Amaranthe moved a pack off the top of the coal box and extended a hand toward it. “Sire, would you like to sit down? Perhaps you can let us know what, now that we’ve kidnapped you, you’d like us to do with you.”
Sespian moved toward the box, but, after a wary glance at the men all around him, chose to lean against the wall beside it instead of sitting down.
It was a tad crowded, and he might not feel comfortable with mercenaries looming on all sides. Amaranthe had to remind herself that the men she regarded as friends—family—were strangers to him, and even Maldynado, affable and smiling as he shoveled coal, was an intimidating figure. Shaven-headed Basilard, with more scars than most chopping blocks, looked like a bouncer who relished his work, and Sicarius... well, Amaranthe already had a good idea how Sespian felt about him. She didn’t know if he’d exchanged any words with Sergeant Yara, but doubted her presence alone was enough to put him at ease.
“Would you mind telling me where this train, what’s left of it, is going now?” Sespian asked.
He hadn’t answered Amaranthe’s question. Maybe he wouldn’t with such a large audience.
“The Scarlet Pass,” she said. “We have comrades meeting us at the top. From there... that’s up to you.”
“There aren’t many roads up there,” Sespian said.
Maldynado snickered. “Roads.”
Amaranthe quelled him with a glance. “Should our arrangements prove fruitful, we’ll have a flying machine of some sort picking us up.”
Sespian’s eyebrows jumped for his hairline. “A flying machine?” His face lost its guardedness, and he grinned. “I read a book when I was a boy about people’s attempts at building them. I had my sketchpad out, drawing various models for weeks. I even tried to build one myself out behind the kitchens. In case you were wondering, a dirigible with a balloon made from bed sheets won’t fly.”
Amaranthe smiled and nodded, encouraging him to open up to them, but Sespian seemed to feel he’d slipped up—it might not help that Maldynado was staring at him, slack-jawed—for he clamped his mouth shut. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Your men are probably concerned with more important things, such as when they’ll be paid. I have the money in Sunders City. If you could take me there, I’ll see to your fee and leave you to your next job.”
For the first time, Sicarius stirred. He gave Amaranthe a look that she doubted anyone else could read, but she saw the concern in it. Yes, Sunders City was only a day away by rail and probably less if they could fly over the mountainous terrain. That wasn’t much time for someone to build up to making an important announcement like, “Sespian, I am your father.”
Amaranthe acknowledged his look with a hand wiggle, though Sespian caught it and grew noticeably concerned by the exchange.
“We know you’re in trouble, Sire,” Amaranthe said, hoping to distract him from whatever suspicious thoughts must be going through his head. “We’d like to help. We’re not mercenaries simply in this for the money. I don’t know what led you to choose us, but if you’ve been following the papers at all—” she raised her eyebrows, hoping he’d nod or otherwise indicate he knew what she was talking about, “—you might know that we’ve been trying to work for the good of the empire.”
The concern in Sespian’s eyes deepened, though this time it looked like the embarrassed concern of someone realizing he hadn’t kept up with events the way he should have. “I’m sorry, no. I wanted to meet with you primarily because of your counterfeiting scheme last winter.”
Amaranthe blinked. “My, what? I mean, that was only for coercing Hollowcrest and that Forge duo into negotiating. We didn’t—we aren’t actively... We destroyed everything related to that.” Dear ancestors, he hadn’t chosen them because he thought they were pecuniary villains, had he?
“That’s the truth,” Maldynado said. “Much to Akstyr’s horror, the boss burned all of those fake bills.”
Sespian lifted a hand. “That’s fine, but surely you must have done research before embarking on that... scheme. And you have a history professor on your team, don’t you? Economics would be better, but perhaps he’s versed in that as well. My movements are tracked, so I haven’t been able to get out of the Barracks and do the type of research I need to do.”
Amaranthe struggled to guess the intent behind his words. He wasn’t thinking of starting a counterfeiting scheme himself, was he? That didn’t make any sense. As emperor, he controlled the Imperial Mint. The Imperial Mint that was in Sunders City. He’d mentioned a new Forge scheme. Were they doing something to the money supply?
