Those parting words echoed in Maldynado’s thoughts. Don’t lose him. He didn’t know why the emperor mattered to Sicarius, but, since that moment, it had been clear that he did. Maldynado eyed the broken logging machinery, metal scrap, rusted and warped beams, and demolished military trampers and wagons piled all about. The junk hid the lorry from anyone who might wander past the yard, but all the debris in the empire wouldn’t be enough of an obstacle to keep Sicarius from finding him if he lost the emperor.
A scrape sounded behind him. Maldynado rested a hand on his rapier, but it was merely Books. His unwashed hair hung in limp strands around his unshaven face, and smudges beneath his eyes did little to improve his haggard appearance. He hadn’t changed into the clothes Maldynado had risked much to retrieve, though Maldynado silently admitted that such a dirty body shouldn’t sully fine garments anyway. The entire team needed a stay at a decent hotel with heated baths.
Books squinted at the afternoon sun and sat on the end of a rusty beam.
“I think we’re going to have to tie him up and force him to stay with us,” Maldynado said.
“The emperor? There’s a law against that. Eight actually.” Books yawned and dug crud out of his eye. In a quieter tone, he said, “I dreamed about Amaranthe. That she was being tortured by that deviant interrogator, Major Pike.”
Maldynado’s dreams had revolved around Sicarius strangling him, which probably meant he was more self-centered than Books, but he worried about Amaranthe too. “I wanted to go along to get her. I don’t… not care about the emperor, but if I had to choose who to help… ”
“I know. I’m trying to console myself with the knowledge that nobody is better qualified to find and retrieve her than Sicarius.”
“But Sicarius might give up when we wouldn’t. Tracking that aircraft, if he can do it at all, isn’t going to be easy. He seemed conflicted about who to go after, too, like picking between Amaranthe and the emperor wasn’t an easy choice.”
Books gave him a sharp look. “Is that so?”
“Yes. What if he only hunts for her for a while, then comes back to help Sespian?”
“I don’t think he’ll give up on her.”
“You don’t? Why?”
Books lifted his eyes skyward. “How can a self-professed romance expert fail to see evidence of a relationship between people he’s around every day?”
Maldynado sat back so quickly he fell off his crate, upending it and sending a cloud of dust into the air. “What are you talking about? Romance? A relationship? With Sicarius?”
“You’re a self-absorbed idiot, Maldynado.”
“An idiot who saved your life last night. You could show a little gratitude.” Maldynado rearranged his crate and sat on it again.
Though Books didn’t apologize, a slightly admonished expression crossed his face. That was something anyway.
“You’re wrong,” Maldynado said. “I pay attention to those things. They never touch or share any of those little looks that lovers do.” He almost choked at linking the word “lover” with Sicarius. A mechanical reaper would be more likely to develop feelings for someone. “They never come back from their outings with their clothes disheveled or a speck of dirt on them. I know they’re both fastidious, but you can’t catch every smudge of evidence.”
“Maldynado,” Books said in the tone of one dealing with a slow child, “not all relationships revolve around coitus.”
“Yeah… but those that don’t are called friendships. Like you might find between two mercenaries who respect each other, but don’t dream of cavorting between the sheets. I’ll allow that may be they’re friends.”
“You didn’t see Sicarius’s face when he thought Amaranthe was dying last spring,” Books said. “After the makarovi got her. I don’t know if the man is capable of love, but he cares about her. He won’t give up on finding her, not as long as there’s hope that she’s still alive.”
The reminder that Amaranthe might even now be under some torturer’s knife sobered Maldynado and dashed worries of who was romancing whom from his mind. He picked up a few more pebbles to throw at the tin can.
“Maldynado,” Books said quietly, “Basilard told us what happened last night. I do appreciate that you risked yourself to come for Akstyr and me.”
Instead of saying good or making fun of Books for being ensnared in the first place, Maldynado tossed a pebble. The fact that his teammates were suspicious of him of late left him feeling subdued, that he had to be careful about what he said. At the same time, he knew he needed Books on his side if he was going to talk the emperor into sticking with them. Sespian seemed to, if not value Books’s council, at least find his knowledge useful. They’d spent a lot of that drive trying to decode that message and blathering about monetary systems from around the world.
“I wouldn’t do anything to endanger anyone on the team,” Maldynado said. “Amaranthe knows that. I thought… I thought you did too.”
Books’s lips pursed, and he studied the ground.
“I know we’ve always argued and called each other names,” Maldynado went on, “but have I ever not been there when you needed me?”
Books remained silent. Maldynado thought about pressing him, but maybe it was best to stop there. At least Books seemed to be thinking things over.
“Why were you so insistent on meeting with Buckingcrest the night before we left?” Books asked. “Amaranthe clearly wanted you to go along to negotiate with the smoke-grenade lady, but you finagled your way out of that so you could get us that dirigible. The dirigible that came with stowaways who tried to kill Akstyr and me.”
Maldynado picked at the corner of his crate. “Books, I’m sorry about that, but I didn’t know Lady Buckingcrest had ties to Forge, if that’s what it turns out to be. She’s just someone I’ve known for a long time, and I knew she had the flying vehicles. That’s what came to mind when Sicarius mentioned snow blocking the access to the pass. And, to be honest, I didn’t want to go off with Amaranthe that night because I knew she would dig for information on Ravido. You all know my family’s a sore subject with me.” Maldynado realized he was talking rapidly. Lately, every time he opened his mouth, it seemed like he was defending himself.
“Why is it a sore subject?” Books asked.
“Because I’m-”
“Disowned, yes, but why? For all we know, you’re dying for a chance to prove yourself to your family and get invited back into the clan. If I recall my recent history, your kin control copious resources. They’re not one of those wealthy-in-land-only warrior-caste families. Should you be welcomed back, you’d be able to return to leading an indolent lifestyle. How do we know you wouldn’t betray the emperor if it meant putting your brother on the throne? Maybe said brother would reward you handsomely for your loyalty.”
“And maybe I’d be an utter ass if I betrayed the team, and the boss, and set Sespian up to get killed,” Maldynado said. “Besides, if you have a face this pretty, you can lead an indolent lifestyle wherever you go. I don’t need my brother’s help for that.”
Though Books snorted, a hint of a smile softened his face. Maybe he wanted to believe Maldynado, but couldn’t get past his assumptions about the warrior caste and those born into it.
“It may be as you say,” Books said, “but I’m not the one you need to convince. From my talk with the emperor, I understood you were ambivalent about sharing details on your family members. You need to choose whether to help him fully… or not. I don’t necessarily approve of unthinking obeisance, but that is in the warrior-caste code, isn’t it? That you must be first and foremost loyal to the emperor? Family comes second, at least according to the various historical precedents. In the fifth century, Lady Dalecrest, upon learning that her husband had sold military secrets to the Nurians, risked her and her children’s lives to inform the emperor.”
“Great example,” Maldynado said dryly. “Yes, Lady Dalecrest warned the emperor, but, after the forces had left to thwart the Nurian incursion, her husband found her and strangled her.”