“Lodgings here?”
“Until we take over the Imperial Barracks,” Amaranthe said.
“You don’t lack for ambition, do you?” Sespian murmured.
“Probably easier to claim the throne if you’re already there, sitting on it. It might be more feasible to get Fort Urgot now, though, if Ravido is in the Barracks.” She’d need to send someone to scout Fort Urgot and see who was in charge over there. Though these two enlisted men were useful as an early test, it’d make far more sense to take Sespian out and try to win over brigade commanders.
“Sire, who is this woman?” Evik asked.
Private Rudev nodded vigorously, reminding Amaranthe that, though she’d talked her group of men into going along with her crazy plans, women simply weren’t a part of the military or the political arena in Turgonia. These two probably hadn’t taken orders from one since they were prepubescent boys running around their mothers’ houses.
“Ah, she’s my…” Sespian’s fingers groped in the air as he sought an appropriate explanation.
Still leaning in the doorway, Sicarius lifted a single brow, also curious as to the status she’d be granted. Basilard cocked his head with interest. Amaranthe didn’t think Sespian would be naive enough to give her military rank—none of the soldiers, these two included, would accept that—but she would need some kind of authority in the eyes of those who signed on with him. She was about to suggest “personal assistant” when Sespian spoke.
“High Minister in charge of Domestic and Foreign Relations,” he said.
“Huh?” Rudev asked.
Evik cleaned out his ear with his finger. “Is that a…?”
“It’s a Kyattese position,” Sicarius said.
To anyone else his tone would have sounded deadpan, but after a year around him, Amaranthe had no trouble picking up the underlying amusement—or was that bemusement, as in what are you doing, son? A hint of the feeling touched her as well. Sespian’s choice sounded like a fancy title to mean someone who has to do a lot of paperwork.
“It’s a diplomat,” Sespian explained to the scrunched up faces in the room—and Amaranthe as well. She smoothed her own face, fearing her nose might have been scrunched as well. “With a little power. Once I have the throne back—” he was either warming to the idea or getting more into the role now, “—I’ll need to make a few changes to the government to ensure there’s less of a rift between the old aristocracy and the new, self-made entrepreneurial class.”
“So, uh,” Corporal Evik said, no interest in bureaucratic changes evident on his face, “what do we call her?”
“You can call her ma’am,” Sespian said.
“Guess that means spanking is out,” Rudev muttered.
Evik elbowed him. Sicarius’s formerly bland gaze grew icy, though the two soldiers seemed too occupied by these new circumstances to remember he was there.
“I guess it makes sense for us to go along with you, Sire,” Evik said.
Rudev shrugged and nodded. “Sure. Sire.”
Not exactly a heartfelt head-pressed-to-the-floor-in-genuflection promise, but Amaranthe sensed the men were being truthful, not simply telling Sespian what he wanted to hear. Of course, she’d keep a guard on them for a while nonetheless.
“Excellent.” Sespian stood and thumped his fist to his chest. “It’s good to have you here.”
The soldiers stood and returned the salute, bowing deeply as they did so.
Amaranthe took the moment to sign to Basilard, Will you find them a place to sleep and assign one of the men to keep an eye on them?
I can do it, Basilard signed.
I have another task in mind for you. Amaranthe smiled and nodded toward Sicarius. I’ll explain shortly. Noticing the private was watching her, she switched to speaking aloud. “Basilard there will help you two find racks.”
As soon as Basilard and the soldiers left, Amaranthe lifted a hand, intending to wave Sicarius inside, but he was looking at something outside of the room, his face flat and unfriendly.
“Lord Mancrest must be coming,” she murmured to Sespian.
A second later, Deret appeared in the doorway. For a moment, Sicarius looked like he wouldn’t move, forcing Deret to find a way around him, but he stepped inside, taking up the spot Basilard had vacated.
“Good guess,” Sespian said.
