“I don’t think anyone would need to make her focus on me,” Sicarius said. “I may be why she’s here.”
Amaranthe, still holding his hand, frowned up at him. “I knew you knew more about this Nurian and the mage hunters than you were letting on. What is it?”
Sicarius shook his head once. “Until you translated that name—Ji Nah—I had only a suspicion, but she has similar features to someone I once knew.”
“Someone you... hunted over there?” Amaranthe asked.
“No. The first mage hunter I ever met, the man who taught me about practitioners and withstanding their attacks when I was a boy. Hollowcrest brought him in as one of my tutors. Soo Jhin Nah.” Sicarius gazed down, meeting Amaranthe’s eyes. “He did not make it back to his homeland.”
“Because his pupil was commanded to make sure he did not?” Amaranthe asked so quietly Tikaya almost missed it. Her stomach grew chill at the implications of the question.
“He was,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe sighed but didn’t step away from him. By now, she must know all about his past and those he had killed, or she must at least suspect. Tikaya could not imagine standing beside him, knowing what she knew.
“So this may be a relative out for revenge? A daughter?” Amaranthe asked.
“Perhaps so. Though from listening to her speak with her own daughter, I believe events in her homeland forced her to leave. I may be an afterthought or an attempt to regain honor.”
Amaranthe held up a hand. “The assassin has a daughter here?”
“A young child, yes.” Sicarius’s gaze flicked about the room—despite Tikaya’s revelation that Rias might have been poisoned, everyone was riveted to this conversation. “I had an opportunity to kill the mage hunter, though she is crafty and may have evaded me, but I wanted your opinion on this matter before acting.”
“Why?” Amaranthe whispered. “Why would anyone bring a daughter on an assassination mission?”
Tikaya bit back a question about why an assassin would have a child, remembering in time that Sicarius and Sespian might take offense, not to mention Amaranthe who apparently wanted a baby. Surely such offspring would be targets for anyone seeking revenge for the parent’s kills. Then again... she considered Rias. He probably had more enemies in the world than Sicarius ever would, and that hadn’t stopped Tikaya from wanting to have his children. Maybe it was because they had been targets more than once that her mind automatically went to that place. She had survived all of that, but only because she had had Rias at her side. To lose him would be... unacceptable.
She scooted her chair closer to him and linked her arm with his. When he met her eyes, she tapped a vein on the back of his hand. The assassin was a low priority, surely, compared to the plant and the poison that might be flowing in his blood. He gave her a nod, but responded to Sicarius and Amaranthe.
“If the Nurians exiled this assassin, she might have had no choice but to bring her child along.” Yes, he knew all about exile.
“It was my intention to bring the mage hunter here for questioning,” Sicarius said, “but I did not wish to apprehend her in front of the child. Knowing her skill, it might have been a bloody battle.”
It surprised Tikaya to hear that he had considered the child at all. Amaranthe squeezed his hand, and he gave her a nod.
“She fled with the child when the soldiers came,” Sicarius said. “She burned the building as a distraction. She was good. I didn’t see her escape.”
“Since you are her target,” Rias said, “I’ll leave you to deal with her as you see fit. If you want some men, let me know and I’ll arrange it, though I sense you believe you can handle her better alone.”
“Perhaps not entirely alone.” Sicarius met Amaranthe’s eyes. She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
“Handling her means killing her?” Tikaya asked, though she probably wouldn’t have needed to, this being Turgonia. Murderers were given the death sentence here, and trials were nonexistent. Judges and magistrates alone heard and convicted criminals. She had already argued for Rias to make changes to the judicial system, and he had agreed that it would need reform, but there hadn’t been time to do much yet. “What becomes of the child then?”
Rias turned his palm toward the ceiling. “A person cannot be absolved of crimes because he or she is a parent. There are orphanages, or perhaps Nurian relatives might be found, and she could be returned to her homeland.”
Tikaya closed her eyes. Only Turgonians could speak so calmly and rationally about people’s deaths.
