When the lorry drew even with the shed, it stopped. Amaranthe sank low in the shadows and found the hilt of her sword.
The door opened. “Amaranthe?” came Books’s low voice, barely audible over the rumbling engine.
Ah. And that must be Sicarius in the driver’s seat. Yes, killing people wasn’t enough of a crime. They should steal a vehicle too.
Amaranthe walked toward the lorry and resolved to keep her sarcasm to herself. It was an abysmal night, but she couldn’t fault Sicarius’s logic. They needed to get back to the city, and it wasn’t as if those men needed a vehicle any more. At least Books sounded like he was uninjured.
He climbed out as she approached and held the door open, offering her the seat beside Sicarius. She wondered if that meant he had seen the pile of bodies and didn’t want to sit next to the person responsible.
“What happened?” Amaranthe asked him before getting in. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Books said, “and I’m sorry I didn’t get the door open before they charged in. Two of the men came running out of the bunkhouse, and I barely had time to thump the floor in warning and hide behind the lorries. They knew someone was down there and ran to pull some lever to release… the hounds, that’s what they called them. Did you trip over some kind of alarm?”
Amaranthe thought of the darts that had shot out of the wall, the darts she triggered. Emperor’s warts, she truly was responsible for all this carnage. If she’d been less impulsive and let Sicarius find a way to disarm the trap, none of the killing would have happened. They might have walked in and out without anyone ever knowing.
“Thank you, Books,” Amaranthe said numbly. “I’m glad you weren’t injured.” She climbed into the lorry and sat next to Sicarius. Something rustled beneath her boot. She patted the cab floor and found a crinkled newspaper. In case it was recent, she smoothed the crinkles and laid it on the seat for Books. “Let’s get going.”
“Back to the city, correct?” Sicarius asked as Books climbed in.
Amaranthe wanted to say yes-the sooner they left the country and this night behind the better-but hearing the matron of the farmhouse speak of a female enforcer had left Amaranthe wanting to investigate further.
“Do you know where Ag District Three’s enforcer headquarters is?” she asked.
“No.” Sicarius’s tone suggested he did not want to know.
“It’s on the way back to the city. I’d like to visit Sergeant Yara.”
Sicarius turned on the seat to face her fully. “Explain.” Amazing how much displeasure one clipped word could evoke.
Amaranthe told him what she and Books had overheard from the farmhouse porch.
“ Explain why that warrants a side trip,” Sicarius said.
“Should I step outside?” Books asked.
The lorry was still idling, and Amaranthe figured they shouldn’t linger on the farm. “No,” she said at the same time as Sicarius said, “Yes.”
“I see,” Books said. “I believe I’ll listen to the person with the most knives.” He eased out of the cab and walked several paces away from the lorry.
“We’ve been delayed for long enough,” Sicarius said. “We need to return to the city to ensure we’re in time to catch the last train to Forkingrust. I’m not driving anywhere else.”
“Sergeant Yara was useful to us once,” Amaranthe said, “and she may be again. If she was the one out here, investigating things, she may know more about the weapons manufacturing scheme. What if this isn’t the only facility? What if they’re all over the place out here, funneling supplies into the city?”
Sicarius, she reminded herself in the silence that followed her questions, wouldn’t care about this jaunt to investigate weapons. He was focused on Sespian.
“Remember the note she sent us?” Amaranthe asked softly so Books wouldn’t hear. “Yara has seen Sespian more recently than either of us. She wrote of advisors being present when she met with him, so she may know more about the pressures being applied to him. If we can get more information about how he’s doing before we attempt to kidnap him, we’ll have more to go on. Right now, we don’t even know if he genuinely wants our help or if he’s setting us up for a trap.”
Seconds floated past as Sicarius continued to face her, but she thought his gaze felt less hard, less intense. He finally released her from his stare and sat back in the seat.
“You should be negotiating with these Forge people instead of sneaking about,” Sicarius said.
“What? Why?” Amaranthe asked, startled by the topic shift.
“Because talking people into things is your gift.”
Despite the bleakness of the night’s events, Amaranthe managed a faint smile. “Does this mean you’ll drive after all?”
Chapter 6
Akstyr jumped and caught the lip of the trapdoor. He pulled his head through the opening and braced his elbows on the roof. Dawn was creeping into the sky, revealing the outskirts of Stumps. The greenhouse supplies in their car and everything else on the train-except the secret weapons-had been delivered at a stop in Ag District Number Seven. Apparently the last stop would be in the capital.
Akstyr looked forward to returning to town so he could put his plans into motion. He had some ideas on who he wanted to contact first and had ruled out gang members. Some of them had money, but they couldn’t be trusted not to backstab him. There were a few mercenaries and bounty hunters he’d heard of with reasonably honorable reputations. They charged enough for their services that they might be able to afford Akstyr’s finder’s fee, and they might be ambitious enough to want a chance at taking down Sicarius.
Maldynado popped up beside Akstyr and propped his elbows on the roof of the car. “Finally. We should be able to find out where those weapons are being delivered and get back to regular life for a couple days. And women.”
“Is that all you ever think about?”
The train was rumbling through the rolling hills north of Stumps where some of the oldest aristocratic families maintained orchards, farms, and ranches. Akstyr had heard that most of them didn’t even pay helpers, because it was supposed to be an honor to work for the warrior caste.
“After a week stuck with you, yes,” Maldynado said. “And don’t tell me you don’t think about girls. You’re too young not to. If you could actually talk to them, you might be able to get one without having to pull out your purse.”
“I can talk to girls just fine,” Akstyr said.
“Oh, yes, that stammering you do in front of them is endearing. I’ve been waiting to see if you’d grow out of that, but I think I’ll have to intervene. We need the young women of Stumps to find out that you’re the type of bloke who can hurl a cutlass across a moving train car to vanquish an enemy wizard. Girls love that stuff.”
The train crested a ridge, offering a view of the city core with its miles and miles of brick and stone houses, buildings, and factories. The black smoke of the industrial district smudged the horizon and hid the lake from sight. This time of year, thousands of other chimneys added to the pall, and it all settled in the old part of town where the gangs squabbled for territory. Akstyr hadn’t been sad to leave the cesspit, though it was true he wasn’t sure how to talk to girls from better parts of the city.
“Just because you failed to set Am’ranthe up with that journalist doesn’t mean you should start working on me,” Akstyr grumbled, though he wouldn’t object more vehemently than that. If Maldynado could find him someone who didn’t look at him like he was some mentally damaged gang thug… that might be all right.
“Someone has to,” Maldynado said. “You’re always holed up with those dusty magic tomes. That’s not entirely horrific for someone old and curmudgeonly like Books, but you’re a young fellow. Your snake will wither up and die if you don’t get it greased once in a…” Maldynado frowned at the tracks ahead. “Nobody’s out operating the switch.”