Forged in Blood I ee-6 Page 10

  Sespian, Basilard, Yara, and Mancrest all frowned at Sicarius. Amaranthe didn’t frown, but there was a sad acceptance to her gaze. Sicarius was tempted to explain what had happened, letting her know he’d been forced to kill the other assassin, but she was right: this wasn’t an appropriate place for storytelling. Besides, he refused to get into an argument, defending his actions, with this many people looking on.

  “The molasses factory on Fourth and Waterfront, is that your suggested hideout?” Sicarius asked.

  “Yes,” Yara said.

  “We should ascertain its acceptability and share information there instead of dawdling here.” He strode off without waiting to see if anyone followed, in part to avoid seeing further disappointment from Amaranthe and, in larger and more practical part, he told himself, to arrive ahead of them and fully scout the proposed hideout for trouble.

  Chapter 5

  Amaranthe walked past two huge cylindrical tanks, wondering if they still held liquid, and led the team toward the back door of Svargot’s Molasses Distillery. Sicarius was presumably already there, scouting the place. On the walk over there, he’d returned to the group twice to warn them of enforcers along their route. Wanting to avoid more confrontations that night, she had veered out of the way to slip past the patrols unnoticed. She’d been walking alongside Sespian and their two prisoners, Corporal Evik, a rangy man with black hair that did its best to curl despite the short soldier’s cut, and Private Rudev, the fellow who’d been pinned beneath the beam. With every limping step, he gritted his teeth. Most of them anyway; a couple of front ones were missing. He was the one who’d made the spanking comment in the basement, and Amaranthe had caught a few other sarcastic mutterings from him, so she wasn’t surprised his face had met a few fists in its day. He’d grown respectful, or at least quiet, in Sespian’s presence though, and she sensed there might be hope in winning them over.

  Basilard trotted ahead of the group to open the back door while Yara dug in her rucksack to produce a lantern.

  “Thank you,” Amaranthe said.

  Though she believed Sicarius was around, she stepped to the side as soon as she entered, putting her back to the wall, so she wouldn’t be outlined in the doorway. She trusted that Yara and Basilard had scouted the building during the day, but the temperature had dropped below freezing, and they weren’t far from a populous part of the city. Vagrants might also find the quarters amenable for the night. Or bounty hunters.

  The air smelled of charred wood, a different scent from the pervasive coal smog that permeated the city in the winter. Someone had made a campfire recently.

  The rest of the group entered, with Yara and Books carrying lanterns. Their lights did little to brighten the massive facility, and all except the area around the door remained in shadows. Pipes snaked up and through nearby walls, running out to the tanks in the yard. Catwalks crossed the open space overhead, and, in the distance, Amaranthe detected the dark outlines of furnaces and huge vats with equally huge ladles. The place reminded her of the smelter where she and Sicarius had first clashed with Forge.

  Yara sniffed at the smoke smell. “There were a couple of homeless people camped in the back when we came in, but Basilard convinced them to leave.”

  “Basilard did?” Amaranthe cocked her head at him. Despite his briar patch of knife scars, which his jacket and gray wool cap didn’t entirely hide, he was a peaceful warrior, rarely one to lose his temper or impose his will on strangers.

  At her consideration, his expression turned wry. He lifted his fingers and explained, I walked up to them and attempted to sign a greeting.

  Yara smirked. “They thought he was a crazy Kendorian shaman casting a spell.”

  Basilard sniffed. Kendorian. Really.

  “That’s what you get for looking so inimical, my friend.” Maldynado thumped him on the back and considered what they could see of the facility. “So, the place is ours?”

  “Let’s keep to back areas and upper levels if possible.” Amaranthe nodded to the catwalk. “In case any prospective buyers come to tour the facilities while we’re…”

  “Plotting crimes?” Deret suggested.

  “Of course not,” Amaranthe said. “We have a former emperor with us, and Books is penning some sort of constitution. That means we’re no longer outlaws, we’re revolutionaries.”

  Books snorted at this redefinition.

  “Whatever we are, I’m tired.” Maldynado yawned. “I think sleep is in order. Say, Yara, you didn’t happen to find any private rooms while you were scouting around, did you?”

