Amaranthe ran alongside the frozen lake,thighs weary, calves sore, ragged breaths steaming before her. Theshort sword belted at her waist felt ten times heavier than it was.An inch of fresh snow blanketed the trail, and thick flakes waftedfrom the steely sky. They stuck in her lashes and melted down herflushed cheeks.
   The marker came into view, and she dug apocket watch free as she passed it. She groaned at the time,shoulders slumping.
   "Maybe I can blame the snow," she muttered."Or the cold. Or maybe I can blame-" She rounded a bend and almosttripped over two bodies sprawled across the path, "-the deadsoldiers on the trail," she finished, voice cracking as the breezeshifted and the butcher shop stench enveloped her.
   The soldiers, recognizable by their blackuniforms and military-issue pistols, had died recently: slitthroats poured steaming blood onto the white trail. A tangle ofscuffs and footprints trampled the snow around the bodies, but notrails led away from the scene.
   Exercise forgotten, Amaranthe yanked hersword free. She crouched and surveyed her surroundings, wonderingwhere the killer had hidden to launch the ambush-and wondering ifthat killer might be there now, waiting to do it again.
   Without their foliage, the skeletal apple andmaple trees lining the lake offered little cover. A hundred metersahead, the industrial section of the city began. Deep, dark alleysran between warehouses and factories whose smokestacks belchedblack ribbons into the low gray clouds. Anyone hiding in thosealleys would have had to race across a field of snow to reach thesoldiers though. Closer to her, a gas lamp sputtered at the head ofthe first of hundreds of docks lining the waterfront. The darkhollow beneath the boards held her gaze. Between the snow and thecoming dusk, the lighting was poor; someone might well have hiddenbeneath the dock.
   Even as she watched, a crunch sounded.Someone shifting weight on the snow? Her grip tightened on thesword.
   The self-preservation part of her mindsuggested returning to her jog and leaving this mystery to another.But thanks to a frame job by a late enemy, she was wanted forconspiring to kidnap the emperor. She wanted exoneration, and forthat to happen she needed to seek out noble-andnotice-gaining-tasks. This might be the opportunity she needed.
   Amaranthe stepped off the trail. At first nofootprints marred the bank, but, six or eight feet off thewell-tamped path, fresh boot marks indented the snow. Quite a jump,but not impossible.
   She followed the prints down to the dock.Anticipation quickened her heart, and quick puffs of breathappeared before her eyes. The snow muffled the city sounds; thewaterfront stood eerily silent.
   When she reached the dock, she crouched,half-expecting someone behind the pilings. Nobody was there. Acouple of packs and bedrolls lay tucked in the shadows, however.Had the soldiers chanced upon this campsite and been killed fortheir discovery? She crept forward, intending to investigate.
   Snow crunched behind her.
   Instincts ruling, she lunged behind a thickpiling. The sound of a sword whistled through the air inches behindher. But when she turned, using the piling for cover, she saw onlythe emptiness of the bleak white shoreline.
   She kept her sword ready. Magic, it had tobe. It was almost unheard of here in the heart of the empire, whereimperial mandates hypocritically forbade its use and denied itsexistence, but she had bumped against it a time or two.
   "What do you want?" Amaranthe did not know ifshe addressed a person, or some wizard's minion, but it wouldlikely not hurt to ask.
   Silence.
   Clothing rustled behind her. She threwherself to the side, rolled, and came up as a chunk of wood shearedoff the piling. Amaranthe swung at the spot the attacker shouldhave been, but connected with nothing.
   Her gaze slid downward, though she loweredher eyelashes so her foe would not see. Maybe she could spot printsbeing made, even if her opponent was invisible.
   There.
   In the weak light, she had to strain hereyes, but the snow depressed in slow, deliberate steps. She drewsome comfort from the normal boot-shaped prints; her attacker waslikely human.
   She stepped toward the piling and pokedbehind it, feigning clueless stabbing, even as she kept thosefootprints in the corner of her eye. The enemy circled toward herside, walking slowly enough not to make a sound. She continuedjabbing in front of her until the prints grew closer. The invisibleperson lunged.