“Because there are both male and female warriors and practitioners in Nuria,” Sicarius said, “it is possible a mated pair may be slain in battle. There is an old tradition that the children of fallen combatants may be taken in and cared for by those who slew the parents, if there are no other kin. Sometimes even if there are kin. The Nurians considered it better to raise an enemy’s child and shape his world view than to have that child grown up to hate them and take revenge upon them later.”
“Are you saying this assassin brought her child along for you to care for in case you defeated her in some battle?” Tikaya found the notion mindboggling. She had read about that Nurian custom, but it was centuries old; nobody still did that did, they?”
Amaranthe’s jaw had nearly dropped to her shirt during this discussion. It seemed her mind was boggled too.
“I do not presume to know the woman’s motivations,” Sicarius said. “I am merely stating that there is a Nurian precedent for adoptions by enemies.”
Rias was rubbing his face, maybe as flabbergasted at the idea of Sicarius as an adoptive parent as Tikaya was.
“It is early to worry about this aspect of the problem,” Rias said. “We have other matters to attend to.” He clasped Tikaya’s hand for a few heartbeats, then stood. “I had better not delay further on this electricity project. To build something in so little time, we need... serendipity. To build something at all will be a challenge.” He huffed out a breath, his expression faintly daunted.
Tikaya hadn’t seen the look on him often, and it worried her, but she gave him an encouraging smile. “You like challenges, love.”
“Yes.” He gave her a kiss, saluted the others, and left the room.
Mahliki and Sespian stood up, and Amaranthe and Sicarius, who had never sat, headed for the door. Tikaya cleared her throat.
“Wait a moment, please.”
Everyone stopped and looked at her.
“My husband will put the city before his own health, his own life. I don’t know if he’s ingested some poison that will harm him or not, but I can’t leave this up to chance. If I can figure out who the leader of this religious group is, will someone pay him a visit and find out if there’s a poison and if so... what the antidote might be?” Tikaya refused to accept that there might not be an antidote.
She forced herself to meet Sicarius’s cool dark eyes. He was the one who made the most sense, who could be the most effective in this scenario, though she certainly wouldn’t refuse the assistance of the others. She didn’t know how to ask him this favor specifically though. Would he do it for her? She had never spared him any kind thoughts. If not for her, would he do it for Rias? Sicarius did seem loyal to him. Strange, but in this moment, Tikaya trusted him more than Rias’s own kin. Not strange, a matter of logic. He hadn’t been here all winter, so he couldn’t be the snitch. Besides, he and Amaranthe had been targeted by the snitch.
“I will go,” Sicarius said.
Tikaya’s knees weakened in relief and she gripped the edge of the table for support.
“We will go,” Amaranthe corrected.
Mahliki spread her hands. “Father wants me to help with testing, but if there’s anything I can do, I will.”
“I know you will.” Tikaya smiled at her daughter.
“But, uhm, how are you going to figure out who’s in charge and where to find the person?” Mahliki asked.
“I,” Tikaya said, flexing her fingers, “am going to
camp out in that intelligence office and go over every piece of data Dak’s men have gathered this winter, and woe to he who attempts to stop me.”
“I could lend you someone forbidding to loom threateningly from behind your shoulder if you wish.” Amaranthe leaned against Sicarius’s arm.
He snorted softly but didn’t object.
“I believe I can throw Rias’s reputation around and get what I want from those men,” Tikaya said, “but I will consider your offer if I have trouble.”
“Ask Colonel Starcrest about the bomber who died of poison,” Sicarius said. “A doctor was going to perform an examination, but I was never informed as to the results. Whatever poison he ingested was fast-acting, but it might offer a clue.”
Tikaya nodded. “I will ask. Now my friends, I believe we all have work to do.”
Tikaya barely heard the others preparing to leave. She was already heading for the door, already planning her assault on the intelligence office. She should have been in there all winter, instead of twiddling her thumbs and lamenting her place in this land. She only hoped she could find what she wanted, and that she hadn’t waited too long.