Basilard’s fingers twitched. Tracking? Will someone be able to follow him to us?
Good question. “How are you being tracked, Sire?” Amaranthe asked.
“I’d... rather not share that information, as it’s tied to something... sensitive.” His hand strayed to his neck before he caught himself and dropped it into his lap.
The implant. Amaranthe stifled a groan. It made sense that the owners could use it for tracking too. One would want to monitor one’s victims if they were left to roam freely. She thought about telling Sespian about Books and Akstyr’s side trip, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up in case her men failed to find anything.
“I’d be open to discussing more with you in private.” Sespian’s gaze skimmed across the men, lingering on Sicarius before returning to Amaranthe. “Perhaps with you and your professor.”
Amaranthe opened her mouth, intending to agree to the private meeting, but Sicarius spoke first.
“From how far away can they track you and trigger the artifact in your neck? Can it kill you if you think or speak of matters Forge considers inappropriate?”
Sespian gaped at Sicarius, his face growing ashen. He recovered his composure quickly, but not before Amaranthe glimpsed a new fear darting through his eyes. Sicarius himself was as unreadable as ever. She knew his concern for Sespian had prompted the questions, but Sespian would simply be alarmed that an assassin knew about his vulnerability.
“We’ve encountered the devices before,” Amaranthe explained.
“I see,” Sespian said, and she had a feeling that was all he’d say if she didn’t get rid of some of the men.
“Maldynado and Basilard,” she said, “you two look tired. Would you mind taking a nap in the coal car?”
“A nap?” Maldynado said.
Meanwhile, Amaranthe met Basilard’s eyes, and signed, We’ll find time to talk to the emperor about your people later. I promise. What he’s dealing with has to be the priority.
Sespian noticed her signing, and his eyes narrowed. Amaranthe hoped he didn’t think they were scheming something. Basilard merely nodded and walked out.
“Maldynado.” Amaranthe pointed toward the door.
“A nap,” he muttered. “Do I look like a toddler?”
“You look like an overgrown—”
“You can do whatever you want,” Amaranthe hurried to say, before an argument could break out, “so long as it’s back there and not up here. Sergeant Yara? Can I prevail upon you to join them?”
“She can stay,” Sespian said.
Amaranthe didn’t wince, not outwardly anyway, but having Yara there would keep Sicarius from speaking freely. Still, if Sespian felt more comfortable because of her presence, that might be a good thing. Maybe they had exchanged a few words when they’d been alone, and he knew Yara was on his side. If only Amaranthe could make him believe she was on his side too.
“I’d rather he wasn’t here.” Sespian nodded toward Sicarius without making eye contact with him.
“He stays,” Amaranthe said.
Sespian grimaced. “I suppose it’s understandable. You must not feel comfortable enough around me to be without your bodyguard?”
Amaranthe almost blurted that that was ridiculous—even if she thought Sespian well trained enough to be a physical threat, she wouldn’t believe him capable of harming a woman who was trying to help him—but she caught herself in time. Erroneous assumptions o
r not, he was agreeing to Sicarius’s presence.
Amaranthe perched on the top of the coal box, clasped her hands between her knees, and gazed into Sespian’s eyes with all the guilelessness she could muster. “Sire, I understand that you have reasons to be uncertain about us, but whatever you think we’ve done or haven’t done, we’re here now. Why not make use of us? At the very least you should believe we’re not associated with Forge. If you’ve read the papers lately—” Amaranthe caught herself. Laying claim to a rash of assassinations might not be a good idea, especially if Sespian didn’t yet know Sicarius had been responsible. “We’ve been making trouble for them for a while, and I suspect they’d very much like to see me dead. And certain others in my party.” She glanced at Sicarius, but only for a heartbeat before refocusing on Sespian. “You know what those old military strategists say. The enemy of my enemy is... someone who could make useful cannon fodder. If you have some plot in mind, perhaps you could use us to create a distraction elsewhere.”
