Forged in Blood I

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 soldiers 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.

“It’s a diplomat,” Sespian explained to the scrunched up faces in the room-and Amaranthe as well. She smoothed her own face, fearing her nose might have been scrunched as well. “With a little power. Once I have the throne back-” he was either warming to the idea or getting more into the role now, “-I’ll need to make a few changes to the government to ensure there’s less of a rift between the old aristocracy and the new, self-made entrepreneurial class.”

“So, uh,” Corporal Evik said, no interest in bureaucratic changes evident on his face, “what do we call her?”

“You can call her ma’am,” Sespian said.

“Guess that means spanking is out,” Rudev muttered.

Evik elbowed him. Sicarius’s formerly bland gaze grew icy, though the two soldiers seemed too occupied by these new circumstances to remember he was there.

“I guess it makes sense for us to go along with you, Sire,” Evik said.

Rudev shrugged and nodded. “Sure. Sire.”

Not exactly a heartfelt head-pressed-to-the-floor-in-genuflection promise, but Amaranthe sensed the men were being truthful, not simply telling Sespian what he wanted to hear. Of course, she’d keep a guard on them for a while nonetheless.

“Excellent.” Sespian stood and thumped his fist to his chest. “It’s good to have you here.”

The soldiers stood and returned the salute, bowing deeply as they did so.

Amaranthe took the moment to sign to Basilard, Will you find them a place to sleep and assign one of the men to keep an eye on them?

I can do it, Basilard signed.

I have another task in mind for you. Amaranthe smiled and nodded toward Sicarius. I’ll explain shortly. Noticing the private was watching her, she switched to speaking aloud. “Basilard there will help you two find racks.”

As soon as Basilard and the soldiers left, Amaranthe lifted a hand, intending to wave Sicarius inside, but he was looking at something outside of the room, his face flat and unfriendly.

“Lord Mancrest must be coming,” she murmured to Sespian.

A second later, Deret appeared in the doorway. For a moment, Sicarius looked like he wouldn’t move, forcing Deret to find a way around him, but he stepped inside, taking up the spot Basilard had vacated.

“Good guess,” Sespian said.

Amaranthe decided not to explain that it hadn’t been a guess, that Sicarius reserved his ultra icy glare for those who threatened him, those who spoke disrespectfully about his son, and those who dared invite Amaranthe to picnic dinners in the park. “Lord Mancrest,” she said, “please join us. Do you by chance have any information you’d like to share? Such as the recent goings on in the city? We’ve been out of town for a few weeks.”

Pointedly putting his back to Sicarius, Deret slid into one of the seats opposite Amaranthe and Sespian. “So long as you’re willing to share information with me as well. For instance, I’m aching to know where the emperor has been of late and why he’s allowed himself to be reported dead. No disrespect intended, Sire.”

“Perhaps I should have waited and told this story to everyone at once,” Sespian said.

“I expect lots of people will be wondering,” Amaranthe said, “and if we’re planning to recruit piles of soldiers, you’ll have to tell it numerous times. Maybe Books could put together an explanatory brochure to hand out.”

Sespian snorted. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Piles of soldiers?” Deret asked. “Not only am I wondering where you’re going to get piles of soldiers, but, as a former officer, I feel I should inform you that they prefer to be called squads, platoons, companies, or brigades. Piles sound rather less flattering.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Amaranthe said. “Now, since we’ve done you a favor tonight by freeing you, won’t you consider sharing your information first?”

“I’ve already told you why my father locked me in the basement. What else would you like to know?”

Sicarius eyed the spot between Deret’s shoulder blades and signed to Amaranthe, He was locked up? Why did you free him? You could have questioned him then. It’s easy to get answers from men who are already in vulnerable positions.

Amaranthe wasn’t going to sign an explanation, not with Deret watching her, so she merely flicked her fingers in response. Besides, Sicarius couldn’t seriously believe she would have interrogated a potential ally by force.

“In case you’re curious,” Deret added, glancing back at Sicarius, “I’ve decided to be pleased rather than affronted that your explosions resulted in the floor collapsing, destroying hundreds of thousands of ranmyas worth of machinery along with our archives. I wonder if the Gazette will even get out tomorrow. If nothing else, it should be some time before more late-night printings of propaganda pamphlets occur.”

“Explosions?” Sicarius asked.

“They weren’t mine, exactly.” Amaranthe pointed a finger at Deret’s chest. “He turned the ink jars into bombs and lit them after all.”

