The Emperor's Edge (a high fantasy mystery in an era of steam)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Epilogue

  That afternoon, Amaranthe left the icehouse to find out what had happened to her men. On the way back, she picked up a few supplies and a newspaper. The front page story detailed the kidnapping, positing the “abhorrent and degenerate Sicarius” as the perpetrator of the “unconscionably heinous attack.” Amaranthe was mentioned at the end as an accomplice—no colorful adjectives for her.

  She sighed. So much for getting her name cleared. At least the newspaper said Sespian had survived his injuries and was recovering.

  When she returned to the icehouse, she found Sicarius still on the cot in the office. Not surprising after the previous night’s events. Her shoulder ached from the ore car crash, but, between the creature and the twenty guards, he had received a far worse battering than her. His eyes were open, though, and he had bathed and changed clothes. His gaze followed her into the room.

  Not sure of his mood—they had not spoken more than two words since fleeing the smelter—she set the newspaper, a couple of straw hats, homespun shirts, and overalls on the desk. Remembering she still had Sicarius’s black dagger, she laid it on the pile of gear next to his cot. She imagined it happy to once again be nestled amongst the throwing knives, garrotes, poison vials, and other mortality-inducing appurtenances.

  “You came back,” Sicarius said.

  “Yes.” Amaranthe flipped over the empty chicken crate, sat before the stove, and regarded him. Had he thought she wouldn’t? Maybe he was looking forward to returning to a solitary life free of pestering womenfolk. “Guess I’m like a persistent toenail fungus, huh?”

  “Hm.” Sicarius sat up on the cot and dropped his feet to the floor. His face betrayed no pain, but stiffness marked his movements. “A stray cat perhaps.”

  “Adorable, loyal, and lovable?”

  “Nosey, curious, and independent.” His eyes crinkled. “Not something you plan to bring home.”

  Amaranthe found hope in his light tone. “But something you appreciate once it’s there?”

  Sicarius stood, grabbed the desk chair, and dragged it over to the stove. He sat close, looked her in the eye, and said, “Yes.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, then blushed and studied a whorl on a floorboard. It was silly she felt so pleased. It wasn’t as if he had admitted some undying love—ancestors’ eternal warts, he’d compared her to an alley cat. Still, she thought that yes might have also meant, “I’m sorry I lost my temper, and thanks for coming to help.”

  Sicarius picked up the newspaper and read the front page. Though his expression never changed, Amaranthe grimaced in sympathy.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Sespian,” she said. “I’d hoped you would save him, and he would see you save him, and you two could...”

  “We completed our mission. Hollowcrest, Larocka, and Arbitan are dead,” Sicarius said, “and, outside the smelter, I found the lieutenant who betrayed Sespian. He had this.” Sicarius showed her a glowing purple stone.

  Amaranthe fished out its mate. “Larocka had the other in her office.”

  Sicarius nodded. “He won’t be a problem again.”

  “That’s good, but any chance you and Sespian had of forging a relationship was dashed. Those things you said to buy time... I don’t know if he heard it all, but the papers make you out to be the mastermind behind the kidnapping. He’ll only fear and hate you after this.”

  “Then it is how it’s always been. He is safe for now. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Sicarius spoke as unemotionally and matter-of-factly as ever. And Amaranthe didn’t believe him for a heartbeat. She lifted a hand, intending to pat him on the arm, but, in a fit of courage, she leaned over and hugged him. He did not return the embrace, but he did not pull away either. Though she had only meant to comfort him, she found herself noticing hard muscle beneath her arms, soft hair against her cheek, and the clean, masculine scent of warm skin washed with lye soap.

  Amaranthe blushed and withdrew. The blond eyebrow he twitched at her was a little too knowing.

  She cleared her throat. “How did you know Sespian was at that smelter anyway?”

  “I remembered it from the list of properties we researched. Where else would you take someone to burn him alive?”

  “Ah, quite.” Amaranthe decided not to mention the intervening clue she had needed to make the deduction.

  Sicarius lifted his chin toward the pile of farmer clothing on the desk. “What’s the next scheme?”

  “I need to get the men out of jail,” she said. “They started a fight and stole an enforcer truck in order to provide a distraction for me. It seems they were incarcerated shortly after.” She was not sure how Books had ended up in jail as well, but she had heard him throwing vocabulary words at Maldynado when she was scouting around the back of the building.