   Amaranthe whipped her sword to the side,raking the air.
   A man cursed in a foreign language. Drops ofblood spattered the snow. Footsteps, loud and quick, announced ahasty retreat.
   Amaranthe lunged out of the shadows,wondering how to stop the man.
   A dark figure dropped from the top of thedock, landing beside her. She brought her sword up, her heartlurching, but she recognized the newcomer and almost laughed inrelief.
   "Sicarius. You-"
   He stopped her with an upraised hand. Hisother hand held a throwing knife, and, after listening for asecond, he hurled it toward the trail. The steel blade zippedthrough the falling snow.
   A cry of pain ripped along the waterfront,and a man appeared. He pitched forward, landing face-first in thesnow, the knife hilt quivering between his shoulder blades.
   "Nice aim." Amaranthe nodded appreciationtoward her comrade.
   If Sicarius felt satisfaction from the throwor gratitude for her compliment he showed neither. As always, hisaloof, angular features remained masked, suiting the grim black hewore from soft boots to wool cap. Only his armory of daggers andthrowing knives broke the monotony of his wardrobe. He was not thetype of person one wanted to run into in a dark alley. Unless hewas on one's team.
   "You're late." His voice was as emotionlessas his face.
   "How'd you know I'd be running the laketrail?" Amaranthe asked.
   "Books beat you on the obstacle course thismorning."
   She grimaced. Though pleased he cared enoughto come looking, she was chagrined she was so transparent. Did theother men know she trained extra to keep up with them at physicalfeats?
   "I expect to lose to you,"Amaranthe said, "but if I can't even beat Books, then how can I…" She stoppedherself short of saying 'presume to lead the group.'
   "Your words are what convinced him to trainharder."
   "Yes, and I'm pleased at his progress. I justwish his progress was a teeny bit behind mine."
   "I see."
   Too much, probably. If one whined aboutwhether or not one was fit to lead, one probably wasn't. She lifteda hand to dismiss her comments and headed up the bank toward thebody. Sicarius walked beside her, somehow gliding across the snowwithout a sound. He retrieved his knife, slipped a folded blackkerchief from his pocket, and cleaned the blade meticulously.
   "Kendorian?" Amaranthe nodded at thebody.
   "Yes. A shaman."
   The foreigner wore buckskins rather than thefactory-sewn wool garments Amaranthe had on, and the thick blondbraid and pale skin were unlike the darker coloring of imperialcitizens. Tattoos of snakes and rats adorned the side of his cheekand neck-the rest of his face was buried in the snow.
   "He has a friend." She waved to indicate theblankets and bags.
   "I saw."
   While Sicarius searched for other tracks,Amaranthe knelt and rifled through the Kendorian's pockets. Nothingidentified him, nor did a handywhy-I'm-invading-the-empire-and-killing-soldiers note provideillumination. She checked the belongings under the dock but againfound no identifying items. A small toolkit stirred her imaginationthough.
   Sicarius returned. "No other recentprints."
   "Hm. Any idea what Kendorians would be doingdown here?"
   Other than the ice workers chiseling outblocks for the summer trade, little activity centered around thelake in the winter. The military's ice breaking ship kept thetransportation lanes open for imports and exports, but the fishingboats and canneries lay dormant.
   "Something important enough to warrantkilling soldiers to avoid discovery," Sicarius replied.
   "Kendorians would kill our soldiers whetherdiscovery was involved or not. The empire isn't exactly loved byneighboring nations." She stuck her hands under her armpits. Nowthat her body had cooled, she noticed the chill air probing hersweat-dampened clothing. "Still, most of them don't travel athousand miles in the middle of winter for randomsoldier-slaying."
   "We should go."
   True. With the bounties on their heads, beingfound loitering around murdered soldiers was not a good idea.
