Lindsay Buroker: Beneath the Surface

“ If you decide you do want something with him, show him that you trust him,” Amaranthe said. “I gather his family never did, and he’s been upset of late with how many people here have turned suspicious eyes in his direction.”

“ I’m not suspicious of him. I just-”

“ Growl at or insult him every time he tries to start a conversation with you.”

“ That’s because he starts them with stupid lines,” Evrial said.

“ That’s his way of protecting himself, by not expressing true feelings. Just as you protect yourself with those insults. Perhaps if you both dropped your defenses long enough to have a serious conversation, you could find out if you have any commonalities after all.”

Evrial pressed her hands on either side of the porthole. She remembered a conversation with Maldynado that had gone that way. One where they’d been crouched on a boiler in the darkness. And it’d been… not unpleasant. Until he’d voiced that stupid spelunking comment. She caught herself smiling at the memory. Maybe Amaranthe had a point. Maybe The doorknob rattled.

“ Uh oh,” Amaranthe said. “Any progress with that porthole?”

“ No, it’s-”

A pale blob appeared on the other side of the glass. Evrial yelped and jumped backward faster than a dog bit by a snake. Her calf caught on the edge of the bed, and she tumbled onto it.

“ Good timing,” Amaranthe said.

“ What?” Bewildered, Evrial stared at the porthole. Only on the second long look did she recognize the pale blob. It was Sicarius’s face-upside down.

Amaranthe pointed to the porthole frame and mouthed something.

Sicarius’s head rose out of sight. Evrial rolled off the bed, embarrassed by her startled-and ungraceful-stumble.

“ I hope you don’t mind,” Amaranthe said, “but I’ll have to let Maldynado know.”

“ What?”

“ That you are capable of shrieking.”

Evrial would have snapped a retort-she hadn’t really shrieked, had she? Surely it’d been more of a surprised grunt-but thumps started up at the door. Whatever had escaped her lips, it must have been loud enough for the team in the corridor to hear her. “I’ll refrain from asking after the context of that discussion,” was all she said.

“ Wise woman,” Amaranthe said.

Sicarius’s head reappeared along with a hand holding a narrow razor-edged blade. A louder thump sounded in the corridor, followed by a crack. It might have come from the door or the chair bracing it. Either way, it didn’t sound auspicious.

“ He better hurry up,” Evrial said.

Sicarius applied the blade to the glass and cut a circle. Something else struck the door-it sounded like wood rather than a shoulder this time. A battering ram?

Sicarius waved for them to back up. Conscious of her bare feet, Evrial leaped onto the bed. Sicarius thumped the glass circle with the heel of his palm, and it popped out of the porthole. It landed on the carpet with a crack.

Amaranthe moved it out of the way. “You first.”

Evrial’s first inclination was to argue that she should go last-after all, she’d been the one to drop the knife and rouse suspicions-but another blow at the door convinced her there was no time to argue. Amaranthe draped a towel over the sharp edge left in the porthole, and Evrial jumped, caught the frame, and did her best to wriggle through. Her momentum only took her halfway before her hips stuck in the narrow opening.

Sicarius, still dangling-what he had his feet hooked around, Evrial could only guess-caught her under the armpits and pulled her out. His grip was about as gentle as a vise clamp, and she was certain she left flesh and clothing on the frame, but her hips were freed. Her legs followed, and she barely managed to catch the frame with her feet, so they wouldn’t tumble out before she could right herself. She doubted Sicarius would appreciate having to hold her weight thirty feet above the water. Nor did she want anyone walking on the deck below to see her dangling legs.

With his help, Evrial pushed off the porthole frame and clawed her way to the roof. She dropped onto her belly and turned around, thinking to offer an additional hand to Amaranthe. Sicarius’s black boots were hooked around nothing more than a cable attached to an eyelet on the edge of the roof. Evrial couldn’t believe he could hold himself up that way. Before she’d done more than stick her head over the edge, Amaranthe’s hands appeared on the roof. She pulled herself up without help and dropped into a crouch. In an acrobatic move that would have impressed the circus performers, Sicarius flipped up beside them.

Wind gusted down the river, ruffling his short hair. Enough of a moon peeped between the clouds to illuminate his face-and the cool stare he leveled at Amaranthe.

“ I heard your explosion,” he said, apparently assuming Amaranthe, rather than Evrial, had been responsible.

“ Good.” Again unfazed by the glare, Amaranthe gripped his arm. “We’re fortunate you decided to loiter up here.”

“ Stand purposefully,” he said.

“ Yes, that too.”

Shouts erupted from below-security breaching the cabin.

“Time to go,” Evrial said at the same moment as Amaranthe. Only as they crept across the roof toward a ladder, did she realize she’d adopted Amaranthe’s phrase. She wondered if she should be worried about that.

Amaranthe perched on a stool in her cabin, perusing the stolen ledger and waiting for Yara to change and join the rest of the team. Basilard sat on the other stool, his burly arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall and watched her flip the pages from across the table-a hint of interest lighted his pale blue eyes, as if he hoped something more interesting than being incarcerated in his cabin might come up.

Akstyr and Books sat cross-legged on the bottom bunk, each engrossed in work of his own. Books had a stack of his own notes in his lap. A thick tome penned in a foreign language sprawled across Akstyr’s legs, and his freshly spiked hair-dyed orange this week-scraped against the frame of the upper bunk as he mouthed words and nodded to himself. Maldynado lounged above them, drumming his fingers on the thin mattress and watching the door. Either he’d suddenly found Sicarius interesting-he was standing guard just inside the entrance-or he was looking forward to seeing Yara again. Sespian was the only one who didn’t seem interested in anything. He leaned against the one free wall, his hands in his pockets, his chin drooped to his chest. Now and then, he glanced at Amaranthe through pale brown bangs in need of a trim. She’d been leaving him alone since their chat in the boathouse the week before, but perhaps that had been a mistake. He looked… lonely. And lost.

Sicarius opened the door, checked outside, and closed it without comment. That was the third time he’d done so.

“ More security about?” Amaranthe guessed.

“ Yes.”

“ Searching rooms?”

“ Not yet.”

“ Why would they be searching rooms?” Maldynado asked.

“ There might have been a small explosion in a cabin on the upper deck.” Amaranthe had been waiting for everyone to arrive before explaining everything, but Yara already knew of the events, so she decided to go ahead with the story.

“ We should eliminate the Forge people rather than letting them return to the city,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe and Sespian scowled at him at the same time.

“ Eliminate as in kill?” Sespian asked.

“ Or otherwise incapacitate them so they cannot return to the city to assist their brethren,” Sicarius said.

“ Or,” Maldynado said, “we could stay in our cabins, enjoy the rest of our trip, and wait until we get to Stumps to deal with Forge. Why pick fights before it’s necessary?”