Dark Currents (5 page)

“Sicarius can fill you in,” Amaranthe said. “He knows more about doodads, er, artifacts than I.”

Akstyr shrank back, appearing less than enthused at the idea of a private chat with the assassin. Sicarius’s expression did not change, but Books had the impression of a cranky wolf lizard known for eating its young.

Amaranthe examined the key fob, not batting an eye at the glowing feature. “Ergot’s Chance. What is that? A gambling house?”

“That’s a new place.” Akstyr flipped a knife into the log. “Run by a foreigner. Real popular for some reason.”

“How do you know about it?” Books asked. “Given our current fiscal situation, it’s unwise to spend time blowing money on gambling.”

“It’s my money.” Akstyr sneered. “I’ll do what I want with it. Anyway, I was planning to win, not blow anything. Place is rigged though.”

“A rigged gambling house,” Books said. “Imagine that.”

“Rigged by a practitioner, I mean,” Akstyr said. “I should’ve been able to win with the new tricks I learned in that book.”

He was studying magic from an ancient Nurian tome, a project that frequently involved pestering Books for translations. If the youth learned anything that way, Books would be shocked, but he had no interest in arguing.

“They were using their own non-imperial tricks.” Akstyr threw another knife, clipping the log this time. “That one isn’t weighted right.”

“We’ll check it out tomorrow night.” Amaranthe tossed the fob to Akstyr, then considered the numbers on the damp note.

“Why don’t I research that while you take the others to the gambling house?” Books could use a break from his belligerent-minded brethren. A long break.

“Sounds good,” Amaranthe said. “I like a man who volunteers to do research.”

He straightened, pleased at the thought of proving himself useful.

“I’ve run into trouble at the real estate library before though,” she said. “Why don’t you take Maldynado? Even if there aren’t any assassins lurking on the upper tiers—” she tossed a significant look at Sicarius, “—Maldynado can distract the clerk if you need to sneak out with documents.”

Books had his mouth open to complain that Maldynado was the
last
person he wanted to spend more time with when his brain circled back to the first thing she said. “Real estate library?”

“Isn’t that where you were planning to research? That’s a lot number, isn’t it?”

Books scrutinized the note, but he knew little about real estate, so he had no idea. His shoulders slumped. He read and wrote six languages, had taught world history for a decade, and could find anything in a library in under a minute.
He
was supposed to be the expert on research. If he wasn’t that, what was he in this group? “Well, there were a number of possibilities that came to mind, but that’s certainly on my list of items to check.”

Amaranthe smiled, brown eyes knowing, but all she said was, “If that
does
match up with a lot on record, see if the other number represents a recent appraisal.”

“Right.” He tried not to feel disappointed that his scrap of paper was not something more interesting. Like that cipher he’d mused about. He would have enjoyed a cryptographic challenge, but real estate? Enh. Worse, he had to take Maldynado.

“That’ll get you out of tomorrow’s fun.” Amaranthe winked at Books.

“What fun?” Akstyr asked suspiciously.

“The rest of us can dig out the as-built drawings for the aqueducts and figure out where those bodies came from.”

“Looking at pictures all day?” Akstyr grimaced.

“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be some field work.” Amaranthe’s eyes twinkled. “Got any magic tricks for waterproofing boots?”

“Uhm, maybe?”

Without comment, Sicarius left the room. Unless the team was planning a mission, or he was leading training, he never spent time with the men. It would not surprise Books if he randomly killed everybody in their sleep some night.

Basilard and Akstyr returned to knife throwing. Books fiddled with the sheet of paper, though his thoughts were elsewhere, particularly on how he could sneak out in the morning, leaving Maldynado behind.

“You doing all right?” Amaranthe asked him.

“I’m fine.”

She nodded for him to follow her to a quiet area of the room, near the warmth of the furnace. “You look glum.”

“That’s my normal expression.”

“I’ve noticed. With those perennially dour faces, you and Basilard could start a convincing crematory business.”

Books shrugged. “I’ve just been wondering if…perhaps this was a mistake. I’m not sure how I…enhance the group. Research skills, I thought, but you’ve proven adept in that area yourself.”

