Beneath the Surface (an Emperor's Edge novella) Read online

  “No, it’s all right.” Amaranthe needed to set things straight with him. “It’s just that...” She tried to get Sicarius to meet her eyes, wanting his approval before speaking words aloud that she’d yet to voice to anyone else.

  It took Sicarius a moment to stop staring at Sespian—at least he wasn’t glowering, not the way he had with Mancrest, but his regular expression wasn’t that inviting either. He met Amaranthe’s gaze, seemed to read her question, and nodded once.

  “We’re...” Amaranthe started. The words caught when Sespian swung his brown eyes toward her, eyes full of youthful hope mixed with a wariness for what was coming—he had to have sensed this on some level. “We’re a we,” she finally said, pointing back and forth between herself and Sicarius. It wasn’t particularly eloquent, but judging from the ashen color that came over his face, Sespian understood.

  Tempted to lift a fingernail to her lips for gnawing, Amaranthe waited for his reaction. She didn’t think he’d explode and throw a tantrum—he wasn’t that young—but she feared harsh words and stung emotions. Especially when Sespian had to still be reeling over the shock of learning that he wasn’t the rightful emperor and that he had an assassin for a father.

  “Yes, of course,” Sespian finally said. “I can see... The signs were there all along. I get it.” He stood, bumping against the chair, nearly tipping it over, and righting it with uncharacteristic clumsiness.

  Amaranthe closed her eyes, feeling like she’d personally jammed a knife into the kid’s stomach.

  “I’m not hungry after all. Please help yourselves to my portion.” Sespian hustled for the door.

  Amaranthe didn’t stop him. When she’d been fantasizing about locking the men in the room together, it hadn’t been to discuss anything like this.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Sicarius after the door thumped shut.

  “You are not to blame.”

  “I didn’t mean to bring that up. Not now.” Amaranthe prodded the bag. “Maybe you were right and pastries weren’t a good idea after all.”

  “He had to know eventually.”

  “I just feel bad about dumping all of this on him in the same week.” Amaranthe sank down into the vacant stool. The wooden seat was still warm. “He’s had a rough year. A rough life. I remember asking you once if you’d ever known happiness, but I now wonder the same thing about him. I have the sense that he had a lonely childhood, and you told me yourself that Raumesys wasn’t kind.”

  “Yes,” Sicarius murmured. “There are times...” He traced the grain of the table with a finger.

  “Yes?”

  “I have mused upon how his life might have been if I’d told him the truth long ago and taken him away after his mother died. I could have ensured he was raised by a normal family with other children so that he wouldn’t have to endure what he did. I was not wise enough to act on those musings.”

  Amaranthe laid a hand on Sicarius’s. “There’s still time for... something between you two. A better future for him. I know it doesn’t look promising now, but I truly believe that.”

  “Perhaps.” Sicarius didn’t sound convinced.

  * * * * *

  In the dark cabin, Evrial leaned against the wall, drumming her fingers on her thigh while she waited for the enforcers outside to wander away. Clangs had announced them opening hatches and searching rooms. For a moment, she’d worried, assuming they’d walk in on her and Maldynado’s hiding spot. But Maldynado had turned the lock, and the enforcers had done no more than try the latch.

  The minutes dragged past, however, as the men continued to search. Evrial was surprised Maldynado hadn’t suggested any after-dark activities in which a man and woman could engage to pass the time. She would have rebuffed him if he had, but it hadn’t been necessary. When she’d checked on him, he’d been standing quietly, ear pressed to the hatch. She told herself she needed to stop being surprised that he could be professional when the moment called for it.

  “I think they’re gone,” Maldynado said. “I haven’t heard a hatch shut for a while, though it’s hard to tell with that music in the background.”

  “Let’s check,” Evrial said, remembering she was ostensibly in charge. She hoped Amaranthe wouldn’t blame her if she lost Akstyr.

  A slash of light entered the cabin, highlighting discarded socks and soiled underwear. Evrial’s nose had been correct.

