“Tuskar’s office.” The boy stopped before one of the larger shacks.
Two meaty brutes stood guard outside. One presented missing front teeth as he leered at Amaranthe.
The boy did not stay to make an introduction. Amaranthe glanced at Akstyr, who merely shrugged. When she reached for the door latch, the guards made no effort to stop her. Expected, are we?
The room inside seemed more of a recreational area than an office. Ten or twelve men loitered. Some played Tiles on top of a crate, one gave another a tattoo, and two practiced at knife fighting. At least, Amaranthe thought they were practicing.
Everyone paused and glared when Akstyr entered. At the far end of the room, a rangy man sat behind a desk-if one could call a couple boards propped on concrete blocks a “desk.” He lounged in a chair with his muddy boots atop a stack of papers. He, too, affixed Akstyr with a frosty glare and worked a toothpick back and forth with his tongue.
Amaranthe crossed the room and stopped in front of the man. “Greetings.” She decided not to mention her name. “Are you the leader? Tuskar? I have a job proposition for you.”
Tuskar’s eyes never left Akstyr. “How’d you escape from the pillory, boy? ‘Round here, magic’s forbidden, death penalty.”
“I wasn’t doing no magic,” Akstyr growled. “Though it was real nice of you to turn me in without even asking about it.”
“You gotta fit in to be one of us. You never did. Always having airs, pretending you’re something better. Truth is you just crawled out of a piss pot, same as the rest of us.” Tuskar pointed at Akstyr’s hand. “I see you with my brand after today, I’ll put my boys on the hunt for your hide.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Akstyr asked. “Gnaw my hand off?”
Tuskar surged to his feet and around the desk. “If you can’t figure out a way to get it off, I’ll do it for you.” He slid a dagger out of his belt.
Amaranthe did not notice Sicarius move. Between one eye blink and the next, he was simply there, standing in front of Akstyr, blocking Tuskar’s path. Sicarius did not draw a weapon or posture threateningly. He merely offered his cold stare.
The gang leader sheathed his knife and propped his hip against the edge of his desk as if he had never thought to do more.
Akstyr looked at Sicarius with wide-eyed surprise. That turned into a smug smile when he faced Tuskar again.
Behind Amaranthe, men stopped talking and the room grew silent. Her skin crawled under the gazes that had to be focused on the confrontation. She resisted the desire to turn around and look. No doubt by design, Sicarius stood at an oblique angle so everything in the room fit in his peripheral vision. Amaranthe shifted her own stance.
“Perhaps,” she said, “if we’re done menacing each other, we can talk business.”
Tuskar curled his lip at her and sniffed twice. “You smell like an enforcer.”
“Is that a guess?” Amaranthe asked. “Or is olfactory career identification your special talent?”
Akstyr snickered. Tuskar glared.
Amaranthe put a hand on Sicarius’s shoulder. “Can you smell his occupation?”
“Assassin.”
She hid a grimace. Yes, Tuskar knew who they were, and he probably knew how much of a bounty hung over their heads.
“You are good,” she said. “I bet you’re popular at parties.”
Tuskar withdrew his toothpick and flicked it into a corner of the room where it landed in a pile of similar discards. He took the stack of papers off his desk, shifted through them, and pulled out two sheets. He slapped down the wanted posters for Amaranthe and Sicarius.
“We like to keep track of criminals with bounties on their heads,” Tuskar said. “You never know when we’ll chance across one and have the opportunity to collect. Never had someone dumb enough to come to us before. Sure is convenient.” Tuskar perused the documents. “Looks like you two are wanted dead. That simples things up. No need to capture you and force march you up to Enforcer Headquarters.”
The door creaked open. Two men with muskets stepped in, the barrels trained on Amaranthe and Sicarius.
She lifted her hand to her mouth and yawned widely. Tuskar frowned at her reaction. If only she truly felt that calm.
“May I?” Amaranthe gestured to the posters.
Brow furrowed, Tuskar handed them to her.
“Sicarius,” Amaranthe read. “Assassin. Crimes include but are not limited to: murdering Satrap Governor Urgaysan and burning his residence to the ground, stealing priceless documents and blowing up the First Imperial Museum, killing enforcers, sinking a navy ironclad, and slaying a platoon of imperial solders.” Amaranthe looked at Sicarius. “A whole platoon?”
“Yes,” Sicarius said.
“Was that all at once?”
“One night. In a swamp.”
The musket men exchanged worried glances. Others in the room shifted uneasily.
“Reward: one million ranmyas,” Amaranthe said. “Impressive. I imagine you get lots of would-be bounty hunters stalking you.”
“Yes.”
“And yet, you’re still alive. Based on what I’ve learned about you, I’m guessing those hunters are not.”
“A correct surmise,” Sicarius said.
In the back of the room, one of the knife fighters set his weapon down on a crate. He edged toward the door.
Amaranthe flipped to the second sheet of paper. “Mine isn’t so extensive, but this is my favorite part: illegal magic user.”
“That true?” one of the musket wielders asked.
Tuskar scowled at the speaker.
“Would Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest print it if it wasn’t true?” Amaranthe smiled.
She let Tuskar mull for a moment before speaking again. “My friend, with this many people, you could possibly take us down. But is the reward worth the lives you’ll have to sacrifice to get it?”
Tuskar opened his mouth.
“Including yours,” Amaranthe said. “Sicarius always goes for the leader first.”
“Always,” Sicarius said.
Fury leapt into Tuskar’s eyes, and his fingers snapped into a fist.
He was going to let them go-Amaranthe saw that-but she did not like what else she saw. The quickest way to humiliate a leader, and make an enemy for life, was to force him to back down in front of his troops. Maybe she could let him save face.
“But,” she said, “I’m sure you’ve found that it’s always smart to make powerful friends. Even more, it’s smart to have others know you’ve made powerful friends.” She arched her eyebrows and looked Sicarius up and down. “Wouldn’t you like to brag to your associates about how you sat down and chatted with the infamous assassin, Sicarius, the last time he was in town? Drank some applejack together? Went out hunting for women?”
Akstyr made a choking sound and watched Sicarius as if expecting him to strike her down for her audacity. When she glanced at him, however, Sicarius’s expression seemed no fiercer than usual. She even thought she detected a hint of amusement in the glance he flicked her. Her imagination, no doubt.
“And what’s it going to hurt,” Amaranthe continued to Tuskar, “if you imply you have his ear?”
She watched Tuskar’s face for a reaction. His eyes grew speculative, and his fist relaxed.
“I can see how that maybe would be a smart decision.” Tuskar plucked another toothpick off his desk and slipped it into his mouth. He eyed the men in the back of the room. A few of them nodded encouragement. “What’s the job you want done, girl?”
“Two messages delivered to two different people,” Amaranthe said.
“That sounds doable.”
They negotiated the details, and the three of them walked away without anyone else pointing weapons at them.
Back in the alley, Akstyr said, “I can’t believe they’re going to deliver your messages for free.”
Amaranthe caught Sicarius’s gaze. “I’m sorry about using you that way.”