Sespian dropped his chin onto a fist and gazed at her.
Finding the response encouraging, Amaranthe pressed on. “Or use us as a research team. You mentioned an interest in what Books might know. He’s well versed in a number of topics, and I’m sure he could pontificate at length on the subject of economics. We have another man with knowledge of the mental sciences.” Amaranthe watched to see what Sespian’s response would be to an allusion of magic, but the term didn’t so much as make his eye twitch. He must be familiar with it. “He may be able to help get that implant out of your neck. We would be useful allies. I’m certain of it. Spend some time with us before heading to Sunders City and whatever you need to do there. We’ll help, regardless of the money.”
Sespian opened his mouth, paused, closed it, then shook his head ruefully. “It’s very easy to be drawn into what you’re saying, and I catch myself wanting to nod and agree. Maybe I should be taking notes on your technique.”
Amaranthe blushed and felt like she should stutter an apology, but she hadn’t done anything to be embarrassed about, had she?
“It’s her eyes,” Sicarius said, startling her.
Yara glanced over her shoulder at him, apparently surprised to hear him speak, but soon turned her attention back to the tracks. She seemed to believe she should remain silent for the discussion.
Sespian scratched his jaw. “Yes, maybe so. They’re like a doe’s. Warm and earnest and...”
“Wholesome.” Sicarius’s eyes glinted, and Amaranthe scowled at him. She knew he was referring to that conversation—that private conversation—she’d had with Deret Mancrest in the Imperial Gardens, where he’d called her wholesome. She didn’t say anything, though, not when Sicarius was finally taking part in the discussion. Sort of.
Unfortunately, Sespian didn’t share eye contact or a knowing smirk with him. All he did was eye Sicarius warily, as if he’d realized whom he’d been chatting with, then he shifted to face Amaranthe more squarely, pointing his shoulder at Sicarius.
“I would like to trust you, Corporal Lokdon,” Sespian said, “but you’re running around with my father’s assassin, someone without a conscience who’s murdered men, women, and children, and—”
“Those are people Hollowcrest and Emperor Raumesys ordered him to kill,” Amaranthe said. “Sicarius was raised by them to be an assassin. What choice did he have?”
“And even if I could believe he bore me no ill will,” Sespian went on without acknowledging her interjection, “what about that Marblecrest you’ve got on your team?” He waved behind his head, toward the coal car. “That whole clan is angling for my hide. They’re working with Forge, planning to put the eldest son on the throne and rule with one hand while panhandling to those entrepreneurs and bankers with the other. And you’ve got the youngest one in here, babbling to me about statues?”
“I...” Amaranthe didn’t know what to respond to first. She’d heard of the Marblecrests—they were one of the oldest warrior-caste families and had spent several generations ruling the empire until Tevok the Third had sired thirteen daughters and not a single son—and it didn’t surprise her to learn that Maldynado came from that line. What did surprise her was that his family was working with Forge and angling for the throne. And the Marblecrests would have a claim too. At one point, Amaranthe had had Books give her a list of the people who would be in the running should Sespian disappear—or the news about his parentage come out. If the latter happened, Sespian still had a claim through his mother’s line, but it wouldn’t be any stronger than that of seven or eight other families, and it would harm his interests if someone digging through Sicarius’s bloodlines didn’t find any warrior-caste patrons.
Amaranthe realized her mouth was hanging open as her mind darted all over the place—and that Sespian was waiting for an answer. “I probably should have asked Maldynado for his surname at some point,” she finished with a sheepish shrug.
She looked at Sicarius, wondering if he had known. He was wearing his expressionless mask and giving away nothing.
“You don’t know the names of the men working for you?” Sespian’s voice wasn’t exactly sarcastic—he seemed to be someone who was careful not to offend with his tone—but it might have been as close to it as he came.