  “Are you planning to plow them out?” Sicarius picked up one of the straw hats and turned it over in his hands.

  “You could come along and find out.”

  With his goal accomplished, he had no reason to stay with them, but she hoped he would.

  “To what ends?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to say getting the men out of jail was ends enough but smothered the words. Sicarius wouldn’t care.

  “I need them for my next plan,” she said instead.

  “What plan?”

  What plan indeed. She thought of the last time she had hastily devised a scheme to pique his interest. This time, there was none of that blunt coldness in his inquiry. Maybe he didn’t really want to leave.

  To give herself time to think, Amaranthe opened the door to the cast-iron stove and shoveled in a heap of coal. She had burned the counterfeit bills as soon as she woke, and only piles of ash remained. She would clean the stove out before they left, which would be soon. It was time to find a new hideout, a place from which they could launch...

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “Sure, Larocka and Arbitan won’t be problems again, but Forge was a coalition, not a person. Doesn’t it seem likely others will pose a future threat to Sespian? And, of course, the nature of the progressive policies he wishes to instate will make him more enemies. He needs someone watching out for him. He needs...”

  Amaranthe stood and paced the tiny room. As the old floorboards creaked beneath her boots, the rest of the plan formed. “The Emperor’s Edge, a small but elite unit of specialists who can slip into places and situations where an army cannot. Though they are fugitives, they work for the good of the empire, a fact that—assuming their exploits are impressive and newsworthy—cannot go unnoticed by the emperor himself.” As she imagined such future exploits, a sense of freedom came over her, something she had never felt as an enforcer. For the first time, she was crafting her own destiny instead of working within someone else’s framework. “Since the principal members of this group are the same associated with Sespian’s kidnapping and near death, he must eventually wonder if everything about that day was as it seemed. Why would people who’d meant him harm risk their lives working toward his interests? If he wants to investigate something, he has all the resources in the empire available to him. He’d find the truth eventually, all truths he sought. We just have to make him want to seek. And when he does, he should exonerate me, and I could vouch for you as...someone he should get to know. The Emperor’s Edge is the path to what we both want.”

  By now she was expecting the stunned silence, and Sicarius did not disappoint her. A long moment passed before he spoke.

  “To stay here in the capital, parading before enforcers, soldiers, bounty hunters, and Larocka’s vengeful colleagues would be suicidal craziness.”

  “Yes. Are you in?”

  He snorted and stared at her. Coals shifted in the stove. Somewhere outside, a whistle marked the end of the workday. As Sicarius’s thoughtful silence continued, Amaranthe struggled to keep her patience. It was not as if she was asking for an oath in blood. He could stick around for a while, see how the operation went, and leave
if it was not to his liking. Or simply say no and be done with it.

  “Yes,” Sicarius finally said. “I will follow you.”

  Amaranthe started to pump an exultant fist, but her jaw dropped as the entirety of his statement sank in. Follow her? “I wasn’t looking for a subordinate, just a teammate, a co-conspirator.”

  “Teams need leaders to function.” One eyebrow lifted. “Even small elite units of specialists.”

  “Yes, but you... You’re more experienced, more worldly, stronger, faster, deadlier. If anybody should be leading this, it’s you.” She waved at the newspaper. “I’m just the accomplice.”

  “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

  “No,” Amaranthe allowed after a moment. She had been the one to get a team together to pursue her vision. She had kept them together and working toward that end. Somehow she had even inspired enough loyalty for them to get thrown in jail on her behalf.

  So why balk now?

  Because it was Sicarius. Leading the other men, she could see, but leading him seemed presumptuous. No, she could do presumptuous, so that wasn’t even it. It was...fear. It was walking through the world with a man-eating tiger on a leash, knowing she was accountable for its actions. One inattentive moment and that tiger could pull away and kill anytime it wanted or—worse—she could send it off to kill for her anytime she wanted. And what if she came to relish that feeling? That power? Would she become like Hollowcrest? She suppressed a shudder.

  “Besides,” Sicarius said, “I would create a team of assassins, because that is what I know how to do. That would not impress Sespian. You, however, will create a team of heroes.”

  She met his gaze and found only respect there. If a man who has a mantra of trusting nobody has faith in me, shall I argue?

  She plopped her straw hat on her head. “We better get those future heroes out of prison then.”