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“But-” he lifted a finger, “-if you seekexoneration, then you’ll want me there to witness your magnificentcapture of the perpetrators. As a man from the warrior-caste, Iwould also be obligated to report the truth as I saw it.”

  She watched his face, trying to decide if hewas eager for a story or if he simply wanted another chance toensnare her. If he had gone to this tea house, then it mightindicate the former. But Maldynado was right. She’d be an idiot togive him another chance to betray her.

  “I’ll think about it,” Amaranthe said.“Gentlemen.” She nodded to Maldynado and Books. It was time togo.

  They started down the corridor, but Mancrestcleared his throat.

  Ah, the keys. Right.

  Amaranthe removed them from the protrudingstone on the wall and dropped them on the floor in front of theshop.

  “Didn’t you say you’d let me out if I sharedwhat I knew?” Mancrest eyed the keys. They were closer but stilltoo far for him to reach.

  “I said I’d make it easier for you tounlock yourself,” Amaranthe said. “Now you’ll only need one clotheshanger instead of two. Good night.”

  She, Maldynado, and Books headed out.Midnight had to be growing near, and they had much work to do.

  CHAPTER 10

  Soft rain pattered onto the cobblestones andrailway tracks alongside the street. Amaranthe pedaled up thewaterfront, trying to hover above the damp bicycle seat in anattempt to avoid a wet backside. Maldynado rode alongside, hisknees nearly clunking his own chin with each revolution-he had beenunable to find a taller model left on the communal rack and hadrefused a couple of larger bicycles that appeared “too feminine.”That it was well after midnight and no one was around to see himriding did not seem to matter.

  He also balanced the soldier’s rifle acrossthe handlebars. Tonight, it might be worth risking the unwantedattention of being spotted with firearms in the city. Amaranthewore a pistol on her sword belt, opposite the blade. A light jackethid the firearm, and Maldynado could always toss the rifle ifpotential witnesses spotted them.

  They pedaled through darkness punctuated bypuddles of light from gas lamps. On the other side of the tracks,water lapped at the pilings of docks, many supporting toweringwarehouses, all dark this time of night. Amaranthe supposed theywould not luck across one with a brightly painted sign that read,“Kidnapped athletes stored here.” This time of year, the docks sawa lot of traffic and would make a poor hideout for those engagingin felonious activities.

  “There’s the spur.” Maldynado pointed attracks veering inland, away from the main line. The wet steelgleamed under the influence of a corner street lamp.

  “Let’s check it,” Amaranthe said.

  She turned onto the street, glad to leave thebumpy cobblestones for a modern cement avenue. A hill loomed,though, and Maldynado grumbled under his breath, something about itbeing less work to carry the small bicycle up the incline than topedal.

  Warehouses continued for the next few blocks,and commercial and residential tenements rose beyond that.Amaranthe doubted they needed to search that far up the hill.

  “What are we looking for exactly?” Maldynadoasked.

  “A door large enough to hide that railcarriage.” Amaranthe yawned. She was starting to feel the latenessof the hour. “Though freight cars are sometimes shunted up thesidings, they don’t spend the night. Our kidnappers have to be ableto hide their conveyance when they’re not using it.”

  “A lot of these doors are big.”

  “But are they big with railway tracks leadingbeneath them?”

  “Ah, not all. Just…” Maldynado pointed.“There’s one.”

  Amaranthe parked her bicycle against thebrick wall of a building on the opposite side of the street. Theywere between lamp-lit intersections, so shadows would hide themfrom anyone looking out a window. Not that she expected to chanceupon the villain’s hideout in the first place they checked, but onenever knew.

  A couple of blocks up the hill, a ponderoussteam vehicle rolled onto the street with twin lanterns lightingits way. It had the girth of a rail car itself, and swingingmechanical arms stuck out of the upper portion of both sides, likea pair of bug antennae. A stench reminiscent of burning hair wafteddown the street ahead of it.

  “What is that hideous thing?” Maldynado hadalso dismounted and leaned his bicycle against the wall.

  “You’ve never seen a garbage steamer?”Amaranthe asked. “How can you have lived your whole life in thecity without seeing one?”

