Conspiracy (9 page)

“
If we want to find out
who,” Maldynado said, “we better remove the bodies and clean up the
mess. If the people receiving the delivery think someone forgot to
send the help, they won’t suspect we’re around.”

“
It’ll take a lot of
cleaning to make it look like people didn’t die in here.” Akstyr
eyed blood puddles on the floor and spatters on the crates. “Too
bad Am’ranthe isn’t here. She
likes
cleaning.”

I doubt she’d enjoy mopping
up blood
, Basilard signed.
That’s an unpleasant task for anyone.

“
I don’t know,” Akstyr
said, “she likes spending time with Sicarius, and that’s about the
most unpleasant thing I can imagine.”

Twilight descended upon the farm, and
someone lit lanterns in the house. Amaranthe watched from behind
trees lining the stream a few hundred meters away. After her
failure to win a meeting with “Ma,” she and Books had retreated to
the area to wait for Sicarius. Fallen leaves carpeted the banks,
and old gnarled roots that had survived more than a few floods rose
hip-high in places, offering cover from farmer eyes.

Under the dying light, Books sat on a fat
root, squinting and scribbling notes in a journal he had been
carrying everywhere for the last couple of months. It contained the
information he’d been compiling on Forge and its members.

Amaranthe nodded toward his work. “Any new
thoughts?”

“
I
think
,” Books said, “that it’s
wretched that one can’t acquire a fresh newspaper anywhere out
here. Don’t these rural bumpkins care about what’s going on in the
world?”

“
We won’t stay much
longer.”

“
I can’t be expected to
further my research under these conditions.” Books gave her a
pointed look. When Amaranthe had first announced the multi-day
training exercise by rail, Books had argued that his time would be
better spent in the city, continuing his fact-finding mission.
She’d almost relented, but she would need everyone to infiltrate
the emperor’s train, and Books would more likely be a hindrance
than a help if he hadn’t practiced with the team. “But,” he said,
“I
have
been
mulling over the names I’ve recorded thus far, trying to decide who
might be behind the building of these weapons.”

“
It’s possible this isn’t a
Forge plot. If the weapons are meant to disrupt the city, it could
be a scheme concocted by foreigners, especially if it was timed to
coincide with the emperor’s travels.” Amaranthe tapped her finger
on one of the roots. “Though, you’d think they would have chosen to
move earlier, when he was out on the West Coast, if they wanted to
take advantage of his absence. He’s almost home now. Maybe they
meant to act sooner, but manufacturing was delayed.”

“
I believe it’s too early
to speculate on motivations—we don’t yet know what the weapons will
be used for. I imagine, though, that setting up this enterprise
required a great deal of funds, both for construction of the
manufacturing facility and for crafting the weapons themselves. And
let’s not forget about the preliminary research and development
that would have been done. Someone well-financed must be behind
this.” Books lifted his journal. “I have seventeen confirmed Forge
names in here and more than thirty other suspected ones. One
controls a metallurgy factory and another mills timber, so they
could easily provide the raw materials. Also, a surprising number
of people on my list are bankers or own shares in banking
interests.”

“
Fifty people,” Amaranthe
said.

“
That we know of. I’m
certain there are more.”

“
So many. Is it
possible...” She nibbled on her lip and gazed at the water wending
its way around rocks and roots stretching into the
stream.

“
What?” Books
asked.

“
I certainly don’t approve
of their methods, but if there are so many business leaders in the
city vying for a change in the government... Are we sure we’re
right, Books? I don’t believe it’s wrong to protect Sespian, not
for a moment, but are we—is the
throne
—standing in the way of
progress?”

“
The fact that a lot of
people believe in something doesn’t make it right. If they wanted
to effect change, there are legal routes they could have
pursued.”

“
Really? This isn’t the
Kyatt Islands. You can’t hold demonstrations or print whatever you
want in periodicals. Those with dissenting opinions have to go
underground.”

“
It’s true that the empire
could stand to adopt more flexibility and offer more freedoms to
its citizens,” Books said, “but murdering people and loosing
monsters on the city isn’t an acceptable method of
protest.”

Amaranthe didn’t answer him. She was
thinking of all the destruction her team had wrought, however
inadvertently, in her pursuit to protect the emperor and thwart
Forge. She wished she might have a chance to walk into Forge’s
secret meeting room, wherever that might be, and to talk to the
leaders, to see exactly how much they wanted, and to find out if
there was some compromise that might suit both sides. Wouldn’t that
be a better solution than ongoing plots and schemes that put the
city at risk? Or was it too late for negotiations? Maybe she was
crazy for thinking of dealing with such people.

“
Do you have addresses for
any of the members?” Amaranthe asked.

“
Some, yes. Business
addresses if not residential ones.”

“
Keep up the research.
After we’ve helped the emperor, maybe—”

A shadow appeared behind Books, and
Amaranthe twitched in surprise.

“
You did not get into
trouble,” Sicarius said.

Books fell off the root he was sitting on
and his journal tipped into the mud.

“
Sorry to disappoint you,”
Amaranthe told Sicarius while giving Books a hand up, “but the best
I could manage was to have a cranky woman threaten to sic her dog
after us.”

Books picked up his journal and brushed off
the mud-spattered pages, pointedly not looking at Sicarius.

Sicarius noticed the open pages, or perhaps
the list they contained. “What is that?”

“
This?” Books held up the
journal. “Though your training regimen leaves me little time for
academic pursuits, Amaranthe has further burdened me with the task
of—”

“
You
like
the research,” Amaranthe
said.

Books smiled. “Perhaps. Amaranthe has had me
researching Forge as relentlessly as possible the last couple of
months, and I’ve put together an extensive list of key members and
sympathizers.”

