“You don’t want much, do you?” Books asked.
“I know you can handle it.”
“I don’t know why I always believe you when you say things like that.”
“Because you know I believe it, and it’s true.”
“Hm.”
Amaranthe rejoined the others. “Did Akstyr go with you two?” When she and Books had left, he had been reading one of his Science books. “Or is he still at the hideout?”
“No, and no.” Maldynado flipped the blue tail of his cap, so it rested over the other shoulder. “He went out. Probably for a booze-and-brothels night before we head off into the savage hinterlands.”
Amaranthe exchanged looks with Books, and, when he shook his head slowly, she knew exactly what he was thinking. They hadn’t even left the city yet, and her plan was in more danger of being mauled than the boulders in the mountain pass they were targeting.
Akstyr checked over his shoulder often on the way to West Quay, a modest but clean part of town with shops on the bottom floors of narrow brick buildings and residences above. The view of the lake might have made it a more upscale neighborhood, but factories to the north cast a pall of gray across the lowland streets, one that lingered even that late at night. Few pedestrians remained out, and those who did didn’t look like bounty hunters. For some reason that didn’t quell the nerves dancing in Akstyr’s stomach.
Hand on the hilt of the short sword hidden by his coat, he approached a worn brick square dominated by a fountain-statue of some old general. He eyed the benches around the area, telling himself not to expect his mother. She’d never been reliable, so why would that change? Unless she wanted something.
The bakery they had spoken of had closed for the day, but Akstyr found her sitting on a bench across from the building. She wore the same dress, though she’d added a scarf and mittens. A brown paper bag sat on the bench beside her. When she spotted him, she waved and smiled.
The friendly gesture did nothing to relax Akstyr-if anything it made him more uneasy. She’d arranged this meeting, and she could have very well arranged a trap. What if she knew about the bounty on his head?
“Mother,” he said, meeting her eyes for a moment before resuming his checks of the surrounding area.
If she noticed his wariness, she didn’t speak of it. “Sit down, son.” The bag crinkled as she delved into it, and she held up a frosted cookie shaped into a puppy-dog face. “I bought these for you.” She offered him the bag.
Akstyr accepted it, but he didn’t sit down. He didn’t want to have his back to the square and make it easy for someone to sneak up behind him.
“Thanks,” he said, lifting the bag, though the idea of returning to the hideout with it made him feel foolish. Sure, he’d liked the cookies as a little kid, but grown men didn’t eat sweets shaped like puppies. Maldynado would mock him for ages if he showed up with them.
“I’m glad you came,” his mother said. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
Ah, here it came. A request.
“Oh?” Akstyr asked.
“It seems you’re on the path to becoming somebody important. You’re working as a mercenary, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
“Sort of.”
“The pay decent?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.” Her smile only faltered for a second before she added, “Maybe it will be one day.”
Akstyr shrugged and checked his surroundings again. A pair of soldiers in fatigues strode across the other side of the square. They looked like nothing more than men returning from a long day’s work at Fort Urgot, but he shifted to keep his face out of their view.
“If it does get decent,” his mother said, “maybe you’ll forget some of the wrong your ma’s done by you and help her out one day.”
Akstyr focused on her. “What?”
“I know you don’t have any reason to think fondly of me, but it’s hard getting work when you live where we live and got the skills that we got. Or don’t got.” Her lips twisted. “I’m making a way now, but my joints are already stiffening up.” She flexed her fingers and winced. “I don’t expect I’ll be able to work forever. I’m just hoping, if you end up in a good place, you’ll see fit to let me have a room somewhere in your home.”
Though she’d proven his suspicions founded by asking for something, Akstyr relaxed an iota while she spoke. If all she was looking for was a handout, then he probably didn’t need to worry about getting a dagger in his back, at least not that night.
“I guess,” Akstyr said.
Something flickered in her eyes-surprise?
“I mean, I’m not in a place to do much now, but maybe someday,” he said.
“That’s wonderful, son. Where are you off to now? Will it be dangerous?”
He wondered if she was only concerned because she’d learned he might be a meal ticket. Probably. “It was going to be Forkingrust, but now I think I might get stuck doing something in the Scarlet Pass, but probably it’ll be dangerous either way. It usually is.”
“Oh, dear. Up in the mountains? It’s getting cold. Take a scarf.”
If she hadn’t looked so earnest, Akstyr would have laughed. Where had this mothering instinct been when he’d been growing up? He remembered a time when he’d been playing on the floor, she’d stepped on him, then kicked him and cursed him for being in the way. Of course, he’d never known her when she wasn’t on some drug or another.
She wrapped her own scarf around his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I’ll find you when you get back. Take care of yourself.” She smiled again and walked away.
Akstyr glanced around again, but nobody jumped out to attack him.
Chapter 9
Though a hint of pink brightened the eastern horizon, darkness filled the nooks and alleys of the train yard. Engines rumbled in the distance, and the scent of burning coal lingered in the crisp air.
Amaranthe, Maldynado, and Basilard padded alongside a freight train scheduled to depart for Forkingrust soon. A rucksack, her repeating crossbow, and the clunky blowtorch weighed down Amaranthe’s shoulders. A utility belt hung low on her waist, laden with her short sword, ammunition for the bow, vials of poison, and a couple of Ms. Sarevic’s smoke grenades. Canisters of knockout gas were nestled in her rucksack along with food, water, and other necessities for the trip. Maldynado and Basilard were similarly loaded down with supplies and weapons. It was a testament to good packing skills that nobody clanked and rattled as they walked. They weren’t paying for passage-Amaranthe didn’t want a record of their passing-so they needed to hop the train like the listless hobos who rode the empire’s rails, never staying in one place for long.
They’d left Books and Akstyr with orders to pick up the flying craft as soon as Lady Buckingcrest’s business opened. Only Sicarius was unaccounted for. Every few meters, Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see him jogging up behind them. She knew he was annoyed with her, and he had a right to be, but she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t show up.
This was the last train heading south in time to catch Sespian at Forkingrust. If Sicarius didn’t make it… he’d miss everything. Worse, she’d have to infiltrate a train full of elite soldiers without her best man.
A soft knock, knuckles against metal, drew Amaranthe back to the moment.
“That one?” Maldynado asked.
Basilard opened a freight door and peered inside. Yes. Only a few crates.
Maldynado stuck his head inside. “Completely empty. No chairs, sofas, bunks, or other decent furnishings. Again. Really, boss, when are we going to be established enough that we can afford a few comforts?”
“It’s a freight train, not a luxury passenger transport,” Amaranthe said.
“You say that as if it’s not a problem.”
“We’re lucky to find an empty car.” Most of the ones Amaranthe had peeked into were filled with apples, potatoes, turnips, carrots, and other local produce being shipped to various parts of the empire.