh, but she followed himanyway. One day, after they finished their work and made peace withthe emperor, she was going to drag him off some place where itwould be impossible to train and the only acceptable activity washaving fun. She had heard of tropical islands in the Gulf where theinhabitants welcomed everyone with bead necklaces and feasts. EvenTurgonians were supposed to be allowed, so long as they did notcome to conquer.

  Sicarius did not choose a direct path to thesmoke. He circled through weed-choked aisles between rows of boxyfreight cars. Nobody stirred in the shadowed interiors, not withenforcers around.

  Sicarius climbed the rusty side of an earlymodel locomotive. Salvagers had torn away the siding, removed thewheels, and scavenged any engine parts light enough to carry.

  Crouched in the shadow of the smokestack,Sicarius waved for her to come up. She clambered to the top. Theywere closer to the source of the smoke now, and she glimpsed thetop of a steam wagon between rail cars a couple of aisles over. Itgleamed with familiar red and silver paint. Enforcers.

  Something clanged, like a baton striking themetal side of a car.

  “See any more?” a man called.

  “We probably got the wizard already,” cameanother male voice.

  “The ones we’ve chained say it’s notthem.”

  “Of course they’re not going to admitit, patroller. Not when the punishment is death.”

  “They’re all gang thugs. They’re probablygoing to get a death sentence anyway.”

  “The lady said the wizard wasyoung.”

  Amaranthe mumbled, “What has Akstyrdone?”

  Sicarius said nothing.

  She had seen enough. She jumped down, herfeet stirring a cloud of fine dust when she landed. It tickled hernose, and she pinched her nostrils shut. The last thing she neededwas to alert the enforcers to her presence with a mighty sneeze.Sicarius alighted beside her, somehow not kicking up any of thedust covering the sun-faded bricks.

  “Let’s warn Akstyr and Books,” she whisperedand headed into the maze. Warn wasn’t exactly what she wanted to dowith Akstyr. Kick might be a better verb. Maybe he had a goodreason for doing something that had made someone think he was awizard, but she doubted it.

  Their hideout lay a half a mile to the east,close to the far boundary of the boneyard, and she hoped they wouldhave time before the enforcers made it over there. Between thehundreds of rail cars and the narrow, cluttered aisles of junk andweeds between them, the area would not be easy to navigate with asteam wagon. Of course, she and Sicarius had been gone all day. Theenforcers might have already been to their hideout. That thoughtstirred worry in her gut, but, no, even if they had searched hersection of the boneyard, their words implied they had not capturedAkstyr yet.

  Amaranthe relaxed when she heard familiarvoices.

  “I did not mistranslate it,” Bookssaid.

  “Well, it’s not working,” Akstyr huffed. “Itried three times.”

  “Perhaps the error is not with thetranslation but your interpretation.”

  “Are you calling me inept, old man?”

  A clang reverberated from within a railcar.

  Amaranthe and Sicarius turned down the deadend to their hideout. Books stumbled out of the “parlor” car with apalm pressed to his temple. She’d thought the men were past thepoint of engaging in fisticuffs if she was not around to mediate,but perhaps not.

  “Did Akstyr hit you?” she asked. Maybe sheshould let the enforcers find him.

  Books waved an acknowledgement of theirarrival and said, “Not exactly. His concoction emitted fumes thatcaused me to lunge away and smack my head on the wall.”

  Sicarius climbed the nearest car and crouchedon the roof, standing watch.

  Since it appeared Books would recover,Amaranthe gave him a pat on the shoulder and went straight tobusiness. “There are enforcers searching the boneyard for a youngwizard with a gang brand.”

  Akstyr stuck his head out of the rail car.The usual spiky queue he styled his hair into had sagged, leaving alimp carrot top dangling on either side. Soot and blue goo stainedwhat had started out as a baggy white shirt. A faint smudgedecorated his upper lip.

  “What?” he asked. “Why?”

  “I thought you might know,” Amaranthe said,reaching for her kerchief. “Been performing your arts on anybodyoutside of our group?”

  “I wish he wouldn’t perform them on anybodyinside the group,” Books muttered, his hand still clutchedto his temple.

  “Uhh… I don’t know what you’re talkingabout,” Akstyr told Amaranthe.

  “Positive?” she asked.

  Akstyr shoved his hands in his pockets.“Yes.”

  “What about that girl you were talking tothis morning?” Books asked.

  Akstyr scowled at him. “I can’t talk togirls?”

  “She was comely and well-dressed,” Bookssaid. “Maybe warrior caste.”

  “What’re you saying? That no good-lookinggirls would talk to me?”

  “Essentially.” Books lowered his hand andcurled a lip when his fingers came away bloody.

  Amaranthe glanced up at Sicarius, not surethey should be wasting this time with the enforcers nearby. Hewriggled his fingers in one of Basilard’s signs. The predators werecloser, but not yet a threat.

  “Akstyr,” Amaranthe said, “what you do withyour talents is your choice, but doing it where the group is hidingout can get us all in trouble.”