   "Agreed." Amaranthe picked up a jog again,heading for the broad street lining the waterfront. "We'll need tohurry to have a shot at finding the second Kendorian before hedoes… whatever it is he's planning."
   Sicarius matched her pace, but the long lookhe slanted her suggested that was not the "go" he had in mind.
   As her mind whirred with possibilities, theweariness from her run bled away. If the second man could turnhimself invisible, too, he could be anywhere. It would take somelucky guessing to suss out his destination.
   When they reached theice-free channel fronting the merchant and naval docks, she slowed.Could one of the trade vessels be a target? Most ships sat dark.The gathering night and the snowfall had sent folks home for theday. Only one pier was lit up, its great steel steamship sending afew black wisps from its stacks. The IceCracker II must be heating the boilers inpreparation to leave in the morning. Soldiers paced the dock.Crewmen strode about the deck, stowing cargo, and-
   Amaranthe halted so abruptly she almosttripped. "That's it."
   Sicarius turned, watching her face.
   "The ice breaking ship," she explained.
   "You think that's the target?"
   "What else would a Kendorianbe after at this time of year on the waterfront? The snow's alreadytoo high in the passes for the locomotives to plow the rail tracks.If the shipping lanes freeze over, the capital city goes withoutimports for the rest of the winter. Not to mention we'd be unableto get more troops in if something happened to the city. It'd beespecially bad this year, since the IceCracker I was decommissioned last month.There aren't any other ships in the Seven Lakes that can breakice." She hammered a fist into her open palm. "That's it, it has tobe."
   Sicarius pulled her into the shadows of adark warehouse. "You have no evidence."
   "No, but I have this lovely hunch, and it'dbe downright uncivil to ignore it."
   "We have no way of knowingthe Kendorian is on board," Sicarius said. "We do know there are a hundred soldiersand sailors. Maybe more. Men who would be duty-bound to shoot us ifthey saw us."
   "I know."
   "Even if theKendorian is inthere, he can turn invisible. We can't."
   "I know that, too."
   Two soldiers marched along the street, riflesbalanced on their shoulders. Amaranthe put her hand on Sicarius'sforearm and guided him into an alley.
   "I know this is dangerous," she said,"probably more dangerous for you than for me-my poster just sayswanted, yours says shoot on sight-but this could be a chance forboth of us."
   For years, he had assassinated politicians,warrior caste scions, and wealthy entrepreneurs, never for themoney, always for the challenge. While she had won many victoriesin her adventures, her greatest might have been in convincing himthe most worthy challenge was in becoming a man the emperor mightone day be proud to know.
   "But," Amaranthe continued, "you're going tohave to be seen doing some empire-saving heroics before the emperorwill consider lifting that mountain-sized bounty on your head."
   "Heroics aren't my specialty," Sicariussaid.
   "No, but I'm partial to them." She squeezedhis arm. "And I know when the current's too strong for my swimminglevel. I need your help for this."
   A trolley clanged in the distance. A clump ofsnow fell from the gutters. Pale flakes gathered on Sicarius's darkshoulders.
   "What's the plan?" he finally asked.
   She rubbed her hands together. "I'll get onthe ship, get some information, and get the crew hunting forintruders. You start looking for the Kendorian."
   "How do we get on?"
   "I'll go my way, you go the assassinlyway."
   "Assassinly?"
   "You know, skulk under the docks to the ship,climb the dark side of the hull without so much as a rope, slipunnoticed onto the deck, ghost through the shadows without a sound,and surprise the enemy in the act." Amaranthe quirked a smile athim. "Isn't that your usual method?"
   "I might use a rope," he said mildly.
   "You didn't bring one. Also, make sure tocome find me before you leave. I'm guessing getting on board willbe easier than getting back off again."
   "Likely."
   "One more thing," Amaranthesaid before Sicarius could disappear into the shadows. "Youcan't killanyone."
   A moment passed before he looked back at her,and she imagined an inward sigh despite the lack of expression onhis face.
   "Heroes don't leave trails of dead soldiersbehind, no matter how practical it may be to dispose of anyone whowishes to harm you."
