“I may be a liar,” she muttered to herself, “but I know where you spend your evenings.”
4
The next night found Amaranthe hunkered in the shadows between two snowy hills overlooking the lake trail. Beyond the banks, elevated fire pits illuminated men sawing blocks of ice out of the frozen water. Their clinks and clanks carried to the shore. Since their harvest season was short, they would work through the night, but Amaranthe did not think she needed to worry about the men. As long as things didn’t get too noisy, they were too far out to notice an assassination on the trail.
Just as she started to rise, a trio of soldiers jogged around the bend. They wore black fatigues, boots, and heavy rucksacks with muskets and swords strapped to their backs.
She crouched low again, hugging the shadows.
Fort Urgot stood sentinel a couple miles north of the city, and it wasn’t uncommon to see soldiers training after dark during the short winter days. If they saw her, they would stop to ask her about the repeating crossbow strapped to her back. Carrying weapons wasn’t illegal, but using them outside of practice or a duel was, and this wasn’t a likely spot for either.
The soldiers jogged into a tunnel carved through a granite outcropping.
Once she was sure they were gone, Amaranthe skidded down the slope and over a mound of crusty snow left by the steam plows. Sand coated the icy trail, offering traction for her boots. Everyone from soldiers to enforcers to athletes training for the rings used the twenty-mile lake route, and the city maintained it year around.
She trotted into the tunnel, the crossbow bumping against her back. A gas lamp on the wall illuminated the interior. This was the only covered spot on the trail, and no ice obscured the surface. She knelt and ran a gloved finger across the packed red earth.
The bracelet the emperor had given her slipped from beneath her parka sleeve. He had suggested she wear it for luck. She could use more than luck, but she was wearing it—and had etched her name on the plaque—so whoever found her body could identify it.
“All right, girl,” she whispered to herself. “No thinking like that.”
She lifted her hand and examined the red dust on the finger of the glove. Yes, it was exactly like the smudge on Sicarius’s boot.
The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through her body. If he showed up tonight, she was supposed to kill him.
Not ‘supposed to,’ Amaranthe, you will kill him.
She grimaced. She wasn’t a killer, not even close. She had never even fatally wounded a criminal in the line of duty. Yet, she was planning to intentionally shoot a crossbow quarrel into someone’s chest, in cold blood. Without a doubt, Sicarius deserved it, but...
“Why couldn’t he have been an ass to me last night?” Amaranthe muttered.
The man had been a thousand miles from friendly, but he hadn’t hurt her, threatened her, or even sniffed disdainfully at her. This would have been easier if he had.
“Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy,” she said, adjusting her crossbow and walking out of the tunnel on the other side. “Maybe my chance for promotion is meant to be a great test. Maybe Hollowcrest isn’t doing anything nefarious to the emperor, and I’m not a fool for doing his bidding. And maybe, I shouldn’t be talking to myself.”
Shaking her head, Amaranthe climbed off the trail, following one of dozens of narrow foot paths packed into the snow. If it was possible Sicarius was in town to assassinate the emperor, she would not be doing the world a disservice to kill him tonight. She had to believe that.
Her path ran parallel to the main trail, leading up a hill overlooking the tunnel. The elevated position offered a clear line to someone exiting.
Beyond the hill, apple trees rose, icicles draping skeletal branches, but she stopped before she reached them. Several snow-blanketed bushes dotted the top of the incline, offering good cover. Someone running out of the lit tunnel would already have trouble seeing into the dark, and the shrubbery would doubly hide her.
Amaranthe knelt down and carved a level shelf into the snow. After tugging off her gloves, she slid a slender metal case out of her pocket, from which she removed five poisoned crossbow quarrels. She laid them out, an inch apart, perfectly parallel. Five quarrels; five seconds; five chances.
There was little point in laying out enough for a second round. In the time reloading would take, Sicarius would either run back into the tunnel—she doubted it—or close the distance and tackle her. In truth, she suspected the first quarrel would be the only real chance she had.
