Amaranthe and Maldynado sat in a hollow scraped out between two hillocks of coal. They had their knees pulled up to their chins and their backs to the biting wind as the train barreled toward the mountains at fifty miles per hour. A few feet away, on the opposite side of the car, Basilard and Yara hunkered in a similar position. The coal hills wouldn’t provide much cover in a firefight, but Amaranthe didn’t think anyone looking in from the ends could spot her team. Sicarius hadn’t returned from scouting.
Amaranthe opened her pocket watch and tried to read the face, but clouds obscured the moon, and little light brightened the train. The dark, towering evergreens speeding by on either side further blocked the sky.
“I reckon he’s been gone an hour,” Maldynado said.
“I didn’t know clock-free time-telling was one of your skills.” Amaranthe tucked the watch back into her pocket. However long Sicarius had been gone, it felt like too long. If he was limiting his scouting to the roofs of the cars, there wasn’t that much area for him to explore. If he’d gone inside... he shouldn’t have. There were far too many alert soldiers in there.
“I got good at it when I was working for Costace,” Maldynado said.
“That was the lady in charge of the male escorts place, right?”
“Yes. She used to send me off with old crones who regularly competed in the city’s Most Trite and Tedious Conversationalist Contest. Costace said it wasn’t seemly for me to check my watch every three minutes, so I perfected the art of telling time—and knowing when my hours were up—without a clock.”
“It’s amazing that you’re such a noble and compassionate man, considering all the terrible life experiences you’ve endured.” Amaranthe peeked over the coal mound, checking for Sicarius.
“I know,” Maldynado said.
With him, Amaranthe was never certain if he was truly oblivious to sarcasm or if he simply chose to ignore it. She shifted her weight, trying to lessen the discomfort of sitting on lumpy coal for prolonged periods. “As long as we’re here chatting, why don’t you tell me about your brother? Is he—”
“An arrogant, condescending know-it-all who couldn’t be bothered to spit on you to cool you off if you were staked out naked in a scorching hot desert? Yes. Yes, he is.”
“I was going to ask if he’s politically conservative or progressive,” Amaranthe said.
“He’s about as progressive as a rock.”
“How does he feel about Sespian?”
“I haven’t talked to Ravido for five years, and Raumesys was still alive then, so Sespian wasn’t much discussed, but my brother doesn’t approve of anyone with new ideas. He only likes spending time with devoted soldiers who, when they’re deep in their cups, talk about things like duty and honor and the good old days of the empire.”
“I can see why you two might not have gotten along well then,” Amaranthe said.
“I haven’t gotten along well with anyone in my family, not since... Never mind.”
Amaranthe was debating on prying further when a touch on her shoulder startled her. A dark shape slipped in beside her. Sicarius.
She tried to scoot over to give him room, but bumped into Maldynado. “Why don’t you go entertain Yara for a while?” she told him. “She can’t understand Basilard’s signs, so she’s probably missing your charms.” Actually, if Amaranthe read Yara correctly, the woman appreciated the silence and had been relieved when Maldynado and his charms had sat down on the far side of the car. But there wasn’t room for three, and Amaranthe wanted to digest Sicarius’s report without the others around.
“Of that I have no doubt.” Maldynado slipped out of the hollow.
“Find anything?” Amaranthe patted the vacated spot, inviting Sicarius to sit.
“Sespian is in the fourth car back.”
Sicarius sat beside her, keeping a few inches of space between them. Amaranthe thought about scooting over to lean against him—after all, it wasn’t exactly warm in that coal bed with the autumn wind sweeping past—but Maldynado and the others were in sight. A mercenary leader probably shouldn’t be witnessed cuddling up with an employee.
“Is he surrounded by soldiers?” Amaranthe asked.
“Yes.”
“Full car?”
“Very.”
“See any other assassins lurking about?”
“No,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe wondered if Sicarius would be chattier than this when he came face to face with Sespian. How many years since they had spoken, she wondered. Or had they ever spoken? If Sespian had grown up being afraid of Sicarius, he must have gone out of his way to avoid the dark figure slipping in and out of his halls like an ancestor spirit. Ah, Sicarius, she thought, how much of the angst in your life might have been mitigated if you simply smiled at Sespian and gave him a lollypop when he was a kid?
“Is there anyone with him except for soldiers and bodyguards?” Amaranthe asked.