  “I don’t know.” He clasped a hand over hisnose. “I tend to run the other way when I smell a stench like thatin the middle of the night.”

  The vehicle trundled to a stop and asoot-caked man with a greasy beard and hair in need of scissorshopped out. He grabbed a couple of ash cans in an alley and dumpedthem into the back. He opened the door to an incinerator thatburned independently of the firebox powering the boiler. Thecontents of a bronze waste bin went into the flames.

  “Why don’t you take a look at that building?”Amaranthe waved to the one they had stopped to check. “I’m going totalk to that fellow. If he works at night, he may have seensomething suspicious on his route.”

  “Be careful,” Maldynado said. “He looksdangerous, like he doesn’t see daylight too often. Probably notwomen either.”

  “So, he’ll be happy to see me.”

  “He’d be happier if you were in somethingless…well, less. What happened to the disguise I got you beforewe went into the mountains?”

  “The one that showed more skin than mostpeople reveal in the public baths? Sicarius didn’t like it.”

  “First off,” Maldynado said, “you shouldn’ttake fashion advice from someone whose wardrobe is monochromatic.Second, he didn’t like it? How could a male not like seeingan attractive young female in that outfit? Whatever is wrong withthat man is no small thing.”

  “I’ll let you tell him that when we findhim.”

  Amaranthe waved him toward the building andjogged up the hill.

  “Hello,” she called to the man, not wantingto startle him. A second fellow sat in the cab of the vehicle, andshe lifted a hand in greeting toward him as well.

  The garbage collector nearly dropped the canin his arms when he spotted her. He glanced over his shoulder,perhaps thinking she was speaking to someone else.

  “That’s a nice looking steamer,” Amaranthesaid as she drew near. She fought the urge to crinkle her nose, notentirely sure all the foul smells came from the vehicle.

  He scratched his tangled hair, probablytrying to figure out why a woman was running up to him in themiddle of the night. “Yup, yup ‘tis.”

  “I was wondering what those arms do.” Shepointed at the articulating antennae-like devices.

  “Yup, yup, they’re for fetching big piecesoutta hard-to-reach spots. See them claspers at the end?” The manwent on to detail dozens of features of the vehicle, which turnedout to be a brand new model. After a barked warning from hisco-worker, he continued to work while he talked.

  Amaranthe walked beside him and gruntedencouragingly from time to time, figuring they were bonding. Theman ought to think her less odd if they had established a rapportbefore she started pumping him for information.

  “Yup, she’s a real fine lady.” He finished bypatting the vehicle on the side. “You want to ride along aspell?”

  “Tempting,” she said, “but I’m on aquest.”

  “Oh?” He scraped his fingers through histangled beard.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a fancy blackrail carriage rolling through this neighborhood late at night? Itwould have been in the last two…”

  She trailed off, since he was alreadynodding.

  “Seen that beauty a couple of times. That’s acustom job. Ain’t no factory-made model, no, ma’am.”

  “Did you see it on this street?” sheasked.

  “Naw, over on West Monument. Saw it rollingout of the old fire brigade building a little after midnight a fewnights back.”

  “Monument, good, thank y
ou.” A nervousflutter disturbed her stomach. That was the direction she had sentBooks and Akstyr. “I don’t suppose you’re heading over that way?”she asked, thinking of the proffered ride. It would be faster thanthe bicycles if she could convince these fellows to detour fromtheir route-and not pick up trash on the way.

  “Naw.”

  “Any chance you could be convinced tohead that way?”

  “Well, my partner drives, so reckon I gots toask him.” The man held up a finger, then swung up to address theperson manning the controls.

  While they conversed, Amaranthe looked forMaldynado. She could signal him to stop searching the buildings offthis spur if she spotted him, but nothing stirred on the street. Amuggy breeze whispered off the lake, bringing harder rain. Anotherreason to switch from bicycles to covered conveyances.

  “…take that long,” her scruffy ally wassaying.

  The only word Amaranthe caught in theresponse was “teats.” She arched her eyebrows. The fellow might beinvoking the ancient imperial platitude about the unfairness ofsuckling on a dog’s rearmost teats, or he might be referencing herchest. Neither sounded promising.

  “…nice girl,” Scruffy said. “…not goingto do that.”