“After you said you wanted explosives. Maldynado told me not to let others believe that I was to blame for all that.”

Huh, she’d have to have words with Maldynado. He was supposed to be on her side. “I was merely looking for a way to free you that didn’t involve bloodshed.”

Deret’s fingers drifted to a fresh scab on his temple.

Sicarius was watching Amaranthe, his expression hard to read. Sespian was shaking his head, as if he’d already come to expect such tactics from her. Or maybe he was thinking of revoking her new title.

“Let’s get back to the important part.” She twined her fingers together and rested them on the table. “When did you first see Ms. Worgavic with your father?” In other words, how long had the Forge leaders been in town?

“Maybe five, six days ago. Before the old man locked me in the basement. Though I gathered he had known her for longer than that.”

“Worgavic?” Sespian asked. “This is the woman who was behind Pike’s… ministrations? How’d she get back to the city so much faster than us?”

How indeed? Amaranthe met Sicarius’s eyes. “I guess that answers my question as to whether Retta is still alive.”

Sicarius nodded once. “The aircraft is located nearby.”

“The what?” Deret asked.

“Retta? Who’s that?” Sespian asked.

“A Forge recruit who studied in Kyatt and learned how to operate the ancient technology.”

“The what?” Deret repeated, then noticed Sespian nodding, and asked, “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what we’re talking about?”

“I’ll explain later,” Amaranthe said. “In the meantime, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of any massive dome-shaped flying monstrosities drifting through the skies around the capital? About the size of a small city?”

“Uh. No.”

“It can’t be far away if Worgavic is here,” Amaranthe said, “but they couldn’t have landed it within fifty miles of the capital without someone seeing it.” Unless Forge no longer cared if someone saw it. Dear ancestors, what if they planned to use it to ensure their man came out on top? Entire armies would seem puny next to all that power. They could take the city for their own-or raze it.

“The lake,” Sicarius said. “It hasn’t frozen over yet.”

Amaranthe sank back in her chair. Yes, assuming that thing was waterproof-and there seemed to be few limits to what the technology could do-it could be hidden on the bottom of the lake.

“I did hear a couple of reports that the water level in the lake mysteriously rose last week,” Deret said. “By over a foot. It caused some damage at the marinas.”

The Behemoth was big enough to displace a lot water, no doubt about that. “Maldynado won’t be happy if we have to find dive suits again,” Amaranthe said.

“I do not believe we would find gaining entrance possible that way,” Sicarius said.

“Well, this doesn’t change my plan much. It just means…” Amaranthe tapped a beat on the table with her fingers. “I’m more certain than ever I have to go.”

“Go?” Sespian asked.

“Explain,” Sicarius said, his tone making it clear it was a command, not a suggestion.

“Just a moment.” Amaranthe help up a finger. “Deret, do you by chance know where Ms. Worgavic is staying?”

“At the yacht club, I think. Are you planning to visit?”

A waterfront locale. That made sense.

“Not until I’ve gone costume shopping,” Amaranthe said, “and even then… I should seek to avoid Ms. Worgavic. She knows my face.” And, as one of the original founders, she knew Retta’s sister’s face too.

“Costume shopping?” Sespian asked. “I find myself in rare synchronization with Sicarius-I too wish you to explain your plan.”

“Why, I’m going to infiltrate Forge, of course.” Amaranthe smiled and waited for a response. It seemed she hadn’t lost her knack for stunning groups of men when announcing her schemes.

“How?” Sicarius said flatly.

“I have an image in my head of what Retta’s sister, Suan looks like. She’s been roaming the globe, managing Forge’s foreign affairs for the last ten years, and few in the organization know her by face.”

“How do you have an image of her if nobody else does?” Sespian asked.

“Her sister knows her well, and she’s the one who gave me… I don’t know what you’d call it. A vision? While she was rooting around in my head telepathically, I saw some of her memories.” Amaranthe hitched a shoulder. “This Suan went to my school, so Ms. Worgavic will know what she looks like, and other founders, too, but if I could avoid them and talk to lesser ranking officers… All I need is an invitation into their hideout.” No, a random hideout wouldn’t do, not if that monster craft was here. “Into the Behemoth,” she amended. “With a small team of elite men at my side, we can figure out a way to destroy the aircraft, thus stealing Forge’s greatest weapon, one they haven’t deployed yet in this bid for the throne, but one that I believe they will, if things don’t go their way. If we can’t figure out a way to destroy it, we can at least kidnap Retta and anyone else they’ve got who knows how to fly the thing. I doubt it’s many people. That place was….” She shuddered at the memory of the labyrinthine tunnels and what she’d experienced within them. “Utterly alien.”

