“And we must have fueled your suspicions,”Amaranthe said, thinking she might yet win the woman’s cooperationif she commiserated.
“You’re mercenaries, you say?” Setjarethasked.
Books, who had been supervising the disarmingand lining up of the men, looked in the women’s direction at thequestion. A grin played across his lips. Pleased with himself, washe? He had done well. No falling apart as he had done in thepast. Amaranthe smiled and nodded at him.
“More or less,” she told Setjareth.
“Do you have a card?”
“A what?”
“A business card. My partner and Ioccasionally have problems the enforcers are lax about solving.They’re professional and thorough when it comes to protectingcitizens, but much less enthusiastic when they’re tasked withprotecting a business’s interests.”
As illogical as it was, Amaranthe stillbristled at slights toward enforcers, but she had to admit thatmembers of the predominantly male force did sometimes showresentment toward the growing power women in the city wielded.Maybe she should tailor her services to fill that gap. As themen-especially Akstyr-were quick to remind her, charity work donein the name of the emperor didn’t pay well. Especially when theemperor never learned of that work….
Setjareth, waiting for an answer, lifted hereyebrows.
“Sorry, no card,” Amaranthe said. “We find itprudent to move our base of operations often, but…” She retrievedthe woman’s clipboard, scribbled the name and address of one oftheir contacts on a page, and tore it off. “Either one of thesefellows usually knows how to contact us. Uhm, take some of yourstevedores-the big ones-if you go to that neighborhood. And don’tgo at night. Or without some alcohol to bribe your way out of…”Amaranthe leaned over and scribbled the name out. “Actually, justgo to that fellow. It’s usually safer. And if you get there beforenoon, he’s usually sober.”
“You might want to think your contact chainthrough a little, dear,” Setjareth said.
“Yes, thank you.”
Since the woman no longer seemed inclined toscream for help, Amaranthe joined Akstyr to see what he had found.He had returned to the trapdoor and was peering down the ladderagain.
“Think they swam away?” she asked, though itseemed unlikely. Why go through the effort of breaking in when onecould simply dive off the end of the dock?
“There’s a residue here.” Akstyr swiped afinger along the edge of the square hole.
“Something physically visible?” Amaranthesquinted but saw nothing more interesting than algae sliming thetwo ladder rungs visible above the water’s surface.
“No, just a sensation. Someone used the-” heglanced about and lowered his voice, “-mental sciences. Rememberwhen that Mangdorian shaman flew out of the lake with Books andthere was a glimmering globe wrapped around them?”
“I was unconscious at the time, but Maldynadotold me the story, yes. You think this practitioner lady envelopedherself and Taloncrest in magic?” She almost choked at the idea ofa Turgonian army officer agreeing to such a mode of transportation,especially when the man had sneered at the idea of magic when he’dexplained his medical experiments in the Imperial Barracks dungeon.“If so, where did they go? For a flight? Or into the lake?”
“I didn’t see anyone fly away in a glowysphere,” Akstyr said.
“Glowing,” Books said.
“What?”
“Glowy isn’t a word.”
“Books…” Maldynado groaned. “I was gettingready to compliment you on doing a decent job in that fight andbeing less of a pedantic know-it-all, but you’re ruining myenthusiasm for the idea.”
“Impressive,” Books said.
“What is?”
“That you used the word pedantic.Correctly.”
“You’re always going to be a stodgyprofessor, aren’t you?”
Books’s eyes crinkled. “It does seemlikely.”
Amaranthe held up a hand to silence them.“Akstyr, are you suggesting the perpetrators have ahideout…in the lake?”
“I’m not wearing a diving suit again,” Bookssaid.
Amaranthe watched Akstyr, hoping he wouldsuggest another explanation, but he merely shrugged.
“Is it even possible to have a hideout on thebottom of the lake?” she asked Books.
“If we were talking about something madeentirely with imperial technology, I’d say no, but with magic…”He spread his arms. “I have no idea.”
“All right,” Amaranthe said. “This is allspeculation at this point. We need to find out if there’s anythingto it or not.”
“So…we need diving suits?” Booksgrimaced.
“Unless Akstyr knows how to make one of thosebubbles to steer us around the lake depths.”
“Nope,” Akstyr said. “I’d sure like to learnfrom someone who could though.”
“You’re not thinking of apprenticing yourselfto the enemy, are you?” Amaranthe teased, though it was not as muchof a joke as she pretended. She watched him carefully for areaction.
“Naw,” he said. “Not unless… Do you thinkshe’d have me?”
“She seems the type who would prefer a manwho could grow a real mustache,” Maldynado said.
“I can!” Akstyr probed his upper lip. “It’sgetting there.”
Amaranthe nodded to Books. “I know you’re notexcited by the idea, but I think we’re going to need those divingsuits. Can you do some research and see where we might getsome?”
Books sighed. “Why do I have the feelingnothing good is going to come of this?”
“Because you lack optimism?” Amaranthesuggested.
“That must be it.”
CHAPTER 12
Footsteps rang on the other side ofBasilard’s door. He leaped out of his cot. The hours he had spentsearching, pressing, pulling, and pounding his fists had notrevealed any weaknesses in his prison.
The door opened, revealing the burly youngsoldier who had held a pistol on him earlier. An equally young andburly man accompanied him, though this one had a scraggily rat tailhanging down his back and wore no military clothing. Both pointedpistols at Basilard.
“Move,” Rat Tail said.
Basilard measured both men as he squeezedpast them. The tight doorway and corridor forced closeness, and hethought about trying for their weapons, but they watched himcarefully. And what if he did overpower them? He had no idea wherehe was or how to get back to the city. Hoping he would not regretit later, he decided to wait for a better opportunity toescape.
The men pushed him through a corridor sonarrow his shoulders brushed the walls, and he had to duckfrequently for pipes that crossed overhead. He waited for aporthole that would provide a glimpse of their location, butnothing broke the monotony of the dark gray bulkheads. The glowingorbs provided the only lighting, and he had no idea if it was nightor day outside. Oddly, though engines pulsed somewhere in thestructure, he had no sense of forward movement nor the rise andfall of waves.
Clanks, clacks, and a rhythmic sucking soundcame from ahead. The engine room? The corridor ended at a chamber,but a transparent barrier filled with glowing yellow tendrils thatwrithed about like snakes blocked the entrance. Basilard blinked,questioning his eyesight.
“Stop,” one of the guards said beforeBasilard reached the entrance.
The man pushed him aside and stepped forward.He leaned into a bronze box mounted on the wall at head level, andhe pressed his face close to a concave indention. A blue pulse oflight washed over his face.
The shimmering tendrils winked out, and theguard stepped through. The second guard shoved Basilard frombehind.
They entered a chamber cluttered with pipes,equipment, moving machinery, and tanks of yellowish blue liquid.Flesh-colored blobs floated in some. Machinery and pipes filled thecenter of the space and one could go left or right down confiningaisles jammed with consoles and narrow tables, or perhaps thosewere beds. Some lay horizontal and others were tilted upward tostand against the wall. Trays near them held scalpels, saws, andscissors.
Basilard swallowed. He did not know what thisplace was, but it was nothing so innocuous as an engine room.