“A woman. Sixty, sixty-five. She was reading a book. Sespian kept his back to her.”
“Sounds like the woman Basilard described from the athletes’ dinner. She must be his Forge escort to ensure he doesn’t get out of line.”
“Not for long,” Sicarius said.
“Er, don’t you think you’ve killed enough of their people this week? If we turn them into martyrs—”
“She may be the one who put that implant in Sespian’s neck,” Sicarius said. “She may be the one who has the power to kill him if he goes astray.”
“She may simply be along for the ride.”
“I’m not risking that.” Nothing in Sicarius’s tone suggested she could persuade him otherwise.
Amaranthe sighed. “Be careful then. She may be a practitioner.”
With the darkness shrouding Sicarius’s face, she couldn’t see him giving her a you’re-stating-the-obvious look, but she could feel it.
“I know, you don’t need my advice on how to navigate battles, but women say things like ‘be careful,’ when we mean, ‘I care about you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.’ It’s our way of keeping feminine sentimentality to a minimum. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Sicarius said nothing to that, though his gaze seemed to soften a tad.
The clouds had blown away, revealing a quarter moon. Amaranthe leaned back against the wall of the rail car and pulled her watch out again. Two and a half hours to the pass. “Maybe... once we have Sespian on our side... we can help him fix the empire and turn it into a place where you don’t feel compelled to kill people anymore.”
Sicarius sat back against the wall as well, this time letting his shoulder touch hers. “What would I do for a living?”
Amaranthe squinted at him, suspecting him of making one of his oh-so-rare jokes. With all of his skills, he could qualify for countless jobs. “I understand Maldynado is still acquainted with that lady who runs the male escort service. With your physique and agility, you ought to be able to entertain her clients effectively.”
“At what rate of payment?” he asked in his usual monotone.
The prompt and unexpected response made Amaranthe fumble her watch and drop it. Now, she knew he was joking. She thumped him on the arm and said, “Never you mind. If we fix the empire, you’re not entertaining anyone except me.”
Sicarius picked up the watch and pressed it into her hand. The warmth of his fingers brushing hers made her think of... Well, she wasn’t thinking of the mission.
Something clanked at the end of the coal car, and Amaranthe jerked away with a start. Had that been a door opening?
She sank deeper into their hollowed valley. Sicarius stayed low, but he shifted into a crouch.
“Corporal Kevelak?” someone called from the door to the first passenger car. “You up there?”
Across from them, Maldynado stirred as well. Amaranthe lifted a hand, hoping he saw it and wouldn’t take any action. She didn’t want anyone thinking it would be a good idea to impersonate the corporal. Nothing in the soldier’s voice sounded alarmed. For all he knew, his comrade had gone to water a bush and been left behind in Forkingrust. Amaranthe had a feeling the army would do a thorough search, but she hoped it would take time. It’d be far better for her plan if they could wait until the train reached the pass and the distraction of the blocked railway before her team had to make its move.
“You seen Corporal Kevelak, Sergeant?” the soldier called, louder this time. From the sound of his voice, he had poked his head over the lip of the coal car.
“What?” someone bellowed from the side door of the locomotive cab.
“Corporal Kevelak! Is he up there?”
“Not since we left Forkingrust,” came the return call.
“He was here, though, right? He handled the refueling?”
“Yes.”
After a moment, the door clanged shut again. The soldier had gone back inside, but whether to search for his colleague or alert a superior that something was going on, Amaranthe didn’t know.
She leaned close to Sicarius to ask him his opinion, but his hand covered her mouth as soon as she opened it. She squeezed his arm to let him know she understood the message. Be quiet.
Amaranthe tried to hear or sense whatever he’d heard or sensed. Wind blasted past the train, and the mounds of coal beneath her reverberated in synch with the wheels pumping below. She couldn’t detect anything out of place, but, from Sicarius’s vigilant posture, she assumed someone was coming from the other side.
She laid one finger on his wrist and turned her face toward him, so he’d know it was a question. He pressed two fingers against her wrist, then released her and disappeared over the side of the coal car.
Amaranthe figured he was going to skirt the outside, crawling along the moving train like a spider to come up behind the soldiers. She had better plan to handle the lead man.