   When he had disappeared intothe shadows, Amaranthe shook the tension out of her limbs andstrode toward the Ice CrackerII. On this section of the waterfront,frequent lampposts drove the shadows away, and soldiers spotted herlong before she turned down the dock. The two privates standingguard at the base of the gangplank watched her coolly, riflescradled in their arms, cutlasses hanging in theirsheaths.
   As she neared them, Amaranthe held her handswell away from her own blade. "I need to report an incident. Isyour captain available?"
   "He's busy."
   "Would the knowledge that two soldiers weremurdered on the trail a couple miles down un-busy him?" she asked."Oh, and there's a dead Kendorian, too. Looks like he might havedone the murdering."
   The two men exchangedconcerned looks, but the speaker merely said, "You'd need to reportthat to someone at Fort Urgot. We're detached to theIce Cracker and don'tpatrol the city."
   "It's snowing and dark. I'm not running fivemiles to the fort. I just thought I'd try to help you boys out. Itlooks like someone inimical is around causing trouble."
   Amaranthe turned to walk away, but a handclamped onto her shoulder.
   "Who are you and what were you doing outthere in the first place?"
   "I was jogging," she said, intentionallyignoring the first question. She doubted anyone was going torecognize her through the snow and wan lighting, but her name mightset their steam clocks to whistling.
   "With a sword?"
   "One never knows when one might have todefend against…" Bounty hunters? Soldiers? Enforcers?" Opossums."
   Judging from the matching scowls thatblossomed on their faces, they did not appreciate her humor. Thesoldier who had grabbed her arm shoved her toward the other.
   "Remove her sword and take her to the LT.She's all kinds of suspicious."
   Amaranthe tamped down a smile as she wasmarched up the gangplank. Step one, get on the ship, wascomplete.
 
   The wardroom might have been a decent placeto spend time, if Amaranthe's wrist was not shackled to a post. Shesat in the one chair she could reach, tracing the whorls on a teaktable, the only piece of wood in sight. Brass kerosene lamps hungon the walls, casting yellow reflections on the ubiquitous blandsteel surrounding her. The scent of lye soap added to the sterilefeel.
   The main hatch creaked open. Two bulky gruntsstrode in and assumed guard positions to either side of theentrance. A graying man with gold bar-and-sail pins on his collarfollowed. He had a cleft chin, intense brown eyes, and a nose sharpenough to break ice without the aid of his ship.
   Amaranthe stood. "Greetings, Captain. I cameto discuss-"
   He slid a sheet of paper onto the tablebefore her. Her wanted poster. The guards murmured to each other,and one eyed her with calculation.
   "— something of more importance than that,"she finished.
   "I'll bet." Though chilly, the captain'svoice was not hostile, and his dark eyes seemed to be weighing her."We found the bodies you mentioned. There was no sign of anyKendorian."
   Amaranthe's stomach went for a swim amongstthe table legs. The second Kendorian must have circled back andhidden his comrade's body. That was bad, very bad. That meant-
   "My XO thinks we should shoot you outright.He suspects you of slaying the men yourself, especially since yourwanted poster says you traffic with that cur-lickingsoldier-slaying assassin, Sicarius." The captain glowered at her,brow furrowed.
   She kept her chin up and met his eyes. "Butyou know I wouldn't have been foolish enough to turn myself over toyour guards if that were the case."
   The captain snorted. "Perhaps you are adiversion while Sicarius sneaks aboard my ship to attempt somesabotage." He thrust a finger toward her nose. "If my commanderslearned that fiend was within a mile of my ship and I didn't shoothim, I could be accused of treason and booted out of the service.I'd lose my warrior caste title, my military rank, my home, myland, everything." A flash of real fear haunted his eyes.
   Amaranthe grimaced in sympathy. "Sicariusisn't the one you need to be worried about. I'm here because Idon't want to see some scheming Kendorian sink this ship. I believeone may be aboard even now."