“Who’s on this small elite team of yours?” Sespian asked. “Him, I suppose-” he waved at Sicarius, “-but do I qualify?”

“You have work to do here, Sire.” Did he actually want to go along? Surely, he must know he had a more important duty in the city. As far as that went.… “Sicarius isn’t invited either.” Though Sicarius’s eyes bore into her with the intensity of artillery fire, Amaranthe continued to speak to Sespian. “You’re going to need him at your back when you go recruiting. If you come up against men loyal to Ravido or the others seeking the throne, men who won’t turn… It’ll be dangerous for you.”

“It’ll be dangerous flinging oneself into the middle of the Forge hornets’ nest too,” Sicarius said.

“I don’t disagree with that,” Amaranthe said, “and I will take some of the men to back me up, Akstyr and Books probably.” She expected Sespian to face armies and wanted to leave her the best fighters to him. She suspected it’d be technical knowledge she’d need down there, anyway, not brute force. “Maybe Yara, too, if I can pry her away from Maldynado’s…” The first two words that came to mind were on the lewd side, so she left them unspoken.

“Promises of amorous congress?” Sespian suggested.

Deret snorted.

“They’re more than promises, I understand.” Amaranthe waved a hand to dismiss the side trip. “In the end, Sespian, you’re our priority here. I’m just the… ah, what was it again?”

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

“Right. While I’d hesitate to call the person who holds such a lofty-and currently illusionary-office expendable, she’s no emperor.”

Sicarius’s eyes hadn’t softened since she’d started talking of going off on her own, and his jaw tightened at the word expendable. She’d have to talk to him alone later. She had no intention of sacrificing herself, but she knew he’d never forgive himself if he was off with her and Sespian got killed. He might not forgive her either. Even if he would, she didn’t want to have that stain on her soul. There were already far too many deaths darkening it.

“About that…” Sespian eyed Mancrest. “Amaranthe, could we talk alone for a few minutes?”

Amaranthe could guess at the reason-they must not have found anything useful in Sicarius’s files, and he was wondering how long he could pretend to be the rightful heir before the truth got out. “All right. Deret, do you know who’s in charge of Fort Urgot, right now?”

“The fort commander is still General Ridgecrest, and I understand he refused to promise his men to General Marblecrest. That may be what prompted Ravido to take over the Barracks. I understand that all of his highest ranking men have been moved in there, as well as a good deal of ordnance.”

“Excellent information.” Amaranthe gripped Deret’s forearm. Explosions notwithstanding, she’d known it would be worth detouring to the Gazette to find him. “Thank you.”

Sicarius’s gaze was following that grip, and Amaranthe released it.

“That’s enough debriefing for now, I think,” she said. “Deret, why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll continue to trade information tomorrow?”

Deret met Sespian’s eyes. “Is it just me, Sire, or did she get a lot more information out of our meeting than I did?”

“Well, he didn’t make me his new High Minister of…” Cursed ancestors, she was tired. What was it again?

“Domestic and Foreign Relations,” Sespian said drily.

“Yes.” Amaranthe smiled. “He didn’t make me that without reason.”

Muttering to himself, Deret pushed away from the table, grabbed his swordstick, and headed for the door. He did his best to hide his limp as he passed Sicarius.

“What did you want to discuss, Sespian?”

“It’s private.” His gaze flicked toward Sicarius.

“Of course it is,” she murmured. “Sicarius? Why don’t you get some rest? When you’re ready, I’d like you to take Basilard and scout Fort Urgot. Let’s get some fresh intelligence on what’s going on over there. In particular, I’d like to know if this General Ridgecrest might be amenable to giving his loyalty, and his troops, to someone else.” She tilted her head toward Sespian.

“I have news too,” Sicarius said.

“Er, what?”

Sicarius pushed away from the wall and stood, hands clasped behind his back again, his dark eyes pinning her, trying to relay some message it seemed.

“What is it?” Amaranthe asked.

“It is also private.”

Amaranthe closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Why couldn’t these two simply share a drink, thump each other on the back a few times, and decide to stop having secrets from one another? What was it? Three hours past midnight? She wanted to curl up under the table and sleep-preferably without any pesky nightmares that jolted her awake ten minutes after she nodded off.

“Can it wait until later?” Amaranthe tilted her head toward Sespian. If Sicarius said no, she’d go chat with him first, but did he truly want to preempt the son he was trying to win over?