Amaranthe decided not to explain that it hadn’t been a guess, that Sicarius reserved his ultra icy glare for those who threatened him, those who spoke disrespectfully about his son, and those who dared invite Amaranthe to picnic dinners in the park. “Lord Mancrest,” she said, “please join us. Do you by chance have any information you’d like to share? Such as the recent goings on in the city? We’ve been out of town for a few weeks.”
Pointedly putting his back to Sicarius, Deret slid into one of the seats opposite Amaranthe and Sespian. “So long as you’re willing to share information with me as well. For instance, I’m aching to know where the emperor has been of late and why he’s allowed himself to be reported dead. No disrespect intended, Sire.”
“Perhaps I should have waited and told this story to everyone at once,” Sespian said.
“I expect lots of people will be wondering,” Amaranthe said, “and if we’re planning to recruit piles of soldiers, you’ll have to tell it numerous times. Maybe Books could put together an explanatory brochure to hand out.”
Sespian snorted. “Now there’s a thought.”
“Piles of soldiers?” Deret asked. “Not only am I wondering where you’re going to get piles of soldiers, but, as a former officer, I feel I should inform you that they prefer to be called squads, platoons, companies, or brigades. Piles sound rather less flattering.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Amaranthe said. “Now, since we’ve done you a favor tonight by freeing you, won’t you consider sharing your information first?”
“I’ve already told you why my father locked me in the basement. What else would you like to know?”
Sicarius eyed the spot between Deret’s shoulder blades and signed to Amaranthe, He was locked up? Why did you free him? You could have questioned him then. It’s easy to get answers from men who are already in vulnerable positions.
Amaranthe wasn’t going to sign an explanation, not with Deret watching her, so she merely flicked her fingers in response. Besides, Sicarius couldn’t seriously believe she would have interrogated a potential ally by force.
“In case you’re curious,” Deret added, glancing back at Sicarius, “I’ve decided to be pleased rather than affronted that your explosions resulted in the floor collapsing, destroying hundreds of thousands of ranmyas worth of machinery along with our archives. I wonder if the Gazette will even get out tomorrow. If nothing else, it should be some time before more late-night printings of propaganda pamphlets occur.”
“Explosions?” Sicarius asked.
“They weren’t mine, exactly.” Amaranthe pointed a finger at Deret’s chest. “He turned the ink jars into bombs and lit them after all.”
“After you said you wanted explosives. Maldynado told me not to let others believe that I was to blame for all that.”
Huh, she’d have to have words with Maldynado. He was supposed to be on her side. “I was merely looking for a way to free you that didn’t involve bloodshed.”
Deret’s fingers drifted to a fresh scab on his temple.
Sicarius was watching Amaranthe, his expression hard to read. Sespian was shaking his head, as if he’d already come to expect such tactics from her. Or maybe he was thinking of revoking her new title.
“Let’s get back to the important part.” She twined her fingers together and rested them on the table. “When did you first see Ms. Worgavic with your father?” In other words, how long had the Forge leaders been in town?
“Maybe five, six days ago. Before the old man locked me in the basement. Though I gathered he had known her for longer than that.”
“Worgavic?” Sespian asked. “This is the woman w
ho was behind Pike’s… ministrations? How’d she get back to the city so much faster than us?”
How indeed? Amaranthe met Sicarius’s eyes. “I guess that answers my question as to whether Retta is still alive.”
Sicarius nodded once. “The aircraft is located nearby.”
“The what?” Deret asked.
“Retta? Who’s that?” Sespian asked.
“A Forge recruit who studied in Kyatt and learned how to operate the ancient technology.”
“The what?” Deret repeated, then noticed Sespian nodding, and asked, “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what we’re talking about?”
“I’ll explain later,” Amaranthe said. “In the meantime, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of any massive dome-shaped flying monstrosities drifting through the skies around the capital? About the size of a small city?”
“Uh. No.”
“It can’t be far away if Worgavic is here,” Amaranthe said, “but they couldn’t have landed it within fifty miles of the capital without someone seeing it.” Unless Forge no longer cared if someone saw it. Dear ancestors, what if they planned to use it to ensure their man came out on top? Entire armies would seem puny next to all that power. They could take the city for their own—or raze it.
