She dropped her legs over the edge of the cot, feeling the chill of the floor even through socks. “We’ve been drooled on by a horrible man-slaying beast together. I think you can call me by my first name.”
The coals had burned low in the stove, and it gave off little warmth or light. She groped for her boots.
“Your team is here,” Sicarius said, a hint of bemusement edging his voice.
Either I’m getting better at reading him or he’s starting to emote. “You sound surprised.”
“Aren’t you?”
Yes. “Of course not.”
“Huh.”
Sicarius left before Amaranthe could inquire who or how many had come. She dressed and left the office. At the bottom of the stairs, Akstyr and Books waited. Books yawned and rubbed red eyes. The bulge of a bottle sagged outward from his jacket pocket, and the sword attached to his belt looked like it hadn’t been used since his boyhood weapons classes. Akstyr slouched against the wall, his baggy clothes rumpled, his hands jammed in his pockets. Bruises and lumps splotched his face.
The men stood taller when they saw her, though the effect was not particularly inspiring. At least they had come.
As Amaranthe descended the stairs, Maldynado strolled through the broken door. He wore a jaunty sword belt with a sheathed saber hanging from his left hip. An obnoxious amount of gold gilded the hilt and scabbard. Akstyr’s gaze lingered on the valuable weapon.
When Maldynado came even with Books and Akstyr, his upper lip wrinkled. “Which one of you boys fell in a vat of cheap wine on the way over here?”
Akstyr sneered. Books glared. Unperturbed, Maldynado surveyed them further, then pulled out a case and extricated two cards.
“Your barber?” Amaranthe asked.
“Tailor. I’ve never seen two people in such need of sartorial attention.”
“Considering you were wearing a furry loincloth when we met, I’m not sure you should be offering fashion advice.”
“Ah, but it was a stylish loincloth that showed off-” Maldynado winked, “-everything.”
She could not argue.
He raised a finger. “Say, did you know there’s a half-eaten body in the street out there?”
“Yes.” Since she did not want to alarm her troops this early into the mission, lest they decide to leave, she decided on nonchalance. “It’s not the best neighborhood.”
“On that we can agree,” Books said.
Maldynado waved a hand in front of his face. “Is your breath always that rank?”
“If I offend you, you have my permission to move to the other side of the room.” Books lowered his voice. “Or the empire.”
“Since you’re the offensive one, maybe you should do the moving so the rest of us can breathe. There’s a dumpster down the block where you might feel at home.” Maldynado turned to Akstyr. “Do you believe this fellow?”
“Who cares?” That surly curl to Akstyr’s lip seemed permanent.
Amaranthe realized getting these men to come had been the easy part. Getting them to work together without blood, and business cards, flying would be the true test.
“You said you’d have food. And a place to sleep.” Akstyr eyed the towers of ice. “Figured it’d be warmer inside than outside.”
“We won’t be staying here,” she said. “As soon as Sicarius returns, he’ll show us to the place we’re going to set up. We’ll buy food then.”
“That was him, wasn’t it?” Akstyr’s tone changed for the first time. He sounded reverent. “The one who let us in? Is it true he’s a Hunter?”
A what?
“I’m not sure,” Amaranthe said. “You can ask him.”
Akstyr prodded the sawdust with his toe. “I wouldn’t want to annoy him.”
“I’ll ask him for you,” she said.
“Who asked you to?”
So much for the reverence.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” Amaranthe said dryly.
“Whatever.”
“Wait,” Maldynado said. “Are we talking about the same fellow who trounced me last night?”
“Yes,” she said.
“That was Sicarius? The Sicarius? The assassin?”
Surprised someone from the upper echelons of Turgonia’s social hierarchy had heard of him, she only said, “Yes.”
“I wish you had told me that last night before the fight. When he slaughtered me, I wouldn’t have felt so…” Maldynado’s mittened fingers flexed in the air as he groped for the word.
“Inept?” Books suggested. “Inadequate? Unmanned?”
Maldynado scowled at him. “I’m manned just fine, thank you.” He turned back to Amaranthe. “I figured he was just some random thug you picked up at the docks.”
“Not a random one,” she said.
“Is Sicarius working for you?” Akstyr asked dubiously. “Or are you working for him?”
Amaranthe hesitated. Her “team,” especially Akstyr, might be more inclined to obey her if they believed she commanded Sicarius, but his cooperation was just that, cooperation.
“It’s my plan,” she said. “He’s going along with it for now.”
“But you’re giving him orders?” Akstyr asked.
“I’d call them suggestions.”
Sicarius chose that moment to return from wherever he had been skulking. She wondered how much he had heard.
“We should go,” he said. “That body is likely to draw enforcers.”
“Lead the way,” Amaranthe said.
Several more inches of snow had dropped during the night, obliterating the creature’s footprints. Sicarius stepped around the corpse, which dogs had partially uncovered. Amaranthe could not keep herself from looking and remembering. If she had been faster, if she had not hesitated, she might have saved the man’s life.
Under the surface gnawing, longer and deeper wounds ravaged the chest. Wind gusted, and a few snowflakes flitted off the corpse’s frozen hand, revealing a Panthers’ mark. Amaranthe never thought she would feel sympathy for gang members, but it seemed these folks were being preyed on from every front.
Her group traveled along the bottom of the hill fronting the lake. Despite the fresh snow, a handful of young athletes jogged past on their way to the lake trail. It was months until the summer Games, but the dedicated souls trained all year around.
A wagon loaded with ice rumbled through a cross street, and the driver whistled at Amaranthe. Maldynado snickered, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Sorry,” he said. “Am I supposed to defend your honor when they do that? I’m a little unclear on the boundaries of our agreement.”
“No, I was just wondering why it was funny.”
“Because he was eyeing you like he thought you’d be a good time, and you’re…ah…”
“Reserved?” Books suggested. “Dignified?”
“No,” Maldynado said. “Do you think you’re a dictionary or something?”
“A thesaurus perhaps,” Books said.
“Proper?” Akstyr asked. “She’s kind of proper.”
“No,” Maldynado said. “It’s more…”
“Focused,” Sicarius said.
The others considered, then nodded and grunted agreement of this pinpoint description. Amaranthe smirked; at least dissecting her character together kept them from snapping at each other. She might be able to create a cohesive unit after all.
“Yes, exactly,” Maldynado said. “You didn’t notice any of the men at the gym last night, I guess because you’re busy with your emperor scheme. You didn’t even look at me when you first saw me, and I was very look-at-able at the time.”
Amaranthe blushed. She had looked.
“Praise her good taste,” Books muttered, stepping into the street to avoid a lamppost-or perhaps Maldynado’s glare.
“Old man,” Maldynado said, “you are crippling my serenity. If you keep insulting me, I might have to come over there and-”
“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said. “I believe we’re almost there.”
She decided to forgo her ambitions of creating a cohesive unit. An occasionally functional one with tendencies toward violence seemed more within reach.
They passed the last of the city’s industrial buildings and crossed the railroad tracks skirting the lake. Along the waterfront, fisheries, warehouses, and boatyards reigned, their long docks stretching into the frozen water. In spring and summer, the area would bustle with activity. For now, it lay sedately under its snowy blanket.