  “Nice?” the response came, voice louder.“Nice girls don’t roam the streets at two in the morning. They’rehome with their fathers or husbands.”

  “Ssh. I’m not asking her…”

  No, this did not sound good at all. She tooka step forward, thinking she had better handle the negotiating, butScruffy swung down and faced her first.

  “Sorry,” he said, “but Chalts figgers we’regoing to get took down by our boss if we delay our route that much,so it’s got to be real worth the hollering at.” He shuffled hisfeet and prodded one of the vehicles fat tires. “He says we’ll doit if you show us-show him-your, uh…”

  “Emperor’s warts, Scuv, we’ll be here allnight if you talk.” The second man leaned out of the cab so thelights on the vehicle illuminated his face. He was comelier thanhis scruffy comrade, but that did not make Amaranthe appreciate hisrequest more. “Pull up your shirt and show us some teats, and we’llgive you a ride.”

  While she had paid greater prices for thingsbefore, she doubted a mercenary leader striving to build areputation for competence should entertain such an offer. Sheunbuttoned her jacket, intending to show them her pistol ratherthan any skin.

  “She’s going to do it!” Scruffy whispered inan aside to his comrade.

  “Told you,” the other muttered. “Sheprobably-oomph!”

  Without further warning, the man flew out ofthe cab and crashed to the street at his comrade’s feet. A familiarfigure slid into the vacated seat-Maldynado. The soldier’s riflerested across his lap.

  “I haven’t even seen under her shirt,”he said, “so there’s no way you two shrubs are going to get ashow.” He gave her a wide-eyed significant look, as if to ask whatshe had been thinking by unbuttoning her jacket.

  Amaranthe smiled and lifted the garment todisplay the pistol.

  “Ah, right.” Maldynado wriggled his fingers.“You coming? I’m sure I can drive this.”

  “You want to steal it?” She eyed thegarbage workers.

  Scruffy was helping his comrade to his feetamidst much groaning.

  “I just wanted a ride,” Amaranthe added.

  “Aw, come on, boss,” Maldynado said. “Ihaven’t gotten to abscond with an official imperial vehicle sincewe molested those soldiers up at that secret lake.”

  “We didn’t molest them, we helped them.”Amaranthe rubbed her face. It was so difficult to establish areputation for being a doer of good. “These two gentlemen weregoing to give us a ride. I don’t think we need to steal theirvehicle and get them in trouble.”

  The man Maldynado had thrown out lunged forthe cab, his hand balled into a fist and drawn back to throw apunch. He halted mid-swing when the rifle whipped up. The coldsteel muzzle pressed against his forehead.

  “I don’t think we want these fellows ridingalong with us,” Maldynado said.

  The driver backed down, arms raised. “Toldyou she wasn’t nice,” he muttered to Scruffy.

  “What did I do?” Amaranthe asked.

  Both men glared at her. Maldynado grinned.Yes, this might have gone past the point of salvaging with words.She took out her pistol. Though she did not point it theirdirection, she made sure they saw it.

  “You two have any rope in there?” she askedScruffy.

  “Spare winch cable.”

  “Can you get it, please?”

  He shrugged and unlocked a box near the frontwheels. He pulled out a large spindle of metal cable.

  “Thanks,” Amaranthe said. “Now, you two sitover there, back to back, please. I’m going to tie you up.”

  “What?” Scruffy balked.

  His comrade scowled. “Definitely not anice girl.”

  “Actually, I thought this would keep yougentlemen out of trouble,” Amaranthe said. “Better to beincapacitated by deadly bandits than simply wander back toheadquarters without your truck, right?”

  “Oh,” Scruffy said. “Like a lot ofbandits, right?”

  “At least six, I should think,” Amaranthesaid.

  He sat on the cement. After a glower atAmaranthe’s pistol, his grumbling comrade did the same.

  “Want me to beat them up a bit?” Maldynadoasked. “To add verisimilitude?”

  “No time.” Amaranthe finished tying the menand joined Maldynado in the cab. “They can smash their headsagainst each other’s faces if they feel the need to add physicalevidence to corroborate the story.”

  Maldynado threw a lever. Gears turned,pistons pumped, and the truck lurched backward, flattening an ashcan.

