“Decapitated,” Books corrected.
“Whatever.”
“Is there a better word for de-organed?” Amaranthe asked bleakly, her voice devoid of the humor that might have accompanied her words under other circumstances.
“Not that references the specific organs those creatures target,” Books said.
“Pity,” Yara muttered, still eyeing the forest warily. “I’d hate for there not to be a word for how we’ll be killed.”
“I’m sure Books can make one up for you,” Maldynado said.
Sicarius waited while Basilard investigated the tracks with the help of his lantern. Amaranthe stepped into the tunnel, holding her own light aloft. The flame did little to push back the darkness, illuminating only a few feet into the earthen passage. It was enough, however, to see the round walls and regular cuts made by a boring machine.
“Do you think they made it through to the Barracks?” she asked.
“It’s over a mile from here to there,” Sicarius said, “via a linear route. This is farther out than the secret entrance to which I intended to lead the group.”
“The one labeled sewer access point?” Amaranthe asked. “I’ve visited that one before.”
“Yes.” Reminded of their first couple of meetings, Sicarius remembered how callously he’d sent her to see Hollowcrest and how unmoved he’d been when he found her dying on that park bench. It chilled him now to think of how close he’d come to losing her before he understood her worth to him. “It’s approximately one fourth of a mile away.”
“With a shaman booby trap at the end.”
“Ward,” Akstyr said.
“We don’t know what will be there,” Books said. “After you fiddled with the last one, that shaman may have tinkered around and improved the security.”
“That’s… actually a good point,” Akstyr said.
“I make them occasionally.”
Basilard stood, a displeased wrinkle creasing his forehead. Sicarius waited for him to pronounce the correctness of his findings.
“Basilard?” Sespian asked. He’d been watching the investigation, puzzled, no doubt, as to how makarovi might have originated inside the Barracks.
It does appear that they came out this way. There are no tracks leading inside the tunnel. Basilard tugged off his cap to scratch his scarred pate. There could be an intersecting tunnel ahead somewhere, allowing entrance from another outside point.
Sicarius did not disagree with this supposition.
“Shall we check?” Amaranthe pointed into the tunnel. “If the boring team did breach the Barracks grounds before this happened-” she tilted her head toward the corpse in view, “-it may be an unguarded way in. I’d prefer not to alert the shaman of our entrance, and if I’m understanding the wards correctly, that could happen even if we find a way to bypass the alarm.”
“It could,” Akstyr admitted.
“What if this entrance is guarded by makarovi?” Yara asked. “That’s worse than a shaman.”
“First Marblecrest’s troops and now makarovi.” Sespian sighed. “My poor cat hasn’t got a chance.”
Amaranthe looked around at everyone, holding Sicarius’s gaze a little longer. He nodded. Neither option was amazingly better than the other, and they needed to get on with their mission. The only unfortunate bit would be if this involved walking a mile to a dead end and having to backtrack, but it was worth the risk if it offered them a chance to learn more of the makarovi-such as if these beasts wore shamanic control collars like the ones in the dam had. If one of the contenders for the throne controlled such creatures, Starcrest would want that information. Sicarius had picked up five distinctly different prints from five different creatures before he’d stopped counting. As powerful as the makarovi were, even a force that small could have an impact in a wartime situation.
“We’ll try it.” Amaranthe took a step to lead the way into the tunnel.
Sicarius cut her off, gliding into the point position. Under many circumstances, he’d accept her going first, but not when dealing with monsters that preferred the taste of human women. She didn’t object to his usurpation of the lead spot, and he trotted ahead, wanting to feel and smell the tunnel with senses that were superior to sight in such poor lighting. If makarovi raced down the passage toward him, he’d be the first to know it.
• • •
Amaranthe judged they’d walked about a half mile when she caught up to Sicarius. He’d stopped in the middle of the passage, his back rigid, his eyes forward, as if he were a statue. The rest of the team had been walking behind her, their lights bobbing on the dirt-and-rock walls, and they too halted.
“What is it?” she whispered, though she knew there was no point. He’d tell her when he’d fully processed whatever he’d heard or smelled.
“Nothing new,” Sicarius said without turning around, “but the scent is growing alarmingly strong.”
Basilard stepped up to Amaranthe’s shoulder. I concur. We may run into their den before we reach the end of the tunnel. Perhaps discovering it is what caused the excavation to stop.
Amaranthe detected the musky scent now, too, and memories shivered through her, excruciating memories. We beat them last time, she reminded herself. Of course the layout of the dam had given them time to enact a plan. Meeting them head on in the tunnel would not offer that same time.
“I will continue,” Sicarius said. “Wait here.”
“Sicarius, wait-” she started, but he was already jogging away. Running away.
Amaranthe was tempted to run after him. To lose him now, when they were so close to… having a full-on, grownup real people’s relationship… She sighed.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Sespian said, stepping up to her other side. “I’ve seen him run. He’s quite the sprinter. He should have been an athlete in the Imperial Games instead of an assassin.”
We already have a competition-winning athlete in the group, Basilard signed.
“Yes, we do.” Amaranthe patted him on the shoulder, though she didn’t take her gaze from the tunnel ahead. “Let’s keep going. We’ll walk while he runs. He’ll still see whatever there is to see first.”
“As if there were… another option… than walking,” Maldynado grunted. “Anyone else want to take a turn at carrying this thing?”
“Sorry,” Amaranthe said, “but I couldn’t lift it when I tried. Alas, I’m not as brawny as you and Books.”
Books looked mollified at being called “brawny,” though his face had an unhealthy turnip-like hue. Amaranthe was glad when Sespian said, “I’ll take a turn.”
Maldynado smiled brightly, though it faded when Sespian replaced Books instead of himself. “Hmmph,” he announced loudly.
“What are we going to do with this big can anyway?” Maldynado added a few steps later.
“It’s full of… I don’t remember what exactly Mahliki called it,” Amaranthe said, “but it’s a liquid compound she derived from the venom sacs of… I forget that too. Some kind of spider. I remember that she was relieved that the city’s main bug farmer had the correct specimens in suitable numbers, due to most bugs dying or hibernating in the winter.” Amaranthe was lucky to remember that much of the explanation she’d received, as the young woman had spoken rapidly, sometimes slipping into Kyattese and sometimes into technical bug-babble that Amaranthe had followed even less than the foreign language. “The venom sacs contain a poison that paralyzes insects, so the spider can easily snack on them.”
“I hope the plan isn’t for us to go around shooting my brother’s men full of poison and then eating them, because I had some of Basilard’s chicken dumplings before we left, and I’m not in the mood to snack.”
Amaranthe met Yara’s eyes. “Did you want to smack him, or should I?”
“That’s most likely my duty,” Yara said, “though I wouldn’t want him to drop that barrel, especially now that I know it’s full of paralyzing poison.”