   "The Ice Cracker II is unsinkable," thecaptain growled. "Its reversible steam piston engine has redundantscrew repellers in case of failure, and the reinforced steel hullcan smash through ice over two meters thick. It can withstand morethan two thousand pounds of pressure per square inch along thewaterline. If we ran into a rock, the rock would be pulverized, andthere wouldn't be a scratch on the bottom of my girl."
   "It sounds like asignificant upgrade to the Ice CrackerI." Amaranthe leaned against the pole,attempting to look casual. She had chanced upon his passion, andnobody liked to talk as much as someone discussing hispassion.
   "Drastically. That moldy tub was made of woodwith only the bottom reinforced with iron. It's a wonder it didn'tsink years ago. Though only that drunk lout, Captain Mekam, couldram his ship into a cliff on a lake."
   "Cliff? The newspapers said the ship wasdecommissioned."
   "The papers don't-" The captain frowned ather, eyes narrowed.
   "Was it an accident? Ineptitude?" Amarantheknew the captain had realized he was saying too much, but hoped shemight squeeze another drop out regardless. "Or maybe the Kendorianswere at work even then."
   "Or maybe you're about to spend the night inthe brig." The captain gestured for the guards to take her andstalked out.
   Amaranthe barely noticed asthe soldiers unlocked her and marched her out the hatch, her armsclamped in their hands. Her mind dwelled on that new information.The Ice Cracker I,not decommissioned, but destroyed. What if-
   "How're we going to do this?" one of herescorts asked, voice low.
   "We'll split it. Gotta make it look like shetried to escape."
   Emperor's eternal warts, her soldiers weregoing to get greedy instead of taking her to the brig. She eyed thebleak gray corridors, textured flooring, hanging lanterns, andintermittent ladders and hatches. Sicarius would be aboard by now,but he would be hunting for the Kendorian, not looking to rescueher in some random passageway.
   "This is good. Nobody's around." The menslowed. "Get your sword out. We'll-"
   "Are you really intending to risk yourcareers for a chance at my meager 10,000 ranmya bounty?" Amarantheasked, hoping a little chitchat might distract them.
   An alcove ahead held a bucket of sand, anaxe, and a hand pump. Though she wondered what there was that couldpossibly burn on the metal ship, the firefighting station offeredhope.
   "Hush, woman."
   "10,000 is a lot. And ain't nobody going toobject to your death."
   "10,000 isn't enough to live on for more thana couple years, and you have to split it, right? A mere 5,000each." She stopped to trade looks with them. In truth, she justwanted to take a break in front of that axe. "What you really needto do is get Sicarius. He's worth millions."
   "Naw, too dangerous. He's a sincerekiller."
   "He's on the ship. It wouldn't be hard to setsomething up."
   She had their full attention now. The axe wasin reach, if she could just get a hand free.
   "He trusts me," she said. "I could easily seta trap. I wouldn't dare go against him alone, but with help…”
   "Maybe we could-" one of the soldiersstarted.
   "No, don't be stupid," his comrade said."Sicarius would kill us easier than spit."
   She twisted her neck to look behind them."Then you'll be concerned that he's standing behind you."
   The soldiers' eyes bulged, and they whirledabout. She yanked her arms free. She grabbed the bucket and threwthe sand just as they turned back and reached for her. Their armsflailed. They cursed as grit pelted their eyes.
   Amaranthe snatched the axe and swung at theclosest soldier. She turned her wrists and struck with the flat ofthe blade. It thudded against the man's head. As he dropped, shetore his cutlass free. He struck the floor and clutched at hishead, oblivious. She released the axe in favor of the lighterweapon.
   The other soldier recovered from the sandbarrage and unsheathed his own blade as well as his pistol. Heopened his mouth, but she did not have time for conversation now.She sidestepped and kicked the pistol out of his grip.
   Cutlass leading, she lunged and slashed,hoping to catch him by surprise. As a soldier, he would have hadhours of drills pounded into him, though, and he parried easily.Reluctantly, she settled in for the obligatory exchange where theygauged each other's strengths and weaknesses. Someone could turndown the corridor any moment, and now that she was armed, soldierswould not be her allies.
