Dark Currents (36 page)

Basilard gazed at the dam, but not for long before shaking his head.
I wouldn’t help someone who harnesses makarovi. Who kills.

Amaranthe pointedly did not mention Basilard’s own record of kills, but his lips twisted wryly, as if he guessed her thoughts.

The wryness shifted to sadness.
I wouldn’t help me either.

“Sorry,” she said.

Maldynado lifted a finger. “I’m confused.” He paused, glancing around, almost as if he was waiting for Books to insult him. “Why would the shaman want us to start with? Unless he’s after bounties, but if he can make something like that—” he waved toward the defunct artifact in the lake, “—he could earn a million ranmyas legitimately. Well, legitimately outside the empire.”

“There are other reasons to want someone,” Amaranthe said.

“But he could have had us when you were unconscious and I was concentrating on healing on you,” Akstyr said. “He had Books helpless and just would have had to go through Maldynado and Basilard.”

Maldynado propped his fists on his hips. “
Just
? Basilard and I are burly and formidable.”

“What were you able to do against that wizard, Arbitan?” Akstyr asked.

Amaranthe watched Sicarius while the men argued with each other. Where had
he
been during Books’s kidnapping?

“I don’t recall,” Maldynado told Akstyr. “My face was busy being scrubbed by his carpet.”

“May I have a moment alone with Sicarius?” Amaranthe asked.

Maldynado arched his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you surround yourself with pleasant things when you’re healing?”

As Sicarius stepped to Amaranthe’s side, he fixed a glare on Maldynado, who threw his hands up and backed away. Akstyr shrugged and went down to the water. Basilard—the one she most wanted out of earshot—picked up a spyglass and joined Akstyr.

“Where were you during all this?” Amaranthe asked when Sicarius crouched beside her.

“In the dam, looking for the shaman.” His dark glare returned to Maldynado. “I was told he was in there.”

“I agree with Maldynado that it’s strange this fellow would take Books as bait for one of us, but these Mangdorians have made it clear they want you.”

“This whole plot would not have been conceived to get at me.”

She checked on Basilard. Too far away to listen in on their conversation, he was scanning the opposite shoreline with the spyglass. Maldynado sat on a stump, ears turned toward Amaranthe and Sicarius. Though she was not sure he was close enough to hear, she caught his eye and waved for him to move farther away.

“Maybe the shaman isn’t worrying about his partners or the water scheme at this point,” Amaranthe said. “Maybe, with you in his sights, he’s changed focus. He could have taken Books, hoping you’d come for him or that Books would provide information on you.” When Sicarius did not respond, she lifted a hand, palm up. “Either way, we have to find the shaman and get Books back.”

“He could be anywhere,” Sicarius said.

“Not if he wants you to find him.”

“I can’t track teleportation,” Sicarius said.

“He has a hideout.”

A beat passed, but Sicarius remembered without prompting. “The enforcer sergeant did not tell you where.”

“No, but she’s on her way back with reinforcements, right?”

Maldynado ambled over. “You two done being private and secretive yet?”

“No,” Sicarius said as Amaranthe said, “Yes.”

Maldynado took that as an invitation to sit down.

“She’s on her way back with reinforcements,” Sicarius said. “Probably a company or two from the garrison. She’ll be surrounded.”

“I just need a few minutes with her.”

“You need to rest,” Sicarius said.

“I agree with him,” Maldynado said. “Did you see yourself when you were unconscious? You looked dead.”

“We need to talk to her,” Amaranthe said.

“I will question the woman,” Sicarius said.

“No!” Amaranthe tried to sit up, but agony ripped through her belly, and she flopped back with a hiss. “No. Sicarius, you’re, uhm, I appreciate your willingness to help, but diplomacy isn’t your biggest strength.”

“I wasn’t going to be diplomatic.”

“I know, and therein lies the problem. When they get back, I need to go. We’ll take it slow, wait for nightfall. Sneak in, chat, then leave. No problem.”

“Five minutes,” Sicarius said.

“What?”

“How long you lasted
acquiescing
to my wisdom.”

“Oh.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Are you sure it wasn’t closer to ten?”

