Deadly Games (24 page)

“I said I’d make it
easier
for you to
unlock yourself,” Amaranthe said. “Now you’ll only need one clothes
hanger instead of two. Good night.”

She, Maldynado, and Books headed out.
Midnight had to be growing near, and they had much work to do.

Soft rain pattered onto the cobblestones and
railway tracks alongside the street. Amaranthe pedaled up the
waterfront, trying to hover above the damp bicycle seat in an
attempt to avoid a wet backside. Maldynado rode alongside, his
knees nearly clunking his own chin with each revolution—he had been
unable to find a taller model left on the communal rack and had
refused a couple of larger bicycles that appeared “too feminine.”
That it was well after midnight and no one was around to see him
riding did not seem to matter.

He also balanced the soldier’s rifle across
the handlebars. Tonight, it might be worth risking the unwanted
attention of being spotted with firearms in the city. Amaranthe
wore a pistol on her sword belt, opposite the blade. A light jacket
hid the firearm, and Maldynado could always toss the rifle if
potential witnesses spotted them.

They pedaled through darkness punctuated by
puddles of light from gas lamps. On the other side of the tracks,
water lapped at the pilings of docks, many supporting towering
warehouses, all dark this time of night. Amaranthe supposed they
would not luck across one with a brightly painted sign that read,
“Kidnapped athletes stored here.” This time of year, the docks saw
a lot of traffic and would make a poor hideout for those engaging
in felonious activities.

“There’s the spur.” Maldynado pointed at
tracks veering inland, away from the main line. The wet steel
gleamed under the influence of a corner street lamp.

“Let’s check it,” Amaranthe said.

She turned onto the street, glad to leave the
bumpy cobblestones for a modern cement avenue. A hill loomed,
though, and Maldynado grumbled under his breath, something about it
being less work to carry the small bicycle up the incline than to
pedal.

Warehouses continued for the next few blocks,
and commercial and residential tenements rose beyond that.
Amaranthe doubted they needed to search that far up the hill.

“What are we looking for exactly?” Maldynado
asked.

“A door large enough to hide that rail
carriage.” Amaranthe yawned. She was starting to feel the lateness
of the hour. “Though freight cars are sometimes shunted up the
sidings, they don’t spend the night. Our kidnappers have to be able
to hide their conveyance when they’re not using it.”

“A
lot
of these doors are big.”

“But are they big with railway tracks leading
beneath them?”

“Ah, not all. Just...” Maldynado pointed.
“There’s one.”

Amaranthe parked her bicycle against the
brick wall of a building on the opposite side of the street. They
were between lamp-lit intersections, so shadows would hide them
from anyone looking out a window. Not that she expected to chance
upon the villain’s hideout in the first place they checked, but one
never knew.

A couple of blocks up the hill, a ponderous
steam vehicle rolled onto the street with twin lanterns lighting
its way. It had the girth of a rail car itself, and swinging
mechanical arms stuck out of the upper portion of both sides, like
a pair of bug antennae. A stench reminiscent of burning hair wafted
down the street ahead of it.

“What is that hideous thing?” Maldynado had
also dismounted and leaned his bicycle against the wall.

“You’ve never seen a garbage steamer?”
Amaranthe asked. “How can you have lived your whole life in the
city without seeing one?”

“I don’t know.” He clasped a hand over his
nose. “I tend to run the other way when I smell a stench like that
in the middle of the night.”

The vehicle trundled to a stop and a
soot-caked man with a greasy beard and hair in need of scissors
hopped out. He grabbed a couple of ash cans in an alley and dumped
them into the back. He opened the door to an incinerator that
burned independently of the firebox powering the boiler. The
contents of a bronze waste bin went into the flames.

“Why don’t you take a look at that building?”
Amaranthe waved to the one they had stopped to check. “I’m going to
talk to that fellow. If he works at night, he may have seen
something suspicious on his route.”

“Be careful,” Maldynado said. “He looks
dangerous, like he doesn’t see daylight too often. Probably not
women either.”

“So, he’ll be happy to see me.”

“He’d be happier if you were in something
less...well, less. What happened to the disguise I got you before
we went into the mountains?”