“Yes.” Sicarius lifted his chin and strode out of the room. It was doubtlessly only in her mind that she imagined a sullenness to that chin lift.

Amaranthe rubbed her face. “Go ahead, Sespian.”

He walked around the table and shut the door before sitting down again, this time facing Amaranthe.

“As soon as Ravido knows I’m here and a threat, they’ll print the details of my… flawed heritage in the newspaper.”

Amaranthe grimaced, wanting to call Sicarius anything but flawed, but she knew what Sespian meant.

“An easy task,” he continued, “since the Forge leaders are in bed-literally-with the owner of the Gazette.”

“Just one leader, I’m guessing, unless Deret’s father is as much of a bedroom warrior as Maldynado.”

Sespian didn’t smile at this attempted joke. “Nobody will follow me once they learn the truth, and those we’ve gathered in the meantime will feel betrayed.”

“I assume this means you didn’t find anything useful in Sicarius’s files?”

Sespian studied his fingernails. “Books read the records more closely, and I’m sure he could give you further details, but Hollowcrest and my fath-Raumesys picked a common-born male because they weren’t sure if they were going to let the parents live after the… experiment. They wouldn’t consider killing a warrior-caste man, I suppose. They happened to find an extremely gifted athlete and warrior in a marine sergeant named Paloic who came to their attention because he served with a young Captain Starcrest. He was something of an unsung hero, standing in the shadow of his superior officer, but the way he fought and led his marines was impressive enough that Starcrest sent a letter to the Admiralty, suggesting him for officer training. Instead, he got turned into brood stock.”

“Hm, not warrior-caste, but the sort of hero imperial citizens like. I don’t suppose he’s still alive somewhere?” Amaranthe imagined dragging Sicarius off on a hunt to find his parents when this was all over. He might not be enthused, but she’d be tickled to meet them.

“No,” Sespian said with a grimness that implied there was more to the story. “He committed suicide shortly after his summons to the capital.”

Definitely more to the story.

“Go on,” Amaranthe said.

“It seems Hollowcrest had a notion of creating a mixed blood assassin, one who could pass as a Turgonian but one who could also blend in should he be sent on missions across borders.”

Yes, that was something that Sicarius had done, with chilling success.

“They kidnapped a Kyattese ambassador in the capital, a bright woman with numerous degrees who’d come to work on establishing better trade and tariff policies with Turgonia.”

“Oh?” Amaranthe asked, though she had an inkling of where the story was going. Maybe she didn’t want the details.

“Paloic was instructed to inseminate her. Given the results, he must have done it, but one can surmise that it was a forced mating, something that, given his subsequent suicide, didn’t sit well with him.”

Amaranthe dropped her chin into her hand. Hollowcrest had certainly had a knack for taking upright young soldiers-and enforcers-and using their indoctrinated loyalty to the empire to force them to do as he wished.

“After a suitable male child was delivered, the mother was killed,” Sespian said. “Not only is the story of how my grandfather raped my grandmother to produce my father not one I want to see in the newspapers, it’s not going to improve my claim on the throne. If anything I’m in a worse spot now, because I’m one quarter Kyattese instead of being full-blooded Turgonian.”

“That… shouldn’t be that important. All Turgonians have mixed blood if you go back far enough, but, yes… I don’t think that story would stir the hearts of the people.”

“Sicarius’s heritage should remain a secret, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, let’s not give up. If I can discombobulate Forge enough before you make your main push, maybe they’ll be too distracted to get their article into the newspaper.” Or maybe they could lock up the senior Lord Mancrest and put Deret back in charge of the Gazette. The backs of Amaranthe’s eyes throbbed. Her project list was getting longer and longer.

“Maybe.” Sespian didn’t sound convinced. He stood up, putting a hand on her shoulder before leaving. “I do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. Thank you.”

Amaranthe could only sigh as he headed for the door.

Sespian paused with his hand on the knob. “If it means anything to you, I saw some of the details of his childhood and how they raised him. I… can’t imagine ever wanting to spend time with him, but I… get why he is what he is.”

You’ve seen him fight for us, for you, Amaranthe wanted to say. Wasn’t that enough? She clenched her teeth to keep from speaking aloud and tried to tell herself this represented progress. At least Sespian didn’t hate him any more. But, bloody dead ancestors, she wanted so much more for them, for Sicarius.

Out in the factory, someone had covered all the windows and lit a few lanterns, so one might find one’s way to a room-or the water closet-without falling off a catwalk and into a vat along the way. She offered a silent thank you to Books or whoever had taken the initiative.