   His cutlass flashed toward her head. Sherecognized the feint-even with his greater arm length, his lungewould not bring him close-and only dropped her own blade inanticipation of a second attack. Steel screeched as cutlasses metbefore her thigh.
   She used the momentum of the rebound toriposte, flicking at his wrist. A line of blood appeared in hisflesh.
   Though the small wound could not have hurtmuch, his eyes flickered with surprise. It was too small a victoryto celebrate triumph, but first blood was often enough to rattle anopponent.
   Attacking with more care, the soldier pressedher with additional strikes. He had reach and strength, but she hadsparred often with Sicarius. Parrying his lightning strikes madeeveryone else's blade thrusts seem molasses-like.
   The soldier was careful not to leave himselfopen, and she parried and gave ground, studying him, waiting for anadvantage. He cycled through a handful of combination attacks, andthey soon became predictable.
   Someone moved behind him, and she winced.Amaranthe had to finish this before the second soldier got backinto the fray.
   When the high slash toward her head cameagain, she was ready before he fully launched it. She ducked,tossing out a parry in case his blade came down, and darted inclose. She sliced her cutlass against his ribcage, even as shecontinued past and came out behind him.
   He grunted with pain and started to turntoward her, but she launched a sidekick that could have busted downa door. His boots left the ground as he sailed backward. His headstruck one of the hanging lanterns. It broke, and he went downamongst shattering glass.
   Amaranthe whirled, expecting the secondsoldier. The black-clad figure standing before her was no soldierthough.
   "I trust you, and you could easily set a trapfor me?" Sicarius held out her short sword, eyebrows arched.
   She grinned. "Even these two shrubs weren'tbuying that. They must know you sleep with your knives."
   She dropped the cutlass, belted on thefamiliar blade, and glanced around him at the second soldier. Theprone man was more unconscious than she had left him; she hoped hewas not dead.
   Amaranthe knelt to truss her soldier,intending to use his bootlaces to bind ankles and wrists.
   "Don't bother," Sicarius said. "We have togo. Now."
   "Why? Did you find the-"
   "The engineers are dead, the safety valves onall four boilers have been tampered with, and the Kendorian is downthere shoveling coal into the furnaces."
   Amaranthe stared. "Why didn't you-"
   "There's a trap at the door. I watched twosoldiers run in and get incinerated by flames. There's no way intothe boiler room right now."
   "Show me." Amaranthe started past him,heading for the closest ladder, but he gripped her elbow.
   "This isn't worth risking your life for,"Sicarius said.
   She turned and looked him in the eyes."Hundreds will die if this ship explodes. And what happens if thecity can't import food for the rest of the winter? There are amillion people in the capital. Local stores aren't enough to feedeveryone." Again, she tried to step toward the ladder, but he didnot release her. She might as well have been bound by steel.
   "We'll survive."
   A frustrated rant leapt to her lips, but,cursed ancestors, there was no time for arguing. He said sohimself. Grasping for calm, she spoke evenly: "Let me go."
   Even now, his face was unreadable. Only thosedark eyes held extra intensity. A heartbeat passed-it seemed likehours-and he released her.
   Amaranthe sprinted for the ladder. Ignoringthe rungs, she slid down to the bottom of the ship. Heat bathed heras she stepped into the corridor. She expected to run into crew andsoldiers, but the lanterns on the walls illuminated an emptypassageway.
   The chugging and clanking of machinery ledher to the engine room. At the hatchway, she passed the first body: a man in a gray engineer's smock, throat cut, his blood pooled onthe deck.
   Nine-tenths of the crew did not know therewas a problem; the other tenth was dead. Great.
   She raced through the engine room, a jungleof colored pipes, gauges, and machinery. A railing surrounded thechurning pistons of the engine. More corpses clogged the twistingwalkways.
