Forged in Blood I

  “What?” Sicarius finished with the lock and stood.

  “I have no personal experience, but from the stories I’ve read, fathers and sons are supposed to go hunting and fishing together. There were never any mentions of picking locks and breaking into houses.”

  Sicarius suspected this was some sort of joke, but he couldn’t guess at what the correct response should be. “You wish me to take you fishing?”

  “No. I meant… Never mind.”

  Sicarius pushed open the door, paused to listen, then, upon hearing nothing, slipped into the house. The lingering smells of a kitchen greeted him. The scents of cinnamon and cloves from a baked apple dessert nearly overpowered the lesser odors of elk stew with carrots and parsnips that must have comprised the main meal. A hint of lye soap hung in the air as well.

  When Sespian entered, Sicarius headed for stairs, the outline visible at the end of a hallway leading away from the kitchen. There were no lamps lit in the house, though that might change when the daughter entered. He glided up the wooden staircase, pausing only when a creak sounded on a step below him.

  “Sorry,” Sespian whispered when he glanced back.

  “Wood is challenging,” Sicarius breathed, hardly believing he was talking when they were sneaking into someone’s house, but they’d have to wake Ridgecrest soon regardless, and Sespian might appreciate the instruction. “Step near the edge of the treads for less risk of creaks, and walk near the walls when we reach the hallway.”

  “All right.”

  Sicarius continued into the hallway above, opening doors to check for slumbering occupants as he went. They passed two children’s rooms, an office, and a library. At the end of the hall, double doors opened to a room with a wide bed in the center. Two people lay in it. The air smelled of sweat and sex, but whatever had happened earlier, the man and woman were both breathing rhythmically in sleep now.

  Sespian hesitated in the hallway. “Should we… maybe we should have knocked on the door.”

  Except that the porch was occupied. Besides, the houses were close enough together that a shout from the general would wake the neighbors. Sicarius didn’t want any shouting tonight.

  “Wait in the office,” he whispered. “Light a lamp.”

  “What are you going to…?”

  “Wake him and bring him to you.” And dress him, Sicarius thought.

  “Don’t… irk him.”

  Sicarius gave Sespian a gentle push toward the office. Seeing Sespian would surprise Ridgecrest enough that he’d forget any feelings of ire this waking would bring.

  After checking to see if the general kept knives or firearms within reach, Sicarius stepped up to his side of the bed. He checked a dark piece of cloth near the nightstand, but realized it was an eyepatch, not any sort of weapon holder. Yes, that was right. He’d seen the general before. Ridgecrest had lost an eye during some past battle.

  Sicarius pulled the general upright, clasping a hand to his mouth. He woke with a start, reflexively trying to grab his attacker. Expecting it, Sicarius caught the arms. He locked them behind Ridgecrest’s back and tugged him from the bed without jostling the mattress. The woman slept on.

  Chest heaving, muscles bunching, the general tried to pull his arms free. From behind him, Sicarius had all the leverage. He propelled the general to a chair, where a pair of trousers hung over the back.

  “Dress,” Sicarius said in his ear.

  Ridgecrest tried to ask a question, but couldn’t with the hand clasped across his mouth.

  “Answers shortly.” Sicarius jostled Ridgecrest again to reinforce his “dress” suggestion.

  A stiffness set into the general’s spine. He wasn’t going to comply. His state of undress mattered nothing to Sicarius—he’d simply assumed the general would prefer to be clothed to face visitors—so he turned his prisoner about, pushing him toward the hallway. The older man dug his heels into the floorboards. He was taller and heavier, but Sicarius lifted the arm lock a couple of inches, and Ridgecrest lurched up onto his toes. Sicarius shoved him down the hall toward the office. The wife never stirred.

  The glow of lamplight escaped beneath the office door. Sespian must have heard something for he opened it as they arrived. Sicarius pushed the general inside and toward an oversized brown chair. Seating him required Sicarius to release the arm lock, but he kept his grip on Ridgecrest’s mouth and moved around behind him. He withdrew his dagger and rested it on the general’s collarbone. Sicarius hadn’t interacted with the man, having only seen him in passing a handful of times, but it was possible he would recognize the black blade. Indeed, Ridgecrest’s single eye went wide as he glimpsed the tip below his chin. That eye grew wider still when Sespian brought over the lamp and sat in the chair opposite from him.

