Dark Currents Page 7

  “Not challenging,” he said and moved on.

  “Cocky, aren’t we?”

  “Self-aware.”

  “Cockily self-aware?”

  He gave her a cool look. She smiled sweetly.

  Before they reached the back of the room, a commotion drew a crowd that blocked the way.

  “I’m not a cheater!” a familiar voice cried.

  Amaranthe groaned. Akstyr.

  The meaty sound of a fist striking flesh followed.

  “I didn’t—ommph!”

  She hustled forward even as the crowd parted. Two bouncers appeared, dragging Akstyr between them. Blood streamed from his split lip and spattered his shirt. Amaranthe stepped forward, lifting a hand, intending to rescue him from the manhandling. But when he spotted her, he widened his eyes and gave a minute head shake.

  “Let go of me, you mother-forsaken street eaters!” Akstyr roared and flung his arms wide.

  He escaped his escort and stumbled forward, crashing into Amaranthe and Sicarius, seemingly by accident. The bouncers were not thrown for long. One lunged, wrapping an arm around his waist. Akstyr pressed something into Amaranthe’s hand before the thug tore him away. The bouncer threw Akstyr over his shoulder and stomped toward the front door.

  Patrons moved out of the way. Amaranthe closed her fist, hiding whatever Akstyr had given her. Cool and metallic, it felt like a key.

  Sicarius continued onward without comment. Amaranthe kept herself from looking back to check on Akstyr. He obviously thought they should pretend not to know each other, and that she should investigate…whatever the key led to.

  The crowd thinned in the back where two bouncers framed the entrance to a hallway. Amaranthe hustled to slip in front of Sicarius. No doubt he could get past them with force, but she wanted to try honey first.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, feeling short as she craned her neck back to look each man in the eye. They even towered over Sicarius, though his six feet did not make him tall by imperial standards.

  “Employees only,” came the response.

  “Yes, I guessed that from your forbidding presence here.” She smiled. “How would we make arrangements to see the boss?”

  “Come during the day, and look important.”

  “Do I not look important?” Amaranthe asked Sicarius.

  “Moderately,” he said without taking his gaze from the bouncers.

  “I’ll have to work on increasing my importance aura.” She considered the men again. “What’d that young fellow who was just dragged out of here do?”

  “Lady, we’re not here to chat with you.”

  “No, but it’s got to be more interesting than standing here like mute statues.”

  One grunted in what may have been agreement. The other frowned at Sicarius. Gears whirred behind his eyes, and his face screwed up in concentration. Trying to place Sicarius’s face, Amaranthe guessed.

  “He cheated, that’s what they said,” she said. “Is that common?”

  “People try it all the time,” the more amenable bouncer said.

  “Do you have to inform your employer when it happens?”

  “Our employer trusts us to handle such situations ourselves.”

  “Yes, I suppose your boss is only interested in fiscal issues that aren’t so easily resolved,” Amaranthe said, an idea percolating through her mind.

  Sicarius was watching her, probably wondering if this chat had a purpose.

  “Yes, and we’re not paid to talk to girls,” the surlier of the two bouncers said.

  “Unfortunately,” the other muttered.

  “Of course,” Amaranthe said. “I understand. Thank you for speaking to me.”

  As she moved away, the quieter man leaned close to his comrade, whispering something and pointing at Sicarius. Apparently the hooded jacket was not enough of a disguise.

  “Looks like you might get some practice defending your head tonight,” Amaranthe told him, veering toward the shell-game table.

  “They are not the first here to recognize me,” Sicarius said. “What now? It would be a simple matter to force our way past those men.”

  “There are a lot of bouncers on the floor. If those two were knocked out, it wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. I’d like to have a nice conversation with the owner, and given what happened to the fellow we tried to question at that factory, I’d prefer not to do it at knife point.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “You think that incident is tied in with this place?”

  “I don’t know.” She pointed at a key fob dangling from a man’s pocket watch chain. “But there’s suddenly a lot of magic use popping up in the city.”

