“You only came up here a couple of hours ago,” Books said.
“All right, I’ve been studying part of the day. I didn’t let go of the revenge plotting until after lunch.”
“You’re not going to try and convince some bounty hunter to go after him again, are you?” Amaranthe pulled a crate up to the desk and sat down between them.
“No, he’d kill me over that. I was thinking of a revenge that he couldn’t pin on me. Like using my Science skills to light his socks on fire.”
“While he’s wearing them?” Amaranthe eased a few papers to the side, looking for a place where she could set the book.
“Preferably while he’s tormenting us during some training session.” Akstyr grinned. “But he’d probably know it was me who did it then, ’cause I’d be falling down laughing.”
“If you used magic, he’d know it was you anyway,” Books said.
“Not necessarily. Fire’s natural. And things catch on fire sometimes. The Science wouldn’t be the only possible explanation.”
Books stared at him. “Name one possible non-magical explanation that could account for socks randomly taking flame.”
“Well… there’s that one thing. When stuff blows up of its own accord.”
“Spontaneous combustion?” Books asked.
Akstyr snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”
“That generally applies to piles of hay and compost, not undergarments.”
Amaranthe shook her head and opened to the first page. She’d get more read with fewer distractions if she went into the other office, but she didn’t want to be alone. Especially-a yawn stretched her jaw so wide that it popped-at night. Books and Akstyr would help her stay awake until a certain night watchman returned.
Before she could delve into the text, Books cleared his throat.
“I asked you about your evening,” he said.
“Yes…” Amaranthe said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about mine?”
“I wasn’t planning to, no.” She smiled, but Books’s expression grew consternated, so she relented. “How was your evening?”
“Most excellent. I finished my treatise, my Constitution for the Turgonian Republic, outlining specific government responsibilities and powers along with declaring fundamental rights for its citizens. Citizens, mind you, not subjects. It is, of course, a preliminary draft. I’d like feedback from my peers, but, ah-” Books gazed out the window at the factory’s innards, “-due to my limited access to colleagues learned in manners of history and politics, I’d like you to read over it.”
“Me?” Even if she hadn’t had an infiltration to plan, Amaranthe wouldn’t have thought herself knowledgeable enough to weigh in on such a document.
“Sespian, too, of course. Despite his youth, he’ll naturally be well versed in the matter of ruling a nation. Sicarius’s opinions might be useful as well, if he’ll deign to read it.”
Yes, and what exactly would Sespian think when he found out Books’s new ideas revolved around a government that elected its leaders? In such a scenario, what odds would a nineteen-year-old boy have of claiming the throne? Would it even be called a throne if Books’s future came to pass?
“It’s not that bad.” For once, Akstyr was paying attention, noticing her hesitation. “I’ve read part of it.”
“You’ve read part of it?” Amaranthe didn’t know whether it surprised her more that Books had shared it with him or that he’d actually looked the documents over, especially given the encyclopedia-sized stack of pages beneath Books’s folded hands. Weren’t constitutions supposed to be short and concise?
“Not exactly, but we’ve been sharing lanterns at night, and he mutters a lot when he writes.” Akstyr shrugged. “I liked the part where it says citizens are freely allowed to pursue the careers of their choices and study whatever subjects they wish.”
“Page eighty-three,” Books said. “Paragraph three.”
“Ah, would you stay in the empire if you were allowed to use the mental sciences?” Amaranthe doubted a government document would change the imperial beliefs about magic, nor how fast people were to punish others who used it, but she latched onto the topic, hoping to distract Books from the idea that she should read his opus that night. After she returned from her mission, she could peruse it. Or-she eyed the thickness of the stack again-ask someone for an abbreviated version.
“Maybe,” Akstyr said. “Though those Kyatt Islands sound real nice. And warm.” He pulled his jacket tighter about him. “Besides, I’ve got that other problem.”
Yes, Amaranthe needed to send the team out to find Akstyr’s mother or blackmail whomever it would take to get the bounty removed from his head. Unfair of things to pile up on one’s to-do list while one was off being tortured. There was a particular cosmic cruelty to that.
“You can take it with you to your room,” Books said, “so long as you promise to be careful. It’s the only copy I have so far, and it’s already been dreadfully difficult to keep the pages together. Oh, when you get to the singed ones in the middle, the new writing is on the back. I must have copies made. I wonder if either of those two soldiers you picked up is literate enough for the task. Probably not. I’ll have to hire a scribe.”
“I could wait to read it until after you have more copies.” Amaranthe tapped the book she’d brought. “I need to study up on the woman I intend to impersonate first, and I wouldn’t want to lose any of your pages.”
“Yes, but if you finish with that… you’ll have something nearby for when you can’t sleep.”
Erg, did everyone know she wasn’t sleeping? “I intend to sleep well tonight.” She chomped down on her lip to keep from grinning and adding that it’d be after some vigorous exercise.
“Oh.” Books’s gaze drooped with disappointment.
“But why don’t I take the first few pages, just in case?” Amaranthe found herself saying. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get out of reading the thing.
Books brightened. “Yes, good. Here.” He handed her a third of the stack, far more than a few pages. “I’ll see about having the rest copied.”
Clomps sounded on the metal stairs leading to the offices. Amaranthe lifted her head. Sicarius? He wouldn’t make any noise climbing the steps, but maybe Maldynado and the others were with him.
It was Deret Mancrest who walked into view however, yawning and leaning heavily on his swordstick. Amaranthe hadn’t spoken to him since the night before, nor had she thought overmuch of him, she admitted with a guilty twinge. If nothing else, she should be keeping track of him and the new recruits, to ensure everyone remained suborned to her side.
Deret noticed Amaranthe watching him through the window and straightened, making it seem as if the swordstick were a decorative prop, not a necessary tool. He lifted a hand to knock, but Amaranthe waved and said, “Come in, Lord Mancrest.” She gave him a warm please-don’t-get-bored-lingering-in-our-hide-out-and-go-back-to-your-father smile, hoping it would make up for her neglect.
Deret entered, looked around for a chair, and settled for perching on the edge of a low bookcase. “I need to talk to you, Amaranthe, but I have news also.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been communicating with a few of my contacts, those I can be reasonably sure my father doesn’t own-” his lip twisted in a sneer, “-and there are a couple of tidbits I believe will interest you.”
Amaranthe leaned toward him, elbow on the edge of the desk. She waited for him to continue, but he merely met her gaze frankly.
“Are we trading information again?” she asked.
“I’m still waiting for the information you promised me yesterday.”
Another task she didn’t have time to complete. “Books has recently completed his project. I believe he’s available to brief you.”
Books had indeed been watching the exchange-Akstyr had his nose pressed into the pages of some tome on Kendorian magic and probably didn’t know Mancrest was in the room-though his eyebrows twitched at this new assignment. “You’ve certainly learned how to delegate in this last year as a leader, haven’t you?”