  “Release him, please,” Sespian told Sicarius.

  If they meant to continue the ruse of Sespian as legitimate heir, Sicarius should follow his orders. Sicarius lifted his hand from Ridgecrest’s mouth—he could quickly muffle it again if needed. He let the dagger remain, resting on that collarbone. Ridgecrest didn’t squirm, but he looked like he wanted to. With the cold alien alloy against his flesh, perhaps he regretted passing up his chance to put on clothes.

  As befitting a sixty-year-old officer, he recovered and found his equanimity. His arms lowered to the chair rests, and his chin rose. “Sespian. You are looking well. I am pleased to see you are not, as the newspapers have been reporting, dead.”

  Sespian. Not, Sire. Someone must have told him the truth.

  Sespian met Sicarius’s eyes over Ridgecrest’s head. Yes, he’d made note of the address too.

  “I apologize for rousing you from bed in this unseemly fashion.” Sespian’s spread fingers encompassed the general’s nudity. “I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes. If you’ll agree to listen without raising an alarm, I’m sure I can allow you to get more comfortable. More clothes, fewer daggers at your throat, that sort of thing.” He tried a smile.

  “I do not need comfort.” Ridgecrest propped an ankle over his opposite knee, hiding nothing of his nudity. If anything, he looked pleased at the idea that his state might make Sespian uncomfortable. “Say what you came to say.”

  The general had assumed an unthreatening pose, but Sicarius kept an eye on him. Though gray hair ringed his bald spot, he was still muscular with broad shoulders that filled the big chair. He carried many a scar from old wounds, including the deep gash that had stolen his eye. His nose had been broken on more than once occasion too. He had survived numerous battles.

  “It’s quite simple,” Sespian said. “I intend to retake the throne. Whatever you’ve heard, I believe my policies are superior to those of the others who want the position for themselves, with Ravido Marblecrest, in particular, being ready to act as a figurehead while businesswomen run the empire behind his back. I am open to working with the warrior-caste and ensuring they have a say in the government going forward, even as we strive for a more progressive stance when it comes to dealing with our subjects and people from other nations as well.”

  Ridgecrest watched Sespian as he spoke, but his face never changed, and he didn’t say a word.

  “I have powerful allies already.” Sespian nodded toward Sicarius, though there was nothing smug about it—Sicarius had the sense that Sespian didn’t truly want to claim him as an ally and was only doing so because it might help. “I need troops, however, to march into the city, to retake the Imperial Barracks, and to oust Ravido.”

  “Why not simply have your powerful ally assassinate Marblecrest?”

  “I have never sought to rule through such means, and I’ll not descend to those depths now,” Sespian said.

  “Couldn’t get to him, eh?” Ridgecrest studied his blunt fingernails. “I understand someone’s employed a wizard to keep the riffraff out of the Barracks.” He didn’t look at Sicarius when he made the comment, but the insult hung in the air regardless.

  “Actually, we’ve been inside,” Sespian said. “Recen
tly. We ran into a Nurian assassin there. I’m not the only one who doesn’t approve of Ravido as a successor it seems.” Sespian watched Ridgecrest intently. Wondering if he had something to do with the assassin?

  Sicarius doubted he did. Ridgecrest didn’t have the proper bloodlines to make a claim of his own, and it’d be dangerous for him to risk picking the wrong side. That was why he was trying to remain neutral—and why it’d be difficult for Sespian to get him to commit.

  “Interesting,” was all Ridgecrest said.

  Something tinked against one of the office’s glass windows. Trusting he could still stop Ridgecrest if he tried something, Sicarius slipped around a desk and bookcase to check outside.

  Though the office faced the unlit yard behind the house, a dusting of snow helped him locate a familiar black wool cap. Basilard moved closer to the light from the window. Even with the movements exaggerated, his hand signs were hard to read, but Sicarius caught the gist.

  They’re coming inside.