  “More foreigners.”

  “More foreigners who should all be smart enough not to use magic in a city where it’s forbidden.” Amaranthe waved a hand. “We’ll talk to the owner about it.”

  “How?”

  “I have a hunch we’ll be invited in to chat soon.”

  “You have a plan. Should it concern me?”

  “Only if your cockiness is unfounded.”

  They approached the table.

  Sicarius stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You want me to play?”

  “I want you to play and win. A lot.”

  Seconds ticked past before he released her arm. “Very well, but it’ll take concentration. I’ll need you to watch my back.”

  Sicarius had never asked that of her before. Though he watched her back all the time, he had never needed the favor returned, and she did not miss the admission of trust in the request. It meant he was willing to put himself at risk for one of her crazy schemes. The bouncers knew he was here, and who knew who else might have noted his passing and started scheming to collect the bounty?

  Amaranthe nodded once. “I understand.”

  Sicarius stepped up to the table, cutting in front of a man who had been in line.

  “I’m next.” The fellow puffed out his chest and curled a lip.

  Sicarius responded with silence and an icy stare. The man stared back, but was the first to lower his eyes.

  He licked his lips and backed from the table. “Never mind. I’m still sorting my money.”

  Sicarius placed a coin on the table. “Begin.”

  The three table masters smiled and nodded to each other.

  Amaranthe leaned her back against the edge. As much as she wanted to watch Sicarius play, she meant to take her task seriously. Still, she could not help but glance at the action from time to time.

  The shell men were spaced far enough apart that one could not observe each directly. Sicarius studied the middle table master and presumably watched the other two with his peripheral vision. As soon as the shuffling ended, he promptly pointed to each of the shells holding the tokens. The first time, the table masters shrugged and congratulated him. As he continued to win, the congratulatory comments grew less frequent. He never said a word, simply pointing to the correct shells. His one coin turned into a stack, and then several stacks of coins and ranmya bills, both of which he kept tidy and even.

  A buzz grew amongst the onlookers. More people drifted over, blocking Amaranthe’s view of the surrounding area. She wished she were taller. With so many bodies pressing close, it would be hard to pick out onlookers with malignant intent.

  Maldynado ambled by with a woman on his arm. He asked the lady if she might be inclined to fetch a couple of drinks, then strolled close enough to speak to Amaranthe.

  “How come I’m working and he’s playing games?” Maldynado tilted his chin toward Sicarius, who remained focused on the table.

  “Is that what you were doing with that woman?” Amaranthe asked, continuing to watch the crowd. “Working?”

  “Of course. She’s my cover. It’d be unnatural for such a fine looking fellow as myself to be here without a woman.”

  “Uh huh. Find anyone who recognizes that man yet?”

  “Nope, but those fobs are everywhere,” he said.

  “I noticed.
Keep asking about the man, please.”

  Maldynado shrugged and ambled off to accept a drink from his lady. They disappeared into the crowd.

  A gorgeous woman in a low-cut dress slithered up to Sicarius’s other side. “You’re doing well, aren’t you?” she purred, leaning against him.

  “Oh, please,” Amaranthe muttered.

  Sicarius, eyes focused on the game, did not acknowledge the woman. Amaranthe wondered if she worked for the house. A pretty lady to distract male customers earning too much money?

  “How would you like to take your winnings and go off to have some fun?” The woman started to reach an arm around Sicarius’s waist, not daunted by the number of weapons sheathed there.

  Without looking at her, he caught her wrist. “Leave.”

  In the next breath, he pointed at the appropriate shells. The table masters revealed his correct choices and shared sighs with each other.

  Sicarius pushed the woman away. She was smart enough to go.

  Someone two rows back grunted and tipped forward, as if bumped hard from behind.

  Amaranthe smacked Sicarius’s arm. “Might be—”

  A pair of swordsmen shoved people aside and launched themselves at Sicarius’s back. Amaranthe had no time to draw a weapon. She threw herself into a roll at the men’s legs, hoping to distract them long enough for Sicarius to take action.