Chapter 16
As soon as Amaranthe had Sicarius alone, she stopped him with a hand to his chest, then wrapped her arms around him and gave him the kiss she had longed to in the conference room. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him as close as she could, needing a moment where no distance stood between them. She thought he might be too busy thinking of this new assignment to take the time for sentimental dawdling, but she had been worrying about him all night and all day, curse his roaming ancestors.
Sicarius didn’t break the kiss. He slid his arms around her waist and leaned his back against the hallway wall, a potted tree offering them a modicum of privacy, though for the moment, nobody else was walking on the floor. She was the one to eventually break the kiss, dropping her face to his neck, closing her eyes, and breathing in the scent of him.
Usually she enjoyed that scent, but... “Sicarius, have you been traveling in sewers lately?”
He snorted softly, his breath warm against her ear. “I believed it imperative to deliver that message, so I did not delay for bathing before reporting to the president.”
“Well, maybe your new odor will prove useful in chatting with Ms. Sarevic. If you stand next to her, she’ll be all the more eager to answer my questions, so she can escape sewer scents.”
Sicarius’s cool look suggested he appreciated her teasing less than her kisses. He released her and walked down the hallway. Amaranthe caught up to him by the time he reached the first floor. A security guard stood behind the counter as well as the receptionist now.
“The location of the prisoner,” Sicarius said to them, his tone not making it entirely clear it was a question.
“Pardon?” the receptionist asked, adjusting her spectacles and choosing to meet Amaranthe’s eyes instead of Sicarius’s.
“Our friends Maldynado and Sergeant Yara requested a room for a plump matronly woman with a dress full of tools,” Amaranthe said. “We’d like to locate them.”
“Ah, one thirty-seven.”
“Thank you.” Amaranthe nudged Sicarius. “I’m not sure why Basilard is the only one who gets a translator around here.”
Before they could head off to hunt for the room—or Sicarius could offer a rejoinder—Maldynado and Yara walked out of the hallway.
“We’ve secured the guest,” Maldynado said, addressing a lazy salute toward Amaranthe.
Amaranthe wondered if Tikaya would find that an only-in-Turgonia statement. “We’re off to question her. Want to join us?”
“Nah, I already asked her my question.” Maldynado dug out the black disc he had found in the wreckage at the construction site. “She didn’t want to answer, but I used my charms on her.”
“You threatened to leave one of those vines tied to her chair as a housewarming gift,” Yara said.
“Yes, but I smiled charmingly when I said it.”
“How did that work for you?” Amaranthe had yet to strategize her own method for teasing answers out of Sarevic.
“It worked fine. She said this was part of a time-delay switch that could be wired to just about anything that needed to be delayed. She admitted that it had come out of her shop, but didn’t admit that she had any idea what it had been wired to. At least I know what to look for now. She relented and drew a quick sketch of an undamaged switch. On account of my charms.”
“Your threat,” Yara said.
“My charming threat.”
Amaranthe feared this would mean Sarevic would be in even less of a mood to be strong-armed into cooperation.
“Good luck with her,” Maldynado said. “We need to go. We have another mission.”
“We do?” Yara’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t involve nudity, does it?”
“I suppose nudity is an option, but I want to go out to the construction site for Sespian’s building and stop whoever’s been sabotaging it. I need the assistance of your honed enforcer investigating skills.”
“I’m a patroller. I don’t investigate; I shove criminals up against walls and throw handcuffs on them.”
“You can handcuff the foreman if you want,” Maldynado said. “He’s a pest.”
“Because he made you do work?”
“Because he snottily made me do work.”
“I thought Starcrest wasn’t making the building a priority right now,” Amaranthe said, though Sicarius had already decided he’d had enough of the conversation and was heading down the hall. Maybe he intended to start wafting his sewer cologne at Sarevic preemptively.
Maldynado shrugged. “He didn’t give me a more important job. I figure this is all tied in anyway. If I can catch the building saboteur, maybe he can lead me to the head priest you want.”
