Amaranthe lifted a hand toward Deret, thebest “thank you” she could manage at this distance. He started towave back, but glanced at marines jogging past behind him and kepthimself to a nod.
“Ready to go?” Amaranthe repeated.
“Yes.” Sicarius’s humor had evaporated, andhis unreadable facade returned.
CHAPTER 19
Amaranthe straightened the crimson,braided-hide band across Basilard’s chest. Following in theTurgonian style, he wore it diagonally across a crisp white shirtwith silver piping. According to imperial lore, the band wassymbolic of the across-the-back sword scabbards the originalconquerors had worn, a throwback to the days when the size of aman’s sword had indicated…well, no man had dared carry one anyless than five feet long.
How do I look? he asked when shestepped back.
“Maldynado picked out your clothes anddressed you,” Amaranthe said. “How do you think you look?”
Fabulous?
“Correct. How’s your shoulder?” They hadtaken him to a surgeon to remove the pistol ball, and Akstyr hadapplied his healing fingers, but she was still surprised he hadbeen able to compete in the final Clank Race. Compete and win. He’dsaid he had realized his purpose-or perhaps remembered it-down inthat laboratory and had been motivated to kill himself, if that’swhat it took, to earn dinner with the emperor.
Basilard rotated his shoulder. Goodenough. How is your knee?
Amaranthe grimaced. “Also, good enough.Unfortunately. I was hoping for more of a vacation from ourtraining regimen.” She glanced toward the doorway of the rail car,though she doubted Sicarius was anywhere nearby. He had been scarcethe last three days, and she wondered if there was something he hadnot told her about the events below.
Sicarius does not know what a vacationis.
“I’ve noticed.” She could use one though.Earlier that day, she had talked to Keisha about Fasha’s death, andthe weight of that failure, along with so many others, hung heavilyabout Amaranthe’s shoulders.
When I get to talk to the emperor,Basilard signed, what should I say about the team?
Everything, Amaranthe wanted to blurt.Basilard should tell Sespian how much they’d done for the empire,that they were responsible for stopping his assassins, for fixingthe water supply when it was poisoned, and for saving the athletes.And he should let the emperor know Sicarius wasn’t the demon heonce knew.
Amaranthe exhaled slowly. “Don’t say anythingabout us. That’ll get you thrown in the dungeon. You didn’t enterthe Imperial Games using the name you go by now, so, with luck, hewon’t know you’re part of a team of criminals. Wrongfully accusedcriminals, but criminals nonetheless. Just talk to him about what’simportant to you.”
Basilard held her gaze for a long moment,then nodded. I understand.
Amaranthe waved to Books, who was sighingdramatically and repeatedly as Maldynado fiddled with his clothes.Since he no longer had a bounty on his head, Books would go withBasilard to act as a translator. Sending two members of her team tosee the emperor was risky, but this was Basilard’s dream. Besides,they were the quietest and least notorious of her crew.
What if we get thrown in the dungeon?Basilard asked, as if he had been reading her thoughts.
“We’ll rescue you, of course.” She patted himon his good shoulder and debated a moment before voicing her nextthought. “I’m glad you chose…to set aside the past to try toimprove the future.”
He stared at her. You know? That I meantto kill…
He did not finish. He didn’t need to.Amaranthe knew.
“You’d been glowering suspiciously in hisdirection for months,” she said quietly, so the others would nothear, “and then suddenly you were avoiding looking his way at all.And spending an inordinate amount of time with Akstyr.”
Oh.
“You don’t have to forgive people for theirpast crimes, but if you believe they can do future goods, perhapsit’s worth helping them along that path.”
Perhaps. It’s hard for one man to makethose kinds of choices. Normally a priestess would advise….Basilard grimaced. It doesn’t matter. No priestess will adviseme any more. Even if I avenged our people, it wouldn’t make adifference. Not for me. I have no chance at redemption.
Amaranthe blew out a slow breath. What couldshe say to that? “I’ve noticed…every culture has a differentnotion of what the afterlife entails, which makes me think nobody’sall that certain. Maybe your best bet is to find fulfillment here,in this life.”
Basilard raised a single eyebrow. Youthink I can find fulfillment with Sicarius?
