Someone had disturbed the crate Sicarius had moved on top of the floor entrance, revealing a few inches of the grate. Yellow light seeped up between the iron bars.
“ Did they see that?” Amaranthe whispered. “Or was the crate bumped when you attacked someone?”
“ A man was in the area. He nudged the crate but hadn’t noticed the glow yet.” As he spoke, Sicarius stood as much as he could in the low space and, blond hair brushing the beams above, lifted the crate aside, not letting it bump or scrape on the floor such that the enforcers might hear. Judging by the way the tendons in his hands stood out and his thigh muscles bunched against the fabric of his trousers, it was heavy. It occurred to her that with Sespian away from Forge’s clutches, he had little reason to continue to work to thwart the organization, yet he’d been as helpful as ever since rescuing her, if not more so. The weapons probably mattered little to him, so long as his son wasn’t likely to be caught by them. Once again, she wondered if Sicarius hoped to earn Sespian’s trust by helping him regain the throne.
“ I may not have said it,” Amaranthe whispered, “but I appreciate your continued willingness to work against Forge with me.”
Sicarius produced the grate key and slipped it into the lock.
“ You haven’t mentioned… Well, what are your goals now? Do you want to see Sespian on the throne again?”
“ No.”
Amaranthe stared at him. She hadn’t expected such a definitive answer. “You don’t?”
“ If he wants it, I’ll protect him, but I’m not… flawless. He’ll be a target as long as he’s emperor.”
He sounded grim, so Amaranthe said lightly, “You’re not flawless? What flaws do you think you have?”
“ A need for sleep. I can’t watch over him every moment of the day.” Sicarius opened the grate and lowered his legs into the shallow hold.
“ Wait,” Amaranthe said before he could disappear below. “Why are you still working with us against Forge?” If not for Sespian’s sake, might it be for hers?
Sicarius met her eyes. “Whether he wants the throne or not, he would wish a satisfactory outcome for the empire. He would not classify a Forge-backed figurehead as such.”
“ So it is for Sespian’s sake.” Amaranthe told herself not to feel stung-she knew he cared about her too-but she was tempted to point out that she’d had to talk Sespian into coming back up the river with them. That wasn’t fair though. Sespian would have returned to the capital of his own volition eventually. Sicarius was right-Sespian did still feel obligated to protect his people. “I think you’re right,” she said. “If you help set things right in his eyes, he will eventually appreciate it.”
Sicarius nodded once and slithered into the cargo hold.
“ Be careful,” Amaranthe said, remembering that he’d be moving about right next to those weapons.
“ Yes,” came Sicarius’s simple agreement.
Amaranthe grabbed a lantern and her knife and went to check on the enforcers. She trusted Sicarius to tie a good knot, but the odds were against them when it came to keeping trained men immobilized indefinitely.
Indeed, when she returned to their prisoner nook, she found one fellow with a sharp shard of wood clenched between his teeth. Bent over his wrists, he was working the edge back and forth across his bonds. Amaranthe didn’t think he’d escape that way, but she removed it from his mouth regardless.
One of the other men snarled something at her through his gag. She wouldn’t have recognized the word if she hadn’t heard it from enforcers so often. “Traitor.”
Amaranthe held back a wince. She knew better, and she hoped the rest of the world would one day too. A part of her was tempted to explain the weapons and how she and Sicarius were trying to help, but she didn’t want to leave the entrance unguarded for long. She left without responding and circled back to check on the dining hall.
A thrum ran through the decking. The engines starting up? Great. There’d be more people coming back on board as the steamboat prepared for departure, and it’d be even harder to move the weapons undetected.
Amaranthe headed back to the grate. Sicarius was pulling himself out of the cubby.
“ No other exits,” he said, “but there’s a thin bulkhead that way.” He pointed toward one side of the dining hall.
“ Engineering is in that direction, isn’t it?”
Sicarius nodded. “With a blow lamp, one might punch a hole through and slip out that way.”
“ Except that we don’t have a blow lamp. And engineering isn’t going to be unmanned.”
“ I’d rather make a stand in there than in here.” Sicarius eyed the confines of the wooden stage. “Sespian and the others would have an easier time finding us as well.”
“ All right,” Amaranthe said. “Do you want to stay here and guard the men while I see if I can find a-”
“ Sarge!” came a cry from the dining hall.
Footsteps thundered in the aftermath of the shout, many footsteps belonging to many people.
“ See if they’re in there,” a second man called, this one with an older, more authoritative voice. “Surround the stage.”
Amaranthe deflated. Someone must have found the enforcers on the roof. Or located the schematics. Or both. It was too late to fetch any tools or move the weapons.
Sicarius bolted past her, knives in each hand. Amaranthe feared they’d lost the opportunity to merely gag and tie people. They’d have to defend themselves-and access to those weapons-any way they could now. Trusting Sicarius to guard the entrance, she rushed about, extinguishing lanterns. No need to make it easy for those on the outside to see inside. She swung by the enforcers to check on them one more time-the last thing they needed was enemies attacking at their rear as well as their front-but no one had succeeded in freeing himself yet. She blew out the last lantern, one of several the men had brought down for their search. Darkness descended upon the back half of the stage.
Another thrum ran through the deck, this time followed by the sensation of movement. The River Dancer was leaving dock. Amaranthe hoped her men had made it back on board in time. If they hadn’t… She shook her head, refusing to accept the notion. She and Sicarius needed help.
CHAPTER 9
Late in the afternoon, Evrial and Maldynado crested a hill and found themselves overlooking a port town nestled in a riverside hollow. Two wooden docks thrust into the waterway, one empty and one…
Evrial winced. The River Dancer was there, but the dock crew was untying the ropes tethering it to land. Plumes of smoke rose from the twin stacks.
“ Come on,” she barked to Maldynado.
“ We’ll never catch it,” he said.
Evrial chopped her hand downward. They had to try. Amaranthe and the others had to know about the magical contraband and the threat it represented to the capital. Her jog turned into a sprint as she raced down the road heading into town. Though hungry, cold, and tired from the day’s trek, she willed her legs to new speed. She took deep breaths to fuel her muscles, inhaling the scent of damp leaves and wood-burning fireplaces as she passed log cabins and brick houses on the outskirts of town. At one point during the sprint, it occurred to her to wonder when she’d come to care so much about warning outlaws of danger. She growled and told herself it was Stumps and all of its citizens that concerned her.
A steam whistle blew, the screech drowning out the sounds of machinery and hammer blows coming from factories sharing the waterfront with the docks.
“ That means they’re departing, you know,” Maldynado called.
He was keeping pace with Evrial and didn’t sound winded in the least. Was she slowing him down? It stung her ego to think so, but he did have six inches on her, and there was no denying his fitness. “Can you… catch them? I’ll… give you the journal. You can… run ahead.”