With that grim thought, she loaded the five quarrels into the top of the magazine. She pulled the lever to draw back the string and lock the first into place. Then she wriggled into a prone firing position, her elbows supported by the ground and the crossbow in her hands. She sighted down the shaft to the trail and the tunnel exit. Her finger found the trigger. She was ready.
Now she just had to wait for him to come. If he did.
This was a hunch, and she knew it. That he had been here, she was sure of, but that he would return was more of a question. Even if he was a runner, there was no guarantee he came out every night. She might not get her chance to...
What, Amaranthe?
Do something she didn’t really want to do? Kill a man? Not honorably in battle, but while hiding behind a bush. Without allowing him the opportunity to speak to the magistrate, without giving him a chance to defend himself. Murder.
Cold seeped through her parka and into her stomach. Amaranthe dropped her forehead onto the stock of the crossbow. She couldn’t do this.
Someone grabbed her hair.
Her head was yanked back, her torso torn from the ground. An arm snaked around her neck.
Sicarius.
He jerked her head to the side. Amaranthe threw her arm up in an attempt to grab his, knowing it would be too late.
He paused.
Her neck twisted nearly to snapping, Amaranthe froze. She could not breathe. Tears of pain stabbed her eyes. Her instincts screamed for her to struggle, try to escape. But if she fought, he might finish the motion.
Then he dropped her.
Amaranthe took the fall on her forearms, head turning to keep from smashing her face into the ground. Pain sprang from her neck, lancing into her skull and down her spine.
A moment passed. Snow chilled her cheek. Slowly, very slowly, she rose to hands and knees and turned toward him.
First, she saw the black boots. Next came the pants of the same hue. As she sat up—no tilting her head back just now, thank you—she saw the black shirt, and finally the blond head.
“Who sent you?” Sicarius asked.
Amaranthe considered carefully before answering. If he simply meant to scare her into providing information, he could have started with a knife against her throat. No, he had almost broken her neck. He had intended to kill her but stopped mid-motion. Why? And would he continue where he had left off if she answered incorrectly?
“Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest.” Given the previous demonstration of how he could see through lies, the truth seemed a safer choice. Besides, she found herself reluctant to die to protect Hollowcrest’s anonymity.
“Why?”
“To kill you.”
“That I gathered. Why did he send you? What did you do to anger him?”
“I... Uhm, what?”
“It was a suicide mission. You must have suspected.”
Amaranthe started to shake her head, but stopped at the pain. “No, that doesn’t make sense. If Hollowcrest wanted me dead, he could have arranged it without ever bothering to meet me. He could have paid someone to assassinate me at work or at home.”
“Why pay someone when he knew I’d do it for free?”
“You didn’t though.” Amaranthe stood so she could look at his face. “Why not?”
He did not answer, but his gaze flickered downward for a moment, resting briefly on her wrist. She lifted it for a better look, and the gold bracelet caught the light of a gas lamp on the
trail below. Had it done so when she tried to grab his arm to stop him? It was the only thing she could imagine. But why would a name bracelet keep him from killing her? Surely, he couldn’t know it had belonged to the emperor. The golden threads created a handsome pattern, but there were no imperial symbols slipped into the weave. Even if Sicarius did somehow recognize it in the darkness, why would the emperor’s bracelet stop him? This man had been a burr in the empire’s paw during the years since Emperor Raumesys died. And young Sespian was the one who had placed the bounty on his head.
“Hollowcrest thought you might be in town to kill the emperor,” Amaranthe said.
“I am not.”
He could be lying to her. Who would admit to such a plot?
“How’d you find me?” she asked, trying to keep him talking while she puzzled through the situation.
“I’ve been following you.”
“Oh.”
Of course. After she lied to him, he must have been suspicious. She had allowed his lack of emotion to lull her into believing he lacked interest as well. She sighed. As an enforcer, she should have been prepared for that. Stupid, Amaranthe. Very stupid. People die for mistakes like this.
“I do run the lake though,” Sicarius said.