Across from Amaranthe, Basilard and Maldynado had risen to crouches. Yara, back against the wall, looked like she meant to stay out of the way. Probably a good plan. Amaranthe waved to her men and pointed toward the locomotive, though she wasn’t sure they’d see the gesture in the poor light.
Coal crunched a few feet away, near the front of the car. A man came into view above Amaranthe’s hill of coal. Clad in the black uniform of the emperor’s personal guard, he loomed, a dark shape against the cloud-filled sky, his shoulders wider than a meter stick, his neck as thick as an oak tree. He had to be seven feet tall.
Crouched so low her butt skimmed the coal, Amaranthe hoped the shadows hid her. And she hoped she could surprise the guard. Because Maldynado and the others were farther back, she should move first. Out of habit, her hand drifted to her sword, but she caught herself. They were subduing people without injuring them here. That had to be the goal. That and not being crushed by the behemoth.
A second guard stepped into view. Correction, Amaranthe thought, two behemoths. They walked one after the other down the center of the coal car, unaffected by the wind or the train’s reverberations.
The first man drew even with Amaranthe’s hollow. They didn’t have lanterns, and they were moving slowly, their heads swiveling from side to side. Searching.
Amaranthe thought of the knockout gas. Would it work out here in the open air?
The first man stopped. The shadows hadn’t cloaked Amaranthe enough—he was looking straight at her. Too late to dig out the knockout gas.
The second man disappeared from view behind him. It happened so quickly, Amaranthe almost missed it. The head and shoulders were in sight, and then they simply weren’t.
The first man’s rifle shifted toward Amaranthe, but his comrade must have made a sound, for he glanced back. She didn’t hesitate. She might not get another opening.
Amaranthe skittered up the hill of coal in front of her, both to get closer to the guard and to escape the rifle’s sights. Before the man could spin to track her, she rammed a sidekick into the edge of the man’s knee. The blow might have sent a lighter opponent stumbling to the ground, but he merely growled and whipped his rifle toward her head.
Figuring he expected her to run or dodge to the side, Amaranthe ducked and lunged in closer instead. She turned sideways and rammed her elbow into his groin. He bent over with a grunt and dropped the rifle, but that didn’t keep him from reacting. His arms came down, attempting to grab her and crush her—or maybe hurl her from the car.
Amaranthe skittered between his legs and spun toward his back. He wasn’t as slow as she’d hoped, and he was already whirling about, his huge hand curled into a fist. She jumped and caught a handful of his uniform at the back of his shoulder, then scampered up his side like a mountain goat. Before he could recover and tear her off, she reached the top of the “mountain” and drove her elbow into the sensitive vertebrae at the back of his neck. Fear and nerves lent power to the strike, and he dropped like a sack of coal.
That was all she needed to do, for Basilard and Maldynado were there by then, swarming over the guard. While Maldynado forced the man into a neck lock, Amaranthe fished out a gag and bindings.
“What took you two so long?” she whispered.
“We stopped to watch,” Maldynado said, a grin in his voice. “You were all over him like a pack of cats on a saucer of cream. We didn’t want to make a mistake and hit you. Besides, you looked like you had him under control.”
“Of course, I did.” Amaranthe was glad the darkness hid the post-fight tremor in her hands. She wouldn’t want to face one of the emperor’s bodyguards on even terms. That one had probably been night blind, after being inside the cab with lanterns and a furnace, and had struggled to follow her movement. “Also, I think cats are a clowder, not a pack. Unless you’re thinking of large wild cats, in which case it’s a pride. I’m not sure if they’re cream zealots though.”
“Did you intend to sound like Books, there?” Maldynado asked. “Or was that an unfortunate mishap?”
“Er.” Yes, Amaranthe was fairly certain Books had been the one to share that tidbit of information with her. When nervous, she had a tendency to babble—or burble, as Sicarius said—but this wasn’t a good time for verbosity. “Never mind, let’s move on.”
A few feet away, the second bodyguard lay on his back, a gag stuffed into his mouth. Of course, nothing intimidated Sicarius.
But he’d disappeared. Into the locomotive?
He must have decided he couldn’t risk attacking the guards with the engineer at his back. But if he’d taken out the engineer, who was going to drive the train?
“Try to move them into one of the valleys we dug,” Amaranthe told Maldynado and Basilard, “so they’re not visible to soldiers peeking in from the other end. Someone will need to stay with them too. I’m sure they’d get out of those bindings without someone watching them.” She blew out a puff of air, feeling the weight of her decision not to harm anyone.
