Deadly Games ee-3 Page 7

  Sicarius had Mancrest bent over the island,his cheek smashed into the butcher block, his arm chicken-wingedbehind his back, fingers jerked up so high he could have braidedhis own hair, were it long enough. Maldynado would have had aninnuendo-laden comment about the men’s positioning. Amaranthe onlypropped her hands on her hips and said, “Problem?”

  “No,” Sicarius said.

  “Yes!” Mancrest cried. “I was just trying toget silverware out.”

  “Is it possible you’re being a touch jumpy?”Amaranthe asked Sicarius.

  He kicked something on the floor behind theisland. An ivory-handled pistol skidded across the tiles and bumpedagainst the fallen drawer.

  Amaranthe picked it up. The hammer wascocked. She lifted the frizzen, and powder poured out of thepan.

  “I forgot it was there,” Mancrest said, voicemuffled by the fact his cheek was still mashed against the butcherblock.

  “Really?” Amaranthe asked, prepared to givehim the benefit of the doubt.

  Mancrest hesitated. “No.”

  Given the situation, his honesty surprisedher, however belated.

  “Care to tell us where the rest of the loadedfirearms in your flat are?” she asked.

  “Not really,” Mancrest said.

  “Then I guess Sicarius will have to followyou around all night, hovering over your shoulder while you eat.Breathing down your neck. Sharing your salad. Hogging yourcroutons.”

  That might have drawn a snort from Sicariushad they been alone, but with someone else present, he gave nohints of emotion, and she could not guess what he was thinking.Probably that he did not want to be there. Perhaps that he wouldlike to finish grinding Mancrest’s face into the island.

  “Do you actually think I’m going to sit downand dine with you?” Mancrest asked.

  “Standing is an option, if you wish,”Amaranthe said. “Where are the other firearms? I’ll be morecomfortable eating and chatting with you, knowing it’s unlikelyyou’ll be able to shoot me between courses.”

  “Parlor room desk drawer,” Mancrest said,“and in the latrine above the washout.”

  “Thank you. I’ll…did you say latrine?”

  “A man feels particularly vulnerable with histrousers around his ankles.” Mancrest tried to pull his arm free-afutile attempt. “Would you mind calling off your attack dog? Ican’t feel the blood in my fingers.”

  Amaranthe nodded at Sicarius. “Want to gocheck on those firearms?”

  He did not move.

  “Or I could check,” she said. “Let himwriggle his fingers, will you?”

  Amaranthe trotted through the rooms, wantingto find the weapons and come back to rescue Mancrest before lack ofcirculation lost him any digits. She found the pistols and returnedto the dining room. Mancrest sat in a seat-not the head of thetable-with Sicarius at his back, arms crossed over chest in one ofhis typical poses. Amaranthe handed Sicarius the pistols, which heunloaded, then tossed into a corner.

  She slipped into an upholstered seat at thehead of the table, a throne of a chair that made her feel slight.The hand-carved feet resembled cougar paws and the rest of thedetailing also evoked a predatory feline feel. None of this man’sfurnishings had been produced in a factory or by anyone other thana master woodworker.

  Mancrest, arms also crossed over his chest,glowered at her, and Amaranthe wondered how much force had beeninvolved in seating him.

  A gold-and-silver corkscrew rested on thetable by the wine. She opened the bottle and poured twoglasses.

  “Your dog isn’t drinking?” Mancrestasked.

  Amaranthe fought to keep a scowl off herface. While she could understand Mancrest being irked withSicarius, her instinct was to come to his defense. She doubted thebarbs would bother him, but they bothered her. “Sicarius is mypartner in our endeavors. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t belittle,dehumanize, or otherwise deride him. Given the stories you’veprinted about him, I believe he’s showing admirable restraint innot killing you.”

  “He’s a cowar-assassin, and I’ve done nothingbut print the truth.”

  Hm, maybe that correction was a sign ofprogress. Or maybe he was gentlemanly enough not to purposelyirritate a woman.

  “At least one of the stories you’ve printedis an untruth,” Amaranthe said. “We did not kidnap the emperor lastwinter. In fact, we saved his life.”

  Mancrest snorted. “I interviewed witnessesthat say you were there and that Sicarius had an axe over theemperor’s head when the guards stormed in.”