•  •  •  •  •

Raindrops pattered on the forest floor. Cold water dripped from the branches and splashed onto Amaranthe’s neck, dribbling under her collar. The stink of burning coal hung over the lake and irritated her eyes and nose. The soldiers had brought a caravan of steam vehicles this time.

Though she leaned against Sicarius for support, her abdomen and back stung with each slow, carefully placed step. Sweat bathed her face, and she breathed through gritted teeth. Under other circumstances, she might have appreciated the heat of Sicarius’s body and the corded muscle beneath his sleeve, but she was busy distracting herself from her discomfort by mulling over what she planned to say to Sergeant Yara. Should she explain the whole story? Everything that had happened since last they talked? No, best to keep it succinct. It was unlikely Amaranthe would get more than a few minutes with Yara, if that. Let the woman research on her own and form her own conclusions.

Sicarius steered her away from a route that would have ended with her crashing into a tree. “We’re close,” he said in a tone that implied paying attention would be good.

“We sure this is a good time to infiltrate their camp?” Maldynado asked softly. He, Akstyr, and Basilard gathered close.

All around the lake, lanterns glowed as soldiers searched the area in pairs. Campfires burned ahead, and Amaranthe could make out the outline of tents through the trees. Many more tents than had been there previously.

“Must be nice to get paid to show up after all the work’s done,” Akstyr said.

“Not
all
the work,” Maldynado said. “We’ve got to get Booksie back.”

Amaranthe smiled. For all that those two sniped at each other, Maldynado actually seemed to consider Books a friend. She was not sure Books reciprocated that feeling, but perhaps he would one day.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a shame the soldiers are too late for the fun. I wonder…”

“What.” Sicarius’s tone did not make it sound like a question.

“Nothing. Let’s find Sergeant Yara.”

“Back to my original question,” Maldynado said. “Shouldn’t we wait until everyone is sleeping? These people are…” He lowered his voice as a pair of soldiers trod past twenty meters ahead. “These people are looking for trouble.”

“Yes, but most of them are outside of the camp,” Amaranthe said. “If they’re still worried about the makarovi, Sergeant Yara will likely be inside.” Unless the soldiers left the enforcers behind when they decided to return en masse. She frowned at the thought. As aloof as Yara had been, she already knew about Amaranthe. It would be harder to stalk in and convince a stranger of her team’s deeds.

“Still plenty in the camp,” Sicarius said.

True. Several men stood guard at points around the perimeter, while others dug latrines, shoveled coal for the steam vehicles, and performed other tasks they had probably not anticipated when they enlisted. A couple of soldiers stood outside the tent Sergeant Yara had occupied the last time Sicarius dragged her out to talk. A flag proclaimed it had been turned into headquarters.

“We’ll have to create a distraction.” Amaranthe considered Maldynado.

“I’m always happy to be distracting,” he said, “though it’s usually the ladies who are likely to stop and ogle. What if we get in a tussle with these boys? How do you want us to defend ourselves?”

“We can’t kill anybody,” Amaranthe said. “All the work we’ve done out here will mean nothing if we kill a single soldier. They won’t believe anything we say.”

“Don’t we have that problem anyway?” Akstyr asked. “Nobody is left alive who saw us in the dam.”

“That’s right,” Maldynado said. “As far as the soldiers know, they can credit this to some anonymous good-deed-doer.”

“That licks donkey crotch,” Akstyr said.

“Relax, gentlemen,” Amaranthe said. “I intend to make sure we get credit
and
find out where Books is located.”

She waited, anticipating more of an argument. Surely, they would realize she had nothing with which to back up her promise. Sicarius, especially, would know she had not won over Sergeant Yara. Even if Amaranthe could convince her their story was true, having a rural, female enforcer on their side was hardly the fast route to a pardon. Yara would have little power or sway outside her precinct and perhaps not much more inside.

“All right, boss,” Maldynado said. “We trust you. What’s this distraction you want?”

Amaranthe smiled bleakly. Skepticism would have been easier to deal with. Instead the mantel of expectation weighed upon her shoulders.

“We could grab a couple men,” Maldynado said when she did not answer right away. “Knock ‘em out, steal their clothes, and walk in, pretending we’re soldiers.”

“They have a challenge and password system to prevent that,” Sicarius said.

Akstyr snorted. “Even gangs aren’t moronic enough that they wouldn’t recognize their own people.”

