The woman smiled, and, despite her prim appearance, it did have a predatory edge. Her gaze settled on Sicarius. Her green eyes and the paleness of her skin suggested she was not a native Turgonian, but no hint of an accent clung to her words when she spoke.
“Imagine my surprise,” she said, “at having the empire’s most wanted assassin stroll into my humble establishment tonight.” She surveyed Amaranthe, though no recognition sparked in those eyes, and she focused on Sicarius again. “I wouldn’t think you’d frequent such busy venues.”
“We came specifically to talk to you,” Amaranthe said. “Ms…?”
“Ellaya,” the woman said.
“Makes Sunshine?” Sicarius asked.
Amaranthe crinkled her brow at his response.
The woman smiled, showing teeth this time. “Yes, that is the name my mother gave me. How rare to find someone here who understands Mangdorian. But then… I shouldn’t be surprised. They must have taught you some before they sent you to my country.”
Amaranthe watched Sicarius for a reaction, though she should have known he would give nothing away. Did he know what the woman was talking about?
“You didn’t expect me to know about that, did you?” Ellaya asked, though she must have been guessing, since Sicarius’s face never changed. “The canaries have been chirping in this dreary coal mine of a city. It seems you were the one to wrong my people years ago, and now you’re here, attempting to alleviate my coffers of hard-won coin.”
“We simply wished to gain a meeting with you,” Amaranthe said, putting aside the mystery of Sicarius’s past in Mangdoria in favor of the current mission. “It seemed a more expedient way than others.”
“Then you’re willing to leave the coin you’ve won?”
Amaranthe hesitated. They could use that money. Ellaya had been polite thus far-she must respect Sicarius’s reputation enough not to make careless threats-but that might not hold out if she realized they meant to leave with the money.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to discuss the purpose of this?” Amaranthe dangled the key fob and thumbed it so it glowed.
“No. Do you intend to walk out with the coin, or not?”
“I won it abiding by the rules of the game,” Sicarius said.
The bouncers shifted and eyed each other uneasily.
“Perhaps we could reach an arrangement,” Amaranthe said. “We could use that money, but you’re reluctant to let a winner walk out with so much. That’s understandable. You need something equally valuable in exchange. Perhaps Sicarius could spend the evening going over the games with you, suggesting improvements so even people with his sharp eyes would have difficulty winning often.”
And while Sicarius was wandering around, advising Ellaya and the bouncers, perhaps nobody would pay attention to Amaranthe, and she could explore the premises.
Ellaya tilted her head, considering Sicarius. “Did you cheat or did you actually win all those games?”
“There was no need to cheat,” he said.
“Hm.”
Amaranthe nodded. Hm was promising. “Surely, the best way to improve your games to a level where you can ensure the house always comes out on top would be to employ someone who can beat them.”
“Possibly.”
“And,” Amaranthe went on, “as you can guess from his reputation, Sicarius is a master of entering establishments undetected. Perhaps if you’re willing to let him walk out with his winnings, he could survey your security and advise you on improvements.”
Sicarius’s gaze settled on Amaranthe. Yes, she was volunteering him for a lot of stuff, especially considering he had won the money without violating any rules, but she figured he knew her well enough to guess her motives.
“Interesting.” Ellaya pushed her chair away from the desk, stood, clasped her hands behind her back, and strolled to a bookcase. She picked up a feather duster and ran it over a spotless shelf. Moments ticked past before she turned to face them again. “Interesting, but I don’t want a one-time consultation. Advisement on the games would be helpful, but I could use you for ongoing security, protection, and…other tasks.” Her eyes bored into Sicarius. “I want you full time.”
“Uhm.” Amaranthe raised a finger. “That’s not the offer.”
“How much is she paying you?” Ellaya pointed her nose in Amaranthe’s direction and sniffed haughtily. “I can double it.”
Amaranthe dismissed her initial objection and lowered her finger. Playing along should not hurt.
“Perhaps…” She scuffed the carpet with her boot and pretended to mull. “Perhaps you should consider the offer.”
Sicarius turned an unfriendly stare Amaranthe’s direction, letting her know he did not care to play along. Dead ancestors knew he was not, for all his skills, a good actor. She had found that out before, but if he could buy her even a half hour, the ploy could prove beneficial. She ignored his glare and focused on Ellaya.
The woman arched her eyebrows. “You’d let him go so easily?”
“I haven’t been able to afford to pay him much, and Sicarius is too good to be working with our scruffy group anyway.” She did nothing so obvious as tap the pocket where the key rested, but she hoped he gathered that she wanted him to keep Ellaya busy so she could snoop.
“Make your offer,” Sicarius told Ellaya.
“Happy to.” The woman opened a file and withdrew a pen and paper. “Let’s go over the expected duties first.” She flicked a dismissive hand toward Amaranthe. “You’re no longer needed, child.”
Amaranthe walked out. The bouncers stayed inside, no doubt viewing Sicarius as the prime threat to their boss. Perfect.
She slipped the key out of her pocket. Simple and bronze, it appeared little different from hundreds of others. The same logo that marked the key fobs was etched in one side. She rubbed it and it glowed softly. Ah.
Amaranthe padded down the hall. She eased a couple of doors open and found dark offices inside. Others were locked, but her key did not fit the holes. She wound deeper into the maze of hallways.
She tried a door near an intersection, pushing it open as retching sounds came from inside. She halted. A bouncer hunched over a washout, clutching his stomach. Fortunately, his heaving kept him from noticing her. She shut the door again and mulled as she continued forward. Checking every room might not be feasible, and her luck probably wouldn’t hold-sooner or later she would run into someone and her spying hour would be up.
A clank came from behind her-a trap door in the floor being thrown open.
Amaranthe jumped around the corner and slipped through an open door opposite the retching bouncer. The cluttered shelves of a storage room rose around her. She left the door cracked and peeped out.
“That deposit ought to even things out,” a woman’s voice said.
A man laughed. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Ell will get that blond bub’s money back.”
The pair turned into Amaranthe’s hallway and strode past.
“True, he went in the back not out the front. Probably already dead.”
“Or in her bed.”
The two shared laughter.
The conversation continued, but distance muffled the words. When the hallway grew silent, Amaranthe headed straight for the trap door. The pattern of the tiles hid the cracks, but knowing where to look made it discernible. She found a slight gap, enough to wedge her knife into, and pulled the door open.
A ladder stretched down into blackness.
She tapped one of the gas lamps on the hallway walls, but they were permanent fixtures. Aware of time passing, she ran back to the storage closet and dug around until she found kerosene and lanterns. A few moments later, she slipped down the ladder, pulling the door shut over her head.