“Indeed.”
Amaranthe led Maldynado, Akstyr, and Booksonto Pier Thirteen, her strides long and her chin high beneath thebrim of her sunhat. It hid her face to some extent, and, on thetrolley ride over, she had arranged her hair in a number of braids,then pinned them up in a creative bundle that looked nothing likethe style on any of her wanted posters. She supposed she could lookinto cosmetics to disguise her facial features, but shewanted to be recognized when she was doing something good,something that might help her clear her name.
A massive crane belched smoke as it liftedshipping containers from the bowels of a merchant steamer andlowered them to the dock. Dozens of burly, bare-chested stevedoresunloaded the cargo and ported it inside the towering warehouse. Theshirtless workers seemed to be competing with each other for therole of Tattoo Emperor. Amaranthe decided the man with the krakenwas the winner-its head emblazoned his neck while tentacles randown his back, both arms, and his chest, with the largest pairdisappearing beneath his trousers. Of its own wayward volition, hermind wondered how far beneath the waistband the tentacle motifmight continue and what exactly it would be doing down there.
The tattooed man glanced her way beforeheading into the warehouse with a crate in his arms. He caught hereye and winked.
“If Deret doesn’t turn out to be your dreamman,” Maldynado said, “we can always find you someone here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you dolt,” Books said.“If Amaranthe must copulate at all, it should be with a man whoknows how to read and preferably how to use the Imperial LocusSystem to pluck appropriately intellectual books from the libraryshelves.”
“A skill that would be completely useless forsatisfying her in bed,” Maldynado said.
“Surely, finger dexterity has crossoverapplications.”
“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said, wondering whensuch commentary had ceased to make her blush. “Let’s go over ourstory.”
“You’re going to pose,” Books said, “as theowner of an escort service, with Maldynado as your employeeand-”
“Star employee,” Maldynado said.
“Uh huh.” Books stepped around a man carryinga massive ceramic jar and continued. “And you’re shopping forimported silks and tapestries and such for your…office? Is thatthe correct term for a place where someone like Maldynado would beprostituted out?”
“Close enough,” Amaranthe said.
“Costasce called her viewing room ‘TheParlor’,” Maldynado said.
They had reached the roll-up door of thewarehouse, so Amaranthe stopped. None of the men streaming in andout spared her group a glance. Maybe they could simply walk in andsnoop about without anyone caring. She peeped through thedoorway.
A woman in spectacles checked off items on aclipboard and directed men toward different areas in the warehouseor toward a massive lift that could deliver cargo to an upperlevel. The men might not care about interlopers, but she wouldsurely notice strangers strolling through the premises. Theplatform sandals crossing her feet with thin straps promised shewasn’t going to wander far to do lifting or other work.
“As to our role,” Books started, butAmaranthe cut him off with a raised hand.
“Akstyr?” she asked. With his disinterest forthings non-magical, she never knew how much he was payingattention. “Your role?”
“We’re your porters.” He yawned. “Me andBooks.”
“Good,” Amaranthe said.
“As long as we don’t have to really portthings.”
“You just sniff about,” she said.
“Are we sure this is wise?” Books ask.“Should this turn…confrontational, we don’t have our two mostproficient fighters here.”
Maldynado propped his hands on his hips. “Youhave me.”
Books looked him up and down, then focused onAmaranthe again. “We don’t have our two most proficient fightershere.”
“You believe Basilard a better brawler thanme?” Maldynado asked. “Truly?”
“We’ll be fine,” she said and headed in.
The clipboard-toting lady’s head swiveledtoward the door before Amaranthe had gone more than three steps.No, this woman would not allow random snoopers, not without a coverstory.
“Morning,” Amaranthe said, strollingcloser.
“What do you want?” the woman snapped.
Ah, the friendly sort. Wonderful.
“Hello, I’m Darva,” Amaranthe said. “DarvaLarkcrest.” As long as she was making up names, she might as wellattach herself to a warrior caste family. “Who are you?”
Amaranthe’s invocation of warrior-castestatus did nothing to impress the woman. In fact, she scowled moredeeply. New money, perhaps, one who had no respect for thearistocracy. Still, if she was the owner, or someone high up in thebusiness, she ought to be interested in pleasing clients.
“Ms. Setjareth,” she said. “Partial owner.What do you want? This is my warehouse, and unless you’re carryingin cargo, I’m not interested in talking to you. You, Squid Tat,take that one to the second floor.”
“I’m interested in purchasing some of yourinventory,” Amaranthe said.
“Shop’s on Third and Canal.” The woman’s gazelowered to her clipboard again.
Amaranthe stepped closer so she blocked thewoman’s view of Akstyr. Behind her back, she flicked a finger tosend him to snoop. “I thought it might save us both some money if Icame directly to the source. No need for you to transport and stockyour inventory when I can-”
“Shop’s on Third and Canal,” the womanrepeated.
“I see. You’re the half of the ownership teamthat isn’t in charge of dealing with customers.”
“Correct,” the woman said without thefaintest hint of an eyebrow to suggest she took reproach atAmaranthe’s dry tone.
Akstyr had moved away from the group, but hehad scarcely begun to search. Time for another tactic. Maldynadowas leaning against a post nearby, an amused smile on his lips. Shejerked her chin toward the woman.
Maldynado gave her a small bow and strolledforward. He crouched down so the woman could see past the clipboardto his face.
“Ms. Setjareth,” Maldynado drawled. “I’llwager you’ve got the prettiest smile this side of Wharf Street. Whydon’t you give me a demonstration so I can more properlyjudge?”
“If I tried a line like that, I’d get stabbedin the eye with a pen,” Books muttered.
“Ssh,” Amaranthe whispered. “Let the masterwork.”
“Master?” Books said. “Please.”
“There are less than ten females this side ofWharf Street,” Setjareth growled. “Not much of a competition.”
Amaranthe grinned. Though it wasn’t exactlyan instant melting, the woman didn’t order Maldynado to go away orleave her alone, so it was promising. There was no talk of stabbingeyeballs with pens either.
“Ah, but some of your stevedores might haveattractive smiles,” Maldynado said.
Setjareth snorted.
“Also my own employer stands a mere five feetaway.” Maldynado waved at Amaranthe. “Do you understand the risk Itake to my livelihood by suggesting your smile might be prettierthan hers?”
Setjareth’s snort was mellower this time witha slight upward curl of her lips. Amaranthe eased a few stepsbackward to let Maldynado ooze his charms in private. She shouldhave started with that.
“What are you doing?” Setjareth shouted.
The bellow startled Amaranthe, and at firstshe thought Maldynado had offended the woman, but that wasn’t it.Setjareth was pointing into a corner of the warehouse where Akstyrstood, a trapdoor in the floor lifted.
He offered a blank look in response to thequestion.
“Don’t worry about him.” Maldynado slung anarm over Setjareth’s shoulder and attempted to turn her about.“He’s a dull lad. Got run over by a steam carriage as a boy andhasn’t been strong in the head since. Harmless though. If-”
Setjareth shoved Maldynado’s arm from hershoulders and stalked toward Akstyr. “What’re you doing pokingaround my warehouse?”