Apparently, he could not be bothered to take his own advice. He shuffled down the hall toward her, using the wall for support. She would have guessed him drunk, but supposed he was still sick. That kept her from lecturing him on the inappropriateness of nudity in the pumping house. Even if he did not worry about propriety in front of a woman, there were all sorts of machines with moving parts that could catch unprotected…protrusions.
“The outfit looks good.” Maldynado smirked. “I’d flirt and charm, but I’m not feeling well enough for that.”
“You seem to be doing better,” she said, not wanting to fuel any comments about her attire. “You’re standing…without vomiting.”
Books climbed down the ladder with canvas market bags hanging from his shoulders. He landed in the hallway behind Amaranthe and groaned when he spotted Maldynado. “Why are you wet? And naked? Buffoon.”
“A little better,” Maldynado said, answering Amaranthe and ignoring Books. “We turned the boiler room into a steam bath. Sicarius and Basilard said the Mangdorians sit in steam huts to purify their contaminated blood and sweat out sickness, and some of them live to over a hundred. So we figured we could turn that big old furnace into a steam generator.”
“Did you move my work-all those notes and newspapers-out first?” Books asked.
Maldynado touched a finger to a chin in need of a razor. “Perhaps…not.”
“You thoughtless nude oaf. Why didn’t you go to the public baths?”
“Because we’re sick. And that would have involved walking. Far. And I’m a wanted man, you know. I can’t be too careful what with the bounty on my head.”
Amaranthe could not resist: “Books is wanted, too, now. His bounty is for five thousand ranmyas.”
Maldynado staggered, pressing a hand against the wall for support. “What? How is yours more than mine? You’re not even a threat to anyone. Now, me, I’m threatening.”
“Especially to any paperwork left out,” Books groused.
Amaranthe maneuvered past Maldynado, careful not to bump anything, and left them to squabble. She wanted to talk to Sicarius, preferably not with Books in the room.
Basilard and Akstyr shuffled out as she was about to enter. Thankfully, they wore towels about their waists. Amaranthe stopped, holding the book out for Akstyr, and his eyes locked on it.
“On Healing,” he breathed.
“Is that what it says?” she asked. “I just figured it was a book on magic because the fellow I was talking to was very nervous about having it in his office.”
Akstyr stretched out a hand. “For me?”
“Of course.” Amaranthe handed the book to him. “Thank you, by the way, for taking a chance on getting that key for us in the gambling house.”
Eyes fixed on the book, he did not answer. He almost dropped it in his haste to throw back the cover and examine the first page. He did drop his towel and shuffled off down the hallway without noticing.
“Women,” Amaranthe muttered, ducking into the boiler room. “I should have put together a team of women.”
Heat and steam wrapped around her, obscuring visibility. No lanterns burned, though embers glowed red behind open furnace slats. Water-drenched rocks spat and hissed.
Amaranthe assumed Sicarius would be dressed-or un dressed-to a similar degree as the others, so she kept her gaze downward. Well, maybe she peeked out of the corners of her eyes once or twice, but shadows cloaked the room, and she did not see him.
She swept Books’s soggy papers and notes into a stack and met him at the door with them. She did not have to ask him to give her a moment alone with Sicarius, for he accepted them with an aggrieved expression and rushed down the hallway, waving the papers to dry them.
“Sicarius?” Amaranthe closed the door. “Are you better?”
“What fellow?” Sicarius’s raspy voice came from a dark corner.
“Huh?”
“What fellow did you get that book from?”
“Roskar Rockjaw,” Amaranthe said. “I’ve been getting to know some of the other mercenaries and underworld sorts in town. Ally shopping, as my marketing instructor called it. Anyway, I stopped in to see if he’d heard anything about the city water. He hadn’t, and I ended up telling him what we knew since he was sick himself. He did verify that Ergot’s Chance is under protection, but he didn’t know whose. As for the book, I noticed it on Rockjaw’s desk. He said one of his thieves had filched it on accident, and he didn’t want anything to do with the vile thing. I volunteered to dispose of it. I even made him believe I was doing him a favor.”
“Rockjaw is a murderer and a thief,” Sicarius said, an edge to his tone.
“Yes. I don’t imagine he’s quite what Ms. Morkshire had in mind when she spoke of acquiring business allies, but this is the social set I find myself operating within these days.”
“He’s dangerous. You shouldn’t have gone to see him alone.”
“Funny, that’s the advice people give me in regard to you.”
He snorted. “You shouldn’t see me alone either.”
“Nobody’s ever accused me of being wise.”
Amaranthe sat on the crate next to the desk, annoyed that she had to cross her legs artfully to avoid displaying…areas she preferred to keep off-display. At least the darkness ought to hide the details of the skimpy outfit. She spent the next ten minutes telling Sicarius about the events at Vonsha’s house.
“While we could wander around the city,” she said, “digging for clues and questioning people for the next few days, I’m thinking we might get to the bottom of things more quickly by taking a trip into the mountains to see what’s going on with that parcel. Do you mind if we use your winnings to purchase provisions? If Maldynado can recover enough to charm the heart of a matronly businesswoman, we might be able to afford a vehicle of some sort.”
“Acceptable,” Sicarius said.
“Good. There’s something else I want to discuss with you. It’s Vonsha. Books seems smitten. Do you remember anything more about her? That she spent time working for Hollowcrest and Raumesys isn’t much of an endorsement.”
“Really,” Sicarius said dryly.
“Really.” Amaranthe smiled. “Was she a good, honorable person, working for the welfare of the empire? Or was she someone involved in their underhanded plots?”
“You’re asking me to act as a character judge?”
“Maybe?”
“We never spoke. She did her work professionally. That’s all I know. Do you suspect her of playing a role in the water plot?”
“That’s what I’m trying to decide. It’s hard when I’ve never talked to the woman.”
“No chance to wheedle information out of her yet?”
“Precisely. You know how I love to chitchat with folks.”
“Yes.”
“That must be why we get along so fabulously,” Amaranthe said. “You being the less talkative sort and me being happy to fill in the awkward silences with…awkward un-silences.”
Sicarius said nothing.
“Yes, just like that. See? We make a good team.”
Amaranthe decided not to pester him further and headed for the door. When she opened it, letting light from the hallway in, Sicarius stopped her with a question:
“What are you wearing?”
More than the room’s heat warmed her cheeks. She should have changed before looking for him. “Uhh, it’s the disguise Maldynado got me. It’s…not exactly what I had in mind. As I’ve recently discovered, it’s not terribly practical for fighting, and, er, it was probably a mistake to send him clothes shopping, however good he is at obtaining bargains.”
Though she felt ridiculous in the outfit, and a touch vulnerable, a part of her wished he would say she looked good in it.
“Yes,” Sicarius said. “If you want the respect of the men, you should dress like a professional, not one of their conquests from the brothels. Also, costumes create a sense of security that encourages inattention. Better to remain vigilant.”
Great. Not only did he not think she looked good, he’d compared her to a whore. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put together that all-women team after all.