   Two blackened bodies blocked the hatchwayleading to the boiler room. Only the dead men's boots, which stuckout toward Amaranthe, had not been marked. Such intense fire hadcharred their clothing and features that little more than meltedlumps remained. The smell of roasted flesh rose above the odors ofmachine oil and burning coal.
   A hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped,but it was only Sicarius. He did not say anything, but she wouldhave had trouble hearing over the machinery anyway.
   He crouched, removed one of the dead men'sboots, and tossed it. A curtain of crimson flames flashed acrossthe hatchway. Heat poured out and light flared. Amaranthe stumbledback, shielding her face with her arms. The boot wasincinerated.
   When the flames disappeared, leaving only aborder of glowing red along the bulkhead and floor, she waited forSicarius to voice an I-told-you-so. He merely watched her.Expectantly. He must think she had an idea, for why else would sheinsist on racing down here? She smiled bleakly.
   It took a few seconds for the crimson bordersto dim and wink out, leaving the bulkhead with no signs of atrap.
   "Huh," she muttered.
   Amaranthe unlaced two more boots, forcing hermind away from the grisly knowledge that she was disrobing somepoor engineer who had been living but moments before. She tossedthe first boot. The fire curtain burst forth. As soon as thehatchway grew dark again, she threw the second boot. It flewthrough and landed on the other side.
   She and Sicarius exchanged significantlooks.
   Only when the border faded, heartbeats later,did the trap reset. Sicarius removed the last boot and nodded forher to stand beside him. He tossed it, waited for the flames tocome and go, and they jumped through together.
   Though she feared there would be othertraps-or they would run into the invisible saboteur-she ran to thefirst pair of boilers. Pipes rattled, gauges quivered, and needlespushed into the red. There was no time for caution.
   Steel squealed just behind her. Amaranthespun, sword ready.
   Sicarius landed in a crouch, a dagger in eachhand, and a pair of buckskin fringes wafted to the floor. TheKendorian must have attacked.
   "Find the blow off valves," Sicarius yelledover the clamoring machinery. He glided into position at her back."I'm here."
   How could one defeat-or even defendagainst-an invisible foe? Especially here, where noise and smelldrowned out the other senses? He would have to figure it out.
   She spotted the safety valve on the firstboiler, and her shoulders slumped. Warped and melted metal made thehandle inoperable. For a lost moment, she stared at the tangle ofpipes, gauges, and wheels. Heat roared from the furnace, and sweatbeaded on her forehead. Why couldn't there be a blessed engineeralive?
   Sicarius brushed her back, and someone criedout. A bevy of Kendorian curses followed. She glanced back to seeSicarius lunge. Despite his speed, he connected with nothing.
   A nearby wall held another firefightingstation. Amaranthe spotted the axe.
   "Back in a second," she said to Sicarius.
   She sprinted over and grabbed the axe. If shecouldn't engineer a solution, brute force might work. She ran back,tool raised. As soon as she reached the boiler, she smashed thewarped valve.
   Steam burst free, and she barely threwherself to the side before it blistered her face. It worked,though, and the gauge's needle dropped out of the red.
   "Got one," Amaranthe said.
   She darted toward the second boiler, buttripped over something she could not see. Lightning flashed and anelectrical force pounded her. Energy crackled about her. Agony torethrough her body, and she dropped the axe, crumpling to herknees.
   As abruptly as the pain came, it disappeared.Sicarius rolled past, grappling with their invisible assailant.
   Amaranthe shook off the attack, snatched theaxe, and launched herself at the second valve.
   "Two of them," Sicarius barked.
   Amaranthe smashed the valve. Again, steamwhooshed out, parting around an invisible figure. It lunged towardAmaranthe.
   She whipped the axe across, hoping to keepthe attacker at bay. The heavy blade slammed into flesh with amoist meaty thump.
   A scream buffeted Amaranthe's ears, and shereleased the axe. The invisibility spell flickered out. A blondewoman collapsed. She struck the floor, gasping, curling around theaxe head lodged in her gut.
