She paused in the middle to gaze upriver, wondering if she might be observing the source of the tainted water. The craggy mountains rose in the background while spring wildflowers peeped out along the banks. On a steep hillside, a mountain goat grazed between patches of snow. Everything appeared…normal.
She trotted to catch up with Sicarius, who apparently had no interest in pausing to admire the landscape.
“Basilard and Books pointed out this river would be large enough to feed the agricultural lands around the city as well as the aqueducts,” Amaranthe said as they left the bridge and started up the trail. “But there’d be a dam up here somewhere if it was servicing Stumps, right? There’d be a need to control the influx nature gives us, don’t you think?”
“It’s a long river,” Sicarius said.
“True, but this is one of the main passes to the east. It seems like it’d be hard to hide a dam anywhere around here.” Amaranthe pictured Books’s terrain map in her head. “Of course, the river and the road aren’t always side by side, and this mountainous terrain could hide a lot. I suppose if we see any mutilated bodies washed up on the shore, we’ll have a clue we’re on the right waterway. If this is the wrong waterway, we won’t find whatever killed those dead people in this valley.” She probably should not admit to being disappointed. Another thought occurred, and she snapped her fingers. “Do you suppose the water problem is what the enforcers and the soldiers are up here to investigate? Could they have figured things out and gotten a team together as quickly as we did? Or maybe the enforcers realized the bodies in the aqueducts came from someplace upstream. They could even know about that Waterton Dam. Drat, I wish we could have followed them. Say, next time a lorry full of soldiers passes on the road, you should jump onto the other vehicle as it passes, spy on them, and then report back to me.”
This earned her a long backward stare. She tried to decide if it signified amusement or annoyance.
“If you want me to stop talking so you can more efficiently monitor the wilderness, let me know,” Amaranthe said.
Sicarius did not speak right away-maybe he was mulling over her offer-so his answer, when it came, surprised her: “Sometimes useful ideas come from your burbling.”
Burbling? Hm. “Thanks, I think.”
A moss-draped wooden sign by the side of the path read:
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. MANY TIMES.
They stopped and Amaranthe unfolded the plat map. “The owner of the property is Lord Hagcrest. Ever heard of him or his kin?”
“No.”
“Whatever emperor gave him his land must not have liked him much,” she said, perusing the map. “The only thing you could farm up here is rocks, and I doubt you could even get machinery in to log. It’d all have to be done by hand. Any special value in any of these trees, I wonder? Or ore on this mountainside? A gold or silver deposit could definitely spur interest in the land.”
While she talked-or maybe it was burbling again-Sicarius examined the trail and the surrounding area. He stopped to dig something out of a dent in the wooden sign. A musket ball.
“Guess that warning isn’t an exaggeration,” Amaranthe said.
Sicarius scraped blood off the ball.
“Not an exaggeration at all,” she murmured.
CHAPTER 12
B ooks shifted on the hard log chair in the Spearcrest’s great room. A cushion would have been nice, but if the one-armed seventy-year-old lord of the manor did not need cushions, Books supposed he could do without.
Though large, the inside of the Spearcrest home did not bespeak wealth any more than the outside did. No dust plagued the mantel ledge and little clutter perched on tables, but the house held numerous signs of delayed repairs: water damage at the top of a window frame, chipped bricks on the hearth where Maldynado lounged, and a broken banister rail on stairs leading to a second floor. The upholstered sofa next to Books was as threadbare as the rug that covered the dented and scratched hardwood floor.
Vonsha entered the room carrying a tray, and the scent of steamed cider wafted to Books’s nose. She handed a cup to each of them.
“There are honey pear tarts left,” she said. “May I get you one?”
Books started to say “No, thank you,” and that they had eaten breakfast, but Maldynado lifted a finger. “Absolutely.”
As soon as Vonsha left, Maldynado leaned forward. “Why don’t they have any servants? That’s unheard of.”
“Maybe they prefer a simple life that doesn’t include ordering people around like subhuman minions simply because they weren’t fortunate enough to be born into a landed family.”
“Or maybe the Spearcrests are destitute,” Maldynado said.
“This house hardly qualifies as an abode of the destitute.”
Vonsha returned with a plate of pastries.
“Excellent.” Maldynado plucked three tarts off for himself.
Books curled a lip at him. Maldynado could eat less of their food if he was worried the family was destitute.
Books selected a small tart for himself. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Vonsha, please. We’re not formal out here.” She set the plate down and sat on the sofa across from Books.
“She’s feeding them?” Lord Spearcrest’s voice drifted down the hall.
Vonsha put a hand over her face.
“Why?” Spearcrest went on. “You only feed people if you want to encourage them to stay.” A door thumped, cutting off the rest of the tirade.
“Please forgive my father.” A flush of embarrassment colored Vonsha’s cheeks.
Books liked the warm glow it gave her face. Besides, he had been the one flustered in all their conversations thus far. It was nice seeing her equanimity jostled.
“He was a general before his injury forced retirement,” Vonsha went on. “He’s spent his life yelling orders, even at his children.”
“You have siblings?” Books asked.
“My brothers are off serving in the marines. Not that they’re much help when they’re around.” Her lip curled.
“Not your favorite relatives?”
“They tormented me a lot when we were younger, and they’ve given me a hard time over…events in my adult life as well.”
Events like being ostracized for failing the emperor, Books guessed. “Sorry to hear that.”
Maldynado, who had already devoured two tarts, made a face. His eyes rolled and his brows twitched in a manner that either meant he was choking on his food, or he wanted Books to take this conversation somewhere more interesting.
“Alas, we all have these family members and people we’re cursed with.” Books gave Maldynado a pointed look. “Sometimes working with them requires us to go spelunking to new depths of patience.”
Maldynado groaned. “Spelunking to new depths? Don’t say things like that to women, Booksie. Not if you ever hope to get your sheets toasted by more than a fire-warmed brick.”
Vonsha chuckled. Books forced his lips into a smile, though it was a slight one. She was supposed to chuckle at him, not his over-muscled sidekick.
Maldynado did not appear to notice her attention. His gaze had shifted to the doorway. Lord Spearcrest stood in the hallway, scowling. Vonsha noticed and waved for her father to leave. It was a call from his wife that bestirred him, not his daughter’s gesture.
“What were those soldiers and enforcers doing here?” Maldynado picked a crumb off his shirt, tossed it in his mouth, and licked his fingers.
“They’re on some mission in the mountains,” Vonsha said. “They spoke little of it, just showed the emperor’s seal and requested lodging for the night. Naturally, it’s our privilege to put them up.”
The emperor’s seal. So, young Sespian knew there was trouble up here. Amaranthe would be excited to learn that. If the team helped with the problem, maybe it would lead to the recognition she wanted. Books wished he could be happy working toward that goal himself. What he wanted was something he could never have again: his son back. He missed being a part of a family, of knowing someone needed him-that he mattered. Surely it was too early to think of finding that with Vonsha, but his mind did linger on the idea.