“You think you can get us something suitable for a climb into the mountains?” Amaranthe asked. “For a low price?”
“For free, I should think.” Maldynado examined his nails and smiled. “Lady Buckingcrest and I have a special relationship. We’ve known each other since we were teenaged youths, first exploring carnal endeavors. She’s married these days, but she finds me quite fascinating now that I’m disowned and running with outlaws. Not that I wasn’t fascinating before. And she owes me for countless hours of-”
Amaranthe flung up a hand. “Those types of details aren’t necessary.”
Maldynado blinked innocently. “I was going to say witty conversation.”
“Please,” Books said.
“Either way, I’m certain I can acquire something suitable.” Maldynado winked, and Amaranthe had a feeling she should be worried.
“This isn’t going to go smoothly, I can tell.” Books pocketed his journal, pulled a chair up to the table, and laid out the newspaper. “Fraught. Already this mission is fraught with perilous dangers and morally ambiguous choices.”
“Booksie.” Maldynado flung an arm across Books’s shoulders. “Don’t say things like that.”
Books shoved the hand off. “Why not? They’re true.” He scooted his chair out of Maldynado’s reach.
“Well, of course they’re true. It’s an Amaranthe plan after all. But the way you say things makes you sound old and stodgy. You’ll never get a woman by blathering on like that.”
Amaranthe arched an eyebrow at Books. “I’m not sure which one of us he insulted more there.”
“Oh, it’s me,” Books said. “It’s always me.”
Maldynado smiled broadly. Books hunched over the newspaper and ignored him.
Sicarius had moved closer to the table, and, thinking he wanted to add input, Amaranthe asked him, “Any thoughts on the plan? Or whether I should feel more insulted than Books?”
“No.”
That surprised her. Actually it worried her. He had more at stake than any of them. If Books thought her plan was “fraught” she imagined Sicarius would find problems with it too. If he didn’t have any input, maybe it was because he’d already decided to go off on his own. He’d given her nothing but steely glares ever since she’d talked with Sergeant Yara.
“Any news on us?” Akstyr asked Books.
“No,” Books said.
Amaranthe wondered at Akstyr’s sudden interest in newspaper articles. He hadn’t noticeably cared when Books read the previous ones that mentioned the team.
“This is interesting though.” Books pointed to a front-page entry. “A banker was found in his bed, dead of a violent seizure.”
Akstyr’s nose crinkled. “You think that’s interesting?”
“It might be a signal of fractures amongst the Forge coalition. Or perhaps not everyone in the business world is choosing to sign on. This man was only thirty, and there’s mention of a mysterious bump at his neck.”
Amaranthe stepped toward Books, lifting a hand, afraid he would mention Sespian. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him she was keeping information about the implant from Sicarius.
Books didn’t see her. His sentence seemed to flow out as slowly as molasses, but at the same time Amaranthe couldn’t get to him to stop it in time. “It sounds like what we saw on Sespian’s throat in his photograph.”
“What?” Sicarius demanded.
Books looked up and blinked. “Oh, you didn’t see the other paper. That’s right.” He removed a torn-out page from the back of his journal and held it out.
Sicarius’s eyes were frozen, staring at Amaranthe, piercing her to the soul. She swallowed. Without breaking eye contact, Sicarius accepted the newspaper, though he continued to stare at Amaranthe. She wanted to tell him she’d only meant to keep him from worrying so much, but she didn’t know if she could say it when, in the back of her mind, she knew she’d also stayed silent to keep him from storming off and taking action on his own. Lying now could only make him resent her more. And she couldn’t explain herself, explain any of it, not with the whole team looking on. Even now, the men were shifting uneasily and sharing confused expressions over the icy silence in the attic.
Sicarius looked down at the paper. Amaranthe felt like she’d been released from the clutches of a glacier. She braced herself against the table while he scrutinized the picture.
“I have an idea,” Amaranthe said quietly. “We’ll get him first-there’s no time to alter our plans for the kidnapping-but then we’ll take him to-”
Sicarius crumpled the newspaper, dropped it, and stalked out the door.
Amaranthe groaned to herself. That was exactly what she’d been afraid would happen. There was no telling what he’d do now.
“What’s his problem?” Akstyr asked.
Books looked back and forth from Amaranthe to the door through which Sicarius had disappeared. His brown eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, and Amaranthe avoided them.
“The man obviously needs to find a woman,” Maldynado said. “Or a man. Whatever he prefers.”
“You offering?” Akstyr smirked.
“Oh, please.” Maldynado sniffed. “I can do far better than him.”
Basilard lifted his eyebrows.
“Speaking of the emperor and this device that may be in his neck,” Books said, pointedly ignoring the side conversation, “should this change our plans? What if we kidnap him, and Forge is able to… end his life from a remote location?”
“They’ve kept him alive this long,” Amaranthe said. “They must have some use for him.”
“Maybe they’re just keeping him to ensure peace in the city while Forge readies themselves for something,” Books said.
“Something involving the army and a lot of weapons?” Amaranthe asked and glanced at Maldynado. “Or a certain faction in the army?”
“Maybe the emperor wants us to kidnap him, so he gets out of range of that neck-bump thing,” Maldynado said, and Amaranthe wondered if he was deliberately steering the conversation away from family matters.
Perhaps that old woman we saw escorting him at the dinner last summer holds the controls to the device, Basilard signed.
“You’re suggesting there’s a range of effectiveness and he hopes that we can take him beyond that range so he can act freely?” Books asked. “If he couldn’t get away on his own, that might explain why he wanted to hire us. He must know about the device.” Books patted his pockets. “I wish I’d thought to research some of the technology and gadgets we’ve seen Forge employ. As it is, I’ve only got…” He frowned, gave himself another pat down, and delved into his pockets only to come out empty-handed. “It’s gone.”
“What is?” Amaranthe asked.
“My journal with the list of Forge names and addresses and everything I know about the outfit.” Frowning, he checked his pockets again. “That represents three months worth of research. I just had it. I didn’t leave it in the lorry, did I?”
Amaranthe stared at the open door, the door Sicarius had long since disappeared through.
Chapter 8
Metal shutters secured the windows of Ms. Sarevic’s Custom Works, and a lock secured the patchwork copper-and-steel door. Aside from a streetlamp burning at the closest intersection, darkness blanketed Molten Street. The owners of the smithies and metalworking shops along either side had gone home for the night. Mounted on the brick wall above Ms. Sarevic’s sign, a perpetual motion clock ticked softly, its gears turning behind a clear glass display. Five minutes until ten.
“I guess we didn’t need to rush.” Amaranthe waved at the clock. “We’re early.”
Books stood to her side, wearing an expression of disapproval. Amaranthe suspected it was for the shop and what one could purchase there rather than her overzealous punctuality. Maldynado would have been a more suitable companion for the night. She hoped his side-trip proved fruitful.
“One wouldn’t think someone who deals with the nocturnal criminal element would be able to worry about keeping precise shop hours,” Books said.