“
I talked to Deret Mancrest
a while back,” Amaranthe said, “and he said, should the situation
become desperate, he’d be willing to risk himself to print
everything we have on the organization. Names, businesses, and the
fact that they were behind the poisoning of the water last spring.
If we can get proof of other misdeeds, he’ll include those too.”
Amaranthe had actually asked Deret to print up the information if
she and her team were killed, but she decided mentioning that might
not be good for morale. It bolstered her though. If she left no
other legacy, she could leave that, a warning to the public and
information for anyone who might care enough to use it.

“
I see.” As was so often
the case, Sicarius’s tone was difficult to read. He tended to grow
extra flinty when Amaranthe mentioned the journalist’s name.
“Come,” he said, “I’ve located the secret entrance. The workers
have gone to the bunkhouse for the night.”

“
Any guards to worry
about?” Amaranthe brushed dirt off Books’s jacket and
trousers.

Sicarius hesitated—or perhaps he was simply
watching her fastidious streak in action—before saying, “No.”

“
Anything
else
to worry
about?”

“
Likely.”

Sicarius headed into the gloom without
bothering to share details.

“
I believe we’ll have some
trouble yet.” Books straightened his jacket. “Thank you for the
help. I think I’m clean enough until we return to the
city.”

“
If you change your mind, I
have a lint brush.”

“
You brought a lint brush
on a training mission into the rural hinterlands?”

Amaranthe cleared her throat. “Doesn’t
everybody?”

“
I don’t believe so,
no.”

“
How odd.”

Amaranthe waved for Books to follow her in
the direction Sicarius had gone. This time, she made sure they kept
up. The three of them steered wide of the bunkhouse and main house,
where more lanterns burned inside windows, circling instead to the
carriage house. It was dark.

Without a word, Sicarius jogged inside.
Amaranthe followed more slowly, sliding her fingers along the wall
for guidance. The darkness lay thick inside. While night had some
lovely benefits when it came to sneaking around, it also increased
one’s odds of tripping over a pile of tins and alerting the entire
farm to one’s presence. She heard Books crunch on something behind
her and made an effort to slide her feet along, toes probing before
she committed to each step.

From what Amaranthe had seen of the building
from outside, the two lorries and a couple of other pieces of large
machinery occupied much of the space, so she continued to hug the
wall. Her boots stirred sawdust, and she crinkled her nose at the
scent of spilled engine oil.

A soft thump came from somewhere ahead.
Amaranthe tensed. Had Sicarius been wrong? Was there a guard on
duty in there?

She reached for her sword, all the while
thinking it’d be a pitiful weapon if someone had one of those new
rifles pointed in her direction.

The sawdust swished. Amaranthe lowered into
a crouch and pressed her back against the wall. Something whispered
past. She squinted into the gloom but saw nothing.

Books patted her arm and waved toward the
door. Amaranthe looked in time to see a cat trot outside.

“
Ah,” she said, trying not
to feel silly.

“
Here,” Sicarius whispered
from the middle of the room.

Using his voice as a guide, Amaranthe left
the wall. She patted her way around one of the lorries and held out
a hand until she bumped into him. Books came up from behind,
finding her in a similar manner. Clouds had come in that afternoon,
so neither moon nor stars helped to brighten the night outside.

A soft creak stirred the silence, and
something about the noise made Amaranthe’s neck hairs sit up and
take notice. Just a trapdoor opening, she told herself.

“
There’s a ladder down,”
Sicarius said.

“
Shouldn’t we stop to light
lamps?” Books asked. “Climbing down into a pitch-black secret
weapons bunker sounds potentially damaging to one’s health.
We
do
have lamps,
don’t we?”

“
I do.” As if Amaranthe
would remember a lint brush and not a lantern. She slung her pack
off her shoulder. “I thought you had one too.”

Books hesitated. “I can’t remember where I
packed it. I don’t think it’s on top.”

“
Ah, perhaps we can impose
an organizational system on your rucksack later.”

“
Should it worry me that
you seem to find that notion exciting?”

“
Probably.”

Amaranthe withdrew a tin of matches and a
compact, nearly indestructible lantern. She lit the wick, and a
soft bubble of light came to life, throwing Books’s shadow against
the canvas covered cargo bed of the closest lorry. Sicarius had
already disappeared into a rough square hole that descended...
Amaranthe frowned and lowered the light. She couldn’t see him or
the bottom.

“
How far down is it?” she
whispered into the hole.

“
No more than fifteen
feet,” came Sicarius’s voice in return, echoing softly in the
narrow space.

“
Ah, not so bad
then.”

“
So long as there aren’t
booby traps, monsters, and nefarious men with guns down below,”
Books said, a curl to his lip as he regarded the drop.

“
Why don’t you stay here
and stand guard?” Amaranthe suggested.

“
Excellent
idea.”

“
Better not light the other
lantern,” Amaranthe said as she swung onto the ladder. They didn’t
need anyone noticing a flame in the carriage house and
investigating.

“
Understood,” Books
said.

As Amaranthe descended, the dark, narrow
hole invited a feeling of claustrophobia. If she hadn’t left her
rucksack up top, she might have gotten stuck in the tight passage.
If this was indeed an underground manufacturing facility, the
owners must have another, larger exit they used for toting out the
big weapons.

Before her boots hit the ground, Amaranthe
bumped into an obstruction. She reached out and found a head of
short soft hair that was, as usual, sticking out in myriad
directions.

“
Problem?” Amaranthe
asked.

“
I haven’t been able to
determine how to open the door,” Sicarius said without commenting
on her groping hand.

“
What? With me and Books up
there blathering for so long, I thought you’d have picked the lock
and vanquished whatever guard might lie within.”