  “He was lifting the axe to cut the chainsbinding Emperor Sespian to a dispensary of molten ore, a situationset up by Larocka Myll and Arbitan Losk, the former heads of theForge organization. You’ve heard of them, I trust?”

  Mancrest’s face grew as hard to read asSicarius’s. Since he was not scoffing, she decided to press on.

  “Arbitan was a Nurian masquerading as aTurgonian businessman, and he was the creator of the monster thatwas killing people all over town last winter. That was little morethan a distraction, though, so he could plot against the emperor.And he almost succeeded. Sicarius saved Sespian’s life.”

  Mancrest snorted. “Oh, please.”

  Ah, there was the scoff.

  “We also thwarted Forge’s attempt to pollutethe city water a couple of months ago,” Amaranthe said. “Thatepidemic you wrote about as well.”

  “You’re claiming that, too?” Mancrestlaughed. “The entire army went up there. They handledthat.”

  “They cleaned up after we did all the work,including killing a half a dozen makarovi that had butcheredeveryone in the dam.”

  Amaranthe stood before Mancrest could voiceanother statement of disbelief. She untucked her blouse anddisplayed the scars on her abdomen. Showing unfamiliar men-orany men-her midsection was not something she did often, andthe wounds were not exactly unquestionable evidence that her storywas true, but she figured it might prove worth it. His eyebrowsflew up and his mouth sagged open. The reaction did not leave herwith the triumphant feeling she had expected; rather it remindedher that she would have ugly scars for life. Though she might befocused on her goals and was not usually one to worry about vanity,no woman wanted a man to be horrified when she showed some skin.She tucked her blouse back in.

  “Of course, if my plan had been betterthought-out, I might not have been mauled, but fortunately I hadtalented people to dig me out of trouble.” She smiled at Sicariusand caught him staring at her abdomen.

  He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, and foronce she was glad she could not read his face. She could notimagine the long look being for anything other than pity or perhapsguilt over not having kept her from that fate, and she did not wanteither from him. Ancestors knew that whole debacle had been aresult of her questionable-at-best scheme, one he had tried to talkher out of, and she had nobody to blame but herself.

  “Naturally, I don’t expect you to take myword as truth,” Amaranthe said, “for any of these events, but I’dlike to think The Gazette, should it be proved to be inerror, would print a retraction.” She gestured to the forgottenmeal and wine. “Shall we dine?”

  “Huh?” Mancrest glanced back at Sicarius,then stared at her.

  “Problem?” Amaranthe asked.

  “I… When you started talking about thosestories, I assumed you were here to threaten me and force me toprint something more to your liking.” He checked on Sicarius again,who was doing a good imitation of furniture at the moment. “Or isthat activity still forthcoming?”

  “No, I’d rather eat now if you don’t mind.I’ve had a busy night.” She tore a chunk of bread, admiring theflaky crust and soft interior-a tasty change from the rice-basedflatbread more common in the empire. A small tin held freshlysmashed peanut butter. It never warmed enough in their satrapy forpeanuts, so the import was a rare treat. She smeared some on thebread, and her mouth watered in anticipation. Though Maldynado hadnearly walked her into a trap, she could forgive him since hisshopping had proved so thoughtful. She lifted the piece of breadand offered t
he traditional before-meal salute, “A warrior’shealth.”

  Mancrest had been watching her, and, aftershe took a few bites, he prepared a plate for himself.

  Amaranthe lifted her bread toward Sicarius.Though she knew he would not accept the invitation, she would havefelt awkward eating without offering him something. He gave asingle minute head shake.

  “You’re not what I expected,” Mancrestsaid.

  “What’d you expect?”

  “Given you’re a rogue enforcer and who youwork with now-” Mancrest jerked a thumb over his shoulder atSicarius, “-someone draconian and pugilistic.”

  “You think Maldynado would spend time withsomeone like that?”

  “If that someone had nice breasts, yes.”

  Amaranthe chuckled. “Perhaps so. By the way,did Maldynado tell you who he wanted you to meet, or did youguess?

  “Is he going to be in trouble if you find outhe did tell me?” Mancrest sipped from his glass of wine-he hadapparently decided it was safe to drink-and watched her over therim of the glass.

