Deadly Games by Lindsay Buroker

shadow,
half in light, enhancing his hard, angular features. When he stared
down, Basilard struggled not to cringe or show any nervous
reaction. Sicarius could not know what he and Akstyr had been
discussing earlier. He had just arrived.
    “What’s going on, gentlemen?” Amaranthe’s
voice came from a few paces away. “Finding anything
interesting?”
    Basilard jumped to his feet and faced her,
glad for the excuse to turn his shoulder toward Sicarius. He had
sensed Sicarius’s suspicions toward him since the incident in the
shaman’s hideout, and now he knew why. He must suspect Basilard
would one day find out about his crimes in Mangdoria. That wariness
would make it all the more difficult to surprise him.
    “We found out Basilard can run the Clank Race
as fast as some of these pampered athletes,” Maldynado said.
    “Oh?” Amaranthe regarded him with more
interest than Basilard thought the statement warranted. “That might
be perfect,” she said, talking more to herself than him.
    What? Basilard signed.
    “It seems the winners of each event get to
have dinner with the emperor. That’ll be...thirty-six people, but
most of those youngsters won’t have anything to talk about.”
    Maldynado smirked. “I like how you talk about
youngsters as if your twenty-six years make you venerable and wise,
boss.”
    Basilard smirked, remembering her memorable
birthday party at the Pirates’ Plunder.
    Amaranthe, eyes bright, continued her vision
without acknowledging Maldynado. “Those young athletes will likely
be cowed by Sespian’s royal presence. If you won, you could angle
your way in there and talk with him about your people, about the
underground slavery that still exists in the city.”
    Basilard almost sank back down to the earth.
Was that possible? For him to win an interview with the emperor? In
one night, could he truly bring awareness of the slave problem to
Sespian? Basilard glanced at Sicarius, abruptly regretting his vow
to kill the man. That was a task he was not sure he could carry out
without being killed himself. Maybe it could wait until after the
Imperial Games? But perhaps his mind was spinning too quickly. What
were the odds of him actually winning an event? Against agile young
athletes half his age?
    “You could take Books to translate for you,”
Amaranthe said.
    “Most men would prefer to take a woman on a
dinner date with the emperor,” Maldynado said.
    “Well, if Basilard could find one that could
translate for him, I suppose. I’m too notorious to show up at such
a venue these days. But anyway, Basilard are you interested in
entering? Sicarius can help you train.”
    I can train on my own, Basilard signed
swiftly.
    Amaranthe gave Sicarius a bemused smile. “I
guess nobody else appreciates your stair-climbing sessions the way
I do.”
    Sicarius did not respond. Their
relationship—if they could be said to have one—baffled Basilard.
She treated him like a friend and confidant, and half the time he
did not even respond when she spoke to him.
    “Where are Books and Akstyr?” Amaranthe
asked.
    “They went back to the hideout,” Maldynado
said. “Akstyr found...I don’t know. Bas, did we decide it was a
cork?”
    Magic, Basilard signed.
    “Oh?” Amaranthe asked. “Related to the
kidnappings?”
    “I’m not sure precisely,” Maldynado said. “I
was looking for my pants at the time.”
    Amaranthe opened her mouth, then shut it,
probably deciding she was better off not knowing. “Have there been
any more kidnappings?” she asked. “Are the people who disappeared
last night still gone?”
    Three total, Basilard signed. Two
foreigners and one Turgonian man from a different...place. Though he had added a lot of signs, giving his language versatility
amongst the group, saying “The Chevrok Satrapy” was beyond him for
now, but Amaranthe nodded understanding, and he went on, The
enforcers I overheard are starting to accept that something strange
is going on. They’re blaming