“Why don’t we just toss them over the side?” Maldynado suggested. “That’s what we did with those blokes traveling with the weapons.”
“You did what? I didn’t tell you to do that.”
“We didn’t have any choice. They were searching the train.”
“We’re going fifty miles an hour. I’d be shocked if throwing someone overboard wouldn’t break his neck.” Amaranthe closed her eyes, wondering if the men’s actions on the other train meant there were more deaths she was responsible for.
“Nah, look at how thick those necks are,” Maldynado said. “You’d be lucky to break them with a steam hammer.”
“Just... guard them, Maldynado. Basilard, come up front with me, please.”
Sergeant Yara was standing in the background, probably not certain what was expected of her. Amaranthe gave her a stay-there wave. She didn’t want Yara to feel she had to be a part of this. Once they got Sespian, that’s when she’d have a role.
Amaranthe and Basilard climbed over the front of the coal car and onto the back of the locomotive cabin. As they angled toward one of the side doors, wind scoured the train, railing against them. They had to claw their way from handhold to handhold, the cold iron icy beneath their fingers. Trees streaked by, their branches outstretched, scraping and batting at the side of the train. Movement at the corner of Amaranthe’s eye spurred instincts into action, and she ducked a branch before it swept into her head. She gulped. If a branch struck her while she hung on the side...
Basilard touched her shoulder, a questioning prod, and Amaranthe pushed on. She wasn’t about to let the men know she was nervous.
The bifold door was closed. Light glowed behind large windows on either side, windows that would allow the engineer a view of someone approaching the entrance. Amaranthe stopped before leaning out and reaching for the door latch. What if Sicarius hadn’t gone up there? She couldn’t imagine where else he would have gone, but she might stumble into an awkward fight if she simply pushed her way inside.
She poked one eye around the corner. She didn’t see anyone in the cab. No Sicarius, no engineer or fireman.
“What’s going on?” Amaranthe muttered.
She grabbed the latch. Not locked. Good. She pulled the door open and leaped onto the footboard before catapulting inside.
Amaranthe landed in a crouch, fists balled, ready for a skirmish. That was when she noticed two men in blue engineering overalls sprawled on the textured metal floor along with copious amounts of spilled coal. One man lay beside her, his face pressed to the back wall, his ankles tied and hands bound behind his back. On the other side of the cab, in front of the furnace, Sicarius knelt over the second man. He was tying that one as well, though he paused long enough to arch an eyebrow at Amaranthe’s overzealous entrance.
Basilard slipped in behind Amaranthe and also gave her a curious look. She noticed her hands were still balled into fists and raised one to cover a fake yawn, as if she hadn’t been concerned at any point in the mission thus far.
Sicarius manhandled the fireman into a position on the back wall next to the engineer. Both men were alive and glaring at him, though gags in their mouths kept them from voicing complaints.
“I hadn’t planned to take over the cab.” Amaranthe tucked stray strands of hair back into her bun. “Was it necessary to subdue them?”
“They would have grown suspicious when the guards left and did not return,” Sicarius said.
True, but inconvenient. Now someone would have to stay up there and drive the train. Maybe two people. She cursed under her breath. When they charged into the emperor’s car, she would need all of her men. That one fastidious corporal was spawning a lot of headaches.
Amaranthe eyed the front of the cab, wondering if there was a way to automate the train. The furnace was set into the left half with heavy cast iron doors that could swing open and closed again when someone stepped on a floor pedal. A shovel leaned to the side of it, beneath several wheels attached to pipes. Amaranthe had no idea what they controlled. All she knew was that shovel would need to be used again soon. A boiler capable of powering a locomotive would need heat applied constantly, lots of heat.
The engineer’s seat was on the right side of the cab, and all manner of gauges and levers adorned that station. The only thing Amaranthe could identify was the steam-whistle chain dangling from the ceiling. She leaned over the seat to peer out a vertical rectangle of a window. The long cylindrical engine took up most of the view, but she could see a little ways to the front of the right side of the train. She wasn’t sure what kind of lights were burning above the brush guard, but they didn’t illuminate as much of the rail as she would have thought. She hoped there’d be time to stop when they saw the landslide.
“We’ll be going slower when we start ascending into the mountains,” Sicarius said. “We can throw them and the other prisoners overboard without critically damaging them.”