Amaranthe smirked. “Perhaps not himspecifically, but if you can get him on your side, he’s prettyuseful for helping achieve goals.”
Basilard stroked his chin, and she left himlike that. Considering her words, she hoped, and not dismissingthem as the ravings of a Turgonian heathen.
Amaranthe headed for the doorway, butMaldynado stopped her with, “Don’t go far, boss. We’ve got to getyou into your outfit and do something with your hair.”
“My outfit?” She cringed and wished she hadnot mentioned that she was meeting Deret that evening. She onlyintended to tell him her team’s side of the story, but Maldynadobelieved that, because this discussion was taking place in theImperial Gardens and involved a picnic basket, it should be treatedas a tryst.
“I picked out something tasteful for you,”Maldynado said.
“Tasteful?” Books said. “You? That’sdoubtful.”
“You doubt my fashion sense?”Maldynado asked. “You who, most days, wear the same rumpled clothesas you slept in? And who…”
Amaranthe left them to bicker. Maybe shecould sneak out of camp before Maldynado finished with Basilard andBooks.
When she hopped out of the rail car, sheturned and almost stepped on Sicarius’s toes. He stood by the door,his back to the rusty metal siding.
“Something you wish to discuss?” Amaranthecould not imagine him eavesdropping on a conversation aboutclothing.
“We should move the camp tonight. If Basilardis recognized and interrogated, he could lead the imperial guardright to us.”
Always the positive-thinking pragmatist.
“We have been here for a while,”Amaranthe said. “We can move tomorrow.”
“Tonight would be better.”
“I don’t believe Basilard would give us up,even if he were taken prisoner. Besides, tonight everyone’sbusy.”
“Busy,” Sicarius said.
“Sorry, but after the last week, I think afew days of relaxing and recuperating are in order. You’re welcometo do so, too.”
“Relax.”
“Yes, it’s something most humans need to do.It involves getting one’s mind off one’s troubles, putting awayone’s extensive knife collection, and not stalking about in ahyper-alert state all the time.”
“Sounds like a way to get killed,” Sicariussaid.
Amaranthe pointed toward the rail cardoorway. “Maldynado and Akstyr do it at brothels all the time, andnobody’s bothered to stick daggers in their backs yet.” Sherealized how that might be construed and winced. “Not that you needto visit brothels to relax. I mean, unless that’s what you prefer,because it’s not my business if you do, but you could, uhm, take anice moonlit stroll on the beach.” Oh, sure, like any man wouldchoose that option. “Or play Tiles or gamble a bit, or, uh…” Dearancestors, she could not imagine what he might do for fun orrelaxation. Practice throwing knives? “Well, you should dosomething you’d like to do tonight, as the rest of us are, andwe’ll worry about moving in the morning.”
Sicarius, as usual, regarded her with theblandness of a particularly featureless rock, then walked away.
The dress Maldynado had chosen wasn’tentirely appalling. The V-neck and sleeveless nature left more skinshowing than Amaranthe was wont to do, but it was summer.Though the sun floated low over the horizon, it still beat againsther shoulders, and the faint breeze felt good whispering across herbare arms. She enjoyed the rustle of the silk swishing about h
erlegs, too. She never could have afforded such a garment on herenforcer salary. No doubt Maldynado had wheedled it from somebusinesswoman for free.
For once, she wore her hair down, though abraid on either side of her temples pulled the locks away from hereyes. Pleasant evening at the Imperial Gardens or not, one had tobe prepared should one need to defend oneself. She could kick offthe sandals if she needed to run away-or drive a heel intosomeone’s crabapples.
Amaranthe chuckled sadly at herself. “Turndown the boiler, girl. Relax.”
As she crunched along the park’s main gravelpathway, she vowed to enjoy the summer evening. She inhaled thefloral scents that wafted from flower baskets hanging fromlampposts alongside the path. She passed a group of teenage boyscompeting at draftball in a sandy arena while younger childrenplayed hide-and-seek amongst the tall, dense shrubs of theEmperor’s Maze.
