The rest of the group entered, with Yara and Books carrying lanterns. Their lights did little to brighten the massive facility, and all except the area around the door remained in shadows. Pipes snaked up and through nearby walls, running out to the tanks in the yard. Catwalks crossed the open space overhead, and, in the distance, Amaranthe detected the dark outlines of furnaces and huge vats with equally huge ladles. The place reminded her of the smelter where she and Sicarius had first clashed with Forge.
Yara sniffed at the smoke smell. “There were a couple of homeless people camped in the back when we came in, but Basilard convinced them to leave.”
“Basilard did?” Amaranthe cocked her head at him. Despite his briar patch of knife scars, which his jacket and gray wool cap didn’t entirely hide, he was a peaceful warrior, rarely one to lose his temper or impose his will on strangers.
At her consideration, his expression turned wry. He lifted his fingers and explained, I walked up to them and attempted to sign a greeting.
Yara smirked. “They thought he was a crazy Kendorian shaman casting a spell.”
Basilard sniffed. Kendorian. Really.
“That’s what you get for looking so inimical, my friend.” Maldynado thumped him on the back and considered what they could see of the facility. “So, the place is ours?”
“Let’s keep to back areas and upper levels if possible.” Amaranthe nodded to the catwalk. “In case any prospective buyers come to tour the facilities while we’re…”
“Plotting crimes?” Deret suggested.
“Of course not,” Amaranthe said. “We have a former emperor with us, and Books is penning some sort of constitution. That means we’re no longer outlaws, we’re revolutionaries.”
Books snorted at this redefinition.
“Whatever we are, I’m tired.” Maldynado yawned. “I think sleep is in order. Say, Yara, you didn’t happen to find any private rooms while you were scouting around, did you?”
“There are three offices.” There was nothing suggestive or inviting about Yara’s tone, but Maldynado found the comment grin inspiring regardless. Amaranthe wondered if Yara would allow him to call her by first name someday.
“With doors that can be locked?” Maldynado asked.
“As if anyone wants to walk in on you two playing blanket hornpipe,” Akstyr grumbled.
A yawn tugged at Amaranthe’s lips, too, but she’d come to dread sleeping since escaping Pike’s torture table. That first night after escaping, with thoughts of Sicarius’s promises in her head, had been the only nightmare-free one. Ever since, she rarely went to bed before exhaustion forced it upon her. She was glad to have an excuse to keep people up with her this night. “I believe Lord Mancrest and I have some information to exchange before anybody plays with anything.”
Deret rubbed his face, then grimaced at the soot on his fingers. “I wouldn’t mind cleaning up first.”
“We’ll settle into the facilities then,” Amaranthe said, “and throw dice for watch duties. Sire, do you mind staying for a moment? We should have a chat with our new friends.”
Sespian blinked a couple of times at the Sire address-nobody had called him that since the news about his true father had come out-but he glanced at the two prisoners and nodded.
I will stay and guard them while you talk, Basilard signed, apparently deciding the soldiers, despite injuries, were dangerous enough to keep an eye on.
Amaranthe didn’t think they’d threaten Sespian, but waved for Basilard to follow when she went in search of a place where they could all sit down. They found a cafeteria in the back and made use of a table. Basilard leaned against the wall beside the door, his meaty forearms folded over his chest.
“Private Rudev, Corporal Evik,” Amaranthe said, meeting their eyes in turn, “we didn’t intend to take prisoners tonight, or cause so much trouble at the Gazette building-” Basilard gave her a curious look, no doubt wondering if he’d get the story, “-so please allow me to apologize for manhandling you and for your injuries.”
“Whatever.” Rudev shrugged. Ah, another Akstyr. Wonderful.
“Listen, lady,” Evik said, “I don’t know who you are, but…” He gave Sespian a long look. “If that’s really the emperor, uhm, well we need to know what’s going on. Where has he-where have you been, Sire?” This time the corporal’s expression was plaintive, almost betrayed, when he regarded Sespian.
Sespian winced and pushed a hand through his soft brown hair, hair in need of a cutting. They’d have to spruce him up if they planned to start showing him off to potential troops.
“My departure from the city was not of my own doing.” Sespian glanced at Amaranthe, asking perhaps how much he should share.
She spread her hand, palm up. Young though he may be, if he wanted the throne back, he’d have to take charge and make many of the decisions. She trusted him not to share anything too secret here.
Sespian sat at the table across from the two soldiers where he could look into their eyes-good choice, Amaranthe thought-then launched into an explanation of who Forge was and how long they’d been in the Imperial Barracks, trying to wrest control of the empire from him.
“We knew,” Evik said, “or we’d heard… General Marblecrest has support of the business people in the city.”
“Support?” Amaranthe snorted. “He’s Forge’s figurehead in this.”
The soldiers watched Sespian for his reaction. Good. They seemed to believe they were dealing with the real emperor here. After hearing from her men how the enforcers had attacked the steamboat heading downriver, believing Sespian was a lookalike impostor, she’d feared they would have to deal with more of the same in Stumps.
Sespian nodded in response to their unspoken question and explained how Forge had gotten him out of the capital, forcing him to tour the forts of the empire on a three-month-long inspection, and then tried to kill him upon his return. He was honest in regard to the events and what he perceived as his failings-more so than Amaranthe would have been-though he did leave out all the details about the ancient alien aircraft, saying only that Forge commanded great resources and it would take a lot to bring them down.
“But I have a plan for that,” Amaranthe said from the end of the table. During Sespian’s speech, she’d found a rag and started dusting and scraping away leftovers crusted into the wood. “I believe my team can nullify the Forge threat.”
Sespian didn’t dispute her statement, but he did give her a did-you-forget-to-drop-that-memo-on-my-desk eyebrow arch when the soldiers weren’t looking. She smiled back at him. She was still working out the details herself, but she’d had an idea sauntering around in the back of her head since meeting Retta, the woman who’d studied the ancient language and learned to pilot that gargantuan aircraft-and who’d weaseled Sicarius’s secrets from Amaranthe’s head. Through that mind link, Amaranthe had learned that Retta’s sister was a Forge founder, one that few people had seen due to her years working for the organization in foreign lands. She intended to use that information.
“If we can handle Forge,” Amaranthe said, “all the emperor will have to do is deal with Ravido Marblecrest and the other upstarts who have taken premature liberty in regard to the throne.” She made a note to remind everyone else to start calling Sespian, “Sire” and “the emperor” again. If they meant to raise a force that could confront those of the other would-be successors, these two soldiers were going to have to be the first of many to join the team.
Private Rudev’s nose scrunched up. “I don’t understand. Can’t you just go to… somebody, the newspapers or some public venue, and let everybody know that you’re back?”
“Only a naive turnip would think it’d be that easy,” Evik said, giving his private a thump on the shoulder. “But, if people knew you were in the city, Sire, you’d be sure to get support. I know our sergeant is only backing General Marblecrest because his superiors told him to and because you’re, er, everyone thought you were dead.”