Deadly Games (30 page)

The twins smiled sweetly.

Basilard watched, hoping the confrontation
would elevate into a worthy distraction for an escape, but
Taloncrest took a deep breath and stalked back the way he had
come.

“Tie him up next to the assassin,” Metya
said. “They can chat from adjoining beds.”

Basilard wriggled his fingers to remind them
he needed his hands free for talking, but Metya had already turned
away. She stroked the globe controlling the liquid oozing into
Sicarius’s veins.

The guards pushed Basilard past her. He
resisted the impulse to make their work difficult. If he cooperated
meekly, they might be less prepared when he did strike. He kept his
hand down, the knife pressed against the inside of his arm. It was
not a small blade, and it would take luck to keep the guards from
noticing it while they tied him. Should he strike before then? No,
he would probably need Sicarius’s help to escape, and Sicarius
would need to be alert for that.

The guards pushed him back against the table
while it was still vertical. Its cold metallic surface pressed
against his bare flesh. One guard bent to strap his ankles and
thighs to the table. Basilard inched the knife around his side.

He wondered if he was being a fool for
waiting and letting them secure his legs. He glanced at the other
table. Metya was still fiddling with the globe, and Sicarius’s eyes
remained vacant.

Basilard slipped the blade behind his butt
and pressed his cheeks into the cold metal. A heartbeat later, one
of the guards grabbed both of his wrists, yanking them before
him.

“Leave them free for now.” Litya held out her
clipboard.

Basilard hesitated. Would it be a mistake to
reveal that Sicarius could understand his signs? At the moment,
they did not realize Basilard and Sicarius worked together. The
writing would be slow, though, and the women would be able to read
everything he shared.

He pointed at Sicarius, touched his own
temple, and signed,
He understands
, figuring the women would
get the gist.

Litya’s eyes narrowed. “The assassin knows
your sign language? Why?”

Basilard accepted the clipboard and wrote,
He’s traveled to my country. To slay people.

“I see.” Litya took the clipboard away and
flipped it back to her papers. “Give him a few moments, and he
should regain a measure of cognizance. I mixed in some of my truth
elixir, too. He resisted it before, but perhaps if he’s familiar
with you and doesn’t see you as a threat...” She eyed him a little
too knowingly. “The more you can get me, the more favorably things
will turn out for you. I want to know his parents’ names, whether
they were distinguished warriors or athletes, and what mix of blood
is in his veins. The Turgonians are mongrels through and through,
but most of them are a combination of their ancient Nurian roots
and the brawny tribesmen that roamed these lands before they came.
He looks like he might have some Kendorian in him though. Find out
as much as you can.”

Basilard nodded. She propped her hip against
Sicarius’s table and waited. One of the guards at the head of the
aisle yawned. No privacy for this chat.

Basilard waited for Sicarius to come around.
Already his own toes felt numb from the straps around his legs and
ankles. He was conscious of the steel of the knife behind him, its
metal warm now from his body heat. It reminded him not to squirm,
lest he drop it.

His gaze drifted toward the nearest of the
strange tanks where a fleshy blob floated. Something nagged at the
back of his mind, a feeling that he should have put the puzzle
pieces together and figured things out by now. The women’s words
floated through his mind.
He’s already what our clients wish us
to create....This is a long-term project.

Babies? He stared at the blob. Were they
creating babies? Was that
possible
? Would that make the
captured men and women the parents? Not parents. Brood-stock. Like
hounds being used to whelp offspring with desirable traits.

One of Sicarius’s fingers twitched. Basilard
watched his face, waiting for a sign that the drugs were losing
their hold. It came, not in an expressive show of recognition, but
in a hardening of his features—a resumption of the stony mask he
always wore. It replaced the blank stare, though his eyes were not
as sharp as usual.

Basilard signed,
You recognize me?

Sicarius nodded once. His eyes shifted from
side to side, taking in the woman and the looming guards.

I got captured, too
, Basilard
signed.