Deret had suggested they meet at LookoutVista at the center of the park, but she spotted him beforereaching the base of the hill. He leaned against the waist-high lipof a fountain. Above him, Vlem the Valiant held a sword aloft, anda curtain of water streamed from the granite blade. Amaranthesmirked, thinking of Maldynado’s concern about a statue being madeof him swimming up a squid’s hind-end. That wouldn’t likely makecenter stage in an imperial park.
“Good evening, Ms. Lokdon.” Despite havingthe sword stick in one hand, and a bulging canvas tote in theother, Deret performed a graceful bow. He wore a sleeveless tunicthat accentuated muscular arms, which he managed to display nicelyduring the greeting. “You are looking lovely this evening.”
The suave greeting was somewhat diminishedwhen the head-sized draftball from the boys’ game sailed into thefountain, sending a splash of water into Deret’s face. He steppedaway and awkwardly rearranged his belongings so he could wipe hisspectacles with his shirt. A nervous boy trotted up to retrieve theball amongst numerous utterances of, “Sorry, my lord.”
“Good evening, Lord Mancrest,” Amaranthe saidto rescue the boy from any backlash, though Deret did no more thangive the lad a faintly peeved glance.
“Please, call me Deret. Now that you’ve hadme at your mercy a couple of times, I feel you’ve earned the rightto call me by my first name.” He winced. “That sounded arrogant,didn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’m used to that from warrior-castetypes. I’ve been working with Maldynado for several monthsnow.”
“He’s…not exactly someone to whom I’d wishto be compared.”
“Because he’s disowned?”
“Because he’s Maldynado.”
“Ah.” Good answer.
“May I call you Amaranthe?” Deret looped thetote over his opposite wrist, eliciting a clinking of glasswarewithin. He gripped his sword stick with the same hand and offeredAmaranthe his free arm.
“Yes, though you’ve been particularlytroublesome, and I’m not sure you’ve fully earned the rightyet.” She smiled to let him know she was joking and accepted hisarm. Sadly, she could not remember the last time a man had offeredher his arm. Though she appreciated the gesture, a twinge of guiltran through her, as if she were betraying Sicarius. But this wasjust a dinner related to work. A chance to further their cause.Besides, it was not as if Sicarius had given her reason to hopeanything might happen between them.
“You’re most kind.” Deret guided her towardthe path leading up the hill to Lookout Vista. “I’m glad you came.I wasn’t certain you would after you read the article in TheGazette. I’m sorry it said so little about you and so muchabout the bravery of those on the Saberfist. I could onlyreport what I witnessed with my eyes. I know you and your team weredown there and may have been the ones responsible for destroyingthat strange ship, and the kraken as well, but…”
“It’s fine,” Amaranthe said. “You mentionedus, and you didn’t imply we were behind everything.” It was nothingshort of their most visible triumph yet.
“Still,” Deret said, “I’d like to hear yourstory and about everything that happened. Maybe we could do aninterview for the paper.”
“I’d be happy to tell you about it, butperhaps it’d be better for us-and your health-if you didn’t comeout too openly in favor of my team.”
“My health?” He frowned.
“You’ve heard of a group called Forge?”
Deret’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
“We’ve irked them a couple of times, and itsounds like they had an interest in this venue, too.” They hadreached the crown of the hill, offering a view of the lake beyondthe trees and warehouses, and she nodded toward the sunset-streakedwater to indicate the laboratory vessel. It had sunken back to thebottom as soon as the athletes were pulled out. She had thought theSaberfist might want to salvage it, but the marines hadseemed happy to have it disappear. It would be hard to continuedenying the existence of magic with a ship full of evidence to thecontrary. She wondered what Sespian thought of the whole event.
“I’m not one to run from a threat.” Deretthumped his sword stick into the gravel path and grimaced at it.“Or hobble from a threat either.”
“But if you have a facade of neutrality, oreven come out in favor of business in the capital, then you won’tlikely be targeted, and you’ll have an easier time gettinginformation from various enemy sources. Perhaps you could evenshare some of that information.” She gave him her best winsomesmile.
“Ah, so you want your own personal spy atThe Gazette?”
“Are you offering to work for me?” Her smilebroadened.
“Er, no. I mean…” He poked at the gravelwith his sword stick. “You’re good, you know that, right? Since theday I met you, it’s been hard for me to think of you as an enemy tothe empire.”