  Even as Basilard signed, the faint snick of a door being shut drifted up from below. The front door, not the back, Sicarius decided. Footsteps followed, two sets.

  Sicarius signed, The suitor is coming in with the daughter? That might cause some drama if the father was unaware of the relationship—or aware of it and disapproved. Ridgecrest, intent on Sespian, didn’t seem to have noticed the sounds from downstairs yet.

  Not exactly, Basilard signed. Maldynado went in with her.

  What?

  Basilard lifted his shoulders and, though it was hard to tell in the dark, that might have been an eye roll. He said Amaranthe said he was supposed to come in and help sway the general.

  Somehow Sicarius doubted that had been Maldynado’s motivation in approaching the girl. Remain on guard, he signed.

  Basilard lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

  “I think it’s admirable—or ambitious—that you want to reclaim the throne,” Ridgecrest said, “especially given that Ravido’s business allies have a few cannons aimed in your direction. But from what I’ve heard, you no longer have a stronger claim than any of the others descending on the capital.”

  “If Ravido is your source, he can hardly be trusted,” Sespian said. “He’d say anything to legitimize his attempt at usurping my position.”

  “Are you saying the assassin lurking at my window is not your father?”

  Sicarius returned to lurk behind Ridgecrest again. Soft murmurs drifted to his ears via the hallway. Maldynado must have stopped to chat with the girl in the kitchen. Sicarius was tempted to check on him and ensure all he was doing was chatting. Sicarius didn’t care with whom Maldynado engaged in coitus, but doing it with the daughter of the general they were trying to win to their side would prove problematic.

  “That he thinks he may be my father does not make it the truth,” Sespian said. “My mother was sleeping with Raumesys at the same time.”

  Sicarius wondered if Sespian believed his own words.

  Ridgecrest rotated in his chair, his single eye squinting up at Sicarius. “Enh.” He turned back to Sespian. “You look more like him than Raumesys.”

  “You look more like a knife fighter off the streets than a general.” Sespian waved to the older man’s battered face. “But I’m not going to hold it against you.”

  Ridgecrest chuckled at that. When Amaranthe was negotiating, Sicarius usually found it to be a good sign when the enemies started laughing, but Sespian didn’t have her charm, and Sicarius didn’t know if he’d won anything yet.

  “No matter who ends up on the throne,” Ridgecrest said, leaning back in his chair, “many men will be killed in the fighting, men who signed on to defend the empire against foreign invaders, not to battle each other. No matter who wins in this, Turgonia loses. If you were the ancestors-decreed proper emperor, I’d be obligated to back you, but if your claim is no better than several others…” Ridgecrest hitched a shoulder. “I’m not going to commit Fort Urgot, especially when you, pocket assassin or not, have so few forces at your command. Do you have any forces, yet?”

  “I do.”

  Good, Sespian didn’t state numbers. A handful of outlaws, and the two soldiers Amaranthe had schmoozed into joining their side, wouldn’t impress a general.

  “Why didn’t you join Ravido?” Sespian asked. “He seems to have the most forces on hand, along with his wealthy female allies. If you seek to stave off bloodshed, wouldn’t you find it propitious to ally with him? And have the deed, as it were, done the quickest?”

  “I haven’t said no to him,” Ridgecrest said.

  “Oh.” Apparently that wasn’t the answer Sespian had hoped for.

  “I’m waiting to hear from the Company of Lords,” Ridgecrest said. “And… an old colleague.”

  “Is there anything I can do that will change your mind and convince you to join me?”

  “No.”

  This time Sespian didn’t say the, “Oh,” but it was on his lips. He met Sicarius’s eyes. Sicarius tried to read the thoughts behind the gaze. Did he want suggestions for other arguments to use on Ridgecrest? Or did he want Sicarius to apply force?

  “What old colleague?” Sicarius asked, wondering if anything had come of the letter he’d posted weeks earlier.

  The hallway stairs creaked.

  Ridgecrest rose from his chair. “Friend of yours?” he asked Sespian.

  “I don’t…” Sespian looked at Sicarius.

  “Maldynado and the girl.”

  “The girl?” Ridgecrest strode to the door.

  “Sir, uhm, you’re naked,” Sespian reminded him.