“I’m glad you’re thinking of ways not to damage people, but what I’m really wondering is who’s going to drive this thing while we go after the emperor?”
Muffled words—curses most likely—came from the engineer. His shoulders flexed and strained as he tried to loosen his bonds. The fireman was glowering at her with eyes seething with hatred. She tried to offer them a disarming smile. They glared more fiercely. For all they knew, her team meant to assassinate Sespian and blow up the train, and she didn’t have time to explain otherwise, not that they would listen anyway.
“One of the men,” Sicarius said, ignoring the straining prisoners. His gaze shifted toward Basilard.
Basilard’s eyes widened. My people are simple nomads. I know how to hunt, fight, and put up a tent. He stared at the controls for a moment before adding, This looks a lot more complicated than a tent.
“Maldynado then,” Sicarius said.
“Dear ancestors, do you want us to crash?” Amaranthe asked. “Besides, we need everyone if we’re to have a chance against a car full of soldiers. How many people are in there with Sespian? Twenty?”
“Twenty-three soldiers and bodyguards. And the woman.”
Who might have skills as a practitioner. Lovely. And then there was the fact that there were more soldiers in the neighboring cars. If they didn’t figure out a way to retrieve Sespian quietly and quickly...
“We need everyone,” Amaranthe repeated.
“Talk the enforcer woman into doing it,” Sicarius said.
That... might work. As a rural enforcer, she’d know how to drive a lorry. How much different could it be? Amaranthe considered the furnace, the engineer’s station, and the prisoners. It was a lot to ask, especially when Yara hadn’t promised full support—or any kind of support—for the mission. Still, it would keep her out of the way of the fighting.
“Basilard, will you get her please?” Amaranthe unfastened one of the lanterns mounted on the wall and handed it to him. Maldynado would need to see Basilard’s hands to know what he was saying.
Basilard nodded and slipped back outside.
“You intend to defend this point until we reach the pass?” Sicarius asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’d be better off letting the furnace burn out while we’re getting Sespian. Then we can grab him, jump off when the train slows, and disappear into the woods. We can find a way to meet up with the others and...”
Sicarius was shaking his head. He pointed to a clock on the wall. “We’re two hours from the pass—nearly a hundred miles. It’d take us days on foot, and we’d have dozens of soldiers following us through the forest. Hundreds when word gets back to Forkingrust.”
Despite their predicament, Amaranthe managed a smile. “You say that like it’d be difficult for you. I thought evading soldiers was one of your favorite hobbies.”
“Not if I can’t harm them,” Sicarius said, gaze hard and unwavering.
Amaranthe dropped her smile. “Then we better plan to return here and maintain control at all costs.” She knocked on the back wall of the cab. “We’ll have a bargaining chip—the power to control the train—and, if need be, we can defend this position. It’ll be hard for them to get over the coal car and at us without exposing themselves.”
“If we aren’t going to shoot them, they won’t fear to expose themselves.”
Uh, yes, that was a good point. They needed a better plan.
Amaranthe grabbed the shovel next to the furnace. How were they going to defend a position when they couldn’t use their weapons? She stepped on the floor switch to open the furnace door. The fire had already burned low in the short time since Sicarius had taken down the fireman and engineer. She shoveled fresh coal into the furnace until the red embers along the bottom disappeared beneath leaping flames. Waves of heat flowed from within. Maybe they could do something with fire? No, she dismissed that idea as quickly as it came. She’d end up with the entire train on fire if they flung flames back toward the coal car. The mere thought made her glance about until she found a fire station: an axe, bucket of sand, and hose reel mounted on a narrow strip of wall behind the engineer’s chair.
Aware of Sicarius watching her, Amaranthe said, “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” She used the shovel to sweep the coals spilled on the floor back into the pile beneath the chute.
“Before or after soldiers are streaming into the locomotive?” Sicarius asked.
“I’ll let that be a surprise.” Amaranthe winked. If only she felt half as confident as she pretended.
“Quit pushing,” came Yara’s voice from outside. “Don’t touch me at all. Ever.” She came into view on the other side of the window, inching her way toward the door.
Wind gusted against her, flinging her short hair to one side, but Amaranthe didn’t think it was the source of her irritation. Maldynado came into view, crawling along the outside of the train after her. Ah, yes.
