Lindsay Buroker: Conspiracy

Amaranthe and Sicarius ducked their heads as the train glided to a stop, carrying the locomotive and their car past the loading dock. The lights in the field drew closer, bringing the rumble of steam lorries.

Amaranthe pointed the spyglass in that direction again. Two large vehicles bumping along a rough dirt road came to a stop by the building. A man in the closest cab said something to those on the loading dock. Dusty brown canvas hid the cargo areas from view, but the vehicles did not appear to be anything more interesting than farm wagons. A sign on one door read Doranthe’s Pumpkins and Squash.

Two men climbed out of the first truck, wearing farmers’ overalls and wool shirts. Those on the loading dock hopped down, and a couple approached the train to open the rolling door of a freight car.

“That’s an empty one,” Sicarius said.

“You’re sure?” From their position on top of the roof, they couldn’t see inside, but Amaranthe wouldn’t be surprised if Sicarius had inspected all of the hundred-odd cars during the days they had been on board. He had to do something while he was avoiding being social with the group. In response to her question, he gave her an are-you-truly-doubting- me look. “Yes,” she said, “of course you are.”

The people on the ground directed the lorries to turn around, and one backed toward the open freight door. A couple of men climbed inside the rail car.

Amaranthe looked toward the front of the train, wondering if the engineer would come out of the locomotive. As far as she knew, he and his fireman were the only crew members. But nothing stirred up there beyond the plumes of smoke wafting from the stack.

Sicarius took the spyglass back. Men rolled up the flap on the back of the lorry, and Amaranthe blinked. It wasn’t an empty bed awaiting cargo. It was stuffed to the brim with…

“Are those rifles?” she whispered.

Two men climbed into the truck and started handing bundles to someone on the ground who passed the load to the men in the train. They definitely looked like rifles, shiny, new ones at that.

“That’s not the sort of produce one expects from a pumpkin patch,” Amaranthe whispered.

Next to her, Sicarius lay still, eye pressed to the spyglass, intent on the scene below. “Those aren’t percussion-cap or flintlock weapons.”

“Oh?” Amaranthe remembered stumbling across new military technology during a brief mission the summer before, but she’d thought those had been prototypes, weapons that were heavily guarded behind army fortress walls, not roaming the countryside in beat-up farm lorries.

“Cartridge-based guns where the powder and charge are self-contained in the bullet,” Sicarius said. “They appear to be able to hold multiple rounds.”

Amaranthe thought of the repeating crossbow in the train with her gear. One of the reasons she kept it-aside from the fact that, inside the city, black-powder weapons were outlawed to all except military personnel-was that it could hold five quarrels as opposed to the single shot capability most rifles and pistols offered.

Sicarius handed her the spyglass for a closer look. More bundles of sleek rifles went into the train, followed by crates of ammunition. Two men worked together to lift something larger out of the lorry. It resembled a cannon on a frame with two big wooden wheels, but it had multiple barrels and a hand-crank.

“Advanced artillery weapons as well,” Amaranthe murmured. “This train is on its way back to the city after its last stop. These people will have a hard time unloading that cargo in the main train yard.”

“Perhaps the engineer will make another detour,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe lowered the spyglass, amazed as more and more rifles and artillery devices were transferred into the train. “That’s a lot of weapons. You don’t think someone is… planning to occupy the city, do you?” It was hard to imagine. With Fort Urgot so close and with more soldiers stationed in the Imperial Barracks, how could anyone come up with the numbers necessary? There were a million people in the capital, half of them men. Most Turgonian men knew how to fight and were darned patriotic about doing it too.

Of course, a force with superior firepower would have an advantage. What if this was only one of many shipments of advanced weapons heading into the city?

“I can question the engineer,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe grimaced, knowing he did not differentiate between questioning and interrogation. “He’s probably just some paid-off lackey who doesn’t know much.”

She felt Sicarius’s gaze upon her. Was she putting feelings about torture and killing ahead of pragmatism again? Sicarius’s ways were heartless, but effective.

“He knows where the train is going,” Sicarius said.

“So will we, if we stay on it. Although… I’d like to know where those weapons originated, wouldn’t you? Maybe we could sneak into one of those wagons for a ride back to… wherever they came from.”

“We already have a mission to prepare for,” Sicarius said.

“We’ll have plenty of time to get back to the city and catch the train to Forkingrust, just as we planned. This should only be a short detour.” Amaranthe waved to the pumpkin sign on the cab door. “Those trucks look local.”

Sicarius’s gaze grew flinty. Amaranthe doubted he was thinking about her hair this time.

“We’ll take a quick look around, that’s all,” she said. “If there’s something worth investigating further, we can save that for after we get Sespian.”

“He must be the priority.”

“He is,” Amaranthe said, “though I’m sure he would put the city ahead of his personal welfare.”

Sicarius eyed the lorries, his jaw set. “If we do not finish in a timely manner, I will go get him on my own.”

Amaranthe had no intention of letting that happen-though he might get Sespian, his way would surely involve a lot of bloodshed-but she said, “I understand. I’ll wake the others.”

“What’s going on?” Books asked, when Amaranthe slipped back through the trapdoor.

“An interesting development,” she whispered. “Is everyone up?”

“I’m up,” Maldynado said, “though I’m disturbed that I woke to someone-who wasn’t a woman-massaging my chest.”

“Not me,” Akstyr said.

“You’re not a woman or you weren’t massaging me?” Maldynado asked.

“That’s three people awake,” Amaranthe said. “Basilard?”

A patting hand found her shoulder. Basilard. It must be hard on him, not being able to communicate in the dark, but she dared not light a lantern with so many men outside.

“Good.” Amaranthe patted his hand back. “Akstyr, Maldynado, and Basilard, I want you to stay on the train. It’s taking on a secret shipment of advanced weaponry, and I want to know where it gets delivered. We’ll meet you back at the Stumps hideout as soon as possible, so we can get ready for the kidnapping mission.”

Basilard gripped her shoulder to let her know he agreed.

“All right,” Akstyr said. He did not sound excited, but he didn’t complain about taking on a job where payment wouldn’t be involved either. Unusual for him.

“Back to the city is good,” Maldynado said. “Someone here needs a woman.”

“Dolt,” Books said, “you were probably massaging yourself.”

“Books,” Amaranthe said before their conversation could grow any more colorful. “Come with Sicarius and me, please. We’re going to sneak aboard the lorries and see where the guns came from.” She was tempted to send him with the others since stealth wasn’t his strongest skill, but his knowledge might prove useful in figuring out what was going on.

“How delightful,” Books said. “Field work.”