“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.”