“The lake,” Sicarius said. “It hasn’t frozen over yet.”
Amaranthe sank back in her chair. Yes, assuming that thing was waterproof—and there seemed to be few limits to what the technology could do—it could be hidden on the bottom of the lake.
“I did hear a couple of reports that the water level in the lake mysteriously rose last week,” Deret said. “By over a foot. It caused some damage at the marinas.”
The Behemoth was big enough to displace a lot water, no doubt about that. “Maldynado won’t be happy if we have to find dive suits again,” Amaranthe said.
“I do not believe we would find gaining entrance possible that way,” Sicarius said.
“Well, this doesn’t change my plan much. It just means…” Amaranthe tapped a beat on the table with her fingers. “I’m more certain than ever I have to go.”
“Go?” Sespian asked.
“Explain,” Sicarius said, his tone making it clear it was a command, not a suggestion.
“Just a moment.” Amaranthe help up a finger. “Deret, do you by chance know where Ms. Worgavic is staying?”
“At the yacht club, I think. Are you planning to visit?”
A waterfront locale. That made sense.
“Not until I’ve gone costume shopping,” Amaranthe said, “and even then… I should seek to avoid Ms. Worgavic. She knows my face.” And, as one of the original founders, she knew Retta’s sister’s face too.
“Costume shopping?” Sespian asked. “I find myself in rare synchronization with Sicarius—I too wish you to explain your plan.”
“Why, I’m going to infiltrate Forge, of course.” Amaranthe smiled and waited for a response. It seemed she hadn’t lost her knack for stunning groups of men when announcing her schemes.
“How?” Sicarius said flatly.
“I have an image in my head of what Retta’s sister, Suan looks like. She’s been roaming the globe, managing Forge’s foreign affairs for the last ten years, and few in the organization know her by face.”
“How do you have an image of her if nobody else does?” Sespian asked.
“Her sister knows her well, and she’s the one who gave me… I don’t know what you’d call it. A vision? While she was rooting around in my head telepathically, I saw some of her memories.” Amaranthe hitched a shoulder. “This Suan went to my school, so Ms. Worgavic will know what she looks like, and other founders, too, but if I could avoid them and talk to lesser ranking officers… All I need is an invitation into their hideout.” No, a random hideout wouldn’t do, not if that monster craft was here. “Into the Behemoth,” she amended. “With a small team of elite men at my side, we can figure out a way to destroy the aircraft, thus stealing Forge’s greatest weapon, one they haven’t deployed yet in this bid for the throne, but one that I believe they will, if things don’t go their way. If we can’t figure out a way to destroy it, we can at least kidnap Retta and anyone else they’ve got who knows how to fly the thing. I doubt it’s many people. That place was….” She shuddered at the memory of the labyrinthine tunnels and what she’d experienced within them. “Utterly alien.”
“Who’s on this small elite team of yours?” Sespian asked. “Him, I suppose—” he waved at Sicarius, “—but do I qualify?”
“You have work to do here, Sire.” Did he actually want to go along? Surely, he must know he had a more important duty in the city. As far as that went.… “Sicarius isn’t invited either.” Though Sicarius’s eyes bore into her with the intensity of artillery fire, Amaranthe continued to speak to Sespian. “You’re going to need him at your back when you go recruiting. If you come up against men loyal to Ravido or the others seeking the throne, men who won’t turn… It’ll be dangerous for you.”
“It’ll be dangerous flinging oneself into the middle of the Forge hornets’ nest too,” Sicarius said.
“I don’t disagree with that,” Amaranthe said, “and I will take some of the men to back me up, Akstyr and Books probably.” She expected Sespian to face armies and wanted to leave her the best fighters to him. She suspected it’d be technical knowledge she’d need down there, anyway, not brute force. “Maybe Yara, too, if I can pry her away from Maldynado’s…” The first two words that came to mind were on the lewd side, so she left them unspoken.
“Promises of amorous congress?” Sespian suggested.
Deret snorted.