For the first time, she detected a hint of something in his voice. Curiosity? He was wondering how she guessed perhaps. Given the situation, Amaranthe could hardly feel triumphant at her deduction. Was it truly possible Hollowcrest had planned for her demise? Assumed her death at this man’s hands? And, if so, why? As an enforcer, she had done everything her superiors ever asked—more!
“What now?” she asked.
Again, he glanced at her wrist. It was the bracelet that had stopped him—she was sure of it.
“You leave me alone; I leave you alone.” Sicarius turned and headed back to the trail, keeping her in his peripheral vision.
“Wait,” Amaranthe blurted. “I think the emperor...”
He stopped.
She hesitated. If the emperor had nothing to do with why Sicarius was letting her live, this next statement could be considered treasonous. Dare she let an assassin know Sespian might be an easier target than ever right now? But if Sicarius cared for some reason, he could be an ally.
“The emperor is in trouble,” Amaranthe said.
Sicarius turned around. “How so?”
Amaranthe rubbed her neck. “I believe Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest is controlling Sespian by unnatural means.” She had little to base theories on, but she had found that comment Hollowcrest made about fixing the emperor’s tea insidious. Belatedly, she thought it odd he had risked giving the order in front of her. Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to live to tell anyone. Yes, now that Sicarius had started her mind down that path, she had a hard time veering.
Sicarius closed the distance between them. Amaranthe fought the urge to skitter backward.
“Such as?” he asked.
“I think he’s putting something in Sespian’s tea. Maybe it’s not all that deleterious, but maybe it’s the reason...” She lifted a hand, palm up. “Emperor Sespian is enthusiastic about art and science, but no major policy changes have come down since he reached his majority and assumed power last year. Until I met him, I didn’t think anything of it—we’ve had seven-hundred years of conquering warrior emperors—but now that I’ve seen what a peaceful, gentle fellow he is, I can’t imagine him following in his father’s footsteps.” She had a hard time even imagining Sespian holding a sword. “I didn’t dare refuse Hollowcrest’s mission to, ah, kill you, but I had hoped for a chance to find out more about Sespian and the tea when I reported back.”
“You won’t live long enough to report back if you choose to return.”
Amaranthe frowned. “How can you be so sure he wants me dead?”
“Hollowcrest knows me, knows my capabilities. He also knows a pretty smile wouldn’t distract me.”
Maybe it was good she had avoided the seduction scenario then. “Look, maybe it’s suicidal, but I have to go back and get an explanation. I can’t just walk away from...from my life. If Hollowcrest wants me dead, where could I even hide that would be beyond his reach?” She gulped. Only now were the full ramifications spinning through her mind. “And if I can get back into the Imperial Barracks, maybe I’ll have an opportunity to find out more about the emperor’s situation. I can tell you what I learn if...” She raised her eyebrows. “Can you help me?”
He stared at her without expression. Amaranthe shifted her weight, and snow compacted beneath her boots.
“I understand you probably don’t get asked that often,” she said, “but the expected responses are yes and no. Stony silence is not helpful, though if it was accompanied by a nod or head shake it would be decipherable. And, yes, I realize I’m being cocky considering you almost killed me five minutes ago, but you changed your mind for some reason that I suspect has nothing to do with me, so I figure I’ve got little to lose.”
Amaranthe was beginning to see the strategy behind that silent, unresponsive face. It made her uncomfortable and had her babbling like an idiot.
Sicarius drew a black dagger. She tensed, but he simply held it out.
The curving blade was edged only on one side. At first, she thought it had been painted, but the metal itself was black. A dye? Or some uncommon alloy?
“Take it with you to the Barracks,” Sicarius said. “Tell the guards you succeeded in killing me. Show them this as proof. Hollowcrest will recognize it, and he will take your meeting out of curiosity. What happens after that is for you to determine.”
Amaranthe accepted the weapon. She held the exotic blade across the palm of her hand. Expecting the icy bite of metal, she was surprised by its warmth, like a rock basking in the sun. She brushed her thumb along the edge. Even the faint touch drew blood.