  He bent his head and kicked at a weedthrusting from beneath one of the rusted car wheels. “I just wantedto make some money on the side. You don’t pay us hardly nothing,and I’ve got expenses. I don’t just drink and whore like Maldynado.I’ve got to buy books and components for researching now.” Hejerked his elbow toward the car without taking his hands out of hispockets.

  “Understandable,” Amaranthe said. “Nexttime…” She approached him with the kerchief. The smudge above hislips was bugging her. Since his hands were occupied, she figuredshe could clean it off before he objected. She dampened it andswiped it beneath his nose.

  “What’re you doing?” he balked.

  “Cleaning that smudge,” she said.

  “What smudge? There’s no smudge.”

  “No, there’s definitely something there.”Despite his protests, she managed to give it a good rub.

  “Amaranthe, you’re tormenting the lad,” Bookssaid, though his eyes glinted with amusement.

  “Huh,” she said. “It won’t come off. Oh, it’shair.”

  “It’s not hair.”
Akstyr stepped out ofreach. “It’s a mustache.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Books said.

  “That’s because you’re senile.” Akstyr liftedhis nose and smoothed his upper lip to show it off. “Anyone canplainly see that it’s coming in nicely. I’ve been working on it forseveral days now.”

  “I see,” Amaranthe said. “A bit on the wispyside still.”

  “Wispy and invisible,” Books muttered.

  She shook her head and settled for wipingsome of the goo off of Akstyr’s face and shirt. He sighed deeplyunder this torture.

  “As I was saying,” Amaranthe said, “nexttime, just come to me if you need help purchasing items that canbenefit the group. I’ll find a way to get the money.”

  “And don’t be a dolt and bring your…clientshere,” Books said. “What’d you do for her anyway?”

  Amaranthe wondered that, too. And how had thewoman known to find Akstyr? Honored ancestors, he didn’t haveflyers out around the city, did he?

  “Healed her,” Akstyr said.

  “Nothing appeared to ail her,” Bookssaid.

  “Look, it was her toenail, all right? Somefungus. It was all black and nasty. Could we not talk about it?This isn’t exactly what I dreamed about when I started studyingthis stuff. It’s embarrassing. I wish I could go to Kyatt orsomewhere that I could study real Science and learn to dointeresting things.”

  Leave the empire? Was that the goal to whichhe aspired? Amaranthe supposed she could understand that, given thedanger his studies brought him here, but she would have to keep aneye on him. If he planned to leave, he probably did not care aboutexoneration or accolades from the emperor. The day might come whenhis goals were at odds with hers.

  “Well…” Amaranthe rested a hand on herbelly. “I’ve found your healing skills to be quiteinteresting. And useful. In a thank-you-for-saving-my-life kind ofway.”

  Akstyr grunted.

  “And please update your flyers to make surepeople know you’d rather visit them than have them visit here,” sheadded.

  “I don’t have flyers.”

  “Update whatever your promotional method is,”Amaranthe said. “Now, tell me about your research. Did you findanything?”

  “Oh!” Akstyr clambered into the rail car.

  “I didn’t mean to send him scurrying away,”she murmured.

  “We found a fine yellow powder inside a divotin the cork,” Books said. “It was visible only with a magnifyingglass.”

  Akstyr popped back out again, a hefty tomebalanced in his arms. He held it open, displaying weathered pagesfull of foreign text comprised of sweeping curlicues andcomplicated symbols. Amaranthe could not imagine writing a page inthe ornate script, much less an entire book.

  “What language is that?” she asked.

  “It’s Nurian,” Books said, “though acalligraphy version. It was most difficult to translate, and it didnot help that someone was impatiently breathing down-”

  “Just look at the picture.” Akstyr tapped thepage.

  Several yellow dots were sprinkled around ahomely brown root with more kinks and snarls than a hair ball.

  “That’s the powder that was on the cork?” sheasked. “It comes from that root?”

  “This might be the powder,” Akstyrsaid. “I’m…not real experienced at identifying things yet.”

  “An understatement.” Books massaged histemple.

  “If this is the right powder, the root it’smade from can make you sleepy if you eat it. But wizards havetinkered with it, and there’s a recipe here for enhancing itseffects, so it can knock someone out completely.”

  “Is it put in food or water?” Amarantheasked.

  “It can be, but it’s so fine that people havealso made blow tubes and breakable capsules for distributing it inthe air. Breathing it can be enough to knock you out.”

  “So, it’s Nurian?” Amaranthe thought ofArbitan Losk. Was it possible another Nurian had come to thecapital with a plan to disrupt the empire? Or to get at the emperorsomehow? Tradition mandated he would be at the final days of theImperial Games, and there was that dinner…. She did not know howdisappearing athletes might be used against him though. Couldsomeone be getting the competition out of the way so a particularloyal athlete would make it to the end to get close to the emperor?For an assassination attempt? But, if so, why bother to kidnap somany people, across multiple events?

  “Maybe.” Akstyr tossed his head, flickinghair out of his eyes. Thanks to his errant experiments, it had thesame snarls and tangles as the root today. “Maybe not. The root isfrom the Nurian continent, but it’s actually the Kyattese that madethe powder and have done most of the experimenting with it.”

