Beneath the Surface (19 page)

Inside the cigar factory, rows of tables stretched beneath a high, beamed ceiling. Outside, twilight approached, and the shadows grew long. Evrial stood near the door, wrinkling her nose at the sweet pungent aroma thickening the air, while Maldynado roamed through the spacious interior looking for... who knew what? What sort of distraction could they create that didn’t involve fires or explosives? When Maldynado paused to tick a finger against one of the stoves stationed in the corners of the room, Evrial scowled at him. He resumed his stroll.

He paused in front of a tall, narrow window overlooking the waterfront. “One enforcer is pushing a wheelbarrow of coal up the dock. I think the other is building fires in the furnaces.”

“
The boat crews may simply have stopped to grab a meal and refuel. Those two were probably sent out to start up the engines. The rest of their squad could be out shortly.”

Evrial mentioned the squad to discourage Maldynado from the theft idea, but he brightened and said, “Good.”

“
Good?”

“
If they get the boilers heated up, it won’t take but a moment for us to abscond with a boat.” Maldynado winked. “Maybe we won’t need anything so dramatic as a fire.”

“
Whatever you’re planning to do better be soon.”

“
Yes, ma’am.” Maldynado strolled away from the window, hands clasped behind his back, his boots stirring shreds of cigar paper and dried tobacco leaves on the floor. He paused to eye the cleaning-supply cart speculatively, but thankfully moved on, passing the long tables and heading to the front of the room. A desk full of books and newspapers rested on a raised platform.

“
Hah.” Maldynado tapped a fat tome. “If our revolution doesn’t go as planned, here’s a back-up job for Books. He can be the lector who reads to the bored blokes rolling cigars all day.” Something on one of the newspapers must have caught his eye, for he picked it up and carried it to a window to read by the fading light.

Evrial walked toward the back of the building, passing crates of dried tobacco stamped with plantation logos from the southern satrap. Maybe if she found a suitable distraction, she could prevent him from doing something overly destructive.

Her foot struck an empty box, causing it to skid across the floor and stop in front of a mechanical contraption standing in the corner. Evrial eyed the machine. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, except that its cylindrical body rested on wheels instead of legs. A small boiler and furnace made up the torso, and the pair of “arms” extending from its shoulders had spatula-like hands, perhaps for lifting boxes. A harness crossed the body, and hooks dangled down its back, so she imagined it could pull cargo too. An ash bin and a box of coal also sat on the floor in the corner. She squinted at the operating instructions on the machine’s side.

“
Handsome fellow,” Maldynado said, strolling up and rapping his knuckles on the metal form. “But you’re not already bored with me, are you?”

Evrial ignored the question and asked, “Do you think you can fire up this thing?”

“
Naturally.”

“
Before the enforcers finish firing up their boats and sail away?”

“
Er.” Maldynado peeped out the window. “Probably?”

“
Do it. I have an idea.”

“
Another woman in my life who’s going to give me orders? How did I get signed up for that?” Maldynado’s flippant words—and mock-military salute—didn’t reach his face. He frowned at the newspaper, then stuffed it into his shirt before opening the door in the machine’s “chest” and picking up the coal shovel.

“
Is that today’s paper?” Evrial headed for the cleaning cart. “Is there something I should know about in it?”

“
Something the
boss
should know about.” Maldynado eyed the nearest window—and the enforcers on the dock outside of it—while he readied the firebox. “Satrap Governor, and potential heir to the throne, Lord Heroncrest has captured one of the railways into Stumps and is trying to transport in loyal troops. Lord General Flintcrest is coming up the river, apparently with similar aspirations. And my ambitious brother has officially declared martial law, locked down the city, and set up check points to inspect every boat, train, carriage, donkey cart, and children’s push wagon attempting to enter Stumps.”

“
That’s...” Evrial couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t be an understatement. “I can’t believe how fast this is all happening. Sespian’s reputed death was only a couple of weeks ago.”

“
Publicly speaking. Ravido and Forge have obviously been planning that death for a long time and had plenty of time to act.” Maldynado struck a flame in the firebox. “The speed with which Flintcrest and Heroncrest got all those troops together makes you wonder if they had some warning too. Or were already planning something.”

Evrial grabbed the cleaning cart and pushed it toward Maldynado’s corner. “If Lokdon and the others are still on that steamboat when it approaches Stumps...”

“
Yup, an extra degree of trouble. Another reason to catch up to that boat and warn them that walking in across the fields might be best.” Maldynado straightened. “Fire’s lit. It’s a little boiler—should heat up quickly. What’s the plan here?” He eyed the matches in his hand, as if he was already considering arson as a backup plan.

Evrial hooked the cart up to the machine’s harness. “I thought we’d start this up, let it roll around, banging into things and making noise. The enforcers should hear it and come to investigate, especially since it’s getting dark and the factory is closed for the day. What do you think?”

Maldynado scratched his jaw. “That you’re new at this.”

“
Sorry, I don’t have your gang’s experience for molesting enforcers. What’s the problem?”

“
They’re not going to hear that way over there. These are brick walls.”

“
I’ll look around for something noisier we can attach.” Evrial scowled at Maldynado’s dubious expression. “If you’re so sure this ideal will fail, why’re you still shoveling coal in there?”