“Only in matters where I have previous experience. I studied business—including real estate—in school before my father died and I had to drop out. Please don’t underestimate what you have to offer.”

“It’s not only that. I’ve little in common with a band of mercenaries, so I don’t fit here, not like I did at the University. But, of course, I can’t go back there.”

“Having a record as someone who cavorts with outlaws isn’t usually a draw for employers,” Amaranthe agreed.

Books prodded the corner of the coal bin with his boot. “Maybe I should leave the capital, find a small town where nobody knows me. Start over.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Or peaceful. I’m grateful to you for the role you played in helping me get past my grief.” And out of the bottle. “I’m just not sure this is a life I’m suited for long-term.”

“I’d certainly miss you if you left, but you don’t owe me anything, and I can’t make you stay. Well, with Sicarius’s help I probably could.” Amaranthe smiled.

He returned the gesture warily.

“No, I’m joking.” She patted his arm. “Think on it for a while, please. You may feel that you don’t have much in common with the others, but don’t mistake not fitting in with not having a place. We care about you.”

Books snorted. “You, I believe do. The others, less so.”

“Maldynado would be bored if he didn’t have you to trade insults with.”

“I see. And Sicarius?”

“Ah, he believes you’re progressing with your training.”

“And that’s equivalent to caring about me?” Books asked.

“Most people he ignores. Or kills.”

“True.”

“Think about it,” she said. “No leaving while we have a mystery to solve though. I expect we’ll find some excitement tomorrow, one way or another.”

Noting the gleam in her eyes, he said, “Why does that worry me and excite you?”

“You’re saner than I am?”

“That must be it.”

W
ater pattered onto the mildew-slick walkway, and Amaranthe struggled to keep her map dry. The maze of pipes, tunnels, and holding tanks was tough enough to decipher without soggy stains. Occasionally a trolley or steam vehicle rumbled by on an overhead street, but for the most part only the sound of running water stole the silence.

Akstyr and Basilard followed her while Sicarius scouted ahead. What he expected to find in the darkness without a lantern, she could not guess, but he seemed to prefer the shadows.

“Huh,” she muttered, pausing to peer about. “This should be a four-way intersection, not a three-way one.” Unless they were lost. She frowned at the map and pictured the tunnels they had traversed. She had taken note of each turn they made, so she did not see how they could have gone astray.

Amaranthe glanced over her shoulder. If they
were
lost, she did not want to admit it. She had a notion leaders were supposed to be unflappable and infallible, or, at the least, have good senses of direction.

The two men behind her were not paying attention.

“Truth, Basilard?” Akstyr asked. “You can’t tell me anything about how your people work the mental sciences?”

Basilard shook his head.

“But you’re not from the empire,” Akstyr said. “I thought all Kendorians knew something about
rakinyaw
.” Akstyr puffed his chest as he said the foreign term, no doubt proud he knew a Kendorian word.

Basilard signed a response, hands and fingers moving in a series of curt gestures.

“What?” Akstyr asked.

“Basilard is Mangdorian, not Kendorian,” Amaranthe said. “And he doesn’t know that word you just used.”

Basilard inclined his head her direction.

“Huh?” Akstyr asked. “Oh. Well, whatever. Only the empire is so backward that it…”

Amaranthe returned her attention to the map. Even if those two were talking about something else, they would eventually notice they were standing still. Unfortunately, the channel she wanted to take was the one not there. Only a flat brick wall waited in that direction. Maybe if they turned left, they could loop back around and—

Basilard tugged at her shirt. Akstyr had a hand on the wall, his face toward the ceiling, and his eyes distant and thoughtful.

“Find something, Akstyr?” she asked after a minute passed without him moving.

He blinked, then pointed down the channel to the right. “No, wait.” He pointed left. “Er.” He shrugged and lifted his arms.

“Something odd with the intersection?” Amaranthe asked. Maybe there was a reason they were lost.

“I don’t know. It’s just…strange.”