  Amaranthe groaned. “Why do I find it sodifficult to be a law-abiding citizen these days?”

  Maldynado shoved the lever the otherdirection, causing the vehicle to roll forward. “Is there a lawagainst smashing people’s trash cans?”

  “Imperial City Code 174 covers it. There arenumerous pages on vandalism.”

  “It can’t be vandalism if it’s done byaccident.” Maldynado fumbled about, and they veered toward a stonewall.

  “No, no, use the turning arm!” came a cry ofadvice from the bound men.

  Maldynado located the controls and turned thevehicle to the left. He angled toward an intersection. “Good thingyou didn’t gag them.”

  “Yes, they’ll be in big-bigger-troublewith their boss if we wreck their vehicle.” Amaranthe realized herhand was gripping the side of the cab with clenched fingers.

  “Nah, I’ve got it now.” Maldynado pushed thevehicle to full speed. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. This isfun. Far better than riding that ridiculous bicycle.”

  Wind drove rain droplets through the openside, and moisture spattered Amaranthe’s cheeks. She was alreadyregretting her choice. That theft would be reported, and theenforcers would match it to her once the workers described her. Sheshould have handled the situation better.

  “Quit it,” Maldynado said.

  “What?”

  “Self-flagellating. I heard what that mansaid; you got the location of the rail carriage. We wouldn’t havegotten that if you hadn’t gone up to talk to them. And it’simportant to get over there quickly in case Books and Akstyr havealready found it and are on the brink of getting themselves introuble.”

  Amaranthe wiped water from her cheeks.“You’re wiser than you let on most of the time. In fact, youusually hide it well.”

  “It’s late. I’m not at my best.” He noddedtoward an upcoming intersection bisected by rail tracks. “There’sour street.”

  He turned the corner and rolled over astreetlamp in the process. It snapped from its cement post withouthindering the sturdy truck. Amaranthe dropped her face into herpalm.

  “Oops,” Maldynado said.

  Smoke teased Amaranthe’s nostrils,distracting her from a mordant response. She sniffed at the airoutside the window. It did not smell like the coal burning in theirfur
nace.

  “Uh oh.” Maldynado pointed down thestreet.

  Flames licked around the edges of a window ina building a block ahead. A building with an oversized statue inthe shape of a hydrant out front-the old fire brigade.

  A sleek black steam carriage trundled up thehill, coming their direction. It was a street model, not one forthe railways, but it had a similar style to the other one. Achauffeur perched on the bench of the carriage, hood drawn toshield him from the rain. Face forward, he avoided looking theirdirection. Lamps burned inside the carriage, but dark curtains hidthe contents.

  “Crash into them,” Amaranthe said.

  “What?” Maldynado blurted.

  “Nobody who lives around here can afford apersonal vehicle, and somebody started that fire.” The carriage wasdrawing even with them, and it would be too late to stop them soon.“Crash into them!” Amaranthe reached toward the controls.

  “All right, all right.” Maldynado jerked thevehicle to the left.

  The garbage truck rammed into the side of thecarriage. Metal crunched, and the impact threw Amaranthe againstthe back of the cab. That did not keep her from scrambling out,pistol in hand.

  She had expected the crash to force thecarriage to stop, but the chauffeur only turned his vehicle away,trying to extricate himself from the garbage truck. The curtainsstirred, and Amaranthe caught a glimpse of red hair. Her heartleaped. Their foreign woman.

  Maldynado kept mashing the garbage truck intothe carriage, trying to pin it against the brick wall of theclosest building.

  “What are you doing, idiot?” the chauffeurshouted.

  Amaranthe sprinted around the garbage truckand jumped onto the driving bench. The carriage lurched andwobbled, rattling the perch like a steam hammer. The chauffeur spuntoward Amaranthe, his hand darting for a weapon.

  She pressed the pistol against his temple. “Idon’t recommend that tactic. Why don’t you stop the carriage?”

  He snarled at her and did not obey. Sheshoved his hood back with her free hand. He had the olive skin andbrown hair of a Turgonian. A scar ran from his ear to his jaw, amark that would have been memorable if she had seen it before, butshe had not. He did have the short hairstyle soldiers favored.