Diplomats and Fugitives (The Emperor's Edge Book 9) by Lindsay Buroker

friends with the president. He did keep the lorry in meticulous condition. There wasn’t so much as a smudge of coal dust in the grooves of the textured floor.
    Maldynado took another bite of his apple and peeked through the opening behind the furnace, a small window that allowed a person to see into the cargo bed. “Don’t see her.”
    Why do you keep checking?
    The Kendorian woman had been even less garrulous than their assassin comrade, Sicarius. The night before, she had slept in the back of the lorry instead of around the campfire with everyone else, and she was taking her meals by herself, too, eating ration bars that looked as appealing as the soles of boots.
    “To make sure she didn’t fall out?” Maldynado shrugged. “I’m curious. She doesn’t look like someone who knows anything about trees or blights.”
    What does someone who knows about trees and blights usually look like?
    “Well.” Maldynado jerked a thumb toward the corner by the boiler. “That.”
    Mahliki sat cross-legged on the floor, a cloth spread out before her with flowers, leaves, and bark samples, along with several tools on it. She plucked up something with tweezers, dropped it into a vial of colored water, shook it, then peered inside with a loupe held to her eye.
    I saw Ashara pick a few edible berries last night to go with her ration bar. She knew to avoid the poisonous ones and probably has a background in woodland lore. Maybe we can have some interesting discussions on foraging. Of course, he would have to teach her his hand signs for that. Would she have any interest in learning?
    “Oh, Basilard. I thought now that you were a high-powered ambassador you wouldn’t need to scrounge in alleys for weeds to throw in your stews.”
    Those were herbs. A surprising number of edible and flavorful varieties have survived in your city of concrete and mortar.
    “I did see her scrounging in the weeds last night, now that you mention it.” Maldynado massaged his jaw. “It wasn’t just berries. She plucked some leaves and stuck them in her pack. She has some glass and ceramic vials in there. Did you see? You don’t think she’s a witch, do you?”
    Because she forages ?
    “Could be collecting poisonous plants. To make potions with. And poison us. Like a witch.”
    Basilard thought about sharing that Shukura had mentioned she had potion-making skills, but doubted that would assuage Maldynado’s concerns. Nor did he know if he should assuage his concerns, not when the woman was surely there to spy upon them.
    I forage, and you don’t call me a witch.
    “That’s because you dig up tasty things and put them in a stew pot.”
    Maybe she’ll surprise us with fresh flatcakes for breakfast.
    “Or a poisoning. I’ve had women try to poison me before, you know.” Maldynado wiggled his eyebrows. “Witches.”
    Or jilted lovers?
    “Jilted witches maybe. You—”
    The cab door opened, startling the driver. The vehicle swerved as he whipped up his rifle. With one hand, he managed to straighten the wheels before they rolled off the road, but he glowered over at that open door. They were cruising along at fifty miles per hour, so visitors were unexpected.
    Ashara dropped inside, brushing Jomrik’s rifle aside so that the muzzle did not point at her. She shut the door behind her. “We have trouble.”
    Basilard could not imagine what sort of trouble might be chasing them at fifty miles an hour. He lowered the window and peered out. He did not spot anybody driving on the road behind or ahead of them.
    “Aside from the fact that you’re clambering about on the outside of the lorry like a monkey?” Maldynado asked, looking Ashara up and down.
    Her gaze flicked to his hat, then settled on Basilard. “Yes. Several flocks of birds rose from thickets up ahead, their departure sudden and swift. The hills on either side of the road are still now. Silent.”
    “How can you tell with us chugging and clanking up the grade?” Maldynado tapped the