  She had a feeling she was being tested. “Thatmight earn him an extra stair-running session.”

  Two vertical lines formed between Mancrest’seyebrows. “Stair-running? Like exercise?”

  “Yes.”

  “If it’ll get him extra work, then maybe Ishould say yes.” Mancrest smiled for the first time that night.“But, no, he just said he knew a nice girl I should meet, someonewho was working too hard and needed to have more fun.” He raisedhis eyebrows. “I figured out the rest on my own. People havenoticed who he’s running with these days. His family is vocal inexpressing their disappointment and quick to point out that thisdemonstrates why he deserved to be disowned.”

  So, they had earned enough notoriety thateveryone who knew Maldynado knew he was a potential avenue to herand Sicarius. She would have to remember that.

  Mancrest sipped his wine. “How do you getMaldynado to climb stairs? We used to fence together, and he wasalways too unambitious to put any serious effort into histraining.”

  “We aim to be a fit group. It helps withdefeating the evil doers of the world. At the least, it helps ifyou’re fast enough to outrun them. We’re all up well before dawnfor distance work or obstacle courses, and there’s usually weaponstraining in the afternoon or evening.”

  Mancrest sputtered and almost spilled hiswine. “You can convince Maldynado to get up before dawn?”

  Behind him, Sicarius stirred. He pinnedAmaranthe with a hard stare. Not enthused about her sharinginformation on when and where they trained? She raised her fingersand nodded once. He was right. Mancrest was not someone to betrusted yet.

  “I didn’t think even breasts could convincehim to get out of bed before nine,” Mancrest continued, notnoticing her exchange with Sicarius. He did glance at her chest, asif wondering if something special might be going on down there. Uhhuh. Right.

  “That’s not how I motivate the men,”Amaranthe said dryly. “And I’m sure it would take someone prettierthan I to finagle them into doing things by that method.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Mancrest smiled for thefirst time. “You’re pretty enough. I’d like to see you with yourhair down. It looks like you have a few waves that don’t want to beconfined.”

  “Uhm. Maybe another time when I’m sureescaping soldiers and enforcers won’t be a part of the eveningactivities.”

  Mancrest’s smile widened. “Is that a requestfor a second date?”

  “Er.” She was rescued from having to avoidSicarius’s gaze by the fact that his eyes were boring into the backof Mancrest’s head. “We’ll see. Why don’t you tell me more aboutyour recent story?” She laid the newspaper on the table betweenthem. “The emperor is going to dine with the winners of all theevents?”

  Yes, that was good. Talking about work.Sicarius wouldn’t glare disapprovingly then, right? And maybe shecould even get some useful information out of her new contact.

  With that in mind, she spent the rest of thedinner chatting with Mancrest about the Imperial Games and avoidingsuch fraught topics as hair. He had not heard of the kidnappings,so she managed to pique his interest with those tidbits. Though hemade no promises in regard to Forge or retracting stories, by theend of the evening, she had hope that she might make an ally out ofhim one day.

  After almost an hour of wandering thegrounds, Basilard and Akstyr found something. Rather Akstyr foundsomething, and Basilard waited while the younger man knelt in thegrass behind the bathhouse examining it.

  What is it? Basilard signed.

  Head bent low, Akstyr did not see thequestion.

  Basilard nudged Akstyr’s arm, drawing theyounger man’s gaze, and repeated himself.

  “It’s too dark back here,” Akstyr whispered.“I can’t see your fingers.”

  Basilard waved toward a glass globe lanternhanging from a post and took a couple of steps that direction, butAkstyr did not follow. His head was down again, his eyes focused onsome tiny object in his hand. Something magical? That was the onlything Basilard could think of that would explain Akstyr’sfascination-especially since it was too dark to examine much witheyes alone.

  He headed to the lantern, figuring Akstyrwould come show him his find sooner or later.

  The number of people enjoying the summerevening had dwindled, but people still ambled along the trails.Voices drifted from the men’s and women’s bathhouses every timesomeone opened a door. Athletes strolled back to the barracks inpairs and groups, all friends now, but that would likely changeonce the events started.

  The faint scent of blackberries lingered inthe evening air. Basilard patted himself down, found one of hiscollection bags, and followed his nose toward a bramble patch inthe shadows.