  “There are three offices.” There was nothing suggestive or inviting about Yara’s tone, but Maldynado found the comment grin inspiring regardless. Amaranthe wondered if Yara would allow him to call her by first name someday.

  “With doors that can be locked?” Maldynado asked.

  “As if anyone wants to walk in on you two playing blanket hornpipe,” Akstyr grumbled.

  A yawn tugged at Amaranthe’s lips, too, but she’d come to dread sleeping since escaping Pike’s torture table. That first night after escaping, with thoughts of Sicarius’s promises in her head, had been the only nightmare-free one. Ever since, she rarely went to bed before exhaustion forced it upon her. She was glad to have an excuse to keep people up with her this night. “I believe Lord Mancrest and I have some information to exchange before anybody plays with anything.”

  Deret rubbed his face, then grimaced at the soot on his fingers. “I wouldn’t mind cleaning up first.”

  “We’ll settle into the facilities then,” Amaranthe said, “and throw dice for watch duties. Sire, do you mind staying for a moment? We should have a chat with our new friends.”

  Sespian blinked a couple of times at the Sire address-nobody had called him that since the news about his true father had come out-but he glanced at the two prisoners and nodded.

  I will stay and guard them while you talk, Basilard signed, apparently deciding the soldiers, despite injuries, were dangerous enough to keep an eye on.

  Amaranthe didn’t think they’d threaten Sespian, but waved for Basilard to follow when she went in search of a place where they could all sit down. They found a cafeteria in the back and made use of a table. Basilard leaned against the wall beside the door, his meaty forearms folded over his chest.

  “Private Rudev, Corporal Evik,” Amaranthe said, meeting their eyes in turn, “we didn’t intend to take prisoners tonight, or cause so much trouble at the Gazette building-” Basilard gave her a curious look, no doubt wondering if he’d get the story, “-so please allow me to apologize for manhandling you and for your injuries.”

  “Whatever.” Rudev shrugged. Ah, another Akstyr. Wonderful.

  “Listen, lady,” Evik said, “I don’t know who you are, but…” He gave Sespian a long look. “If that’s really the emperor, uhm, well we need to know what’s going on. Where has he-where have you been, Sire?” This time the corporal’s expression was plaintive, almost betrayed, when he regarded Sespian.

  Sespian winced and pushed a hand through his soft brown hair, hair in need of a cutting. They’d have to spruce him up if they planned to start showing him off to potential troops.

  “My departure from the city was not of my own doing.” Sespian glanced at Amaranthe, asking perhaps how much he should share.

  She spread her hand, palm up. Young though he may be, if he wanted the throne back, he’d have to take charge and make many of the decisions. She trusted him not to share anything too secret here.

  Sespian sat at the table across from the two soldiers where he could look into their eyes-good choice, Amaranthe thought-then launched into an explanation of who Forge was and how long they’d been in the Imperial Barracks, trying to wrest control of the empire from him.

  “We knew,” Evik said, “or we’d heard… General Marblecrest has support of the business people in the city.”

  “Support?” Amaranthe snorted. “He’s Forge’s figurehead in this.”

  The sold
iers watched Sespian for his reaction. Good. They seemed to believe they were dealing with the real emperor here. After hearing from her men how the enforcers had attacked the steamboat heading downriver, believing Sespian was a lookalike impostor, she’d feared they would have to deal with more of the same in Stumps.

  Sespian nodded in response to their unspoken question and explained how Forge had gotten him out of the capital, forcing him to tour the forts of the empire on a three-month-long inspection, and then tried to kill him upon his return. He was honest in regard to the events and what he perceived as his failings-more so than Amaranthe would have been-though he did leave out all the details about the ancient alien aircraft, saying only that Forge commanded great resources and it would take a lot to bring them down.

  “But I have a plan for that,” Amaranthe said from the end of the table. During Sespian’s speech, she’d found a rag and started dusting and scraping away leftovers crusted into the wood. “I believe my team can nullify the Forge threat.”