  Ridgecrest had already flung open the door. The young woman from the porch stood there, her wavy black hair framing a face dominated by puffy red eyes and pouting lips. The expression changed to one of surprise at the sight of her father standing in the doorway.

  Maldynado ambled into view, holding a lantern. “Oh, hullo, Lord Ridgecrest. Haven’t seen you for some time. Doing well?”

  “What’s going on?” Ridgecrest growled.

  “Daddy, you’re naked,” the daughter said, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

  She was younger than Sicarius had first guessed. Fifteen, perhaps. Sespian frowned fiercely at Maldynado, though Maldynado probably didn’t see it. Ridgecrest filled the doorway.

  “Where have you been with my daughter?” Ridgecrest’s hand dropped to his waist, as if to grab a pistol. The only thing down there within reach wasn’t going to be much use against Maldynado.

  “In the kitchen. Consoling her,” Maldynado said. “Platonically, I assure you. I’m involved now, you know. But that fellow who brought her home wanted to send his snake into her garden, if you catch my meaning, and she wasn’t ready for all that. Apparently he tried to pressure her and stormed away when she refused to give in to his charms. Charms probably not being the right word. What’re they teaching in officer training school these days anyway?”

  Maldynado’s babble was doing nothing to placate Ridgecrest; the general’s fingers had curled into fists, and the veins on his arms stood out. Since Sespian wasn’t the target of his ire, Sicarius simply folded his arms across his chest and waited. Maldynado could handle himself if the conversation devolved into pugilism.

  “Snake?” Ridgecrest’s voice had increased in volume. “Garden!”

  Doors creaked open in the hallway. “Daddy?” came an uncertain inquiry from another young female.

  “Joth?” an older woman—the wife—asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Bloody beheaded ancestors, I don’t know.” Ridgecrest lifted a fist and shook it at Maldynado, though he didn’t cock it back for a punch. “How did all you miscreants get into my fort to start with?”

  “Over the wall, naturally,” Maldynado said.

  Had Amaranthe truly sent him along to help? Maybe she simply hadn’t wanted to take him on her team.

  “Daddy, you need to demote Lieutenant Mosscrest tomorrow. He is not a gentleman.”

  Sicarius headed
to the window to check on Basilard. He doubted Sespian was going to get anything more out of Ridgecrest, and it seemed like a good time to leave. Surprisingly, he caught amusement on Sespian’s face.

  At his look, Sespian shrugged and signed, It must be quite the experience to be the only man in a house full of women.

  “Ouch,” Maldynado blurted from the hallway. “Why—I didn’t do anything.”

  This is irrelevant to our mission, Sicarius signed back. We should go.

  The amusement on Sespian’s face disappeared. He seemed stung by the brusque dismissal, and Sicarius regretted it. He should have tried to respond lightly in kind. But this blowup could bring soldiers to check on the house. He and the others needed to leave before—

  A flash of orange brightened the horizon. A boom echoed in its aftermath, and a tremor ran through the house, rattling windows and a glass chandelier downstairs.

  The shouts halted.

  “What now?” Ridgecrest stomped to the window.

  “Artillery fire,” Sicarius said.

  “I know that, but whose?”

  Sicarius didn’t have the answer to that. It had come from beyond the walls of Fort Urgot.

  A chorus of deep bongs arose from outside, someone sounding the alarm. Booming knocks reverberated from the general’s front door.

  Ridgecrest strode for the stairs.

  “Clothes, dear,” his wife said from the other direction.

  Ridgecrest bellowed a, “Coming,” to whoever was pounding at the front door and stomped back up the hall toward his forgotten trousers. “Stay in your rooms,” he told his daughters.

  Maldynado took the opportunity to sidle into the office. “Time for us to go?”

  Sicarius was inclined to say yes, but Sespian shook his head. “Let’s see what’s going on. Maybe we can help Ridgecrest in a way that would endear me to him.”

  Maldynado shrugged and followed Sespian into the hallway. Sicarius wondered when his son had started thinking like Amaranthe.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Sespian looked like he meant to stride out the front door. That’d be a good way to get shot, especially since the general hadn’t answered it yet.