Sicarius appeared at Amaranthe’s shoulder. Startled, she took a step, and her heel slid on a slimy patch. A quick arm flail kept her from toppling into the channel or falling against him, but it was anything but graceful. She attempted to turn the movement into a casual lean against the wall. Basilard’s eyebrows lifted, but Akstyr was still puzzling out the channels and did not seem to notice her lack of suaveness.

“So, Sicarius.” Something moist fuzzed the wall beneath Amaranthe’s hand. She gave up the pretense, slipped a kerchief out of her pocket, and wiped off the mildewy residue. “Find anything interesting?”

“No.”

“Find anything boring?” She smiled.

Sicarius favored her with his usual humorless face.

“I wanna check something,” Akstyr said.

He backed up for a running start and leaped across the channel to the other side, the side where a flat, bland wall stood instead of the fourth passage the map said should be there. The ledge was only a foot wide, and his momentum smashed him into the bricks, but he managed to keep from bouncing back into the water.

“Something over there?” Amaranthe asked.

“The wall is solid.” Akstyr massaged his hand where it had mashed against the brick.

“You don’t sense anything odd about that spot, do you?”

“The wall?” Akstyr asked. “No.”

Sicarius was watching her, probably wondering at her string of questions. She showed him the map, which he studied briefly.

“An error,” he said.

She had feared he would simply say she had led them the wrong direction and was glad he thought it a problem with the map.

“Akstyr thinks this intersection is odd,” Amaranthe said. “Do you sense anything?” He had far more experience with the Science than she did and likely more than Akstyr as well.

Sicarius considered the passages. “No.”

“Really? Is it possible his nose for magic is better than yours?”

She meant it as a simple question, not an insult, but his expression grew chilly.

“In their eagerness to practice their craft, neophytes learning the mental sciences often sense things that are not there.”

Akstyr scowled at him. “You think I’m imagining things?”

Sicarius turned the chilly gaze on him. Akstyr’s chin lifted mulishly, but he looked away first. A resentful curl remained on his lips.

“Basilard, why don’t you and Akstyr explore that direction?” Amaranthe pointed to the right. “Our goal is still to find the source of those bodies, so check manholes and access points along the way, but if Akstyr senses anything more, feel free to veer off to investigate.”

“A waste of time,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe gave him a nudge toward the channel on the left. “Sicarius and I will explore this direction.” She dug out a pocket watch. “Unless you find something worth exploring, meet back at the pumping house in two hours, and we’ll investigate the gambling joint.”

Basilard nodded and led the way down the indicated tunnel. Akstyr, hands stuffed in his pockets, slouched after him.

As Amaranthe and Sicarius headed the opposite direction, she clamped down on her tongue to keep from bringing up his lack of tact and the problems inherent in offending people. It would sound like nagging, and she did not want to alert him to her hunch that Akstyr did not seem the sort to forgive insults. Suggesting he might be a threat one day would only get him a knife in his back. Besides, she hoped, amongst comrades who cared, Akstyr would grow into a better man.

Water spilled out of a massive pipe in the far wall. Amaranthe eyed it as they passed, still suspicious of that side of the channel. Maybe the old waterway had been bricked in and the flow diverted to this exit point. If so, why would the map not have been updated?

She thought of investigating it, but the channel had widened around the pipe, creating a pool too great even for Sicarius to jump.

They continued onward until they reached a ninety-degree turn. Amaranthe halted on the corner.

“This is supposed to be a T-section,” she said.

The waterway was narrower here, and Sicarius hopped the six-foot channel as if it were a puddle. He probed the wall on the far side. “If it ever was, it’s not apparent. The bricks and mortar are aged.”

“Odd and odder.” Amaranthe took out the map and marked the missing passage. “If we had the construction blueprints, I could understand if there were differences in what was actually dug out down here and the original plans, but this is the as-built drawing from the pumping house for this section of the city aqueducts. It should have been completed after the construction and updated anytime there was an expansion or alteration.”

“The pumping house has mediocre security,” Sicarius said. “Perhaps only dummy drawings are kept there.”

“To what ends? If something breaks, city workers need accurate maps to fix the problem.”

“There’s no machinery that would need repairs out here.”