  “Out or further in?” Maldynado asked after checking the passageway. He pointed the way they’d come and then deeper into the warren of tunnels.

  “We have to find your wizard.”

  Maldynado nodded, and they slipped outside and jogged for the next intersection. Unlike the wider passenger hallways, these narrow corridors didn’t allow two people to walk side-by-side, so the only warning Evrial had was Maldynado stopping to peer around the corner, then stiffening.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “A problem.” Arm spread to keep her from looking, Maldynado stepped back.

  A faint creak came from behind Evrial. She spun and found herself facing one of the enforcers who’d been seated at the table. A hatch stood open behind him. She tensed, tempted to spring, but he lifted his arm, revealing a pocket-sized crossbow in his hand. The tiny dart would have been laughable if not for the dark smudge on the tip. Drekal, she guessed, a paralysis poison. Neither it nor the miniature crossbow were standard enforcer weapons, but they were sometimes used by detectives and undercover operatives. The man’s jaw was clenched in a scowl—perhaps mentioning wizards hadn’t been a good idea. She’d grown too blasé of the concept over the last few weeks.

  “Looking for someone?” Maldynado asked.

  His back bumped Evrial’s—he must be facing a similar opponent in the intersection.

  “Yes,” a male voice replied, “and I’ve found one of them. Is your whole team on this boat?”

  “Of course not,” Maldynado said. “We split up and took different boats in case there was a search at the Stumps docks. It’s just us.”

  While Maldynado chatted with his fellow, Evrial searched for a way to disarm hers. Maybe she could fake an attack and surprise him into loosing the single shot at the wall or ceiling. If she’d guessed the type of poison correctly, then the most she risked was being knocked unconscious and taken to an interrogation area. Not ideal, but she wouldn’t be much worse off than they were right now.

  “And your wizard,” Maldynado’s enforcer said. “We already have him.”

  Evrial hoped that was a bluff. Amaranthe had given her a chance to command, and she’d already lost a third of her team. No, he’d been lost before, she reminded herself. Now he was captured. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t wanted to command outlaws to start with; she couldn’t help but feel she’d failed.

  “Well, you can keep him,” Maldynado said. “He’s a pain to deal with, and we won’t miss him.” His hand brushed the side of Evrial’s thigh in a quick downward motion.

  It might have been nothing, but she interpreted it as a, “Let’s try something,” signal.

  “I will miss the way he can start fires,” Evrial said, having no idea if the youth had that skill or not. She whispered over her shoulder loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Did he get a chance to booby trap these lamps?”

  The enforcer’s gaze flicked toward the lamp burning near his head. It was only a split-second distraction, but it would have to do. With the man’s eyes averted, Evrial sprinted two steps and launched a straight-kick at his crossbow hand. The enforcer recovered and started to leap back, but her foot caught the tip of the weapon, ripping it from his grasp. It clanged against the metal bulkhead.

  Evrial didn’t slow her advance. She followed up with a kick to his shin, hoping it would distract him, then launched a jab-punch combination.

  Unfortunately, he possessed the same training as she and reacted quickly, dodging the kick and blocking her punches. She pressed, hoping her aggressive style would keep him off balance. He backed up a step.

  “Don
’t touch the lantern, you idiot,” she blurted, “or we’re all dead.”

  She doubted the man would have fallen for it if they hadn’t been talking about wizards, but Turgonian superstition played into her favor. He cursed and leaped away from the lamp. Evrial lunged, feinting with a punch while she threw her body behind her real attack, a leg sweep. He lifted one boot in time, but she caught the inside of his other knee. The vulnerable joint gave, and he went down. Evrial dropped, pinning his legs. She yanked her knife out and whipped it to his throat, stopping shy of drawing blood.

  Before she could make any warnings or demands, a shadow fell across her shoulder. She tensed, fearing the second enforcer had shot Maldynado and meant to stop her next. But it was Maldynado who stepped around her, leaned down, and grabbed her prisoner. Evrial scrambled off his legs, and Maldynado hauled him upright, locking the man’s arms behind his back in the process.