Yara lunged around the corner and into the cabin, grabbing the back of the engineer’s seat for support. Maldynado hopped in behind her.
“You cannot be any fun in bed,” he told Yara.
“You’ll never find out,” she growled back.
Amaranthe was sweeping the last few coals into the pile beneath the chute. She was about to say something, but Maldynado spoke first.
“Boss, are you cleaning? In the middle of our train-infiltration mission?”
“No.” Amaranthe blushed and set the shovel aside. “I’m just tidying what may become a fighting area. I don’t want anyone slipping on loose coal.” Before he could make any silly comments, she added, “What are you doing up here, Maldynado? I told Basilard to get Yara, not you.”
“I figured that was an oversight on your part. You know you’ll need me up here.” Maldynado slid into the engineer’s seat and caressed a few gauges. “Nice, I’ve never driven a train.”
“And you’re not going to tonight either,” Amaranthe said.
“Thank the emperor’s ancestors,” Yara muttered.
“You’re driving,” Amaranthe told her.
“What?”
“Just for a few minutes while we retrieve the emperor. It’ll be easy.” Amaranthe pointed to the window in front of the engineer’s seat. “As you can see, being on a rail means there’s no steering required. You’ll just have to add more fuel when that gauge over there gets low, and, uh, that gauge looks important too. Watch that. That one too. It’ll be easy. You’ll figure it out.” Amaranthe had a notion that if she claimed the task would be easy numerous times and flew through her dubious instructions, they’d seem less daunting. “Oh, and you’ll need to keep an eye on those two men. Sicarius tied them up, so I’m sure they’ll find escape elusive, but you never know.”
Yara did not seem to be an easily flappable person, but something akin to terror was creeping into her eyes. So much for “less daunting.”
“I know it sounds like a lot, but the emperor didn’t promote you to sergeant for no reason,” Amaranthe said. “You can handle this.”
Maldynado slid out of the engineer’s chair, propped an elbow on Yara’s shoulder, and pointed to Amaranthe. “She’s like this all the time. She comes up with these ludicrous schemes and then expects other people to do crazy things they’ve never done before to make them happen. You’d think we’d all be dead by now, but oddly enough she’s usually right and people can handle the things she thinks they can. She’s sort of smart like that.”
That had to be one of the more convoluted defenses Amaranthe had ever received. If it truly could be called a defense. “Remind me not to ever have you speak on my behalf before the magistrate,” she told Maldynado.
“What?” Maldynado touched his chest. “I’m a fine speaker.”
Yara recovered from her stunned silence and glowered at Maldynado’s elbow. It was still on her shoulder. “Did we not just discuss touching?”
Maldynado lifted his hands skyward. “Apologies, my lady.”
Amaranthe removed a folded kerchief from her pocket and dusted off the engineer’s chair. “Ready?” She extended a hand, offering Yara the seat.
“No,” Yara grumbled. “But I’m probably less likely to get killed up here than if I assaulted the emperor’s rail car with you and your men.”
“Exactly.”
Amaranthe turned to tell Sicarius they were ready—he wouldn’t appreciate this silly chitchat—but he had disappeared. “Emperor’s warts,” she muttered and grabbed Maldynado’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Maldynado went first, easing outside and onto the side of the locomotive. Amaranthe started to follow, but paused in the doorway.
“By the way,” she told Yara, “you’ll need to figure out how to use the brake. We should be back long before you’ll need it, but it’s possible there’s a small landslide burying the tracks at the top of the Scarlet Pass.”
“Possible?” Yara twisted her head around to stare. “What’re you—”
“Can’t talk now. Need to run!” Amaranthe gave her a short wave and slipped out the door.
She picked her way back to the coal car, wondering if Yara would try to flatten her with a fist when she returned. She was relieved when she found Sicarius crouching beside Basilard. The two soldiers were still bound and gagged, their feet visible behind one of the mounds of coal.
Amaranthe and Maldynado knelt beside Sicarius and Basilard.
“Has that first soldier been back out?” Amaranthe asked. “The one looking for the corporal?”
Yes, Basilard signed. He was with a second soldier and they were saying they’d have to inform the lieutenant of the missing man.
“We haven’t much time then.” Amaranthe found her rucksack and pulled out the smoke grenades and canisters of knockout gas. She handed a can of each to everyone. “Sicarius and Basilard will go in on the far side of the fourth car. I trust I don’t have to remind anyone that we have to cross the roofs with the utmost care, because if anyone hears us and looks outside, our infiltration will be over before it starts.”