  Frenzied grunts coming from nearby bushesmade him pause, thinking someone might be embroiled in a battle andneed help. His cheeks warmed when he realized it wasn’t the sort ofbattle from which one wanted to be extricated. He supposed heshould move farther up the path and give the enthusiastic grunterstheir privacy, but a post-coital chuckle made him freeze. Thatlaugh sounded familiar.

  Basilard plucked the lantern from its wroughtiron perch and returned to the bushes. He parted the branches,lifted the light, and revealed…

  “Oh, hullo, Basilard.” A nude Maldynadopropped himself up on an elbow.

  A young woman squealed, snatched agrass-stained towel off the ground, covered herself, and sprintedtoward the women’s barracks. Judging by the speed her long barelegs managed, she was one of the athletes, a rather embarrassedone.

  You have the night off? Basilardsigned, an eyebrow raised.

  “Not exactly.” Maldynado stood, brushed grassoff himself, and started retrieving clothing. A shoe from under thebush, a belt from the grass, and-how did that shirt get ten feet upin that tree? “The boss sent me to find you fellows and let youknow she’d be late. I hunted all over and didn’t see you. I did seethat exquisite young lady coming out of the baths all by herself,though, and she appeared lonesome so I struck up a conversation,asking if she knew how in the old days women used to compete at theImperial Games to win the eye of eligible warrior-caste bachelors,and did she know I was warrior caste-I left out the part aboutbeing disowned naturally-and would she like to…”

  There were times Basilard dearly missedhaving undamaged vocal cords. He would have liked to bark an,“Enough,” to cut Maldynado off. It was bad enough few peopleoutside of his team could understand his sign language, but hisscars and lack of height ensured no Turgonian women looked upon himwith kind-or lascivious-eyes.

  Akstyr trotted over, which fortunatelyresulted in Maldynado bringing his story to an end.

  “Look.” Akstyr held his hand out, obliviousto the fact Maldynado had yet to find his trousers.

  Basilard lifted the lantern, wanting to seewhat had occupied the younger man’s attention so thoroughly. Itlooked like…

  “A cork?” Maldynado asked. “You’ve been herefor two hours and that’s all you’ve found?”

  “A
cork with the residue of something Made,”Akstyr said. “A powder or maybe it was a liquid in a vial. I needto do some research.” He snapped his fingers. “That Nurian book Ihave has a section on potions, powders, and airborne inhalants. Oh,but I’ll need Books to help me translate it. Where is he?” Akstyrlooked around and blinked in surprise when he noticed Maldynado’sstate of undress. “Why are your crabapples hanging out?”

  “Crabapples? More like MountainGenerals.” Maldynado made gestures with his hands to denote thesize of the largest local apple.

  “Uh, whatever.” Akstyr nodded at Basilard.“Books?”

  Back that way, last I saw. Basilardpointed toward the other side of the grounds.

  “All right, tell Am’ranthe we may havesomething.” Akstyr waved the cork and jogged off. “I’ll grab himand go back to the boneyard,” he said over his shoulder.

  Excited about his find, he sprinted awayalmost as quickly as Maldynado’s conquest had. A nervous threadwove through Basilard’s belly. Akstyr had promised he would sharenothing of their discussion with anyone, but losing track of theyoung man made him uneasy. Also, this left Basilard alonewith…

  “So, Bas.” Maldynado slung an arm over hisshoulder. Thankfully, he had located his pants and put them on.“Looks like we found what we needed to find tonight. We ought to beable to head off and have a few drinks now, eh?”

  Is Amaranthe still coming?

  “Later, I think. She got held up.” Hiseasy-going smile faded. “Deret tried to set up a trap to captureher. He used me to get to her.”

  Alarm coursed through Basilard. Is she allright?

  “She’s fine, or was when I left. Sicariusfigured it for a trap before we went in. She’s going to visit Deretfor dinner and still might get in trouble that way. You know howshe likes to take risks.” Maldynado lowered his arm and swatted atree branch brushing his hair. “I helped buy her groceries, but I’mirked at Deret. I always thought him a decent fellow. Sure, I couldsee him feeling compelled to set the enforcers on Sicarius’s tail,but the boss doesn’t deserve that bounty.”