“My partner,” she said.
The sergeant snorted. “That man is no enforcer. He evaded our soldiers slicker than a greased fish.”
“Did he kill anyone?” Amaranthe asked. Please, no more deaths on my hands.
“It depends on how much you two had to do with the men who were murdered by the lake and under the water tower.”
“We had nothing to do with that,” Amaranthe said. “We were only following the trail to see what did kill them.” She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the desk. “And we did. We saw it, and we fled from it. Your men need to be very careful. It’s not a bear or panther, like the papers said. It’s much worse.”
“Oh?”
Amaranthe frowned. The sergeant sounded more skeptical than interested. Was he not concerned about his lost men?
“Yes, oh,” she said.
“What did you see?”
“It was like a cougar but much bigger. It was strong, but it wasn’t graceful. It was ugly and blocky-like something molded out of clay. It’s not of natural origins.”
The sergeant exchanged significant glances with the captain, who was apparently content to let his man do the questioning while he observed. A part of her wanted to tell them about everything: Forge’s assassination threats, Hollowcrest’s drugging of the emperor, and her suspicions about the creature. But they would never believe her. Still, if there was a chance she could get them in on the monster hunt, she had to try. After seeing Sicarius’s knife clank uselessly off the beast’s eye, she knew killing it was beyond her team.
“What do you mean not of ‘natural origins?’” the sergeant asked.
Amaranthe leaned back and felt the hard edge of the chair against her shoulder blades. She considered her next words. If she simply said the beast was a magical Nurian creation-something imperial subjects were supposed to know nothing about-she would find herself thrown in a cell as a conspirator. She had to lead them to make their own conclusions.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that monster. My comrade threw a knife at its eye, and the blade didn’t penetrate.”
“The weapon must have spun and hit with the hilt,” the sergeant said.
Amaranthe shook her head. “The point struck true. Right in the eye. It clanged off as if it had hit steel.”
“Impossible. You saw wrong.”
Believe me, curse you. “I’m just an enforcer, and I don’t know too much about politics, but isn’t it possible that some-I don’t know-enemy of the empire sent the creature over here to make trouble? Especially now, with the emperor’s birthday celebration only days away? Foreign diplomats and hundreds of important officials from all across the empire will be in town. Don’t you think it’s a bad time for soldiers to start showing up dead?”
“It’s never a good time for soldiers to show up dead.” The sergeant dropped his chin to his chest. “It is kind of suspicious though. The timing and all. I suppose…”
In the doorway, the captain cleared his throat. The sergeant glared at Amaranthe.
“I’m asking questions,” he said. “For all I know, you’re trying to distract me from your involvement in the deaths of our men.”
“Did you see the bodies?” she asked. “They were mutilated. By something with fangs and claws. How could I possibly have done that?”
“Human beings are vile and resourceful creatures. I’ve seen ‘em do wicked things to each other.”
“Yes, I had retractable six-inch claws installed beneath my fingernails to do this job.” Amaranthe thrust her hand out. There was not even room to hide a speck of dirt under the chewed nubs at the ends of her fingers. “Besides, you saw the tracks. You know something inhuman is about.”
“What are you suggesting? That this is some sort of magical beast planted by enemies of the empire?”
Yes! “Magic? I thought it didn’t exist.”
The sergeant rapped his knuckles on the edge of the desk. “That’s exactly what you should think.”
“But if it did exist…” Amaranthe furrowed her brow thoughtfully, silently urging him to make the connection.
He stared blankly at her.
Exasperation welled in her. “If it did exist, we could all be in danger. If someone using the mental sciences shows up at the emperor’s birthday-”
The captain and sergeant’s heads snapped up like bloodhounds that had caught a scent. Idiot, wrong word!
The captain jerked his chin toward the hallway, and the sergeant followed him outside. The two statuesque soldiers who had guarded the exit followed. The door thudded shut. A lock clanked.
Amaranthe went to the door and pressed her ear against it.
“…worse than murder… Nurian collaborator.”
“…said science, not magic… dangerous.”
“…jail?”
“…influence prisoners. Leave her… general will want…”
The voices moved out of range. The cool wood of the door felt deceptively calming against Amaranthe’s cheek. What are they going to do with me?
She sank to the floor, back against the door. The concrete radiated warmth beneath her palms. No fireplace or stove burned in the room, but the air was comfortable. A lot of large buildings in the city were heated by hypocausts. If this one was, that would mean flues in the walls and crawl spaces beneath the floor where hot air flowed.
Her fingers drifted toward one of the many cracks. It meandered into a corner by the window wall. Might the building be dilapidated enough that she could escape through the floor?
On hands and knees, Amaranthe crossed the room, probing at promising rifts. After pushing aside the rug, she found an area where multiple cracks intersected, creating a diamond-shaped island in the middle.
She dug her fingers into the wider crevices and wiggled the piece. It shifted slightly, but she could not lift it free.
Amaranthe stood and investigated the desk. A smooth stone being used as a paperweight caught her interest. She grabbed it, then rummaged through the drawers. A stash of wrapped flatcakes occupied one. Apparently, the captain had a sweet tooth, or maybe he bribed his men with rewards. She dumped them on top of the desk. Maybe she could use them if she escaped the building.
The letter opener stashed behind a collection of writing supplies had a more immediate use. Though too blunt to make much of a weapon, it had sufficient heft for an impromptu chisel.
She grabbed a scarf from a peg near the door and used it to muffle her work. The tap of the paperweight against the end of the letter opener still sounded too loud in her ears. Fortunately, the remaining threads of mortar shattered easily. Amaranthe lifted the one-inch-thick slab free. Beneath the top layer rested two foot square tiles. Though not surprised, she groaned at the additional barrier. Her captors would not leave her alone indefinitely.
Only one tile was fully visible and it held no cracks or signs of weakness. Nonetheless, she would have to work with that one or try to pull up more of the floor, which would take too long.
Amaranthe placed her hand on the tile. Warmth seeped through the ceramic. She tapped on it with the paper weight, and the hollow thuds gave her reason to continue. It sounded as if a duct or crawl space ran underneath. She grabbed the letter opener again and chipped at the worn mortar around the edge of the tile.
Time bled past. Whenever voices or footsteps sounded outside, she glanced at the door, letter opener clenched in her fist.
Finally, she wiggled the tile free. A black opening yawned beneath it, and warm air wafted from the gap. Pillars supported each corner where the square had laid, and darkness lurked all around them. Amaranthe reached down to measure the space to the bottom. Moist grime and mold cloaked the rough concrete beneath. She shuddered and wiped her fingers on the rug. What were you expecting? A freshly scrubbed crawl space?
She estimated a depth of two feet to squirm through. Good enough.
Amaranthe grabbed the wrapped cakes and stuffed them into her shirt. Feet first, she squeezed into the hole. Hunkered on her knees, she dragged the rug back into place behind her. Her escape route would not remain a mystery for long, but she need not be obvious about it.