  “They wouldn’t attack the empire, though,”Amaranthe said. “Or would they? They’re supposedly a peaceful folkwith academic tendencies, but we did try to conquer them a coupleof decades ago. Could they be harboring thoughts of revenge?”

  Akstyr looked around. “Are you still talkingto me? ‘Cause I dunno about that stuff.”

  “No, just thinking out loud. Books?” sheasked, thinking to draw him into the conversation-he had wanderedaway and seemed to be looking for a cloth for his cut.

  “Anyone home?” Maldynado’s voice came fromthe distance.

  Amaranthe winced at the loudness of it.

  “We’ve got news for-ouch!”

  She jogged out of the dead end to findSicarius standing before Maldynado and Basilard. Maldynado wasclutching his shoulder.

  “Lower your voice,” Sicarius said. “Enforcersare nearby.”

  “You could have started with that instead ofthrowing a rock at me,” Maldynado muttered. He spotted Amarantheand said, “Mancrest wants to meet with you.”

  Sicarius glared. Maldynado was lucky he hadwaited until after the rock throwing to deliver thisinformation.

  “You arranged another meeting for me?”Amaranthe asked. “Are we certain enforcers and army officerbrothers won’t be involved?”

  Maldynado thumped his chest. “I setthe meeting place this time. Tomorrow night, Pyramid Park. Nobodycould possibly ambush you there.”

  She snorted and looked at Sicarius, thinkingof their first meeting. He hadn’t exactly ambushed her, but he hadappeared behind her as if by magic. She still did not know how hehad gotten there without using the only set of stairs leading tothe top. He appeared to be too busy glaring at Maldynado to askjust then.

  “All right,” Amaranthe said. “Did hesound…interested in hearing more from me? Did you arrange thingsagain, or was it his idea?”

  “His idea,” Maldynado said. “He wants to talkabout the kidnappings, but he sounded interested in you. And wantedyou to leave Sicarius at home.” Maldynado winked. “I think youcharmed him. Maybe he’s ready to take you to dinner.”

  If Sicarius’s glare grew any frostier, itwould leave icicles dangling from Maldynado’s lashes. Or perhaps anice spear thrust between his eyes.

  “It’s likely another trap,” Sicarius toldAmaranthe.

  “This Mancrest thing isn’t the priority now,”Amaranthe said. Eager to change the subject, she added, “I’d likeyou gentlemen to get out of the boneyard before the enforcers amblethrough. Please assist Books and Akstyr in their research. Sicariusand I have something to do tonight and may be back late.”

  “Nothing that will make Deret jealous, Ihope.” Maldynado snickered, as if he had made some fabulousjoke.

  The building trembled as a locomotive rumbledinto the station down the street. From the darkness of The BrewedPuppy rooftop, Amaranthe watched a tenement building across thestreet while she waited for Sicarius to join her. The stench ofburning meat wafted up to her, mingling with an omnipresent thickyeasty smell oozing from the building’s pores, and Amaranthe judgedthe old woman’s dismal opinion of the eating house’s quality to beaccurate.

  With her elbows propped on a low wall and aspyglass raised to her eye, she checked each window, searching fora man with a woman and two young boys. She did not know if shewould recognize Raydev
k based on a vague memory of the man’sfather, but if she found the right combination of people…

  She paused. Could that be it? Beyond athird-story window, a woman sat, knitting on a couch in aclutter-filled, one-room flat. Toys littered the floor at her feet.While Amaranthe was trying to judge if the carved wood blocks andautomata represented boys’ or girls’ playthings, two youngstersscampered into view from behind a room partition formed byfurniture draped with clothing. They chased each other around thewoman’s chair, but an upraised hand and word from her halted that.She thrust a finger toward another clutter-partition, this one witha curtain hanging on a rod to delineate a door. The childrendisappeared into the dark space. Their sleeping area, Amarantheassumed.

  Voices sounded below as a couple exited theeating house, and she shifted her elbow to move the spyglass fromher eye. Something gooey made her sleeve stick. She drew her armback with a grimace and picked off tar.

  She yawned and glanced around her rooftopperch, thinking of Sicarius’s warning to check her surroundingsfrequently. Moonlight gleamed against a stovepipe and providedenough illumination to confirm nothing stirred nearby. No doors ledto the lower levels of The Brewed Puppy-she had climbed up via adrainpipe-and she doubted anyone except Sicarius would sneak up onher. She returned her attention to the brick building across theway.

  “Is he there?” came Sicarius’s voice frombehind her.

  Amaranthe almost dropped the spyglass.

  “Not yet,” she said, putting her back to thewall so she could face him.

  It took her a moment to pick him out,standing in the shadows of a chimney. Had he just arrived? Or hadhe been testing her? Seeing if she would notice him before heannounced himself? And why did she always feel like he was an armyinstructor, bent on training her to be a better soldier?

  “You found a uniform?” Amaranthe asked.

  He glided out of the shadows, soundless, likea haunting ancestor spirit. The moonlight did not reveal the colorof his outfit, but it appeared less dark than his usual black, andshe thought she detected familiar silver piping and buttons. A boxycap covered much of his blond hair.