“The one that showed more skin than most
people reveal in the public baths? Sicarius didn’t like it.”

“First off,” Maldynado said, “you shouldn’t
take fashion advice from someone whose wardrobe is monochromatic.
Second, he didn’t
like
it? How could a male not like seeing
an attractive young female in that outfit? Whatever is wrong with
that man is no small thing.”

“I’ll let you tell him that when we find
him.”

Amaranthe waved him toward the building and
jogged up the hill.

“Hello,” she called to the man, not wanting
to startle him. A second fellow sat in the cab of the vehicle, and
she lifted a hand in greeting toward him as well.

The garbage collector nearly dropped the can
in his arms when he spotted her. He glanced over his shoulder,
perhaps thinking she was speaking to someone else.

“That’s a nice looking steamer,” Amaranthe
said as she drew near. She fought the urge to crinkle her nose, not
entirely sure all the foul smells came from the vehicle.

He scratched his tangled hair, probably
trying to figure out why a woman was running up to him in the
middle of the night. “Yup, yup ‘tis.”

“I was wondering what those arms do.” She
pointed at the articulating antennae-like devices.

“Yup, yup, they’re for fetching big pieces
outta hard-to-reach spots. See them claspers at the end?” The man
went on to detail dozens of features of the vehicle, which turned
out to be a brand new model. After a barked warning from his
co-worker, he continued to work while he talked.

Amaranthe walked beside him and grunted
encouragingly from time to time, figuring they were bonding. The
man ought to think her less odd if they had established a rapport
before she started pumping him for information.

“Yup, she’s a real fine lady.” He finished by
patting the vehicle on the side. “You want to ride along a
spell?”

“Tempting,” she said, “but I’m on a
quest.”

“Oh?” He scraped his fingers through his
tangled beard.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen a fancy black
rail carriage rolling through this neighborhood late at night? It
would have been in the last two...”

She trailed off, since he was already
nodding.

“Seen that beauty a couple of times. That’s a
custom job. Ain’t no factory-made model, no, ma’am.”

“Did you see it on this street?” she
asked.

“Naw, over on West Monument. Saw it rolling
out of the old fire brigade building a little after midnight a few
nights back.”

“Monument, good, thank you.” A nervous
flutter disturbed her stomach. That was the direction she had sent
Books and Akstyr. “I don’t suppose you’re heading over that way?”
she asked, thinking of the proffered ride. It would be faster than
the bicycles if she could convince these fellows to detour from
their route—and not pick up trash on the way.

“Naw.”

“Any chance you could be
convinced
to
head that way?”

“Well, my partner drives, so reckon I gots to
ask him.” The man held up a finger, then swung up to address the
person manning the controls.

While they conversed, Amaranthe looked for
Maldynado. She could signal him to stop searching the buildings off
this spur if she spotted him, but nothing stirred on the street. A
muggy breeze whispered off the lake, bringing harder rain. Another
reason to switch from bicycles to covered conveyances.

“...take that long,” her scruffy ally was
saying.

The only word Amaranthe caught in the
response was “teats.” She arched her eyebrows. The fellow might be
invoking the ancient imperial platitude about the unfairness of
suckling on a dog’s rearmost teats, or he might be referencing her
chest. Neither sounded promising.

“...nice girl,” Scruffy said. “...not going
to do that.”

“Nice?” the response came, voice louder.
“Nice girls don’t roam the streets at two in the morning. They’re
home with their fathers or husbands.”

“Ssh. I’m not asking her...”

No, this did not sound good at all. She took
a step forward, thinking she had better handle the negotiating, but
Scruffy swung down and faced her first.

“Sorry,” he said, “but Chalts figgers we’re
going to get took down by our boss if we delay our route that much,
so it’s got to be real worth the hollering at.” He shuffled his
feet and prodded one of the vehicles fat tires. “He says we’ll do
it if you show us—show him—your, uh...”

“Emperor’s warts, Scuv, we’ll be here all
night if you talk.” The second man leaned out of the cab so the
lights on the vehicle illuminated his face. He was comelier than
his scruffy comrade, but that did not make Amaranthe appreciate his
request more. “Pull up your shirt and show us some teats, and we’ll
give you a ride.”

