Lindsay Buroker - Deadly Games

“No. Listen.”

Amaranthe closed her eyes and cocked an earin the direction of the smoke. Despite the homeless and hunted thatcamped in the boneyard, quiet ruled there, except for the cicadasthat favored the trees on the southern end. She and Sicarius wereat the northern entrance, though, closest to the city, and sheheard nothing beyond chirping birds. A working train rumbled by tothe west, following the tracks along the lake and into Stumps.Wait. She listened harder. Maybe that was not a locomotive, andmaybe it was not far enough west to be on the tracks.

“Steam carriage?” she asked. “No, I can’timagine anyone wealthy enough to own one spending time here.Enforcer wagon more likely.”

Amaranthe took a step in the direction of thesmoke, intending to check it out, but Sicarius had not released herarm.

“Don’t you want to investigate?” she asked.“Or did you want to stand here and fondle my arm for a while?”

He released her. “I was alerting you to thepotential of trouble so we could avoid it.”

“So…no interest in arm fondling, eh?”

She expected him to ignore her or perhapssigh. Instead, he said, “Were that my goal, your arm wouldn’t be my target.”

Amaranthe blinked. “Why, Sicarius, is itpossible you have a playful side beneath your razor-edged knives,severe black clothing, and humorless glares?”

“I will lead.” Sicarius headed into theboneyard. “Make no noise.”

She was the one to sigh, but she followed himanyway. One day, after they finished their work and made peace withthe emperor, she was going to drag him off some place where itwould be impossible to train and the only acceptable activity washaving fun. She had heard of tropical islands in the Gulf where theinhabitants welcomed everyone with bead necklaces and feasts. EvenTurgonians were supposed to be allowed, so long as they did notcome to conquer.

Sicarius did not choose a direct path to thesmoke. He circled through weed-choked aisles between rows of boxyfreight cars. Nobody stirred in the shadowed interiors, not withenforcers around.

Sicarius climbed the rusty side of an earlymodel locomotive. Salvagers had torn away the siding, removed thewheels, and scavenged any engine parts light enough to carry.

Crouched in the shadow of the smokestack,Sicarius waved for her to come up. She clambered to the top. Theywere closer to the source of the smoke now, and she glimpsed thetop of a steam wagon between rail cars a couple of aisles over. Itgleamed with familiar red and silver paint. Enforcers.

Something clanged, like a baton striking themetal side of a car.

“See any more?” a man called.

“We probably got the wizard already,” cameanother male voice.

“The ones we’ve chained say it’s notthem.”

“Of course they’re not going to admit it, patroller. Not when the punishment is death.”

“They’re all gang thugs. They’re probablygoing to get a death sentence anyway.”

“The lady said the wizard was young .”

Amaranthe mumbled, “What has Akstyrdone?”

Sicarius said nothing.

She had seen enough. She jumped down, herfeet stirring a cloud of fine dust when she landed. It tickled hernose, and she pinched her nostrils shut. The last thing she neededwas to alert the enforcers to her presence with a mighty sneeze.Sicarius alighted beside her, somehow not kicking up any of thedust covering the sun-faded bricks.

“Let’s warn Akstyr and Books,” she whisperedand headed into the maze. Warn wasn’t exactly what she wanted to dowith Akstyr. Kick might be a better verb. Maybe he had a goodreason for doing something that had made someone think he was awizard, but she doubted it.

Their hideout lay a half a mile to the east,close to the far boundary of the boneyard, and she hoped they wouldhave time before the enforcers made it over there. Between thehundreds of rail cars and the narrow, cluttered aisles of junk andweeds between them, the area would not be easy to navigate with asteam wagon. Of course, she and Sicarius had been gone all day. Theenforcers might have already been to their hideout. That thoughtstirred worry in her gut, but, no, even if they had searched hersection of the boneyard, their words implied they had not capturedAkstyr yet.

Amaranthe relaxed when she heard familiarvoices.

“I did not mistranslate it,” Bookssaid.

“Well, it’s not working,” Akstyr huffed. “Itried three times.”

“Perhaps the error is not with thetranslation but your interpretation.”

“Are you calling me inept, old man?”

A clang reverberated from within a railcar.

Amaranthe and Sicarius turned down the deadend to their hideout. Books stumbled out of the “parlor” car with apalm pressed to his temple. She’d thought the men were past thepoint of engaging in fisticuffs if she was not around to mediate,but perhaps not.

“Did Akstyr hit you?” she asked. Maybe she should let the enforcers find him.

Books waved an acknowledgement of theirarrival and said, “Not exactly. His concoction emitted fumes thatcaused me to lunge away and smack my head on the wall.”

Sicarius climbed the nearest car and crouchedon the roof, standing watch.

Since it appeared Books would recover,Amaranthe gave him a pat on the shoulder and went straight tobusiness. “There are enforcers searching the boneyard for a youngwizard with a gang brand.”

Akstyr stuck his head out of the rail car.The usual spiky queue he styled his hair into had sagged, leaving alimp carrot top dangling on either side. Soot and blue goo stainedwhat had started out as a baggy white shirt. A faint smudgedecorated his upper lip.

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“I thought you might know,” Amaranthe said,reaching for her kerchief. “Been performing your arts on anybodyoutside of our group?”

“I wish he wouldn’t perform them on anybody inside the group,” Books muttered, his hand still clutchedto his temple.

“Uhh… I don’t know what you’re talkingabout,” Akstyr told Amaranthe.

“Positive?” she asked.

Akstyr shoved his hands in his pockets.“Yes.”

“What about that girl you were talking tothis morning?” Books asked.

Akstyr scowled at him. “I can’t talk togirls?”

“She was comely and well-dressed,” Bookssaid. “Maybe warrior caste.”

“What’re you saying? That no good-lookinggirls would talk to me?”

“Essentially.” Books lowered his hand andcurled a lip when his fingers came away bloody.

Amaranthe glanced up at Sicarius, not surethey should be wasting this time with the enforcers nearby. Hewriggled his fingers in one of Basilard’s signs. The predators werecloser, but not yet a threat.

“Akstyr,” Amaranthe said, “what you do withyour talents is your choice, but doing it where the group is hidingout can get us all in trouble.”

He bent his head and kicked at a weedthrusting from beneath one of the rusted car wheels. “I just wantedto make some money on the side. You don’t pay us hardly nothing,and I’ve got expenses. I don’t just drink and whore like Maldynado.I’ve got to buy books and components for researching now.” Hejerked his elbow toward the car without taking his hands out of hispockets.

“Understandable,” Amaranthe said. “Nexttime…” She approached him with the kerchief. The smudge above hislips was bugging her. Since his hands were occupied, she figuredshe could clean it off before he objected. She dampened it andswiped it beneath his nose.

“What’re you doing?” he balked.

“Cleaning that smudge,” she said.

“What smudge? There’s no smudge.”

“No, there’s definitely something there.”Despite his protests, she managed to give it a good rub.