A shadow fell across the stairwell above-someone moving past the railing.
“We better get out of here before someone looks down the steps,” Amaranthe said.
“Up or in?” Maldynado asked. “And with or without them?”
“Up and out, ideally.” Amaranthe didn’t want to be trapped in the basement, though there were more sounds of activity than ever coming from above.
“What are all those spirits-licked people doing here after hours?” Maldynado growled.
“Picking up their seditious pamphlets probably. If I’d known the newspaper office would be such a hotbed of activity, I’d have brought Sicarius.”
“I’m not manly enough for you?”
“You’re fine. I’m just worried that we missed a good chance for spying. I could have sent Sicarius off after those two.”
“He probably would have stuck daggers in their backs.”
Amaranthe bit her lip to keep from asking what would be wrong with that. It bothered her to think that her experience under Pike’s knife had changed her, but she kept thinking that it’d be much easier for their side if they simply ended Forge, Ravido, and their key allies the most efficient way possible. Was it worth turning oneself into a monster if it made the world a better place for everyone else? Or, once one chose the path to monsterhood, could one still accurately assess what qualified as a “better place” anymore? She feared this last year as an outlaw had already tainted her judgment.
She considered their captives. It’d be hard to escape back up the stairs, forcing them every step. Perhaps it was time to leave them and hope for-
“Can’t find Evik and Rudev anywhere,” someone called out upstairs. “We may need to search the building, sir.”
“Uh oh,” Maldynado said.
“About that doorknob…” Amaranthe said.
Lights jittered up above-people entering the room with extra lamps.
“It’s unlocked,” Maldynado said.
Finally, a bit of luck. Amaranthe stepped past him and eased the door open. Darkness waited inside, so she didn’t think they’d have to worry about being jumped by soldiers, but she crept into the basement warily regardless.
A few steps inside, she bumped into something and decided to stop and light a lantern. She was about to tell Maldynado to close the door so their flame wouldn’t be seen when someone spoke from the depths of the shadows.
“It’s not mealtime,” a man said. “I can only surmise you’ve come to your senses and are here to unlock me.”
• • •
“Job’s the same, pay’s the same, don’t really make a difference,” one maid said, snapping the sheets in the air before lowering them onto the bed.
“I know,” a second maid said, the rasping of a straw broom accompanying her words, “but I liked young Emperor Sespian. He never ordered you around like you were some raw soldier to be broken in. He always said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when he asked for something.”
“Piles of good that did him. He’s deader than that roach you stomped on earlier, and I don’t think the new regime will appreciate you waxing fondly on the old.”
“Marblecrest isn’t the new regime, not officially, and I won’t call him emperor no matter what he’s demanding.” Another firm snapping of the sheets accompanied the statement. “Just because him and his troops showed up at the door less than an hour after the papers announced Sespian’s death doesn’t mean he’s the rightful emperor. I don’t even figure he’s the rightful landlord here. Are you sure about our pay being the same? Because we haven’t seen any money yet.”
“Bite your tongue, Naniva, or some owl will swoop down and tear it out. Or at least lower your voice. Door’s open. Never know who could be about listening.”
Outside in the hall, Sicarius twitched an eyebrow. He otherwise remained motionless, braced in a corner above the wall molding, his short hair brushing the ceiling. He couldn’t see into the room the maids were tending, but he tracked their movements with his ears, even as he watched other maids and butlers coming and going below him, building fires in stoves for room occupants who would be heading to bed soon. He’d listened to a half dozen servants’ conversations so far, enough to verify that Lord General Marblecrest had moved into the Imperial Barracks with hundreds of troops. Marblecrest had tried to wrest control of Fort Urgot out on the northern side of the lake as well, but the commander there, General Ridgecrest, hadn’t been cowed by his threats. Ridgecrest had refused to back a new candidate for the throne until the Company of Lords had met with the satrap governors to decide on the official successor.
Sicarius took special note of the information; Ridgecrest and his troops might be available to the right man. The only other pertinent information he’d gathered, more through a lack of mentions or sightings than via positive confirmation, was that the Forge people were not staying in the Barracks.
A maid pushing a squeaky mop bucket passed below Sicarius without looking up. He’d wait for the talkative two to leave, then return to his comrades. They’d be restless, waiting for him to come back to the furnace room where he’d left them, and he didn’t want to be away from Sespian for long regardless, not with some other potential assassin roaming the Barracks, agenda unknown.
The maids closed the guest room door and trundled away with their linens cart. Sicarius waited for silence to descend upon the hall, then dropped to the marble floor without a sound. He unscrewed a vent cover, wriggled into the warm duct inside, affixed the grate again, and improvised with a curved lock pick to refasten the screws from within.
Traveling through the Barracks’ hypocaust system was neither quick nor efficient, but it allowed him to bypass halls full of soldiers, guests, and guards without notice. He crawled a few dozen meters, then slipped down a vertical shaft, descending three floors to come out in the furnace room in the basement.
Sespian, Books, and Akstyr were still waiting, though hiding. They stepped out from behind the coal bins when Sicarius popped out of the vent. Someone must have come in to stoke the fires while he’d been gone. It didn’t matter, so long as his team hadn’t been noticed.
“Did you run into trouble?” Books asked.
“An opportunity to eavesdrop.” Sicarius brushed the cobwebs and dust off his black clothing, though he knew he’d return to the ducts again shortly. “Ravido has taken the Barracks.”
“Not surprising,” Books said. “I’m sure he moved quickly and without asking permission.”
Sespian scowled. “Did he wait a week after the announcement of my death to move in? Or was he taking over the imperial suite the very next day?”
“The same day,” Sicarius said.
“Lovely,” Sespian said.
“That’s disgusting,” Akstyr said. “He’s probably in your bed right now, sheet wrangling with some serving wench.”
“Ravido is married,” Books said. “Or he was. I wonder if he’s learned of Mari’s death.”
“Do you think being married would matter?” Akstyr asked. “If he’s half as horny as Maldynado…”
Sicarius was on the verge of saying something to end the pointless diversion, but Sespian spoke first.
“I doubt Ravido has time for wrangling anyone right now. Regardless, I hadn’t moved out of my childhood suite, the last year having been rather fraught and busy.” Sespian scowled again, and Sicarius wondered what wringers the Forge people had mashed him through since Hollowcrest’s death. He had the impression they’d started applying pressure promptly. He’d like more details, but Sespian still didn’t deign to talk to him without Amaranthe in the room, encouraging them to “bond.”
Sespian released the scowl and met Sicarius’s gaze. “I don’t suppose you saw a tan-colored cat with dark brown paws and a mask when you were eavesdropping about, did you?”
“A cat?” Sicarius had been thinking of pains his son had endured in the previous year, and he was worried about… a cat?
Sespian cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ve been worried… I mean, it’s just a pet of course.” His wave of dismissal wasn’t genuine. “But I’m hoping someone’s been feeding him, and that he hasn’t met with… trouble with all those extra soldiers stomping about.”