  A boot slammed into her ribs. One of the men toppled, landing on her. She grunted and managed to jab her elbow into his jaw as she squirmed away. He dropped his sword, and, ignoring her, jumped to his feet and lunged toward Sicarius…in time to receive a dagger in the chest.

  The other man was already dead on the floor, a throwing knife protruding from his eye.

  The crowd fell silent, staring at Sicarius.

  Hand pressed to her side, Amaranthe climbed to her feet. Sicarius raised his eyebrows slightly. She nodded. Her ribs would hurt tomorrow, but she would be fine.

  He collected his weapons and cleaned them with unhurried precision. A couple of his coin stacks had toppled. He fixed them, straightened the bills, and told the table masters, “Begin.”

  Bouncers came to collect the bodies. A new buzz started up in the crowd, though the people continuing to watch Sicarius play stood farther back. Good. More space made it easier to see attackers coming up.

  One of the table masters flagged a bouncer down and whispered something in his ear. Also good. That ought to be the message to the boss. In the meantime, Sicarius’s stacks continued to grow.

  “Why have you been assassinating people all your life,” Amaranthe whispered, “when you can earn this kind of money in a single night?”

  Sicarius pointed out another series of winners. “Gambling houses exist to profit; they quickly get rid of people who win too much. But your plan implies you already know that.”

  Amaranthe smiled and put her back to the table again, wincing as she bumped her ribs. She hoped the blood staining the rug would deter further bounty hunters.

  “Next time just warn me,” Sicarius added. “I can handle two men without you emulating a footstool.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. It had been a thoughtless move. She had martial arts and swordsmanship training; she ought not end up in a tangled jumble on the floor.

  She groped for a face-saving comment. “So, I should wait until there are six men before trying to help you?”

  She must have sounded stung, because he looked away from the game to meet her eyes. She thought he might say something apologetic, or at least conciliatory, but a table master called for bets—others were cashing in on his success now too—and he returned his attention to play. Amaranthe went back to standing watch.

  Soon more bouncers showed up, the two from the hallway and two new ones. The one who had been most talkative gave her a why-am-I-not-surprised-this-is-about-you head shake.

  “Will you come with us, sir?” he asked Sicarius, his tone far more placating than earlier.

  Sicarius removed his winnings from the table. He lacked space for it all and handed half to Amaranthe. She ogled the stack of ranmyas before stuffing them into pockets and her shirt. If the house let them walk out the door with it all, she could think of a lot of gear and supplies she could purchase for the team. Sicarius might even get his steam carriage.

  The bouncers led them into the rear hallway, and Amaranthe forced her thoughts back to the present. The owner would be scheming to keep Sicarius from escaping with his earnings.

  The hall spawned several other halls, and they turned and turned again. Closed doors lined the walls, all with locks. She fingered the key in her pocket. Maybe she should have taken the time to go outside and talk with Akstyr.

  A shirtless young man walked out of the door at the end of the hallway, his hair tousled and bite marks on his neck. He ducked his head as he passed the bouncers and hastened through a doorway.

  “Guess we know why the owner is too busy to talk to folks without an appointment,” Amaranthe muttered.

  The talkative bouncer grunted in what might have been agreement. He knocked at the door.

  “Send him in,” a woman said.

  Him. Guess that meant Amaranthe was going to be reduced to furniture in the conversation again.

  A pair of bouncers strode in ahead of Sicarius and Amaranthe, and the two others crowded after. The office inside was spacious, but not that spacious. Elbows bumped her, and someone trod on her foot. The scent of musk oil thickened the air.

  Responding to some gesture Amaranthe could not see, the four bouncers lined up against the wall, two on either side of the door. Sicarius stood so he could watch them and the woman behind the desk without putting his back to anyone. Amaranthe stepped onto a rug in the center of the office.