  “I’ll take this one,” he said. “Can you manage that one?”

  That one lay on his back in the intersection, eyes open but with the pupils rolled back in his head.

  “Manage him how?” Evrial asked.

  “We either need to lock them up somewhere or throw them overboard. Given that we’re still four days out of Stumps, I suggest the latter.”

  “These are some of the same men that we threw overboard before.” Though she made the comment—and felt badly for so mishandling men who should be colleagues, not enemies—she couldn’t think of an alternative. She searched the downed enforcer for weapons. She found a hidden dagger and tossed it down the corridor, in case he woke up while she was toting him.

  “Yes, we are,” Maldynado’s enforcer growled.

  “Guess you shouldn’t have coming looking for us then,” Maldynado said cheerfully.

  Evrial’s knuckles brushed against something hard during her search. She unbuttoned the enforcer’s shirt pocket and pulled out a small journal. She debated whether to snoop inside or not. These were lawmen, she reminded herself, not criminals—she was the one in the wrong for manhandling them. She slid the book back into his pocket.

  “We were looking for the wizard.”

  “He’s one of us, and you don’t want to pick a fight with us.” Maldynado shoved the man. “Start walking.”

  Evrial eyed her unconscious charge. Dragging him over raised hatchways wouldn’t prove feasible, so she grabbed his wrist and ducked to hoist him onto her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When she straightened with the man’s weight balanced over her shoulder, she caught Maldynado gazing back at her, his eyebrows climbing into the shadows beneath the brim of his hat.

  “What?” Evrial didn’t want to dawdle. Carrying the fellow would tax her.

  “Oh, nothing,” Maldynado drawled and went back to shoving his prisoner down the passageway. He picked a different corridor than the one they’d come down—toting enforcers out in front of a room full of entertainers might not be good. “It’s just that the occasions I’ve had to... entertain a strong woman, it’s been quite intriguing.”

  “What kind of entertaining?” Evrial had a feeling she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help herself. If he truly preferred strong, athletic women to the sort of delicate milksops she’d always imagined him with, that might explain what she’d considered an inexplicable interest.

  Maldynado tossed her a wink before opening a hatch. “The sort where upper body strength and agility can be quite the boon.”

  She rolled her eyes, making sure he could see the reaction.

  Cool wind blasted through the open hatchway. A back route to the deck, good.

  “I don’t see anybody around,” Maldynado said before stepping outside. “Everybody’s enjoying the show.”

  “Let’s hurry and finish this then.” Evrial shifted her weight and leaned against the wall to alleviate some of the burden on her shoulder.

  “I want to make sure security isn’t about.”

  Maldynado pushed his fellow ahead of him, heading straight across the deck to the snow-dusted railing. The enforcer balked before they reached it. He tried to ram an elbow into Maldynado’s gut.

  The man on Evrial’s shoulder stirred and uttered a confused, “Huh?”

  Not wanting a second fight, she hustled for the railing, striding around Maldynado and his man. She envisioned herself simply rolling her enforcer into the water, but it was a more laborious process than expected, especially with the cold air reviving him. She hoisted him onto the railing, but his hand caught her arm before she could shove him overboard.

  “Wha’s happening?” he slurred.

  Evrial blurted a, “Sorry about this,” and slammed the back of her forearm into the side of his jaw. His head flew backward, and she shoved his legs after him. A boot almost caught her in the chin. She jerked her head back in time and turned to see if Maldynado needed help. A resonating smack sounded as his fist connected with his enforcer’s nose. The man stumbled back against the railing, and Maldynado hefted him over the side.

  He heaved an exasperated sigh as the second splash sounded. “It’s like these blokes have some experience with being hurled overboard and aren’t that fond of it.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “I suppose the weather is colder this week,” Maldynado said.

  Yes, Evrial certainly wouldn’t want to take a dip in that frosty water.

  Something on the deck caught her eye—the journal. She groaned. It must have fallen out of the man’s pocket. Great, now she was a thief as well as an obstructer of justice—and who knew what else she’d get pegged with if reports of her collusion with outlaws made it back to her district?