“Stealthy like a cat, we can do that,” Maldynado said.
Basilard quirked an eyebrow at him but simply nodded for Amaranthe’s sake.
Sicarius took the canisters without a word.
“Maldynado and I will enter through the front of the fourth car. We’ll all have to be careful to drop down onto the balconies when nobody in the adjacent car is looking out the door. Once on the balconies, we’ll go in promptly and throw the smoke grenades and unleash the knockout gas right away.” She demonstrated pulling the tab. “Use the canisters at your discretion, but try to conserve what we have in case we need more later.”
Amaranthe looked at Sicarius. Given how important this was to him, she half-expected him to take charge of the mission and start issuing orders.
“Understood,” was all he said. The others nodded as well.
The way they were all listening intently, trusting her to know what she was talking about, made her nervous. Too late to doubt yourself now, girl, she thought.
“Everyone, get your masks out. We’ll put them on here and get used to breathing through them. Be careful inside. If anyone punches you in the face or otherwise knocks your mask askew, you’ll be on the floor, snoring with the soldiers.”
Hands delved into rucksacks to withdraw the gear.
“We’ll take everyone down as quickly as possible,” Amaranthe went on, “but I’m sure the soldiers in the other cars will figure out something is going on as soon as the smoke fills the air in the emperor’s car. We’ll lock, and if possible jam, the doors as soon as we’re inside. That should delay reinforcements.”
Maldynado lifted a finger. “What if the doors are locked right now, and we can’t get in?”
Amaranthe dipped a finger into an ammo pouch on her utility belt and slid a small velvet bag out from amongst the crossbow quarrels. She upturned it, dumping two keys onto her palm, and handed one to Sicarius. “I had Books research the Navigator class train, including a visit to the smith who keyed the locks for this one.”
“See, that’s why we let you lead,” Maldynado said. “Women think of things like that. If it were up to us men to plan these missions, we’d end up having to hack our way in with axes.”
Amaranthe decided not to mention that Sicarius had first pointed out the locked-door possibility. She tugged her mask over her head and adjusted the straps. She slung her crossbow over her back, checked her short sword and knife, then untied the last item she would need from the outside of her rucksack, the kerosene-powered cutting torch. “Once everyone is tied or otherwise unable to give chase, and Sicarius has grabbed the emperor, find me. If there are soldiers trying to get in from both ends of the car, we may have to cut our way out through the roof.”
Sicarius eyed the tool for a moment, and Amaranthe thought he might object to something, but he nodded and said, “Ready.”
They piled the gear they weren’t taking into a corner where they could grab it on the way back to the locomotive, and it was time to go.
* * * * *
Akstyr had lain on his back in the dark for a long time. At some point, his wounds had stopped bleeding, though the leg and shoulder throbbed, competing with each other for attention. He’d tried to heal himself a few times, but he was struggling to concentrate through the pain. He thought about climbing out of the engine room and trying to find bandages, but it sounded like an excruciating trek. It was silly at his age—he was within spitting distance of eighteen, after all—but he wished he had someone there to take care of him. These were the times when he missed having a mother who cared.
Tears stung his eyes. He told himself it was from the pain, and not because he was feeling sorry for himself.
Besides, he would have someone to take care of him if he hadn’t messed everything up. Books would have helped him, but now that he knew about Akstyr’s stupid plan with the bounty hunter, Akstyr was lucky Books hadn’t pushed him back out the hatchway.
Akstyr couldn’t believe he had, even for a second, thought his mother might have changed. He wondered how much money she’d been offered to share the information on his whereabouts. What kind of person told bounty hunters where to find her own child?
“Maybe the same kind of person who would do it to comrades who’ve saved his life,” Akstyr muttered. He rubbed his face. In thinking of betraying Sicarius, he’d been no different than his mother. Did he really want to be someone who’d use people for protection and personal gain, then betray them? Maldynado and Basilard and the others were the closest thing to friends he’d ever had. His dead ancestors knew they were the first people he’d ever known who wouldn’t betray him for five ranmyas and a mug of cider. Even after learning about the deal Akstyr had tried to work with that bounty hunter, Books hadn’t kicked him off the dirigible.
