Amaranthe twitched with surprise. Of course, she had not been the only female enforcer in the city, but they were so rare she knew most. She recovered and offered a nod toward the woman while searching her memory for the face. Nothing came to mind.
After a brief survey, the woman returned her attention to the road ahead. Nobody yelled at Maldynado to halt, and Amaranthe sighed with relief, glad she did not have to use her sketchy story.
The enforcer vehicle pulled ahead. A dark oilskin tarp protected the large lorry bed from the elements, but the rear flap was rolled up, allowing a view of the inside. At least thirty soldiers in army blacks crowded the benches, each man with a sword and rifle wedged between his knees.
Perhaps noticing her stare, one stood and untied the flap. It fell into place, hiding the interior.
“Since when do enforcer vehicles get used to transport the army?” Amaranthe asked.
“I have a more pertinent question,” Books said. “Are they going where we’re going, and, if so, should we revise our itinerary?”
Sicarius came forward, crouching behind Amaranthe.
“Thoughts?” she asked him.
“An enforcer vehicle traversing the countryside isn’t uncommon,” he said.
“Whereas a convoy of steam trampers and black army troop transports might cause the population alarm?” she asked. “Especially when there’s hardly anyone to war with to the east?”
“How delightful,” Books said. “Not only are they going someplace where a platoon of soldiers is required, but the situation is so dire people need to be kept in the dark.”
“It’s the empire,” Amaranthe said lightly. “People are usually kept in the dark.”
“How comforting,” Books said.
“This road leads to several destinations,” she said. “Let’s not get concerned until we’re sure we have something to worry about.”
“So, we should go back to teasing Books about his lady friend?” Maldynado asked.
“Perhaps we could travel in silence for a while.” Amaranthe gave Books a sympathetic smile.
The silence lasted almost a minute before the eye patch debate came up again. Amaranthe sighed and studied the craggy mountains ahead. Halfway up the green slopes, snow started, cold and forbidding. What else lay up there, waiting for them?
CHAPTER 10
A maranthe bent to pick up a branch that appeared somewhat less damp and muddy than the others. When she stood, a rivulet of raindrops dripped off the top of her hood and spattered her nose. Frogs croaked in the stagnant pond stretching alongside the campsite, their enthusiasm undaunted by the gloomy weather or the green film painting the water’s surface.
Arms laden with damp wood, Amaranthe returned to the fire Basilard had coaxed to life. A canopy of evergreens over the camp provided some protection from the rain. The flames bathed a rusty iron tripod, which supported a pot where beans simmered. Basilard manned a skillet, turning sausages, beans, and onions into something that smelled far more delectable than one would expect.
Maldynado and Books wrestled with poles and a tarp, fashioning a tent beside the lorry. Inside the cab, Akstyr read his book in the fading daylight. Sicarius had disappeared as soon as they arrived “to scout.”
“Boss,” Maldynado said, “how come some of us are working hard and some of us are reading books?”
Amaranthe set down her load of logs and arranged them in a tidy pile while she debated the merit of the complaint. Akstyr did have a predilection for reading his books instead of helping out; in fact, those tomes seemed to get especially interesting when physical labor needed to be done. He was a tricky one to manage, whining and shirking duties when assigned them. Since he bristled at receiving orders, she always felt she had to find creative ways to coerce him. Maybe guilt today?
“Because,” Amaranthe said, “some of you like me more than others and go out of your way to make my day easier.”
“Sicarius isn’t helping,” Akstyr said without looking up.
She opened her mouth to point out Sicarius did his share to make her day easier, but Books spoke first.
“Is he truly someone you want to emulate? Maybe it’s time you grew up and shared group responsibilities without being asked.”
Akstyr glared over his shoulder. “You think you’re my father? I didn’t ask for your advice.”
Books blanched, and Amaranthe grimaced, sure the words made him think of the days when he had been a father and how all that was lost. She was going to have a hard time keeping him in the group if all the interactions with the men were unpleasant ones.
“Can you even understand any of the words in that book?” Maldynado asked. “Or do you just carry it around, pretending to be useful, so you can get out of chores?”
“I understand plenty. I’m learning about healing. Don’t you think that could be useful out here?”
Maldynado staked down a tent corner. “You don’t actually believe you’d be able to do anything in an emergency, do you? Learning magic from a book? Come now, let’s be serious.”
Akstyr scowled. “I can do things.”
“We don’t ever see you do things.”
“Because it’s the empire, Stupid. You get hanged for practicing the Science.”
Amaranthe strode to the lorry and draped her arms across the side of the bed, trying to nonchalantly end the bickering before it escalated. “Looks like Basilard’s preparing a nice dinner, gentlemen. The sooner we have the camp set up and the firewood gathered, the sooner we can eat.”
Amidst grumbling, Books and Maldynado returned to work. Akstyr sighed dramatically and climbed out of the lorry, though he kept the book tucked under his arm.
“Anything interesting in there?” Amaranthe nodded toward the tome.
“What?” He stared at her, as if surprised she had asked. “Oh. Sure. There are some exercises I found. I need someone to practice on though.”
“Someone injured?”
Akstyr nodded. “So I can try to heal them.”
Basilard banged a wooden spoon against his pot, and the three men hustled over. Amaranthe perched on a stump near Basilard, and he handed her a bowl.
“Wasn’t it Sicarius’s turn to cook?” Amaranthe asked. “I thought you switched with him yesterday.”
Basilard lifted a dismissive hand, even as Maldynado and Akstyr shook their heads vigorously.
“We’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Books said. “We feel that Sicarius already takes on so much responsibility in regard to our training that it’s not fair to force him to engage in meal-preparation duties. His own training is, of course, paramount to him as well, so we would not wish to burden him with this additional responsibility.”
“I see.” Amaranthe held back a smile. She wondered if Sicarius was close enough to hear. “Just to be clear, are you afraid to ask him to perform the duty when it’s his turn, or do you just not want to eat what he prepares?”
“Afraid?” Maldynado scoffed.
Akstyr snorted. Basilard flicked his hand in dismissal.
Books lowered his voice and leaned toward Amaranthe. “The man doesn’t believe in seasonings. Not even salt!”
With a morose head shake, Basilard stirred his beans and sausage and took a bite.
A howl echoed from the woods.
Amaranthe flinched, almost dropping her bowl. Answering yips and yowls stirred the hair on the back of her neck. The frogs fell silent. Basilard squinted into the gloom, head cocked.
“Just coyotes,” Maldynado told Amaranthe. “You really haven’t been out in the forest much, have you?”
“No,” she admitted, chagrinned her concern was so transparent.
“Well, then, I reckon it’s my job to educate you on what we’ll likely encounter up here.”
“Excuse me?” Books lifted a finger. “How much time have you, a dandy from the warrior caste, spent in the mountains? Weren’t your formative years spent in salons with tutors instructing you in the ways of arrogance and pomposity?”