While she had paid greater prices for things
before, she doubted a mercenary leader striving to build a
reputation for competence should entertain such an offer. She
unbuttoned her jacket, intending to show them her pistol rather
than any skin.

“She’s going to do it!” Scruffy whispered in
an aside to his comrade.

“Told you,” the other muttered. “She
probably—oomph!”

Without further warning, the man flew out of
the cab and crashed to the street at his comrade’s feet. A familiar
figure slid into the vacated seat—Maldynado. The soldier’s rifle
rested across his lap.

“
I
haven’t even seen under her shirt,”
he said, “so there’s no way you two shrubs are going to get a
show.” He gave her a wide-eyed significant look, as if to ask what
she had been thinking by unbuttoning her jacket.

Amaranthe smiled and lifted the garment to
display the pistol.

“Ah, right.” Maldynado wriggled his fingers.
“You coming? I’m sure I can drive this.”

“You want to
steal
it?” She eyed the
garbage workers.

Scruffy was helping his comrade to his feet
amidst much groaning.

“I just wanted a ride,” Amaranthe added.

“Aw, come on, boss,” Maldynado said. “I
haven’t gotten to abscond with an official imperial vehicle since
we molested those soldiers up at that secret lake.”

“We didn’t molest them, we helped them.”
Amaranthe rubbed her face. It was so difficult to establish a
reputation for being a doer of good. “These two gentlemen were
going to give us a ride. I don’t think we need to steal their
vehicle and get them in trouble.”

The man Maldynado had thrown out lunged for
the cab, his hand balled into a fist and drawn back to throw a
punch. He halted mid-swing when the rifle whipped up. The cold
steel muzzle pressed against his forehead.

“I don’t think we want these fellows riding
along with us,” Maldynado said.

The driver backed down, arms raised. “Told
you she wasn’t nice,” he muttered to Scruffy.

“What did I do?” Amaranthe asked.

Both men glared at her. Maldynado grinned.
Yes, this might have gone past the point of salvaging with words.
She took out her pistol. Though she did not point it their
direction, she made sure they saw it.

“You two have any rope in there?” she asked
Scruffy.

“Spare winch cable.”

“Can you get it, please?”

He shrugged and unlocked a box near the front
wheels. He pulled out a large spindle of metal cable.

“Thanks,” Amaranthe said. “Now, you two sit
over there, back to back, please. I’m going to tie you up.”

“What?” Scruffy balked.

His comrade scowled. “
Definitely
not a
nice girl.”

“Actually, I thought this would keep you
gentlemen out of trouble,” Amaranthe said. “Better to be
incapacitated by deadly bandits than simply wander back to
headquarters without your truck, right?”

“Oh,” Scruffy said. “Like a
lot
of
bandits, right?”

“At least six, I should think,” Amaranthe
said.

He sat on the cement. After a glower at
Amaranthe’s pistol, his grumbling comrade did the same.

“Want me to beat them up a bit?” Maldynado
asked. “To add verisimilitude?”

“No time.” Amaranthe finished tying the men
and joined Maldynado in the cab. “They can smash their heads
against each other’s faces if they feel the need to add physical
evidence to corroborate the story.”

Maldynado threw a lever. Gears turned,
pistons pumped, and the truck lurched backward, flattening an ash
can.

Amaranthe groaned. “Why do I find it so
difficult to be a law-abiding citizen these days?”

Maldynado shoved the lever the other
direction, causing the vehicle to roll forward. “Is there a law
against smashing people’s trash cans?”

“Imperial City Code 174 covers it. There are
numerous pages on vandalism.”

“It can’t be vandalism if it’s done by
accident.” Maldynado fumbled about, and they veered toward a stone
wall.

“No, no, use the turning arm!” came a cry of
advice from the bound men.

Maldynado located the controls and turned the
vehicle to the left. He angled toward an intersection. “Good thing
you didn’t gag them.”

“Yes, they’ll be in big—
bigger
—trouble
with their boss if we wreck their vehicle.” Amaranthe realized her
hand was gripping the side of the cab with clenched fingers.