“
Well, I figured we could blow up the boiler. They’d hear
that
.”

Evrial threw up her hands and stalked to a row of cabinets lining the back wall. “How did you avoid becoming an outlaw earlier in life?”

“
I was warrior-caste until recently, remember. Lords can get away with a lot.”

“
Yes,” Evrial grumbled. “I attempted to arrest a perverted and criminal
lord
once and found out how little the law applies to those people. I hope Books’s new government plan involves an empire in which people are treated equally in the eyes of the law.”

“
I doubt he’ll propose anything that radical. Not outright. Who would back him? Aside from us? We’re certainly an impressive bunch of individuals, but we’re no army.” Maldynado checked the window again. “There’s smoke coming from the vents on those boats. Better hurry with whatever addendum to the plan you’re making.”

Evrial dragged empty paint cans out of a cabinet and tied them onto the back of the laundry cart. Maldynado was wrong. This
would
make a racket, and those enforcers would feel compelled to investigate.

He ticked a gauge on the machine. “This beast’s ready to roll.”

Fingers flying as she tied the last can, Evrial said, “Done in a second. Make it go.”

“
Right.” The gloom had deepened and Maldynado groped about the machine.

“
There’s a lever to your right,” Evrial said, having read the instructions earlier.

Maldynado yanked it, and Evrial lifted her arms, the last can tied on. The machine
clink-clanked
forward, wheels rolling, and promptly ran into one of the tables.

“
Oh, yes,” Maldynado said. “This is a brilliant plan.”

“
We’ll just—”

The door creaked open, brightening the back of the factory. A squat woman with gray hair wrapped into a bun strode into the building before Evrial could do more than drop her hand to her waist—where her knife or sword would have hung if she hadn’t been dumped overboard.

“
What is this?” the woman demanded, her voice so accented that it was hard to understand. “What you do to my cart? Why porter running? Why you here?”

“
Pardon us, ma’am,” Maldynado said smoothly, stepping past Evrial and bowing deeply to the woman. “We—”

“
Stay away, big man.” The woman grabbed a broom and swung it at Maldynado’s head with the practiced mien of one who has swatted many mice out of the kitchen.

Maldynado ducked and skittered back. At least he didn’t seem predisposed toward attacking old women, even in self-defense.

While they were busy, Evrial gave the machine a heave, trying to redirect it. It proved heavier than expected and kept bumping against the workstation.

“
Ouch, listen, ma’am,” Maldynado tried again. “We’re just—”

Glass shattered. The broom going through the window, or perhaps the woman had hurled something at Maldynado’s head?

Evrial’s fingers bumped against a wheel. Ah,
that
was for steering. She rotated it, and the contraption spun in a new direction. She gave it another heave, and it
clink-clanked
around the corner and started down the long aisle by the windows. The cleaning supplies rattled in their cart, and the paint cans banged and clanged.

On the docks, someone had lit lanterns, so Evrial had no trouble making out the enforcers. The two men had climbed of their boats and were squinting toward the cigar factory.

“
Don’t touch me. Molester!” Another window succumbed to the cleaning woman’s misdirected ire.

“
Woman,” Maldynado growled, finally slipping past the flailing broom to grab her by the arms. “Stop—”

An eardrum-piercing shriek escaped the woman’s lips. That did it.

“
The enforcers are coming,” Evrial said, wondering if Maldynado would hear her over the continuing shrieks. “We have to go now if we’re going to get—”

“
Right behind you.” Maldynado, still gripping the woman with both hands, jerked his chin toward the alley door.

Evrial hesitated, wondering if she should be concerned that he’d do something untoward to his screaming prisoner, but, no, she didn’t believe Maldynado had an old-lady-mauling streak in him. She raced out the door and into the alley. Instead of heading for the street, she crept around the waterfront side of the building, pushing through weeds and dead leaves. She would have been visible from the docks, but the enforcers were pounding up the road at that point. The shrieks from inside halted, though the clanks continued as the steam-machine clattered about, bumping into things.

When the enforcers disappeared around the front of the cigar factory, Evrial continued through the tall grass, hoping Maldynado would catch up. He better have gotten out before the enforcers charged in... All this had been
his
idea. She had no urge to steal a boat by herself. Or at all, for that matter.

She ducked under the first dock and, after making sure the enforcers truly had gone inside, hopped onto the second. Unfortunately, the noise had drawn curious pedestrians as well, and more than one eating house door stood open with people peering outside. Fortunately, they were looking toward the cigar factory, not the docks. Evrial ran to the end, glancing back to see if she could spot Maldynado and grimacing when she couldn’t. The shadows had deepened along the waterfront. Maybe the weeds were camouflaging him.

Smoke wafted from the vents of both boats. Evrial untied the first craft from the dock, hoping it would float away on its own. The enforcers ought to be able to catch up to it eventually, but not in time to use it to chase their other boat. As Evrial hopped onto the deck of the second craft, the shrieks resumed in the factory. Good. The woman wasn’t dead or unconscious—and she certainly hadn’t suffered any injuries to those powerful lungs.

Evrial climbed past weapons mounted on the deck and into the covered navigation cabin. She halted in the middle, frowning at all the levers and gauges. In her rural district, she’d never had occasion to pilot anything fancier than a rowboat, and she didn’t know where to start.