Lindsay Buroker - Beneath the Surface

“ We may not want to linger,” Evrial said.

“ Oh, I agree, but where do we go? I don’t see a door, or where they went.”

“ Backstage?” Evrial pointed to black curtains hanging between the wall and the side of the stage. She assumed a doorway or stairs lay behind them.

“ I have a feeling backstage will be busy.”

Evrial glanced at the enforcer table again. Both men were gone. “Blast it, go, Maldynado. Better to deal with performers than enforcers.” When she heard the words come out of her mouth, she frowned. She told herself she wasn’t thinking like an outlaw; it was just these particular enforcers she needed to avoid, not uniformed people in general.

“ Whatever you say, my lady.” Maldynado stuck his hands in his pockets and casually strolled toward the curtains.

He looked about as inconspicuous as a purple-winged swallowtail on an apple tart. Figuring they’d already been spotted, Evrial hustled past him and reached the curtains first. She parted them and paused only long enough to make sure the other two enforcers weren’t standing there with crossbows. Costumed dancers milled about, waiting for their turn on stage, but she didn’t see anyone armed. A muscled, bare-chested man standing nearby did turn around and frown at them.

“ What-”

Maldynado giggled and grabbed Evrial’s arm. The giggle surprised her into silence. She’d heard all sorts of laughs from him, but nothing that effeminate.

“ I told you, sweetling,” he slurred, “that’s not the right door.” He blinked a few times at the performer with the bulk of a bouncer. “ ’Scuse me, Bare and Brawny. We’re looking for-oh, what’s his name? The first officer said-There he is.” Maldynado thrust an arm toward a corridor entrance a few paces away.

From Evrial’s viewpoint, she could tell it was empty, but the brawny fellow shouldn’t be able to see down it. “Yes, yes,” she said, “I see him too. We better get out of the way before we disturb the act.”

She gripped Maldynado’s hand and led him into the corridor, not daring to glance back to see if anyone followed. He stumbled and staggered so effectively that she was surprised he didn’t trample her heels. They reached the corridor without anyone intercepting them, but Evrial hustled past several hatches and around a corner before stopping.

Heat radiated from the white, metal walls. The dim lighting couldn’t have accounted for it; they must be near engineering and the boiler room. There was no sign of Akstyr or the enforcers. They hadn’t been back with the performers; where else could they have gone? Numerous metal hatches lined the utilitarian walls, but why would Akstyr have started going into random cabins? These windowless inside rooms probably belonged to the crew. Though if the circus performers were paying their way with their performance, perhaps they’d been given small cabins in this area.

“ What now?” Maldynado asked, his drunken slur gone.

“ I don’t know,” Evrial said. “If we go back the way we came, we’ll raise suspicions. More suspicions.”

“ You don’t think my brilliant act fooled anyone, eh?”

Maldynado was proving a quicker thinker than she would have guessed from the feckless facade he usually portrayed, but Footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Boots, Evrial guessed, resounding on the metal floor and echoing over the banging of the drums.

Maldynado jogged down the corridor to a hatch that stood ajar. He jerked his head for Evrial to follow. Though she had doubts about being trapped in a cabin, there wasn’t time to debate other options. She darted into the dark space behind Maldynado just as someone asked, “Did he go this way?”

Maldynado eased the hatch most of the way shut, leaving a crack. The darkness behind it was absolute and revealed nothing. They might have been in a closet or a cave. Though, from the whiff of sweaty laundry that floated to Evrial’s nose, she guessed a crew member’s cabin was more likely.

“ I thought he went this way,” a second man responded.

The footsteps thudded into their corridor, and Maldynado pushed the hatch all the way shut. The voices shifted from distinct to muffled, though they didn’t fade away. It sounded like the men had stopped outside to discuss their search, or tomorrow’s breakfast menu, for all Evrial knew.

“ The good news,” Maldynado whispered, “is that they’re looking for Akstyr instead of us. The bad news is that they’re looking for Akstyr. That means they know our team is aboard.”

“ At least they haven’t found him yet. Of course, we haven’t found him either. I’m supposed to be in charge here, and I lost one of my men not ten minutes into the assignment.”

“ Now, now, it’s not that bad,” Maldynado said. “It’s been closer to fifteen minutes.”

“ Very helpful, thank you.”

Amaranthe dangled from the bar in the corner of the cabin, alternately wondering if her quivering forearms thought these chin-ups a worse torture than Pike’s knife and if she’d have to pay a fine for Sicarius’s unauthorized installation of training equipment.

“ One more,” he said from behind her.

“ I know. I’m just… marshaling my muscles and giving them a rousing speech, much like a general readying his troops for the battlefield.”

“ The longer you hang, the harder the task will become.”

“ I know that too.”

“ Do you wish assistance?”

Yes, Amaranthe thought. “No,” she said.

Far less effectively than a general marshaling troops, Amaranthe flexed her weary muscles, willing biceps and back to pull up her weight one more time. Her chin inched toward the bar, but the trembling increased in her forearms, and she feared she’d have to let go before she reached her goal. That would be intolerable, though. She couldn’t give up with Sicarius looking on. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and gave one last heave. Her body surged the last couple of inches, and her chin brushed the bar. Good enough. She let go, dropping back to the floor. She planted a hand on the wall for support.

Sicarius offered one of his that-was-acceptable grunts. Every now and then, he’d go overboard and say something as magnanimous as, “Good,” but it would take more than a few chin-ups to elicit that response from him.

Sicarius took a step toward her, a hand lifting slightly. Amaranthe thought about accepting it and falling into his arms for support-or perhaps because he’d been training as well and wasn’t wearing his shirt-but she stood up straight and twitched her fingers to indicate she was fine. She needed him to know that, despite her meager eight chin-ups, she was recovering and didn’t need constant attention. She needed to know that as well.

Someone knocked at the door. Sicarius glided over to answer it, but Amaranthe said, “Wait,” and jogged past him. She opened it first.

Sespian stood outside, the houses of a hamlet dotting the riverbank behind him. He wore a hood pulled down to hide his face. His familiar imperial features were further camouflaged by a smear of facial hair that aspired to become a beard. A bulging cloth sack was tucked beneath his arm. Seeing it prompted a guilty twinge within Amaranthe. She’d suggested a shared meal to entice him to come. She hadn’t mentioned that it’d be a meal for three.

“ Uhm.” Sespian eyed Sicarius-or perhaps Sicarius’s bare torso-and took a step back. “You’re busy. I can come later.”

“ No.” Amaranthe grabbed his arm before he could escape. “You can’t go. I’m starving, and you have lunch.”

Sespian took in her sweat-dampened hair and bare feet. She’d only taken her boots off so she’d have less weight to pull up, but imagined that her state, coupled with Sicarius’s bare chest, might imply something she hadn’t intended.