   Movement pulled Amaranthe's gaze to the side.A Kendorian male lay on his back, a dagger protruding from hischest.
   Sicarius rolled to his feet with a secondblade in his hand. He sliced the woman's throat.
   "The other boilers," Amaranthe remembered,forcing her gaze from the dying Kendorian.
   Sicarius tore the axe free and finished thetask. Legs rubbery, Amaranthe walked around to each boiler, doublechecking gauges to make sure the threat was over. She pushed dampstrands of hair out of her eyes with trembling hands. Sicariusappeared as calm as ever, though sweat dampened his hair. She triedto catch his eye to give him a nod of thanks, but he faced theother direction, a throwing knife in hand.
   Amaranthe stepped around a boiler, and thehatchway came into view. "Cursed ancestors," she groaned.
   With the Kendorians' deaths, the trap haddisappeared.
   The captain stood in the hatchway, pistolaimed at Sicarius. A squad of men had entered and fanned out oneither side, swords ready, firearms raised. All weapons focused onSicarius.
   Though she was not sure it would stop anyonefrom shooting, she stepped in front of him, arms spread. She metthe captain's eyes. How much had the men seen? Did they know sheand Sicarius had saved the ship? Even if they did, would itmatter?
   The captain closed his eyes for a longmoment, then told his men, "Lower your weapons."
   "Sir?" a nervous corporal squeaked, his wideeyes toward Sicarius.
   "You heard me," the captain said. "Lower yourweapons and step aside from the hatch."
   Amaranthe swallowed, emotion choking herthroat. With this many witnesses, there was no way the captain'ssuperiors would fail to learn he had let Sicarius go.
   She waved for him to sheath his weapons, andslowly, very slowly, they started for the hatch. For Sicarius towalk past armed soldiers, leaving them at his back, must have goneagainst every instinct ingrained in him, but he did. He andAmaranthe made it to the captain without incident.
   "Thank you," she murmured as they passed.
   "Thank you." He looked at her, at Sicarius,and back at her. "Just don't make me regret giving up…" A musclejumped in his jaw.
   "I'll do my best, sir," she said.
 
   Snow sifted from the heavens. A pile restedatop the trolley stop sign. Amaranthe's watch promised they were intime for the last run of the night. The flame in a nearbystreetlamp sputtered and hissed.
   She watched Sicarius survey theirsurroundings. Even with the streets empty and the city silent, heremained vigilant. He had not spoken since the fight in the boilerroom, and she wondered what he thought of the night. Even his'heroics' had ruined a man's career. Perhaps he never would escapehis past. Still, they had helped the city, and she had to believeword would get back to the emperor one way or another.
   To lighten his mood, or perhaps hers, shewaited until his back was to her, then swept the snow off the signand patted it into a tidy ball. She chucked it, grinning at thethought of a satisfying splat.
   Just before it hit, Sicarius blurred intomotion. She was barely conscious of him evading the projectilebefore a snowball splattered against her chest.
   "I asked for that, didn't I?" she groaned, awry smile tugging at her lips. "Cocky to think I could surpriseyou."
   Sicarius strolled over and leaned against thepost next to her. "You do know that whether you outrun, outfight,or out-snowball-throw your men is irrelevant, correct?"
   Amaranthe tilted her head toward him,eyebrows raised.
   "That you concoct, and lead the way into,crazy schemes that not only succeed but make us look like bettermen than we are… that is why we follow you."
   She dropped her chin and brushed the snow offher sweater in order to hide the flush creeping into her cheeks.Hugging him for the compliment probably would not be professional,so she merely said, "Crazy, huh?"
   "Utterly."
   The trolley chugged into view, a plow at thehead churning snow off the track.
   "As far as the obstacle course is concerned,"Sicarius added as it slowed for their stop, "strength exercises andfootwork drills would help more than endurance training."
   "Oh? Perhaps tomorrow afternoon wecould-"
   "Start at dawn."
   She groaned again. "I asked for that, didn'tI?"