“Well, it’s dark,” Maldynado said.

Amaranthe was only half-listening to them. To one side of the camp, partially visible through the trees, the trampers and lorries idled. A soldier opened a furnace door and shoveled coal inside. Someone must fear the company would need a quick escape.

“Couldn’t we thump the password out of someone when we’re stealing his clothes?” Maldynado said.

“Depends how much damage you want done,” Sicarius said. “Soldiers are trained to resist torture.”

“Maldynado really wants to take someone’s clothes off,” Akstyr said. “Maybe he prefers men.”

Maldynado sniffed. “If I do, your homeliness will save you from ever knowing.”

“Whatever.”

“Let’s go with my idea,” Amaranthe said, watching the soldier close the grate and move onto the next vehicle in the line. “Maldynado, Basilard, and Akstyr, it’s been a while since you stole someone’s vehicle. Are you interested in reacquainting yourselves with that hobby?” She leaned, trying to find Basilard in the shadows. His inability to talk made it difficult to communicate with him in the dark. He touched her shoulder. She hoped that was an affirmative.

“You want us to march into this camp full of well-armed men,” Maldynado said, “jump into their vehicles, race off chaotically, and lead a posse of soldiers on a crazy chase?”

“Yes,” she said. “Problem?” It seemed like the type of ludicrous sport someone who had ridden a printing press down an icy hill would appreciate.

“Nope,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Just wanted to make sure I got the order right.”

“Keep them busy, and meet us up the road, where we left our lorry, when you’re done. If it’s guarded, stay hidden. We’ll find you.”

“Got it, boss.”

“And don’t get caught this time, please,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t know where the closest jail is.”

Maldynado thumped Akstyr on the back as the three men slipped away. “This’ll be fun.”

Amaranthe hoped they were careful. Soldiers would be harder to rattle than enforcers.

She shook away the worry. She needed to focus on her part of the mission.

“Think the sergeant has been good enough to locate herself in the same tent?” she asked Sicarius. “It had a lovely water view.”

“A primary tactical consideration.”

“Let’s get closer.”

Before they had gone far, two lights appeared behind them—soldiers approaching. Amaranthe stepped around a tree, hoping it would be enough to hide her. She dared not dive for cover, not when her wounds might make her cry out. Sicarius eased in front of her, guarding her. By night, his black clothing helped him blend in.

The soldiers drew even with the tree. One glanced toward Amaranthe and Sicarius, and she held her breath.

“Halt.” A man stepped from behind a tree several paces ahead. A rifle, the barrel wet from the rain, gleamed in his hands. His appearance drew the other two soldiers’ attention. “The coyote cries.”

“By night’s full moon,” one of the soldiers responded. “Archton and Bedloe. Dog Platoon.”

“Pass.”

After the soldiers went into camp, Sicarius whispered, “Stay here. I’ll nullify the sentries. They’ll be less alert now than when the commotion starts.”

Amaranthe kept herself from reminding him to choose a non-lethal nullification method. He knew what she wanted by now, and he was probably tired of her nagging.

After he disappeared, she slumped against the tree, a hand to her belly. Her scabs had flexed and torn as they walked, and she knew she was bleeding beneath the bandages. She shivered, too, and it was not that cold. She touched her forehead and tried to decide if it felt feverish. Sicarius never should have said anything about the infection. It would prey on her mind now. Either way, she feared she would be useless in a physical encounter and might prove a liability for the men. If not for Books, and her growing fear that she needed magical aid, she would be inclined to leave the shaman for someone else to confront. Though maybe that was still a possibility. She scratched her jaw. Those soldiers might be disappointed if they came all the way up the mountain for nothing.

“Look out!” someone shouted on the other side of the camp. Surprised curses followed. “They’re taking the lorry!”

“Stop them!”

“Go get—” Steam brakes squealed. “Look out!”

Amaranthe allowed herself a small grin. A tent went down amongst snapping poles and shouts of fury. If Maldynado had a skill beyond charming women, it had to be crafting mayhem.

Sicarius appeared a few feet in front of Amaranthe, limned by torchlight. He strode toward her and offered an arm.

“That’s not your usual entrance.” She shifted her weight from the tree to him. “You usually sneak up so softly I don’t know you’re there until you startle me into jumping.”