Akstyr rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. Waves of pain radiated from his injured limbs, but he clawed his way up the ladder anyway. He found Books in the navigation cabin and plopped down in the co-pilot’s chair. He couldn’t tell if the ship had moved. The snow had stopped, but it was still dark outside with craggy snow-covered mountains looming all about.
“Does Am’ranthe know?” Akstyr asked.
Books gave him a scathing look.
“That’s a no?” Akstyr asked.
“Oh, she knows. We found out at the same time. She wanted to give you another chance. More than that, she wanted to find a way to raise the money to send you to school on the Kyatt Islands so you’d no longer feel compelled to betray us for funds.”
“She did?” Akstyr tried to swallow, but a full feeling in his throat made it hard. Tears pricked his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if they were from pain or frustration or distress. Why was Amaranthe trying to do stuff like that anyway? It didn’t make any sense.
“Yes. And, no, I can’t fathom why she cares. Maybe she’s decided to make you a special project. Women do that.” Books reached into a box on the floor, pulled out a jar of ointment and a bandage, and threw them at Akstyr. Yes, threw was the right word. Akstyr would have had another bruise if he hadn’t caught the jar. “Wash your wounds before you bandage them,” Books said.
It wasn’t exactly like having someone to take care of him, but Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to feel indignant just then. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you going to tell her?”
“About these gang thugs that are after you?” Books asked. “Yes, she’ll need to know. When people attack you in the middle of one of our missions, it affects the whole group.”
“I meant about my mother. It’s not like the meeting with Khaalid. I didn’t mean to tell her anything about the group. I was just...”
“Negligent?” Books suggested.
Again, Akstyr couldn’t bring himself to bristle with indignation.
“Possibly a forgivable sin,” Books said, “but if you have even the tiniest speck of wisdom floating around in that young head of yours, you’ll apologize to Amaranthe for mucking up her plans. And, if I were you, I’d make sure I didn’t get caught alone with Sicarius any time soon.”
Akstyr gulped. “Does he know too?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I haven’t told him you’re targeting him with your schemes, and I don’t think Amaranthe has either. I suppose we all believe that Sicarius can take care of himself.” Books returned his focus to the control panel and shifted a lever an inch. “That said, he’s not a dumb man, and you’re not a subtle man, so you’d best assume he knows more than you think he does.”
“You think he’d kill me over...?”
“I don’t think he believes in special projects.”
“But Am’ranthe... he kind of listens to her,” Akstyr said. “Right?”
“I don’t know what their agreement is, but he’s his own man, and he seems to pay attention to her only insofar as it furthers... I don’t know what his reason is for being here, but I’m positive he has one. Some agenda against Forge perhaps. He’s shown that he’s perfectly capable of doing something of which Amaranthe would wholeheartedly disapprove.” Books gave Akstyr another dark look. “She never would have agreed to the mass assassination of dozens of businessmen and women in the capital.”
“All right,” Akstyr said. “I’ll heed your warning.”
Books muttered something that sounded like, “Doubt it.” Before Akstyr could respond, he raised his voice and pointed out the window. “See that precipice?”
“Barely. It’s dark.”
“Yes, that happens at night. I need you to bandage yourself up, then go down there and stand on it. It overlooks the railway about a mile away from the now-blocked pass. I’m going to hover below you in this canyon, so the dirigible won’t be visible from the tracks. You watch for the train. When it comes and it looks like the team is ready for us, signal to me, so I can come out and pick them up.”
“That’s kind of an important job,” Akstyr said. “I’m surprised you trust me to do it after... everything.”
“We abandoned the tattooed pilot, so you’re the only candidate. Hurry up, now. They could be coming along any time.”
Without objection, Akstyr went off to wash his leg and wrap the dog bite. For reasons he didn’t quite grasp, Books was giving him a second chance. Maybe Amaranthe would too. Sicarius... He’d hope to avoid Sicarius for the near future.
Akstyr was barely able to hobble on the hurt leg, but he did it without collapsing. If all he had to do was sit on a ledge and watch a canyon, he could manage. He had a feeling he should be on good behavior for a while.
He limped to the hatchway of the navigation cabin. “I’m going.”
Books waved at him without looking back.
Akstyr hesitated. “Books?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to be like my mother.”
Akstyr left before Books could say anything pedantic or sappy. He wanted someone in the group to know. That was all.