  Sespian didn’t dispute her statement, but he did give her a did-you-forget-to-drop-that-memo-on-my-desk eyebrow arch when the soldiers weren’t looking. She smiled back at him. She was still working out the details herself, but she’d had an idea sauntering around in the back of her head since meeting Retta, the woman who’d studied the ancient language and learned to pilot that gargantuan aircraft-and who’d weaseled Sicarius’s secrets from Amaranthe’s head. Through that mind link, Amaranthe had learned that Retta’s sister was a Forge founder, one that few people had seen due to her years working for the organization in foreign lands. She intended to use that information.

  “If we can handle Forge,” Amaranthe said, “all the emperor will have to do is deal with Ravido Marblecrest and the other upstarts who have taken premature liberty in regard to the throne.” She made a note to remind everyone else to start calling Sespian, “Sire” and “the emperor” again. If they meant to raise a force that could confront those of the other would-be successors, these two soldiers were going to have to be the first of many to join the team.

  Private Rudev’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t understand. Can’t you just go to… somebody, the newspapers or some public venue, and let everybody know that you’re back?”

  “Only a naive turnip would think it’d be that easy,” Evik said, giving his private a thump on the shoulder. “But, if people knew you were in the city, Sire, you’d be sure to get support. I know our sergeant is only backing General Marblecrest because his superiors told him to and because you’re, er, everyone thought you were dead.”

  “I’d prefer to quietly gather forces before making my presence known,” Sespian said. “People have tried to assassinate me before. If I go forward with nothing but this small group to protect me, I’d be an easy target.”

  Amaranthe barely kept herself from dropping the rag, propping a fist on her hip, and issuing an indignant response. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sicarius was lurking nearby even now, ready to lift a dagger in defense of Sespian, should anyone raise a hand in his direction. But they could hardly utter the truth, that Forge would print the facts about Sespian’s unfavorable heritage as soon as he stepped forward and tried to reclaim the throne.

  Instead, she slid into the seat beside Sespian, so that she too could face the soldiers. “However unintentional it was, you two have been given the greatest opportunity of your lives.”

  “We have?” Rudev asked.

  Evik didn’t look so surprised. No, his narrowed eyes held wariness. He knew where this was going.

  “We don’t want to hold you prisoner here indefinitely.” Amaranthe pointed to the private’s white armband. “We want you to forget Ravido Marblecrest, be the first to join Emperor Sespian’s forces, and stay with us of your own accord.”

  “We have to, don’t we?” Rudev asked. “I mean, he’s the rightful emperor.”

  Evik licked his lips. “It’s true we owe our allegiance to the rightful emperor, but if we walk away from our unit… I mean, ’course we hope you win, Sire, but if you’ve only got ten people right now, and a bunch of them are women… we could get hanged for desertion if it ends up Marblecrest takes the throne. It’s a real tough spot for us.” Indeed, he glanced toward the door, as if he wanted nothing more than to flee back to his company and pretend he’d never seen Sespian. What he saw gave him a start, and he nearly fell out of his chair.

  Sicarius leaned against the doorjamb, hands clasped behind his back, the closest to casual as he ever became, but the ever-present knife collection and the black attire always made him appear menacing even when relaxed, at least to those who didn’t know him. And to most of those who did too. Amaranthe didn’t know how long he’d been there, but Basilard didn’t appear surprised by his presence. She’d been yawning every other second while Sespian spoke and hoped Sicarius hadn’t seen. She didn’t want him to know about the nightmares or her lack of sleep these past couple of weeks-he might see her as less than fit for leading the team, and, for what she planned, she needed everyone to trust her. More than ever.

  His gaze was too knowing as it came to rest on her.

  Seeking to distract him, she signed, Making guests feel comfortable as always, I see.

  His fingers twitched. Yes.

  Scrapes and clunks sounded as the soldiers attempted to arrange their chairs so they could still face Sespian but so they could also see Sicarius. Nobody wanted that many knives at his back.

  I guess they recognize you, Amaranthe signed.

  Sicarius didn’t bother responding. The thought gave Amaranthe an idea though.

  “We can understand your uncertainty,” she said, addressing the soldiers again, “but, as you can see, we have powerful allies too.”