  The woman sat in a chair, posture perfect, graying hair in a bun, and not a wrinkle marring her khaki dress. She had plucked her eyebrows out and drawn precise thin lines in their place. She was…not what Amaranthe expected, and she glanced about, wondering if someone else—someone younger—might be in the room. Maybe her assumptions about what the shirtless man had been doing in here were incorrect.

  The woman smiled, and, despite her prim appearance, it did have a predatory edge. Her gaze settled on Sicarius. Her green eyes and the paleness of her skin suggested she was not a native Turgonian, but no hint of an accent clung to her words when she spoke.

  “Imagine my surprise,” she said, “at having the empire’s most wanted assassin stroll into my humble establishment tonight.” She surveyed Amaranthe, though no recognition sparked in those eyes, and she focused on Sicarius again. “I wouldn’t think you’d frequent such busy venues.”

  “We came specifically to talk to you,” Amaranthe said. “Ms…?”

  “Ellaya,” the woman said.

  “Makes Sunshine?” Sicarius asked.

  Amaranthe crinkled her brow at his response.

  The woman smiled, showing teeth this time. “Yes, that is the name my mother gave me. How rare to find someone here who understands Mangdorian. But then… I shouldn’t be surprised. They must have taught you some before they sent you to my country.”

  Amaranthe watched Sicarius for a reaction, though she should have known he would give nothing away. Did he know what the woman was talking about?

  “You didn’t expect me to know about that, did you?” Ellaya asked, though she must have been guessing, since Sicarius’s face never changed. “The canaries have been chirping in this dreary coal mine of a city. It seems you were the one to wrong my people years ago, and now you’re here, attempting to alleviate my coffers of hard-won coin.”

  “We simply wished to gain a meeting with you,” Amaranthe said, putting aside the mystery of Sicarius’s past in Mangdoria in favor of the current mission. “It seemed a more expedient way than others.”

  “Then you’re willing to leave the coin you’ve won?”

  Amaranthe hesitated. They could use that money. Ellaya had been polite thus far—she must respect Sicarius’s reputation
enough not to make careless threats—but that might not hold out if she realized they meant to leave with the money.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to discuss the purpose of this?” Amaranthe dangled the key fob and thumbed it so it glowed.

  “No. Do you intend to walk out with the coin, or not?”

  “I won it abiding by the rules of the game,” Sicarius said.

  The bouncers shifted and eyed each other uneasily.

  “Perhaps we could reach an arrangement,” Amaranthe said. “We could use that money, but you’re reluctant to let a winner walk out with so much. That’s understandable. You need something equally valuable in exchange. Perhaps Sicarius could spend the evening going over the games with you, suggesting improvements so even people with his sharp eyes would have difficulty winning often.”

  And while Sicarius was wandering around, advising Ellaya and the bouncers, perhaps nobody would pay attention to Amaranthe, and she could explore the premises.

  Ellaya tilted her head, considering Sicarius. “Did you cheat or did you actually win all those games?”

  “There was no need to cheat,” he said.

  “Hm.”

  Amaranthe nodded. Hm was promising. “Surely, the best way to improve your games to a level where you can ensure the house always comes out on top would be to employ someone who can beat them.”

  “Possibly.”

  “And,” Amaranthe went on, “as you can guess from his reputation, Sicarius is a master of entering establishments undetected. Perhaps if you’re willing to let him walk out with his winnings, he could survey your security and advise you on improvements.”

  Sicarius’s gaze settled on Amaranthe. Yes, she was volunteering him for a lot of stuff, especially considering he had won the money without violating any rules, but she figured he knew her well enough to guess her motives.

  “Interesting.” Ellaya pushed her chair away from the desk, stood, clasped her hands behind her back, and strolled to a bookcase. She picked up a feather duster and ran it over a spotless shelf. Moments ticked past before she turned to face them again. “Interesting, but I don’t want a one-time consultation. Advisement on the games would be helpful, but I could use you for ongoing security, protection, and…other tasks.” Her eyes bored into Sicarius. “I want you full time.”