A yawn so huge it evoked tears took over her mouth. She supposed she should find a place to sleep-were any of those offices left at this point? — but she remembered Sicarius’s request for a private audience. She should see what he wanted. He would have found a private room or nook somewhere for himself. She wondered what he’d say if she asked to share it with him. Maybe having the indomitable Sicarius’s arms around her would let her mind rest enough for a peaceful night of sleep. Of course, if past moments of closeness were anything to go by, she’d be too distracted to think about sleeping.

Clangs sounded on the nearest set of catwalk stairs. Akstyr shambled toward her, his hair in disarray, even more disarray than earlier in the night.

“We’ve got a problem,” he announced.

“Oh?” Amaranthe asked.

“I better show you.” With nothing more helpful than that, he climbed back up the stairs.

Amaranthe followed him, not simply up to a catwalk but up a ladder as well. It led to a trapdoor that opened onto the roof. She climbed out after him and pulled her jacket tighter. Cold wind gusted in from the lake, which was just visible from the three-story perch. She wondered if their guess was correct, and the Behemoth lay on the bottom. Given how many inimical things her team had found lurking underwater, she was beginning to think the capital should have been settled in the mountains, with nothing except a small stream nearby.

Clouds hid the stars and moon, and Amaranthe almost missed the dark figure stepping away from the chimney. She tensed, hand dropping to her waist, but she hadn’t been carrying her weapons around the factory.

“Oh, good,” came Yara’s voice. “I was thinking about getting someone. I thought I heard… I’m not sure what it is. Something heavy pacing about down there.”

“You’re standing guard?” Amaranthe peered about. “Alone?”

“I drew the black tile, and, yes, alone because someone with a tendency to whine got cold when I pointed out that snuggling to share body warmth would be distracting and inappropriate during guard duty.”

“Nobody wants to hear about that stuff,” Akstyr said. “Over here, Am’ranthe. We might be able to see-”

A cringe-inspiring canine howl drifted out of the night, the eerie tone raising gooseflesh on Amaranthe’s arms. It made her want to run inside and hide behind Sicarius.

Trying for a modicum of bravado, she finished Akstyr’s sentence with, “-something we don’t particularly want to see?”

“What was that?” Yara demanded.

Instead of saying what she wished, such as, “Why don’t we go inside, lock the doors, and not find out?” Amaranthe walked toward the edge of the roof on the lake side of the building. She thought the noise had come from that direction, but the way the wail had coursed through the streets all around them made it hard to tell. Wondering if she should have gone back inside for weapons, she peered over the side. Somehow she doubted weapons would help. If Akstyr had been the one to come and get her, it had to be something-

Another yowl erupted from the shadows. Even expecting it this time, Amaranthe flinched. At least she drew a better bead on its location-perhaps a half a block away and in one of the alleys between the other buildings, but she still couldn’t tell what had made the cry. No wild animal, she feared. Snow dusted the ground and, in the light of a streetlamp down the block, she spotted prints, large prints made by something heavy.

Akstyr shuffled up beside her. “I think it’s another soul construct.”

Amaranthe groaned, remembering the night she and Sicarius had spent hiding in a storage cubby in the icehouse. Even he’d feared to face that beast. In the end, they’d defeated it by tricking it into hurling itself into a pit and burying it beneath bricks and cement, topped off with a steam lorry.

“I don’t suppose there are any handy pits in the factory,” Amaranthe murmured.

“What do you mean?” Yara had joined them also.

“Nothing. Let’s hope it’s not looking for us.” Amaranthe thought of the assassin Sicarius had mentioned. “Maybe it’s here hunting Ravido.” She supposed it was uncharitable to be cheered by that thought.

“Why would it be here then?” Akstyr waved toward the snow-dusted waterfront, which was, at this time of night, devoid of people. Except for her team.

“Let’s just… make sure our guard stays near the door,” Amaranthe said, “and keep everyone else inside until dawn.”

“What about Sicarius and Basilard?” Yara asked.

Uneasiness settled into the pit of Amaranthe’s stomach. “What about them?”

“They left a little while ago.”

Amaranthe slumped. “I didn’t mean for them to go scouting tonight. I told Sicarius to get some rest.”

“I don’t think Sicarius sleeps,” Akstyr said. “He’s not very human.”

Amaranthe barely heard him. She was staring toward the black lake, a fingernail lifted to her teeth. Now she knew she wouldn’t sleep that night.