“Perhaps so.” As of yet, Amaranthe hadn’t heard any gunshots or seen signs of fights between the different factions, but she doubted that would last. Right now, the soldiers seemed to be more focused on instilling martial law. Once all the contenders for the throne were ready to make their moves, things would start happening quickly. And violently. “It looks like most of the newspaper employees have gone home for the night.” She nodded toward the front of the three-story building across the canal. Several minutes had passed since anyone exited the front door. She hoped to find Mancrest working late, as she had once before.
“I don’t suppose, with Sicarius being elsewhere, we could just walk in the front door?” Maldynado suggested.
“With all the soldiers roaming about, I think we should go the same way as last time.” Amaranthe waved at the storm grate on the opposite canal wall.
“Are you sure that’s necessary? If you’re worried we’re not being sneaky enough, we could turn sideways and hug the shadows as we go up the front steps.”
“Come, come, you don’t want me to tell Yara you were whining, do you?” After checking both sides of the canal, Amaranthe left the shadows and jumped, catching one of the iron bars beneath the bridge. The cold metal bit into her hands, but she wouldn’t have tried the maneuver with gloves on. She swung her legs for momentum and caught the next handhold, then the next, trusting Maldynado would follow her, despite his complaints. Her short sword hung on her waist, too short to bother her legs as she picked her route. Maldynado’s rapier might be more of a distraction, but she trusted he’d be fine.
“We’ve been comrades for almost a year now.” Maldynado grunted as he jumped up and caught the first bar, probably wincing at the icy touch as well. “Shouldn’t your allegiance be to me instead of our newest and most untried member?”
“I think she was suitably tried on the riverboat mission.” Amaranthe reached the last bar and swung onto the stone walkway, catching herself against the cement wall.
“That is true.” Maldynado chuckled.
Somehow Amaranthe doubted he was thinking of the same sort of trying as she was. When he dropped down beside her, they headed for the storm grate, passing several tethered houseboats along the way. She looked for the one she’d inadvertently set fire to the summer before, hoping she’d see it repaired and little worse for the experience, but it wasn’t there. In fact, none of the houseboats looked familiar. Perhaps the fire had sullied the homeowners’ perspectives of the neighborhood. She sighed, longing for a day when her face no longer graced wanted posters, and she could work freely within the bounds of the law again. A day, she thought grimly, that would only come if they succeeded in getting Sespian back on the throne.
“Is it just me,” Maldynado asked when they reached the round grate set into the canal wall, “or is that padlock much bigger and sturdier than it was last summer?”
“Possibly.” Amaranthe pulled out her lock-picking set, undaunted by the shiny steel.
“Someone must have heard about all the unsavory outlaws roaming the city’s sewers, pumping stations, and aqueduct tunnels.”
Amaranthe slid a tension wrench and ball pick into the slot and worked on the tumblers. “Did you just call yourself unsavory?”
“Well, I haven’t been able to frequent the public baths as much as I like of late.”
Voices drifted down from the street above. Just civilians passing by on their way home, Amaranthe hoped.
“Stand watch, please,” she murmured, aware of people walking by on the opposite side of the canal as well. This portion of the path wasn’t well lit, but she doubted the shadows were thick enough to hide her, should someone peer intently.
“Naturally.” Maldynado leaned against the wall.
The lock proved challenging, but Amaranthe thwarted it eventually. She opened the grate, frosty icicles snapping, iron squealing. Someone had supplied a fresh lock, but nobody had thought to oil the hinges? Or perhaps that had been intentional. Thus to alert nearby denizens-or warrior-caste journalists? As soon as Maldynado stepped inside, Amaranthe closed the grate and replaced the padlock on the bars, though she didn’t fasten it, in case they needed to exit that way in a hurry.
“You’re being paranoid, girl,” she muttered to herself.
Even if people on the other side knew her team had returned to the city, they wouldn’t know what they were doing in the city.
“What did you say?” Maldynado asked, as they strode up the slick tunnel.
“Nothing important.”
“Ah. I was hoping you’d been proclaiming that I was in fact quite savory, baths notwithstanding.”
“So long as Yara believes that, you’ll be fine.” Amaranthe turned into the passage that ran beneath the alley behind the Gazette building.
“How could she not?” Maldynado asked, a smile in his voice.
For a while during their travels, Maldynado had seemed glum, due to everyone being suspicious of his motives, but Yara had apparently relieved him of those dark feelings. Amaranthe wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good thing. He’d been… bubbly of late.
A scraping sound came from somewhere ahead of them. She halted, flinging her arm out to stop Maldynado as well. At first, she thought the noise had come from the tunnel, but a shadow moved, interrupting the flow of moonlight through drains in the alley above.
“Someone else may be visiting via the back door,” Maldynado murmured.
“We’ll see.” Amaranthe patted her way to a ladder leading to the manhole they’d used the last time they visited. She climbed it and tilted her ear toward the cover.
A rumble sounded above her. A steam vehicle driving down the alley? Amaranthe remembered a loading dock in the rear of the building, but would the Gazette be shipping newspapers or receiving supplies at night? She dropped back to the ground.
“Company, eh?” Maldynado asked.
“So it seems.” Using the wan light filtering through the drains as a guide, Amaranthe headed farther up the tunnel. Frozen runoff water made the ground slick, and she flailed several times, scraping her knuckles on the wall once and smacking Maldynado in the jaw another time.
“No need to take it out on me,” he said with a chuckle.
A minute later, he butt-planted on the ice behind her. After that, there were fewer chuckles.
Treacherous footing notwithstanding, they made it to the next ladder. Amaranthe climbed up, listened at the manhole, and didn’t hear anything. They ought to be in the same alley but several buildings down. She unfastened the lid and lifted it a couple of inches.
No less than four army lorries idled in front of the Gazette’s loading dock. Soldiers idled as well, smoking and talking as they leaned against the vehicles. A few more stood near the doors on the loading dock. The casual stances hinted of boredom rather than alertness, but numerous rifles leaned within easy reach, cartridge-based rifles loaded with multiple rounds. White armbands adorned the men’s arms. The drainpipe Amaranthe, Sicarius, and Maldynado had once climbed to gain access to an attic vent snaked up the side of the building in plain view.
She lowered the manhole cover and climbed down again. “I believe it’s time to enact Plan Two.”
“Go home and snuggle with an exciting and surprisingly randy woman?” Maldynado asked.
“That’s your Plan Two. Mine is to wait for Deret at his flat.”
“So your Plan Two is similar to mine, except it employs a man.”
Amaranthe lifted a fingernail to her mouth and nibbled thoughtfully. Going to Mancrest’s home was plausible, though, with all the Gazette-worthy news occurring in the city, he’d likely be home late. He might even be sleeping in his office here. Also, she wondered what all those soldiers were doing behind the Gazette building. Was it possible Ravido was inside, meeting with Mancrest? She hated to think of Deret schmoozing with Forge’s chosen figurehead, but Maldynado had said the Mancrests and the Marblecrests had always been close. If such a meeting was happening inside at that moment, a chance to listen in could prove pivotal. Besides, if Deret was working for the other side, he’d be less than truthful when she questioned him.