“They’re more than promises, I understand.” Amaranthe waved a hand to dismiss the side trip. “In the end, Sespian, you’re our priority here. I’m just the… ah, what was it again?”
“High Minister in charge of Domestic and Foreign Relations,” Sespian said.
“Right. While I’d hesitate to call the person who holds such a lofty—and currently illusionary—office expendable, she’s no emperor.”
Sicarius’s eyes hadn’t softened since she’d started talking of going off on her own, and his jaw tightened at the word expendable. She’d have to talk to him alone later. She had no intention of sacrificing herself, but she knew he’d never forgive himself if he was off with her and Sespian got killed. He might not forgive her either. Even if he would, she didn’t want to have that stain on her soul. There were already far too many deaths darkening it.
“About that…” Sespian eyed Mancrest. “Amaranthe, could we talk alone for a few minutes?”
Amaranthe could guess at the reason—they must not have found anything useful in Sicarius’s files, and he was wondering how long he could pretend to be the rightful heir before the truth got out. “All right. Deret, do you know who’s in charge of Fort Urgot, right now?”
“The fort commander is still General Ridgecrest, and I understand he refused to promise his men to General Marblecrest. That may be what prompted Ravido to take over the Barracks. I understand that all of his highest ranking men have been moved in there, as well as a good deal of ordnance.”
“Excellent information.” Amaranthe gripped Deret’s forearm. Explosions notwithstanding, she’d known it would be worth detouring to the Gazette to find him. “Thank you.”
Sicarius’s gaze was following that grip, and Amaranthe released it.
“That’s enough debriefing for now, I think,” she said. “Deret, why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll continue to trade information tomorrow?”
Deret met Sespian’s eyes. “Is it just me, Sire, or did she get a lot more information out of our meeting than I did?”
“Well, he didn’t make me his new High Minister of…” Cursed ancestors, she was tired. What was it again?
“Domestic and Foreign Relations,” Sespian said drily.
“Yes.” Amaranthe smiled. “He didn’t make me that without reason.”
Muttering to himself, Deret pushed away from
the table, grabbed his swordstick, and headed for the door. He did his best to hide his limp as he passed Sicarius.
“What did you want to discuss, Sespian?”
“It’s private.” His gaze flicked toward Sicarius.
“Of course it is,” she murmured. “Sicarius? Why don’t you get some rest? When you’re ready, I’d like you to take Basilard and scout Fort Urgot. Let’s get some fresh intelligence on what’s going on over there. In particular, I’d like to know if this General Ridgecrest might be amenable to giving his loyalty, and his troops, to someone else.” She tilted her head toward Sespian.
“I have news too,” Sicarius said.
“Er, what?”
Sicarius pushed away from the wall and stood, hands clasped behind his back again, his dark eyes pinning her, trying to relay some message it seemed.
“What is it?” Amaranthe asked.
“It is also private.”
Amaranthe closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Why couldn’t these two simply share a drink, thump each other on the back a few times, and decide to stop having secrets from one another? What was it? Three hours past midnight? She wanted to curl up under the table and sleep—preferably without any pesky nightmares that jolted her awake ten minutes after she nodded off.
“Can it wait until later?” Amaranthe tilted her head toward Sespian. If Sicarius said no, she’d go chat with him first, but did he truly want to preempt the son he was trying to win over?
“Yes.” Sicarius lifted his chin and strode out of the room. It was doubtlessly only in her mind that she imagined a sullenness to that chin lift.
Amaranthe rubbed her face. “Go ahead, Sespian.”
He walked around the table and shut the door before sitting down again, this time facing Amaranthe.
“As soon as Ravido knows I’m here and a threat, they’ll print the details of my… flawed heritage in the newspaper.”
Amaranthe grimaced, wanting to call Sicarius anything but flawed, but she knew what Sespian meant.
“An easy task,” he continued, “since the Forge leaders are in bed—literally—with the owner of the Gazette.”
“Just one leader, I’m guessing, unless Deret’s father is as much of a bedroom warrior as Maldynado.”