Lindsay Buroker - Deadly Games

“I’m just bad at admitting out loud that I’mwrong about something,” Amaranthe added.

“A character flaw you should correct.”

“Likely so.” She lifted her notepad,intending to ask his opinions about the names, but he surprised herby continuing.

“It would bother me if you died while I wasattending to biological needs.”

Amaranthe’s grin returned at the admission.“It would bother me if I died then, too. Or any time.” She handedhim the notepad. “These are the people missing thus far. Onedisappeared three nights ago, two the night before last-that waswhen Fasha’s sister went-and one last night. I’m trying to figureout what the common link is. After talking with Fasha, I figured itmight be another ploy against foreigners, but we now have moreTurgonians missing than outsiders. The wrestler, Deercrest, has wonoften, so I could see him being targeted as someone to get rid of.Though it’s not honorable to make opponents disappear, it’scertainly not without precedent in the history of the ImperialGames. But the other four are young no-names. One isn’t even oldenough to compete in the regular events; he was entered into thejunior Clank Race.”

“Perhaps they are promising contenders forthis year’s competitions,” Sicarius said.

“How would a kidnapper know? The qualifiersdon’t start until tomorrow. Sure, some people post their practicetimes, but most don’t, and the best athletes often only competehard enough to make the cut in the early rounds.” Amaranthe leanedagainst a tree. “Besides, who would want to get rid of multiplegood athletes? I could see rigging your own event, or your child’sevent, but why wrestling, running, and the Clank Race?”

As was often the case, Sicarius did notanswer, but she knew he was listening.

“Could it be a gambling scheme?” she mused.“People bet on the events, and some people bet a lot . Issomeone trying to set things up so they can guess the winners?”

“With athletes disappearing days prior to therace, the odds will be adjusted accordingly.”

“True, it’d make more sense to kidnap someonethe night before, or minutes before the event if you wanted toupset the odds-makers.” Amaranthe took the notepad back and tappedit. “Still, it might be worth talking to some of thebookmakers.”

Male voices sounded on the path in front ofthe bench. She parted the branches as a trio of muscular young menwalked past. They did not wear athletes’ togs, but instead thesleeveless overalls of miners. That was odd. Most local companiesonly gave workers the final two days of the Imperial Games offbecause they were considered a holiday in the capital. Even if oneman had finagled a day off somehow, it seemed unlikely a groupcould have managed the same. Mining outfits were particularlystingy with leave, as Amaranthe well knew. She had seen little ofher father when she was growing up. Yet here these men were,wandering about, a day before the qualifying events were to startand a week before the holiday finals.

“ They are not bookmakers,” Sicariussaid.

The branches rustled as Amaranthe releasedthem. “No, I know. I was just thinking…” She paused as thepossible connotations of his comment slid over her. Was hedispleased to have caught her ogling handsome young men? No hint ofconsternation marked his face; maybe she had imagined his words hadunderlying meaning. Besides, he knew she would happily ogle him ifhe gave her more opportunities. “I’m going to follow those men. Ihave a hunch.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but all he saidwas, “There are numerous enforcers about.”

“I know. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

“Doubtful.”

“Just don’t wander off for too long at a timeto attend biological needs.”

Amaranthe tossed him a wink and slipped outof the brush without waiting for a response. She tugged the brim ofher hat low over her eyes. It did a decent job of hiding herfeatures, especially considering most enforcers were men, and herfive-and-a-half feet put her face below their eye level, but shehad best not chance getting too close.

She trailed after the miners at a distance,keeping other people between her and them. One had a rolled upnewspaper and a small leather-bound journal protruding from backpockets. That piqued her interest even more. Most miners only hadthe mandatory six years of schooling and started working young, soit was rare to find one who was comfortable looking to books ornewspapers for information.

A bent, old woman stepped out from thecourtyard of an eating tent, and the miners stopped abruptly. Sheleaned on a cane and wore her gray hair in buns on either side ofher head-hardly a formidable-looking person, but the young mendarted back the way they had come, nearly running into Amaranthe.She hopped off the path to let them by. They must have been intheir twenties, but they tore away like truant children avoiding aschool teacher.

“I saw you, Rill and Stemmic,” the old womanhollered after them, “and your mother will hear from me. You beingoff work this many days, you ought to be helping her out.”

The men ran into the stadium and disappearedfrom view, but Amaranthe barely noticed. That woman’s voice… Itwas familiar. Something from her childhood.

She squinted at the old lady, and it took amoment to place her. She was the mother of a friend of herfather’s, and Amaranthe had stayed at her flat once as a girl whenAuntie Memela had been sick.

The woman had stopped yelling after the youngmen, but she continued to stand there, leaning on her cane andgrousing under her breath. Though Amaranthe was curious what theexchange had been about, she found herself hesitant to go up to thewoman. She had avoided everyone from her old life since becoming anoutlaw, in part to keep them out of trouble, but also because shedid not want their pity or condemnation. Once she found herexoneration, she could reconnect with old comrades.

But this was different. This might be somesort of lead.

Amaranthe girded herself and strode up to thewoman. “Hello, ma’am?” She decided not to mention her name. Whatwere the odds that the woman would remember her? “Do you need anyhelp? Did those boys do something to you?”

The woman tilted her head and squinted up atAmaranthe, peering beneath the hat. “Amaranthe Lokdon?”

“Er, you remember me?”

“I remember you.” Her face was difficult toread. No hint of a smile stretched her lips. “I see you rememberme, too.”

“Yes, but you look the same.”

“That’s good. I think,” the woman said.

“Wasn’t I only seven or eight the last timewe met?”

“Yes, but I’ve recently seen your facedecorating a poster.”

“Ah.” Amaranthe tugged her hat a littlelower, reminded of the public nature of the place.

“I imagine your father would behorrified.”

“Yes, ma’am. I imagine so.”

“He wanted so much for you, sacrificed so much.”

“I know, ma’am. I’m trying to…make amendsnow.”

“By loitering around the stadium grounds inthe middle of the day? Are you betting on the events orsomething?”

“No, I-” Amaranthe cleared her throat. Shewould be here all day-or until someone caught her-if she stoodaround, explaining her every action. “I was wondering about thoseminers. Don’t they have work?”

“Indeed so. They’re not outlaws.”

“Then why aren’t they at work?” Amarantheasked, pushing the dig aside.

“Some scheme of Raydevk’s. I haven’t thefaintest notion of what, but they’ve been down here all week. Mygrandson is racing. That’s why I’m here. There’s no reasonfor young, able-bodied souls not to be laboring during theworkday.”

“Yes, ma’am. Ah, is that the Foreman Raydevkmy father knew?”