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“Did it work?” Maldynado choked out around a cough. “It better have, because it smells worse than an entire battalion’s worth of unwashed socks piled up behind a field latrine.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Akstyr,” Amaranthe said.

“Nah, he would have worked donkey droppings into that claim.”

The lantern by the brick wall had either gone out of its own accord or Deret had cut if off. Amaranthe lifted her own light high, trying to pierce the cloak of dusty air. The boxes nearest to the explosion had been blown asunder, and bits of old newspapers and books littered the floor. Amaranthe grimaced at this destruction of property-she hoped some university library had copies of the documents somewhere-but forgot her regrets as soon as she spotted the jagged hole leading to a black tunnel.

“Deret?” Amaranthe peered along the wall in both directions.

“In retrospect,” came Mancrest’s raspy voice, “I should have laid a longer fuse.” He staggered out of a nearby hiding spot, leaning heavily on his swordstick. Soot smeared his face and clothing, and his hair stuck out in blackened spicules.

“Neophyte,” Maldynado said brightly.

“Are you-” Amaranthe had planned to inquire after Mancrest’s health, but the bangs started up at the door again, and she switched to, “-ready to go?”

Mancrest cast a glower in the direction of the cage. “More than ready.”

Amaranthe peered into the dark passage behind the wall. “Is there any more ink left? I think we’ll have to do that again to reach the storm water tunnel.”

Deret rubbed his finger into his eardrum, as if he were having trouble hearing her. “Again?”

“Women are never satisfied,” Maldynado said. “Not only do you have to impress them once, but you have to keep doing it again and again. You better learn these things if you’re going to enter into a relationship with one.”

“As if you’re such an expert,” Deret grumbled.

Already on her way back to grab two more ink jars, Amaranthe missed part of the conversation, but came back to Maldynado explaining his new relationship with Yara.

“She’s the tall, muscly one?” Deret asked.

Amaranthe tried to remember if he’d ever met her. She didn’t think so, at least not when Yara had been a part of their group, but it wouldn’t be surprising if, as a journalist, Deret had been keeping track of the team, including recent acquisitions.

“Oh, yes,” Maldynado drawled. “Very athletic.”

“Are we preparing for the next explosion?” Amaranthe asked, dumping a jar into Deret’s hands. “And watching the prisoners?” She gave Maldynado a pointed look.

“Yes, ma’am,” Deret said at the same time as Maldynado proclaimed, “Naturally, boss.”

Deret grabbed a lantern and disappeared into the tunnel. Amaranthe intended to follow and help him if he needed it, but a thunderous snap rent the air.

“Was that the door?” she whispered. It’d sounded louder and closer than that.

“Must be,” Maldynado said. “What else would it be?” He knocked on a brick. “Hurry up, Deret. I think your old man’s about to join us.”

“I need some cloth and another jar,” Deret called back, his voice echoing in the enclosed tunnel.

Amaranthe eyed Maldynado’s shirt. It had… tassels wasn’t quite the right word, but the fluffy fringes looked like they could be shorn off for Deret’s fuse without leaving flesh exposed. She unsheathed her dagger and lifted a finger, intending to ask.

“Don’t even think about it.” Maldynado took a large step back. “My wardrobe has suffered dreadfully as a result of knowing you. Do you know that I haven’t been able to keep a hat for more than two weeks since we met?”

“Please, you’d find it tedious to wear the same hat for more than two weeks anyway.” Amaranthe veered toward the prisoners, lifting an apologetic hand as she sliced into one’s jacket.

“True,” Maldynado said, “but I prefer to retire a hat to a closet for possible later consideration, not watch it be blown up in a steamboat explosion.”

“Fussy, fussy.” Amaranthe took the purloined cloth and another jar into the tunnel.

At the far end, Deret was hunched over, assembling his bomb. Amaranthe set down the rest of the supplies, grabbed the lantern, and held it up to improve the light.

Another resounding snap came from out in the basement.

“That’s not the door.” Maldynado stuck his head into the tunnel. “I think those are the floor beams.”

A second noise echoed, this more of a boom than a snap.

That was the door,” Maldynado said.

Deret grabbed the second jar. “Going as fast as I can.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Amaranthe asked.

“Yes. If my father barges through that door with the soldiers, shoot him.”

“Really?” Amaranthe wouldn’t have pegged Deret as the type to harm blood relations, even irritating ones.

“Not in the chest. Just blow out a kneecap or two.”

“Is he really the one who locked you up down here?”

“Yes.”

“Because…?”

“I refused to print Ravido Marblecrest’s half-truths. Ravido and his business contacts went to my father behind my back. I wish I could say there’d been blackmail or other coercion, but my father is the sort to believe that warrior-caste families should stick together, and he was never a big supporter of Raumesys or Sespian, so…”

“He was happy to help Ravido?” Amaranthe asked.

“That’s the impression I got. When I confronted him… we argued. With fists. He reminded me he owned the paper and sent me home. That was that, or so I hoped he’d think. I brought some of my workers in late that night, intending to change the typeset and print a lengthy story about everything that’s been going on in secret, at least that I’m aware of-thanks in part to you. I included that there’d been no evidence whatsoever to verify Sespian’s death and that anyone attempting to take the throne was doing so illegally.”

“I haven’t seen that edition of the paper.” Thanks to their travels, Amaranthe hadn’t seen a lot of editions, but she doubted anyone had seen that one.

“Nor will you. My father guessed my intentions and barged in on me. He was furious. My basement internment was the result.” Deret backed away from his improvised ink-based explosive. “Time to light the fuse.”

“Are we sure we want to light another one?” Maldynado asked, poking his head inside the tunnel again. “Things don’t sound too structurally stable out here.” A crash punctuated his last word.

“Do we have a choice?” Amaranthe asked. “Sounds like company is coming.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Deret grumbled and grabbed the lantern.

Since he was leaning on his swordstick, his movements were awkward as he bent toward the fuse. Amaranthe wondered if his earlier near miss, as evinced by his soot-covered face and clothing, had come because he’d misjudged how much time he’d need to give himself to get out of range, thinking of how fast he’d once been able to move instead of how fast he moved today.

“Want me to light it?” she offered.

Deret’s glower could have withered daisies on a warm spring day.

“Or… I’ll just wait outside,” she amended.

“Do that.”

Amaranthe scooted out of the tunnel, almost colliding with Maldynado who was loitering at the mouth.

“We need to take cover,” she said.

Maldynado started to jog away, but she added, “Them too,” and waved at the prisoners.

Maldynado huffed a sigh and grabbed the men, propelling them before him. Amaranthe could understand the sentiment. At least they went along without making trouble. Nobody wanted to get caught in an explosion.

She joined them behind a couple of desks, ducking under one with a solid slab top.

The ceiling creaked ominously above their heads. She hoped the next explosion, which was outside of the building’s walls, wouldn’t affect the structure or supports.