“The general did not send a murdering criminal out to spy for him.” One of the soldiers, a young lieutenant perhaps, pointed at Sicarius.
Someone over there must have a spyglass and be able to recognize faces after all.
“Actually, he did,” Sespian responded. “On my suggestion. If you didn’t notice, I’m Sespian Savarsin, and though my authority is somewhat debatable right now, I’ve been working with General Ridgecrest since last night.”
“The emperor is dead,” came the response.
“I guess they didn’t notice the guest at Ridgecrest’s side for half of the day,” Sespian muttered. “Armies, the shield arm is always oblivious to what the sword arm is doing.” He raised his voice to the officer. “My death was a lie. Why don’t you go talk to Ridgecrest? See if he approves of you blowing up the water tower I’m standing on. I wouldn’t wish for you to be punished.”
The officer muttered something to the cannon crew. Maybe he was wondering if they could shoot Sicarius while leaving Sespian upright. A lowly officer would find the idea of approaching General Ridgecrest intimidating-indeed, in the army, he’d be expected to report to his captain instead, and only eventually, after word had filtered through the chain of command, would he find out Ridgecrest’s response.
“Come over here.” Sicarius gripped Sespian’s arm and pointed to the edge. “You can shout at them from behind the water tank.”
Sespian grumbled under his breath, something about how those soldiers would have believed Amaranthe if she were making the same arguments, but he allowed himself to be guided toward the edge. “I can’t believe there aren’t at least rumors floating around the fort about me being alive.”
“You had your hood up all day, and Ridgecrest has probably told his closest men that there better not be rumors, not until he’s made his decision.”
“What else can we try? They don’t look like they’re in the mood to let us shoot a harpoon and tightrope walk to the wall.”
Sicarius, gaze riveted to the officer and the cannon team, didn’t respond. In his peripheral vision, he observed the rest of the wall and the men in the watchtowers. When the officer said a single word and nodded once, he saw it.
“Down,” he barked.
Flattening to their stomaches might have been enough, but he wouldn’t risk it, not with his son at his side. He gripped Sespian’s arm and pulled him over the edge.
They weren’t on the side of the tank with the ladder, so there was nothing to grab onto as they fell. Sespian blurted a startled, “What’s wrong with-” before the boom of the cannon drowned him out.
Using his free arm, Sicarius caught the beam before they could zip past it. Between the fall and Sespian’s extra weight, even his best attempt to soften the landing couldn’t keep it from being jarring, and he wasn’t surprised at the flash of agony in his shoulder. The joint popped out of socket, the feeling-and sound-unmistakable. He hung on though, mentally clamping down on the pain as he swung Sespian up to catch the beam. When he’d locked on with both hands, Sicarius pulled himself up.
After ensuring they weren’t in anyone’s line of sight, he bent his wounded arm, keeping the elbow by his side, and rotated the limb until he could push the shoulder back into joint.
Sespian had been eyeing the sky in the direction the cannonball had gone-when it hadn’t thudded into Sicarius, it’d sailed across the field and into the trees-but he turned at the crunching noise and grimaced. “I can’t believe I’m related to you.”
“Does that mean you won’t proffer a hug this time?” Sicarius gave his arm an experimental rotation and found the range sufficient.
Sespian gaped at him for a moment, then snorted. “I don’t know. Did you just save my life again, or were you the target?”
“The cannon was aimed at me. I agree with your earlier assessment that funambulation is unlikely for either of us.”
“Fu…nam…bu…” Sespian shook his head, then laughed. It wasn’t a snort this time, but an unabashed laugh.
Odd that Sicarius struggled to elicit humor in others when he attempted to do so, but in mere speaking could inadvertently have a humorous effect. Perhaps this was why Hollowcrest had always insisted he keep his mouth shut unless he was replying to a question.
Sespian brushed at the corner of one eye. “I’m beginning to think my own childhood social awkwardness may have had less to do with a solitary, peerless upbringing and more to do with hereditary tendencies.”
Sicarius wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but these acknowledgments that Sespian believed they did indeed share blood pleased him. “If they will not allow us inside, perhaps we should use the remaining night to sneak past Heroncrest’s army and return to the city.” And Amaranthe, he thought, if she hadn’t already left for her mission.
“No,” Sespian said. “They need to know about the tunnel-boring equipment. Once Ridgecrest hears we’re out here, he’ll let us back in.”
“He’ll let you back in. He’d prefer I not be around.” But Sicarius wouldn’t leave Sespian, not as long as that creature was out there. Although…
He gazed across the field at the great paw prints left in the snow. With a trail like that, it would be easy to track. Sneaking through Heroncrest’s camp would be difficult with everyone up and alert now, but he’d managed such feats before. If he went alone, there’d be less likelihood of being caught. If he could find the construct and eliminate its owner, there’d be one less trouble to deal with. But, as they’d seen with Arbitan Losk, the wizard who’d animated the last construct, killing the creator wouldn’t necessarily stop the beast or alter its mission.
“What are you thinking about?” Sespian asked.
“Tracking. Traps.”
Sespian eyed the trail of churned snow. “Now? Instead of going back in? Don’t you ever eat or sleep?”
“I have rations with me.”
Sespian winced. “Not those meat bars again.”
“I do not require that you eat them, though you would find them nutritionally superior to many other offerings.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. Anything that tastes that awful has to be good for you. Listen-” Sespian waved toward the fort, “-come inside with me. We’ll talk to Ridgecrest together. He should know that you’re openly helping him. Everyone knows you as this notorious bloodthirsty assassin who’s slain countless soldiers, enforcers, and more than a few warrior-caste men in prominent positions. I’m never going to be able to give you a job on the staff if you don’t change a few people’s minds about your nature.”
Sicarius didn’t see how his reputation mattered at the moment, but the thought that Sespian might want him on the staff pleased him. “Have I changed your mind?” If so, he wondered if it was a result of Sespian spending time with him or more a matter of Amaranthe speaking on his behalf. Or perhaps reading his files in Hollowcrest’s office had made a difference.
“It’s… possible you’re not as utterly evil and loathsome as I thought.”
“I see.” One probably shouldn’t find such a dubious accolade amusing, but Sicarius did so anyway. “My employability can be discussed further once the succession is solidified. For now, there’s little I can do inside, whereas I can be hunting the soul construct-and its creator-on the outside. Ridgecrest doesn’t seem to be a threat to you at this time. Nor has the soul construct shown an inclination toward entering the fort. You should be relatively safe in there.”
“Until Heroncrest decides to launch an attack,” Sespian said grimly.
Was he truly worried about surviving such an event? Or was it possible he didn’t wish Sicarius to leave his side? Or, if not that, maybe he worried that Sicarius would die if he went hunting for wizard’s beasts. No, he was reading too much into a simple statement.