“That’s because I’m not an enemy tothe empire.”
They reached the top of the hill where stonebenches waited for those wishing to watch the sunset. A meditationpit and a pair of wrestling rings occupied the area too.
“No, it’s because you don’t seem like… Youknow those sexy, dangerous women who you can tell just want tomanipulate you to their own ends? You don’t seem like that atall.”
Amaranthe raised an eyebrow at him.
Deret stopped. “What?”
“You said I wasn’t sexy. I hope you weren’texpecting a kiss tonight.”
“Oh! I didn’t mean, uhm…” His bronze skintook on a suffused hue that matched the crimson warblooms in theplanters framing the benches. “I just meant you seem nice. Andwholesome.”
“Wholesome?” This time both of hereyebrows flew up. “That’s what my father used to say aboutbroccoli.”
“Wholesome isn’t bad,” Deret said. “Ilike wholesome.”
“Hm.”
He set the tote on a bench, withdrew ablanket, and spread it on the sand of the meditation pit. Deret wasavoiding her eyes, and his cheeks were redder than ever. He removeda bottle of apple wine, glasses, a covered dish, and slices offlatbread for dipping in oil.
He cleared his throat. “This kiss, was thaton your mind for tonight?”
“Uhm.” Amaranthe had only blurted it out as ajoke. She could easily see liking Deret, but more? Maybe thatwouldn’t be so bad. Being with someone who would take her onpicnics to parks and share laughs with her…. It was not as if shecould see Sicarius ever doing those things. Dear ancestors, she hadnever even gotten a true smile out of him. “Let’s just see if wecan make it through the evening without you trying to turn me overto some marines.”
“That sounds like a good start.”
Deret maneuvered himself onto the blanketwith a faint wince, and she sensed irritation in the stiff way heset the sword stick aside. Though war wounds were common in thebattle-seeking empire, he was young to have to deal with apermanent disability. He converted the wince into a smile andlifted a hand, inviting her to join him.
She sat cross-legged beside him.
“So,” Deret said as he dug out a corkscrew,“are you going to give me the full story of what happened downthere, or am I going to have to go into aggressive interviewermode?�
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“Does an aggressive interview involve threatsand punches?”
“Usually only with prospects that are maleand criminal.” He poured two glasses of wine and handed herone.
“And female criminals?”
“I have to bludgeon them into talking usingmy wit.” He grinned, and she found herself responding in kind.“But,” he went on, “I’m told it’s not-emperor’s warts!” He gaped atsomething on the other side of Amaranthe.
Sicarius stood there, hands clasped behindhis back. Her first thought was that he had been running andstopped by to check and make sure Deret wasn’t up to no good, buthe was freshly shaven and had also combed his hair, though tuftsstill stuck out in spots, a result of him choosing to cut it on hisown…with a knife. He wore his typical fitted black with his shirtneatly tucked in. No red dust from the lakeside running trailsmeared his soft boots. He was as tidy and presentable as ever, ifone ignored the throwing knives adorning his arm.
“Problem?” Amaranthe asked.
Deret had sloshed wine on his arm, and hewiped it while he glowered at their intruder.
“Yes,” Sicarius said.
“Back at camp?” she asked.
“No.”
Amaranthe waited for him to explain hispresence. He simply stood there, watching them. He hadn’t decidedshe needed a bodyguard, or, emperor forbid, a chaperone, hadhe?
“What is the problem?” she asked.
“Besides his presence?” Deret muttered.
“I wish to speak with you,” Sicarius said,ignoring Deret. Wish? Not “will” or “must?” Thatwas…polite for him. Yet, if it wasn’t an emergency, surely itcould wait.
“Now?” she asked, pointedly tilting her headtoward Deret.
Sicarius flicked a dismissive glance towardhim, but said, “I can wait until you finish here.”
He made no move to leave. Did he intend towait right there?
“I didn’t bring enough food for three,” Derettold him.
“I am not hungry.”
Amaranthe never would have consideredSicarius the type to be deliberately obtuse, but he certainlyseemed to fall into that category tonight. She sighed and toldDeret, “I better see what he wants.”
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