Though Sicarius’s wrists were strapped to the
table like the rest of his body, he could manage some of the
one-handed signs. The one he chose was,
Obviously
.

Basilard clenched his teeth, sensing
condemnation in that brief gesture. Sicarius must assume Basilard
had done something foolish to get here. He didn’t even consider
that Basilard might have been planted as part of a rescue plan from
the team.

Basilard forced his jaw to loosen. He could
not read Sicarius’s thoughts, and, even if his guess were close,
Sicarius would be right, wouldn’t he? Basilard
had
been
foolish and had gotten himself captured.

I was competing at the Imperial Games when
they got me. How did they capture you?

Heartbeats thumped past with Sicarius doing
nothing but gazing impassively. Maybe he had done something
foolish, too, and was loathe to admit it. The thought pleased
Basilard. Sicarius was too cursed perfect. Nobody should be so
perfect that he never made mistakes. It wasn’t human. Of course,
Sicarius might not be responding because he could not explain with
one-handed signs what had happened and did not want to speak of it
with their captors listening.

Amaranthe is looking for us,
Basilard
signed.
She’s concerned about you.
He did not know why he
added the latter. Even as an incapacitated prisoner, Sicarius did
not look like someone who needed bolstering, and he probably did
not care if anyone ever worried on his behalf or not.

“I presume we have a limited time to talk,”
Sicarius whispered in flawless Mangdorian. “Stick to relevant
topics.”

Basilard winced, both because his offering of
compassion was being shoved aside, and because he was all too aware
of the reason why Sicarius had learned his tongue.

“I’ve learned little,” Sicarius added, “only
that we are in the lake, possibly deep enough that we’d drown
before reaching the surface if we simply went out a hatch. I
believe there are forty people in the facility, half scientists and
half guards. Have you obtained any information?”

Litya glanced at the nearest guard.

The man thumped Sicarius on the temple with
the butt of his pistol. “Speak in Turgonian.”

Sicarius leveled a cold stare at his
tormentor. Even though Sicarius was immobilized, the guard stepped
back, shifting uneasily.

Even the dullest wolf knows it’s not good
when the moose and the rabbit conspire in a language foreign to the
pack,
Basilard signed.

It was an old saying that usually elicited a
smile amongst Basilard’s people. Sicarius stared at him without
comment.

I’m supposed to be getting your lineage
out of you
, Basilard signed.

“My parents?” Sicarius asked in
Turgonian.

Basilard suspected it was for the sake of
those listening rather than a need for clarification. The guards
relaxed at the words.

I just got here,
Basilard signed.
If we’re so deep, how do they travel to the surface?

“I was never told,” Sicarius said as his
fingers twitched his real response. With his hands separated and
restrained, he could not make the arm motions that accompanied many
of the Mangdorian signs, and Basilard struggled to follow the
words.

Mental sciences. No thing. Women create when
need.

Thing? Basilard guessed he meant there was no
magical artifact or other contraption they could snatch to travel
to the surface on their own.

...
unconscious...don’t know how many
days...
Sicarius kept speaking as he signed, “Though I was
given to understand it was an arranged mating, and my parents were
chosen for their desirable attributes.”

Basilard caught himself listening to the
words. Were they the truth? Had Sicarius been bred like a hound?
Basilard had heard what Hollowcrest said in Larocka’s mansion, that
Sicarius had been trained from birth to be a tool for the empire,
to
obey
Hollowcrest and Emperor Raumesys. Which meant he had
not likely had a choice about the assassination mission to
Mangdoria.

That didn’t matter. He had still done it.

Sicarius was glaring at him, and for a moment
Basilard wondered if he read minds in addition to his other skills.
But, no, Sicarius signed slowly, with emphasis, and Basilard
realized the glare was for not paying attention.

Amaranthe know where we are?
Sicarius
asked.

Not when I saw her last,
Basilard
said,
but perhaps by now. It’d be best to assume we must escape
on our own.