  “Didn’t think the emperor would employ an assassin,” Private Rudev muttered.

  Sespian winced. Maybe that hadn’t been the right tactic after all.

  “If you two were the first to sign on to help the rightful emperor…” Amaranthe tried not to feel dishonest in calling Sespian that. After all, she’d yet to hear the news about the research excursion in the Barracks. “I’m certain he’d be grateful. As I said before, you have an opportunity. If Marblecrest wins, and you do your jobs, then that’s fine, no change to the status quo. But if Emperor Sespian comes out on top, and you were among the first to support him, well, I should think he’d remember your names.”

  “This is so,” Sespian said.

  “Were you to prove yourself exemplary soldiers and invaluable members of the team, I imagine there’d be promotions.” Hadn’t the promise of a promotion enticed Amaranthe to partake in Hollowcrest’s questionable assassination mission once? Even if she hadn’t gone through with it in the end, it’d been an appealing reward to have dangled before her eyes.

  Indeed, Evik stroked his chin, suddenly thoughtful. “Like I could be a sergeant?”

  “You’d have to prove yourself skilled and dedicated enough for the rank, but that doesn’t sound unreasonable,” Sespian said.

  Amaranthe liked that he didn’t over-promise. He could have offered warrior-caste status and who knew what else, but they didn’t know yet if these two were worth such rewards. After all, one was injured-he wouldn’t be marching on the Barracks any time soon-and even before then, they’d been easy enough for her and Maldynado to capture. They were young, though, and wore mechanic’s patches, not the crossed swords of infantry.

  “Could I be a sergeant, too?” Rudev asked.

  “You’ve only been in the army six months, you dolt,” Evik said. “You barely know which end of your sword goes into the other bloke.”

  “We’ll see,” Sespian said.

  “Do we stay prisoners if we don’t agree to sign on?” Evik asked.

  “Unfortunately, since I’m not ready to announce my return,” Sespian said, “you would be for a short time, yes. You’re free to go after everyone knows I’m in the city though.”

  “As long as you’re here,” Amaranthe asked the soldiers, “why
not agree to stay and try it out first? We’re going to be bringing more men in, and you’ll be able to see that we’re contenders. You’d have seniority amongst any new recruits, not to mention you can pick your lodgings. There might still be private rooms available.”

  “Lodgings here?”

  “Until we take over the Imperial Barracks,” Amaranthe said.

  “You don’t lack for ambition, do you?” Sespian murmured.

  “Probably easier to claim the throne if you’re already there, sitting on it. It might be more feasible to get Fort Urgot now, though, if Ravido is in the Barracks.” She’d need to send someone to scout Fort Urgot and see who was in charge over there. Though these two enlisted men were useful as an early test, it’d make far more sense to take Sespian out and try to win over brigade commanders.

  “Sire, who is this woman?” Evik asked.

  Private Rudev nodded vigorously, reminding Amaranthe that, though she’d talked her group of men into going along with her crazy plans, women simply weren’t a part of the military or the political arena in Turgonia. These two probably hadn’t taken orders from one since they were prepubescent boys running around their mothers’ houses.

  “Ah, she’s my…” Sespian’s fingers groped in the air as he sought an appropriate explanation.

  Still leaning in the doorway, Sicarius lifted a single brow, also curious as to the status she’d be granted. Basilard cocked his head with interest. Amaranthe didn’t think Sespian would be naive enough to give her military rank-none of the soldiers, these two included, would accept that-but she would need some kind of authority in the eyes of those who signed on with him. She was about to suggest “personal assistant” when Sespian spoke.

  “High Minister in charge of Domestic and Foreign Relations,” he said.

  “Huh?” Rudev asked.

  Evik cleaned out his ear with his finger. “Is that a…?”

  “It’s a Kyattese position,” Sicarius said.

  To anyone else his tone would have sounded deadpan, but after a year around him, Amaranthe had no trouble picking up the underlying amusement-or was that bemusement, as in what are you doing, son? A hint of the feeling touched her as well. Sespian’s choice sounded like a fancy title to mean someone who has to do a lot of paperwork.