Perhaps fifteen feet away from the largest tent, he had to stop. The row of lorries had ended, and he was looking at the gangly legs of a steam tramper; two of the towering vehicles were parked side by side. Sicarius eased into a crouch, intending to slip between those legs and head straight for the tent. But, as Sespian had pointed out, there were numerous soldiers coming and going. In addition, the trampers were in full view of a guard at the corner of the vehicle area.
Sicarius eyed the boxy metal bodies above the pillar-like legs. Cannons stuck out of raised portholes on the side, not dissimilarly to an imperial warship on the high seas. The top of the body would be flat, aside from a gunner’s turret.
“This way,” he breathed to Sespian.
When the guard had his head turned, Sicarius darted to the closest leg. He climbed up it, his sensitive fingers finding handholds on the icy metal. Cold snow waited on the top. He slid his fingers beneath it to grasp the edge, so he could swing his legs up. He dropped to his belly and gripped Sespian’s arm as soon as it was close enough. Sicarius pulled him over the edge. Staying low, he crossed to the opposite side. Again waiting for the guard’s head to be turned, he leaped the five-foot gap between the two trampers, landing lightly in the snow on the opposite one. Sespian followed, landing almost as easily.
“Good,” Sicarius whispered. Though speaking wasn’t wise, it seemed important to let Sespian know that he approved of his efforts.
They dropped to their bellies on the top of the tramper, the cold snow pressing against their parkas. They squirmed to the edge closest to the large tent. Two flags were thrust into the ground on either side of the entrance. From across the vehicle clearing, Sicarius hadn’t been able to make out the patterns on the material, but he could see them now: the crossed swords on a blue background-the empire’s flag-and a gold pick crossed over a musket and powder horn-the Damark Satrapy’s flag. Lord Heroncrest did indeed govern that northern region.
Sicarius slipped out his black dagger. He would listen for what intelligence might be had, but he intended to eliminate Heroncrest that night, cutting out this thorn before it embedded itself more deeply and festered. He thought of sending Sespian away, making some pretense of going back to check on something, but he doubted that’d spare any harsh feelings. No, he’d simply do what he intended, no lies, no excuses.
“That’s the command tent, right?” Sespian whispered.
He scooted closer to the edge, shoulder to shoulder with Sicarius. Touching. It was the first time Sicarius could remember Sespian coming that close of his own volition. He rubbed his thumb against the side of his dagger. Killing Heroncrest… It’d put distance between him and his son again.
Regrettable, but Sespian would be better served by a quick resolution to the succession.
A captain trailed by a private carrying a notebook hustled for the command tent. He ducked inside without a word, but voices started up soon after.
“News, Captain Bearovic?” It was an older man’s voice, General Heroncrest, Sicarius guessed, though he’d never heard the man speak and couldn’t be positive.
“Yes, sir. Our intelligence men have reported back. Ravido Marblecrest is still in the Imperial Barracks and has approximately two thousand troops within the walls there and another fifteen thousand maintaining the peace in the city. So far, they’re not openly attacking your men, and nobody’s that concerned about Flintcrest’s forces on the other side of the lake, but there have been isolated incidents between factions. There have also been a few altercations with civilians, university students mostly, who liked Emperor Sespian’s progressive policies. They’re causing trouble, demanding to know what really happened to him. They’re pointing out that nobody’s seen his body.”
Sespian’s head lifted. “I have supporters?” he whispered, a speculative note to his tone. Perhaps he was thinking he could make an appearance at the University and try to find men to back him there. But the young academic pups would be slaughtered if they tried to cross swords with soldiers.
“Because his body was incinerated in a train wreck,” Heroncrest snapped.
“Are we certain about that, sir?” the captain asked. “We only have Marblecrest’s word, right? And he’s apparently being fed information by that gaggle of women.”
Sespian leaned closer to Sicarius to whisper, “It’s good that Ravido’s colleagues don’t seem to respect him or his alliance. We just have to prove that I’m the better option.”
“And eliminate the Forge threat,” Sicarius responded. “As powerful as that coalition is, it won’t matter if anyone else supports Ravido or not.”
“True, I hope Amaranthe’s plan works.”
“As do I,” Sicarius said, though he cared more about her surviving the scheme than taking down Forge. He should be with her, not skulking around here. What would Heroncrest or Ridgecrest matter if Amaranthe was right and Forge had brought the Behemoth here, intending to use its weapons?
“If Forge says he’s dead, he’s dead,” Heroncrest said. “Or he will be soon. Even in my northern satrapy, my family has had interactions with the leader of that organization in the last couple of years. They have an inconceivable amount of money at their disposal, and they have… other inconceivable powers too.”
“Magic?”
“I’m not sure exactly what it is. But I’ve seen an impressive demonstration of power.”
Sicarius wondered what else Forge might command aside from the flying vessel. He doubted they’d shown that to Ravido Marblecrest’s rivals. Maybe they’d sought to cow Heroncrest, though, to warn him away from making a bid for the throne. He thought of the incineration cubes, imagining some aide of Heroncrest’s burned alive before his eyes.
“My intelligence team has been following the newspapers,” the captain said, “and there have been several horribly mutilated bodies found in the last few days. Similar to some slayings that occurred in the city last winter. Some have suggested the makarovi have been brought over from Mangdorian territory. Others say some magical beast.”
“Forge’s power… what was demonstrated for me, isn’t anything like that. It’s very… tidy.”
“The cubes?” Sespian whispered.
“Possibly,” Sicarius replied.
“Some people are suggesting the Nurians might be behind the slayings,” the captain said.
“Of course they’d want to control the Turgonian throne too,” Heroncrest said. “This is a massive once-in-countless-generations prize that’s available. It’s hard to believe they could have gotten people over here so quickly though. Unless they had advance warning.”
“Or were planning an attack anyway.”
Heroncrest grunted.
“Regardless,” the captain continued, “tensions are thick in the city, and my reports suggest we can expect an escalation. It could get very bloody very soon. Also, word is getting out that we’re camped out here too, though neither Flintcrest nor Marblecrest has started marshaling forces. It’s possible they plan to let Ridgecrest deal with us on his own. If he can.”
The wind shifted, refreshing the scent of cigarette smoke in the air. Sicarius lifted his head. No, the wind hadn’t shifted. Someone who was smoking was coming closer. The guard in sight hadn’t lit anything-Sicarius had been keeping an eye on him as well as the rest of the area while the officers spoke. He turned an ear toward the core of the vehicle lot, suspecting the pair of soldiers they’d pass earlier. Yes, the crunch of boots on frozen leaf litter came from that direction.