A few heartbeats passed without a word or a
sign from Sicarius. He seemed to be considering Basilard. His dark
eyes appeared black in this lighting, and Basilard felt them boring
into his soul. Was he suspicious of something? Did he think
Basilard had cut a deal with the women that would leave him
stranded?

Yes
, was all Sicarius signed.

You know how many guards watch this
room?
Basilard rushed to sign, wanting Sicarius’s mind on
escape, not anything else.

“Yes,” Sicarius said and signed,
Four
guards...split twelve-hour shifts. These soldiers worked for
Hollowcrest...now rogues.
“A cook who used to give me balms
after childhood punishments told me my father was an army officer
and my mother a university professor.” Sicarius’s brow crinkled, as
if he was surprising himself with how much he was revealing, and he
glanced at the glowing orb controlling his drug dosages.
Many
practitioners here...only sisters and one male...transport
surface.

Basilard signed,
If we can capture one,
perhaps we can force the other to—

“So,” Litya said, “you don’t know your
parents’ names?”

“No,” Sicarius said.

“But they could still be alive?”

He hesitated, and Basilard wondered if he had
ever considered the possibility. Any child without parents would
speculate about that, wouldn’t he? Maybe he didn’t care about such
things. Most of the time, he did not seem human.

“I was told not, but I suppose it’s
possible,” Sicarius said.

“Hm.” Litya stopped at his side and laid a
hand on the hard ridges of muscle armoring his abdomen. “I’ve not
seen you in action, but based on your reputation and what I see
here...” Her hand roamed, and Basilard looked away. “I’d definitely
be interested in researching your heritage further,” she said. “We
have extensive resources and could help you if you were so
interested.”

Sicarius said nothing.

“Your Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest
disappeared last winter, did he not?” Litya asked. “He’s rumored to
be dead, but there’s speculation that this may be untrue since the
current emperor has not appointed a successor to what must be a
vital position for you militant Turgonians.”

She tilted her head, watching Sicarius.
Basilard wondered if she found his unreadability as frustrating as
most. She showed no sign of it. Too busy being intrigued by him, he
supposed.

“If it’s possible the man is still alive and
incognito,” Litya went on, “I’d be curious to speak with him,
perhaps compare notes....”

“He’s dead,” Sicarius said.

“You’re certain?”

“I killed him.”

“Ah.”

“It’s possible he left notes,” Sicarius said,
surprising Basilard. Sicarius never volunteered anything,
especially not to people on the other side. He must be angling for
something.

“Oh?” Litya asked. “And you’d know where they
were?”

“In his hidden office in the Imperial
Barracks.”

“I suppose you know where this office is and
could retrieve such notes if properly motivated?”

“Even if I said yes, you would be foolish to
believe I could be trusted to do so for you,” Sicarius said.

Basilard frowned at Sicarius, wondering at
his tactics. He ought to either stay silent—which suited his normal
proclivities—or play along and try to get the woman to let him
go.

“Thank you for the warning,” Litya said.

“You let him off that table, and he’ll kill
you,” came Taloncrest’s voice over the sucking and clanking of
equipment. “He’s killed people for daring to do a lot less than
capture him. Also, Hollowcrest hated the mental sciences, so you’d
find little that interests you in his notes. Anything he did was of
natural means.”

“Much can be done with nature,” Litya said,
though more to herself than in response to Taloncrest.

“Hollowcrest used to keep notes on my
training,” Sicarius said. “He researched widely before I was born
and applied techniques from many cultures, current and past.” He
tilted his head slightly. “If you intend to turn your fetuses into
warriors, blood will only get you so far.”

So, Sicarius had reached the same assumption
about what these people were doing down here. Litya did not correct
his assumption.

“Indeed,” she said.

“Litya,” Taloncrest said, “I told you your
funds and assistance would win you my long-term advice on
training.”

“You’re a doctor, not a legendary assassin,”
she said.

“I am—I was—an officer in the Turgonian Army.
I’ve been training to fight since before he was born.”

Litya snorted. “Perhaps I should let him go
and you two could spar for dominance.”