  Evrial picked up the journal and buttoned it into her own pocket. She’d no more than straightened when someone shouted from farther up the deck.

  “There!”

  “Uh oh,” Maldynado said. “There’re the other two enforcers.”

  Something sharp pierced Evrial’s shoulder with enough force to spin her back toward the railing. Pain burst from the wound. She gasped and clasped a hand to her shoulder. Her fingers bumped against the fletching of a tiny crossbow quarrel.

  “Poison.” She spat the word like a curse. In a fit of rage and fear, she grabbed the protruding part and tore it free. Another wave of agony went through her, almost forcing her to her knees. “Cursed ancestors, how can something so little hurt so—”

  “Look out,” Maldynado cried from a few feet away.

  Evrial started to turn, but her reflexes were already compromised. She couldn’t move quickly enough. Even the snowflakes flying downriver seemed to sail by at half speed.

  Something blunt slammed into her back. Hands grabbed her, more than one pair. She hurled an elbow, trying to force her attackers to back away, but she didn’t connect with flesh. The movement only stirred more pain in her shoulder.

  “Get him, he’s the dangerous one,” someone yelled.

  “He’s one of those murdering outlaws!”

  Grunts and scuffles sounded behind Evrial. There were far more than two men. She needed to do something, to tear away from the ones restraining her, but blackness edged her vision. Fear crept into her heart. What if it wasn’t simply a paralysis poison? What if this was the end? The enforcers hadn’t even wanted her; they were after Maldynado and his team.

  Enraged at the notion, Evrial summoned all of her remaining strength. She pushed away from the railing and threw a punch at the first person she saw. The man dodged—like the snowflakes, he seemed to move far more slowly than usual, but her punch flew slowly too. She only clipped the side of his jaw. He backed up, letting go of her.

  “Take care of that woman,” someone ordered. “She’s expend—ow, you slagging—”

  Maldynado was keeping the others busy. Evrial had to deal with the two focused on her. She kicked at the shin of the sole man left holding her. Her leg was too heavy, though, and she could barely lift it. The effort upset her balance. The man she’d meant to attack snorted, stepped inside her extended leg, and sank a punch into h
er stomach. Though those curled fingers arced in slowly, she couldn’t bring an arm across to block them fast enough—she barely had time to exhale and tighten her abdomen to protect against the blow. The impact sent her staggering back against the railing.

  Before she could come up with an attack—one she might manage in her slowed state—the men grabbed her legs, lifting them in the air. Since she’d just tossed someone over the side, she knew their intent right away. Evrial flailed, trying to find a chin or knee or other weak spot that would slow them down, but she was helpless to thwart the men.

  They counted to three, then heaved her over the railing. White flurries blew past her face, a stark contrast to the dark, cloudy sky above. Ages passed before she struck the water, landing on her side and sinking quickly. The river’s icy embrace shocked her body. She couldn’t move. It could have been the cold or the poison, the final stage overtaking her. It didn’t matter. There was nothing she could do but sink.

  CHAPTER 5

  Before Evrial hit the bottom, the blackness swallowing her was complete—as was the icy chill paralyzing her limbs. She was vaguely aware of a current passing over her, but she might as well have been encased in a glacier for all that she could move or escape. Her lungs ached for air, but she couldn’t push off the bottom, couldn’t do anything. If she died down there, nobody would ever find her body. Her family would have no idea what had happened to her.

  Something prodded her. What new insult? A giant river fish to eat her alive?

  No, that was a hand groping about. Hope sprang into her mind. Maldynado?

  The hand caught her beneath the armpit. In a burst, Evrial found herself rising to the surface, water rippling past her body. Her head broke the surface, and her lungs still worked enough to suck in a great gasp.

  Water streamed into her eyes. Lights burned in the distance, but she couldn’t tell if they were on shore or belonged to the steamboat. Was that it pulling away? She tried to raise a hand to wipe the water away, but her limbs wouldn’t respond.