“Thank you, Rockjaw,” Amaranthe said, more sincerely this time.
He gave her a mock military salute and sauntered away.
“Sicarius will kill Akstyr over this,” Books whispered.
“Not if I warn Akstyr and tell him to get out of the city before Sicarius finds out.” Amaranthe headed for the street. “Or if I can convince Akstyr that he’s made a big mistake and it would be in his best interest to stay loyal to us.”
Books fell into step beside her. “Are you sure he’s worth the trouble?”
“He’s young. It’d be nice to give him a chance to grow up and become a decent human being.”
“Some people never grow out of being selfish bastards who think only of themselves.”
“And some people just need encouragement to do so,” Amaranthe said.
“How can you be so optimistic?”
“Because I’m not the one holding a box full of blasting sticks.” Amaranthe managed a smile and sidled away from him. “I do hope you’re watching your steps.”
“You’re a dreadful young woman at times,” Books said.
“I know.” Amaranthe drummed her fingers on her thighs. “He wants the money to go to school, you know that right?”
“Real school or wizard school?”
“Now, now, outside of Turgonia, the study of the mental sciences is considered just as real and respectable as the study of history or languages.”
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t travel,” Books said.
“What if we paid for him to leave the empire and get an education?”
Books missed a step, and the box of blasting sticks lurched alarmingly. “What?”
“I haven’t put any focus into acquiring money, as is clear from my need to barter my services to merchants, but given our group’s talents, we ought to have no problem completing a wide variety of well-paying tasks. I even have contacts amongst the up-and-coming business mavens in Stumps, as I went to school with some of them.”
A young man and woman bicycled by, and Books did not answer right away. They had left the dead streets of the business district and were heading into the university neighborhood, where numerous eating and drinking houses remained open for the young clientele. Amaranthe tugged her hood up, ostensibly against the chill of the frosty night, but more to hide her face.
“Just so I’m clear,” Books said, “you’re proposing that the team finance the education of a scruffy, self-centered youngster who has no loyalty to the team and is, even as we speak, trying to arrange to have your beau killed?”
It was Amaranthe’s turn to stumble and nearly trip. “My what?”
“I thought you would find that description more apt than ‘your pet assassin’.”
“He’s not either,” Amaranthe said, watching the street and pretending to scan the coming intersection for enforcers or bounty hunters instead of meeting Books’s gaze. “And I’d find it apt if you called him by his name. You’ve been working together for nine months.”
Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be, but she didn’t apologize. His offhand remark had flustered her, and she wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by it. Did he think she and Sicarius were engaged in… more than they were? Or was he simply letting her know that he knew she had feelings for him? He’d figured that out a while ago and had made more than one subtle suggestion to the effect that she should abandon them. But by calling Sicarius her beau, Books seemed to be implying he thought Sicarius might feel something for her. Maybe…
Stop it, girl, Amaranthe told herself. None of that was important.
“Yes,” she said, “to answer your question. We have to finish with the emperor first, but after that, maybe we can do something to help Akstyr on his way, so he won’t feel he has to betray us for coin. A few lucrative assignments could probably pay his way, especially if I could convince the men to give up their share of the booty or take a reduced percentage for a while.”
“If anyone can, you can,” Books said and fortunately didn’t mention beaus again.
He and Amaranthe were approaching the campus when Maldynado and Basilard jogged around a corner and joined them. Maldynado wore a new fur cap with a raccoon tail dangling onto his shoulder. It might have looked like something out of the Northern Frontier, except that some creative haberdasher had dyed the fur pale blue. Only in the capital, Amaranthe thought.
In addition to the fur cap, Maldynado wore a grin almost as big as his ego.
“Success?” Amaranthe asked when the men joined her and Books.
“Oh, yes,” Maldynado said.
The concerned expression furrowing Basilard’s brow worried Amaranthe.
“You arranged for a vehicle suitable for carrying an emperor and that can make it over snowy roads?” she asked.
Maldynado’s grin widened, and he repeated, “Oh, yes.”
It flies, Basilard signed.
Books halted so quickly he nearly dumped his volatile cargo.
“Uhm, what?” Amaranthe asked.
Maldynado swatted Basilard. “I told you to let me tell her.” Before Basilard could respond, Maldynado said, “It’s a prototype, but Lady Buckingcrest has ridden in it and assures me it has everything we need. We won’t have to worry about snow-filled roads, not when we can fly right over them. The mountains won’t be a problem at all. She said the flyer can reach the pass in a day and a half instead of the three the train takes.”
“Are you aware of such devices?” Amaranthe asked Books. She’d heard of hot-air balloons, of course, and knew there were people experimenting with flight, but she’d certainly never seen aircraft cruising over Stumps.
“That would be safe enough to carry a box of blasting sticks?” Books scowled. “No.”
“Lady Buckingcrest’s family owns Experimental Aeronautics,” Maldynado said. “They haven’t gone public and started selling their craft yet, but they have lots of prototypes.”
“And you’ve seen them?” Amaranthe asked. “They work?”
Basilard shook his head.
Maldynado nodded. “I’ve seen the compound where they’re manufactured. It’s big and important looking.”
“Gee, why didn’t you say so?” Books asked. “That adds all sorts of veracity to the woman’s claims.”
“Whoever is going to the pass can pick up the flyer in the morning here.” Maldynado handed Amaranthe a piece of paper.
She gazed at it for a long moment, though it only contained a street address. Why did she have a feeling she’d made a mistake in letting him handle transportation?
“You needn’t look so glum.” Maldynado draped an arm across her shoulder. “It’ll be fantastic. Just think of the getaway. Instead of steaming off at ten miles an hour on windy, snow-filled roads, we’ll be able to take to the skies, with the soldiers left on the ground, gaping helplessly.”
“Who’s going to pilot this craft?” Books asked.
“Lady Buckingcrest said she’d send someone along.”
Great, someone else who would be privy to their plans. Amaranthe took Books by the arm and led him away from the others. “What do you think?”
“That this idea is more idiotic than Maldynado’s hat,” Books said, “but we don’t have time for something else.”
“All right.” Amaranthe handed him the slip of paper. “Check it out in the morning. If it doesn’t look feasible, come back and get the pumpkin lorry. We’ll hope for clear weather and no snow in the mountains.”
“Very well.”
“If it does look feasible… see if you can find a technical manual and learn how to fly the thing. I don’t want any extra witnesses.”
“I understand,” Books said.
Amaranthe was glad he didn’t mention Sergeant Yara. She didn’t need to be reminded that that might have been a big mistake. “Also,” she added, “if it’s as fast as Maldynado’s lady friend claims… go out east and see if those blasting sticks work to blow open the mines where the shaman’s workshop is buried. If we can get information on those implants-and how to remove them-before we pick up the emperor, so much the better.”