“I’ll bring this back to you,” Amaranthe said, “and let you know what I learned.”
He twitched an indifferent shoulder.
She met Sicarius’s eyes. You don’t think I’m coming back, do you? She lifted her chin. “Where would you like to meet?”
She was going to come back.
“The trail. Choose a spot. I’ll find you.”
“What time?”
“Dusk. I’ll look for you for the next three days. If you don’t come, I’ll assume you’re dead.”
“Thanks,” Amaranthe said dryly.
Sicarius started to walk away again. This time he paused of his own accord. Over his shoulder, he said, “There are hidden exits in the dungeons beneath the Imperial Barracks. Follow the drafts to find them.”
Amaranthe watched him disappear into the darkness.
5
The Imperial Barracks were still imposing, maybe more so. The black walls loomed taller than Amaranthe remembered, the cannons larger. The guards at the gate were much bigger. Maybe the runty ones—less than six and a half feet—had been on shift for her previous visit.
She strode toward the gate, more nervous than she had been the first time. Her breathing sounded quick and shallow in her ears. She had changed back into her enforcer uniform and exchanged the crossbow for her service-issue sword and knife. Sicarius’s dagger was tucked into her belt. Hairpins she could open her handcuffs with secured her bun. She had no idea if she could pick a dungeon cell lock with them but hoped she would get a chance to talk to Sespian before Hollowcrest condemned her to that fate—or a worse one.
The two guards watched her approach, one a corporal, one a private, both with disdainful eyes. Their mail jingled as they moved to block her way.
“State your purpose.”
Amaranthe drew a deep breath, exhaled, and watched it form a cloud. “I’m Corporal Lokdon, an enforcer from the Commercial District. I’m here to see Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest.”
“It’s late, and he doesn’t see people without an appointment.”
Which she did not have this time.
“Corporal.” What were the odds she could cow him
? It was not likely; imperial guards were not intimidated by enforcers, less so by women. It would be Hollowcrest’s name that swayed them, if anything. “I have been on a mission assigned by the Commander himself. He instructed me to report back to him immediately upon its completion.”
“What mission?”
“To kill the assassin, Sicarius.” Before they could start laughing, she tapped the hilt of the black dagger. “I brought the criminal’s favorite weapon as proof of his demise.”
Their eyes narrowed. One man extended his hand, palm up. She hesitated. Dare she give up her only evidence? Hollowcrest might take the dagger and send her away without a meeting. Or have her killed at the doorstep. But surely he would want to know how she succeeded—especially if he intended her to fail. With that not-exactly-hopeful thought, Amaranthe handed the dagger to the guard.
He studied it. “Interesting metal, but this could belong to anybody.”
“Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest said he would know Sicarius’s foul blade if he saw it.” Not exactly true, but she could hardly admit Sicarius had been the one to suggest the idea.
The corporal handed the weapon to his comrade. “Run this up to his office and check.”
The lower-ranking man paled, obviously not enthused about disturbing Hollowcrest. He accepted the dagger as if it were a venomous snake, unlocked the gate, and trotted into the courtyard.
Neither Amaranthe nor the corporal spoke while his comrade was gone, though he sent numerous suspicious glances her direction. She leaned against the wall and did her best to ignore him. A nearby clock tower tolled ten times.
The waiting gave her time to think—and doubt. She had no leverage to hold over Hollowcrest to make him answer her questions. She was walking naked into the grimbal’s den, hoping chance gave her a weapon before the fearsome predator ate her. It was the sort of ‘plan’ she would have chastised a rookie for presenting. If Hollowcrest wanted her dead, it would be more logical to flee fast and far. She could go back to her flat, collect her savings, and leave the city forever. Of course, she would spend her whole life wondering if there might be an assassin on her trail. And then there was that niggling comment about the emperor and the tea. If she left now, she would not only be running away from her life, but she would be abandoning Sespian, the emperor she had sworn to honor and protect the day she became an enforcer.
The Emperor's Edge, no. 1 Page 5
