“Who’s here now, Father?” a feminine voice asked. A familiar feminine voice.
Vonsha.
Books’s mouth sagged open as she stepped into view behind her parents. A bandage wrapped her neck, and stitches laced a cut on her chin.
“Hello, Books,” she said.
He groped for words, and she smiled. She was a handsome woman even with the cuts and bruises.
“Should have known someone who yapped like that was a friend of yours, Vonsha,” the old man said. He stalked back into the house without a greeting, grabbing his wife with his arm. “Get rid of them. We don’t need any more overnight guests.”
“Sociable chap,” Maldynado muttered.
“When you suggested cider,” Vonsha told Books, “I thought you meant at a cafe in the city.”
“Yes, of course,” Books said. “I did. I didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, I knew this was your family’s estate because you were researching this land and you told me, and, er…” He rubbed his lips, rattled not just by her smile, but by the fact that his cover story was useless now. She would never believe coincidence had brought him here.
“He wanted to make sure you were well,” Maldynado said.
Vonsha’s eyes widened. “You followed me all the way up here just for that?” She leaned to peer past Books. “You didn’t even bring a vehicle. How did you-”
“We got a ride,” Maldynado said. “Booksie here felt guilt-stuffed after he had to run off, leaving you in enforcer hands. But he had to on account of a tiny problem with the law, you see. Entirely a misunderstanding, but it does make it needful for him to flee when those big steam carriages roll up. And Books was oozing blood out of all sorts of unsavory cuts, so he had to tend himself as well. He felt terribly disturbed by the turn of events that interrupted your research, and he couldn’t rest until he checked up on you. I came along to keep an eye on him.” Maldynado slung an arm across Books’s shoulders. “He’s an academic, not a warrior, you know. He needs my assistance from time to time.”
Vonsha gazed up at him, listening to Maldynado’s every word.
Books’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. Though Maldynado was trying to help, Books hated the way his charisma-or pretty face-seemed to be charming Vonsha. Books was supposed to be charming her.
“I see,” Vonsha said when Maldynado finished. “That was thoughtful of you to come with him. Are you two-” she eyed the arm slung over Books’s shoulders, “-a couple?”
“What?” Books gaped. “No!” He shoved Maldynado’s arm away.
“Really, Booksie,” Maldynado drawled. “You needn’t act so affronted. I’m quite a catch, you know.”
Books planted a hand on Maldynado’s chest and pushed him back. “He may be incorrect about that, but he’s right that I felt badly about abandoning you. I wanted to make sure you weren’t seriously injured, but also to talk to you about the explosion. And those men who started it. Do you know them? Is there a reason someone would be after you?”
Vonsha touched the bandage around her neck. “Don’t take this as a slight, but I was hoping they were after you, not me.”
Though that was a possibility, Books said, “I don’t think anybody knew I was going to be at the real estate library then. Besides who would want to blow me up for…” Careful, he told himself, remembering his story. “Researching retirement properties?”
Maldynado snorted.
“Hm,” Vonsha said.
She didn’t believe he was telling the truth, of that he was certain. But he doubted she was telling the whole truth either. Why would her family be concerned about the boundaries of their property at that particular moment? Dare he risk telling her more of what Amaranthe’s team had uncovered? Maybe he could make Vonsha an ally. Whoever had thrown that explosive had targeted both of them, after all.
“Why don’t you come in?” Vonsha said. “We should talk.”
• • • • •
Eyes gleaming, Akstyr grinned like a bully on the trail of a weakling as he maneuvered the lorry. The vehicle bounced and lurched, and Amaranthe had to grip the railing with both hands to keep from being hurled out. Basilard sat on the driver’s bench with Akstyr, and he pointed at the road ahead of them, but Amaranthe could not tell if it was to suggest detours around the craters in the weed-infested dirt road or to encourage Akstyr to drive through them. The old, rusty lorry groaned and squealed at the maneuvers.
“I never thought I’d miss Maldynado’s driving,” Amaranthe said.
Sicarius stood near the firebox, alternately monitoring the steam levels and surveying the rocky terrain. The road followed the river, though the hisses and clanks of the vehicle drowned the sound of rushing water. If the bumpy ride bothered him, he gave no indication of it.
The road bent around a wide stump sprouting three saplings from its decaying top. A dilapidated wood-and-rope suspension bridge came into view. The property they had come to investigate started on the other side.
Basilard and Akstyr bent their heads low, pointing and discussing.
“…can make it,” Akstyr said.
Even as Amaranthe shook her head and reached for Akstyr, Sicarius said, “No,” in a flat, hard tone that cut across the clanking machinery.
Akstyr’s shoulders slumped, but he angled the lorry off the road. Basilard offered a sheepish shrug.
“We’re enrolling you two in structural engineering classes when we get back,” Amaranthe said. “I’m not sure it’s even safe to walk across that bridge.”
Akstyr cut off the lorry. Amaranthe grabbed her rucksack and climbed out, taking a moment to appreciate the solid unmoving nature of the ground.
A pile of donkey dung adorned the entrance to the bridge, suggesting the usual mode of transportation in these parts. A rusty bicycle missing a tire leaned against a stump. Across the river, the road dwindled to a narrow, twisting path that climbed a steep hill, disappearing into new-growth forest.
“Looks like we continue on foot,” Amaranthe said.
“I’ll stay with the lorry.” Akstyr hefted his book out of the back. “I have a lot of studying to do.”
“Really,” Amaranthe said.
“Sure, you want me to be able to heal you if wolves attack again, right?”
“Won’t you find that hard to do if you’re here, and I’m five miles up the trail, bleeding to death?” Though Amaranthe was giving him a hard time, she had already planned to leave someone behind. It would be foolish to desert the vehicle since it held all their gear and Sicarius’s gambling-house winnings. “All right, Akstyr. You stay. And Basilard, will you stay too?” She rubbed her fingers in a sign just for him: Watch the money.
He nodded.
Amaranthe strapped on a rucksack full of food, water, and spare clothing. “Sicarius, are you ready for a hike?” She faced him only to find he had armed himself-more so than usual. In addition to his daggers and throwing knives, he held two rifles, two pistols, two cargo belts laden with ammo pouches, and a bag of his smoke grenades. “Or a single-handed all-out assault on the forest?”
He gazed back without comment.
“Is any of that for me?” she asked.
Sicarius handed her a rifle, pistol, and ammo belt.
“I guess we’re prepared if any badgers look at us the wrong way,” she said.
Sicarius, of course, did not smile, but neither did Basilard or Akstyr. She was not sure if it was because they dared not laugh at Sicarius, or because they were concerned at seeing him load up with so many weapons. Maybe he knew something they did not and believed they would face something truly inimical.
Feeling weighted down, Amaranthe decided to leave her crossbow. She followed Sicarius, letting him set the pace. A brisk one, of course.
Though the suspension bridge might not support the weight of the lorry, it proved sturdy enough for two hikers. It still swayed and creaked more than Amaranthe would have preferred.