“That’s very responsible of you, Maldynado. Thank you.” Amaranthe patted his arm before jogging after Sicarius.
She couldn’t quite decipher Yara’s sarcastic grumble, but gathered she already had a lot of work to do without going along on side trips with Maldynado. Amaranthe would have to find a moment to talk to her about the job she had passed up—or maybe hadn’t yet passed up.
A soldier pressed into guard duty was standing outside of room 137 when Amaranthe arrived. The door was open, Sicarius having already gone inside. Starcrest must have sent the word down the chain of command that he was to be given free access to the hotel; either that or his glare worked as an effective key for opening guarded doors.
Amaranthe found him standing behind Sarevic, who had dumped her tools out on a desk and was sitting at the chair, using a screwdriver to clean her fingernails. She was ignoring Sicarius. Amaranthe thought about smiling at him and waving him closer, so she would catch the sewer scent, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for teasing, not with Starcrest’s life at stake.
“Ms. Sarevic.” Amaranthe dragged a second chair over for herself. “I hope you don’t mind us interrupting your project for a moment—” she waved at the on-going fingernail cleaning, drawing a grunt from the other woman, “—but I was wondering if I could help you remember what exactly the thieves took.”
“And their current location,” Sicarius stated.
“I already told you what I know,” Sarevic said.
“And you won’t know more until you can get back to your shop and take inventory?” Amaranthe asked.
“Exactly. But I’m locked in here.”
“Perhaps if you were to give us a more complete list of what threats we might be dealing with, I could talk the president into releasing you immediately,” Amaranthe said, though she didn’t know if she had that kind of sway.
That drew a flicker of interest from Sarevic, though she promptly returned her focus to her fingernails.
“The blasting sticks have already been used against us,” Amaranthe said. “Were you working on anything else that could have... destructive uses?”
Sarevic sniffed. “Of course not.”<
br />
“I’ve purchased wares from you before. There’s no need to pretend you don’t invent items that, however handy, can be put to ruinous use.”
Sarevic peered more closely at her fingernails, then picked up a file, one designed to sand wood rather than parts of the human anatomy, but the roughness didn’t seem to bother her.
Amaranthe leaned back in her chair. Time to try another tactic. What did Sarevic want, besides to be released to go about her business? Maybe Amaranthe could make her believe she wanted something she didn’t yet know she wanted...
“Now that the president is aware of the special nature of your work,” Amaranthe said, “I imagine it will be harder to attract some of your more... sophisticated clientele, folks who wish to remain anonymous and might worry that your establishment is being monitored. Of course, it was only a matter of time before things grew more difficult for you. The enforcers have been aware of your second set of shop hours for a while.”
“I know,” Sarevic muttered and filed harder at her thumbnail.
Amaranthe wasn’t sure whether the comment represented acceptance over her argument or that the enforcers truly were aware of the clandestine side of the workshop’s business. She had been bluffing; she hadn’t heard about it herself until she had become an outlaw.
“But,” she went on, “as any businesswoman knows, opportunity can often be found even in catastrophe. This could be a chance to put your special talents to work in meeting the president’s needs. Working for him and those close to him would certainly come with perks, and you would no longer need to worry about watching your back for the law. I understand he has an engineering background. He might appreciate the uniqueness and quality of the items you produce.”
Sarevic laid down the file and met Amaranthe’s eyes for the first time. “You think he would hire me? As an independent contractor?”
Amaranthe wasn’t in a position to make deals on Starcrest’s behalf, but she lifted a shoulder and smiled. “If you were to help him thwart the priests who burglarized and assaulted you and who are also threatening him, I’m sure he would feel kindly toward you.” When Sarevic’s eyes narrowed, Amaranthe added, “And perhaps you could bring him some samples of your more recent work, especially if you have any ideas related to the generation of electricity. That’s his priority right now.” And he might not appreciate having some blasting-stick-creating tinkerer helping, but if it would get them the information they sought...
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