“I don’t know their bloodlines, no. It’s never mattered before.” Amaranthe spread a hand. “Regardless, if you spend a few minutes with Maldynado, I think you’ll see that he’s no threat to you.”
“Yes, that was the gist I got from our brief conversation about statues, but I thought his... garrulous innocuousness might be a façade.”
Amaranthe smiled. “I do think he’s brighter than he lets on, but not in a duplicitous way.” She let the smile fade in favor of a more earnest expression. “I can get more details from him, but Maldynado’s been disowned, and he doesn’t speak fondly of his kin, so I doubt he’ll be a problem for you. If anything, he may be someone from whom you could gain inside information.”
Sespian leaned back. “Huh.”
The monosyllabic grunt reminded her so much of those Sicarius had issued when listening to her early plans, that she paused to consider it. With Sicarius, it usually meant he was open to the idea, and perhaps a little surprised he was open to it. Like father, like son?
“Buy him a drink,” Amaranthe suggested, “and I imagine he’ll spill everything on his eldest brother.”
“I’ll... consider it,” Sespian said, and Amaranthe caught him scrutinizing her eyes. He glanced speculatively at Sicarius, but didn’t say anything else.
Under other circumstances, Amaranthe might have laughed at him—at both of them. Her eyes were the same boring brown shared by ninety percent of the people in the empire, so she couldn’t imagine what they were talking about, but if something in her eyes got Sespian to believe she was on her side, she’d be happy to use it.
“I hope you’ll consider letting the rest of us help you, too, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “At the least, you’ll want that implant out of your neck before you head off to do... whatever it is you’re going to do.” If they had to perform some surgery on Sespian, that’d delay him a couple of days, and maybe she and Sicarius would find their moment alone with him. “I’m sure my mental-sciences man will have some ideas when we meet up with him again.” She wasn’t sure of that at all, but she hoped it would be the case.
“That’s the teenage boy with the spiked hair, isn’t it?” Sespian asked dryly.
“Er, yes, but he studies hard. He’s healed me before, after I’ve done foolish things and nearly gotten myself killed. Also, he’s only a year younger than you, Sire.” Amaranthe decided not to mention that Akstyr appeared older than Sespian. Emperors probably liked to be told they looked fierce and commanding, not baby-faced.
“Yes, and that’s why I’d doubt him. I’m not terribly wise or experienced.”
“We’ll find a solution. Books and Sicarius have a lot of experience they’ll share with him.”
Sespian shot another look at S
icarius. “How comforting.”
“Sire...” Amaranthe started, but didn’t know what to add, not with Yara there, and she didn’t think Sespian wanted her to send Yara away.
“Corporal Lokdon,” Sespian said, “I’d like to trust you and treat you as a confidante, but I’m afraid I’d be letting my feelings trample all over my pragmatism. These Forge people have been consuming my time and my sanity with their plotting and manipulation, and I haven’t had a chance to research what your group is doing. Your questionable allies aside—” Sespian gave Sicarius another narrowed-eyed glance, “—you went to that elite business school before becoming an enforcer, and some of your old classmates are affiliated with Forge.”
That was news to Amaranthe. Maybe she ought to be getting in touch with old comrades to see if they might be sources of information.
“I’m sorry to be mistrustful,” Sespian went on, “but I’ve been wrong once already.” He grimaced, and Amaranthe wondered how he’d been captured—or tricked?—into leaving the Imperial Barracks to end up in Larocka’s clutches the winter before. “If my concerns are unfounded, I apologize. I hope you can understand my position and won’t hold it against me.” He offered her a sad half-smile.
“Of course I won’t, Sire.” Amaranthe sensed that she’d made headway and had best not press him further. Knowing how little time they had, she wanted to, but if she was too insistent, he’d grow suspicious of her motives. At the least, he’d want to talk to her again with Books present to get more information on whatever economic scheme he was researching. “You don’t happen to know which of my old colleagues are involved with Forge, do you?” she asked.
“Boss!” came Maldynado’s voice from outside. “We have a problem!”
Conspiracy Page 32
