“We must conclude our business swiftly,” Sicarius said. It wasn’t in his nature to start conversations that had little purpose, but he felt the need to try with Sespian. As Amaranthe had pointed out, if he never said anything, how was his son to get to know him? “The snow will make it hard to stay hidden at night.”
“Swift sounds good to me,” Maldynado said. “It’s getting cold out here. My brother should have waited until summer to try and take over the empire.”
Sicarius leveled a cool stare over his shoulder. He hadn’t intended his words to be an invitation for Maldynado to participate in a conversation with him. Maldynado didn’t notice the stare. He was sniggering over some response Basilard had signed.
A hint of laughter drifted to Sicarius’s ears, and he lifted a hand to alert the team. He led them into the shadows between two trees. Engaging Sespian in conversation would have to wait until later.
They’d drawn near the largest house. A gas lamp burned on the porch, lighting a sign that read Lord General Ridgecrest.
They’d reached the right place, but two figures were turning off the street and heading up the walkway to the house. One wore an officer’s pressed black fatigues, but the other sashayed along in an ankle-length dress and woman’s parka. One of Ridgecrest’s daughters?
The two advanced to the porch, talking and giggling, their heads bent toward each other. Sicarius settled on his haunches to wait, expecting the young man to drop his lady off, then leave. But they went from talking and giggling to kissing and giggling. Bundled up for the weather, they didn’t seem to notice the cold.
“If I’d known we were going to get a show,” Maldynado whispered, “I would have brought candied pecans and a flask of cider.”
Basilard elbowed him.
Sespian was averting his eyes from the display. “Maybe we can go in the back?”
“Yes.” Sicarius had been eyeing the towers on the wall, thinking of their limited time. “Maldynado and Basilard, stay here.” He slipped out his lock-picking kit. “Warn us if someone comes or…” He waved at the kissing couple, meaning he wanted an alert if they entered the house.
Maldynado chose to misconstrue the unfinished sentence. “The show gets better?”
Sicarius gave him a hard look, but a brief one. They had work to do. “Sespian, come.”
The darkness cloaked Sespian’s expression, but there was a stiff set to his shoulders as he followed. He must not be accustomed to being ordered around. For Sicarius, he either issued commands or followed the orders of others, those rare few who had earned his respect. He didn’t know how to relate to people outside of that realm. He’d called Sespian “Sire” when it had applied, but it had been difficult giving that reverence to a youth, and he found it hard to do so now.
They reached the back deck and Sicarius tried the door, found it locked, and knelt to work. This side of the house lay in shadows, just as he preferred. Sespian shuffled to the side to watch the street behind the square. The snow had picked up and a layer dusted his shoulders.
“Do you know how to pick a lock?” Sicarius murmured.
“My how-to-be-an-emperor lessons didn’t cover it.”
The answer didn’t invite further questions, but Sicarius tried anyway. “Do you wish to learn?”
Sespian didn’t answer. He might have been mulling over the question or ignoring it.
Sicarius’s inclination would have been to work in silence, but he launched into instructions, softly explaining what he was doing as he maneuvered a pick and tension tool. He probably could have found an unlocked second-story window, but on the chance Sespian might appreciate learning a new skill, he pressed on.
“Hunting and fishing,” Sespian said at the end of the explanation.
“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.