Amaranthe chomped down on her lip to keep from going on. She hadn’t meant to act the flatterer. The man didn’t fluster her quite as much as Sicarius, but she did feel off balance in his presence.
“Sage,” Starcrest said. “Hm. Sespian told me he had you in mind for a diplomatic position, should he find his way back to the throne. I thought it was some sort of idealistic infatuation, but perhaps not.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Komitopis said, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners, “she just called you old in the most lovely manner.”
Amaranthe almost blurted a protest-she hadn’t been thinking of his age at all, only of his reputation, and the fact that Sicarius, of all people, thought so highly of his achievements-but she caught herself in time, recognizing the teasing for what it was.
“Indeed,” Starcrest said, his own eyes crinkling a touch. “Sage. I prefer that to the term Fencrest used. What was it? Ah, yes, venerable. Ancestors, help me.”
Sensing that she’d won what she wished-or at least what she’d amended her wish to be-Amaranthe remained silent.
“Very well.” Starcrest offered a small bow. “I shall speak with the young man at greater length, though I confess I would have been pleased to do so in any event. You needn’t have wheedled for it.” The now-familiar half smile formed again, taking the sting out of the word wheedled.
“Now, now,” the professor said, “I thought that was quite wise, no, sage of her. You would have talked to the boy, yes, but most likely of engineering. Or submarines. Or… I saw that gleam in your eye earlier. You’re even now contemplating the chain of technological advances that would be required to send a rocket into outer space, aren’t you?”
“Not… right now,” Starcrest said.
“But your mind wandered at some point while she was talking, didn’t it?”
“Really, dear, I don’t think you should betray me thusly to people we’ve just met.”
Watching their easy banter, Amaranthe again felt a wistful pang. I want this with Sicarius, she sighed to herself. The ease at least. Asking him to trade jibes back and forth might be a bit much, though perhaps in twenty years…
You’d better find him first, she thought grimly.
Chapter 5
Amaranthe eyed the dim sky, the clouds hanging low over the waterfront. It’d be dark in another hour, and they hadn’t even left the city. Komitopis had some errand at the docks, and after that it’d be another five miles to Fort Urgot. Amaranthe wasn’t enthused at the idea of reentering the Behemoth at night, but, as the professor had pointed out, the artificial lighting inside would make the windowless tunnels appear the same no matter what time of day it was. And, as Starcrest had said, the sooner the better, insofar as getting rid of the ship went.
She caught Komitopis frowning thoughtfully over her shoulder, not for the first time.
“He’s a good fighter, Professor Komitopis,” Amaranthe explained, certain what had the other woman’s attention without looking. “Really.”
“I don’t disbelieve you-and please call me Tikaya; I was just wondering if that represented a fashion choice or if it had cultural significance. I study ancient cultures, of course, but am not abreast with current trends.” Tikaya glanced over her shoulder again.
The four guards Colonel Fencrest had detached to her command wore pressed uniforms and clean parkas, their rifles nestled into their shoulders in an identical fashion as they marched in unison. And then there was Basilard and Maldynado. Clad in unassuming brown and beige utility clothing and a bear fur coat, Basilard wasn’t a problem, but sometime during the hours that Amaranthe had been attempting to sleep, Maldynado had been shopping again. His clothing was sedate enough-a mix of black, forest green, and velvety gray-but the newest hat… it had to have been a dare. Amaranthe had been inured to tassels, so that wasn’t the problem, but the… she didn’t know what to call them. Tentacles? Tendrils? The colorful fabric appendages danced and writhed about his head with every step. There were bells at the end of each tendril, though he’d stuffed something into them to muffle the noise.
“No cultural significance that I’m aware of,” Amaranthe said, “though it does say he’s big enough and strong enough to fight off any bullies who might want to beat him up on principle.”
“Yara thought it was hideous,” Maldynado said. She didn’t know if he was close enough to have heard their quiet conversation, but he’d probably guessed at the significance of the glances.
“Thus you naturally purchased it.” Amaranthe wondered how long that relationship would last. Maybe they’d surprise everyone and get married. And have children. That was hard to imagine, but Yara had been uncharacteristically pleased to have Maldynado return from the dead.
“Naturally the shopkeeper gave it to me,” Maldynado corrected. “To model around town and drive sales.”
“Drive them… away?” Tikaya murmured.
“I notice the shop’s name isn’t visible anywhere on the hat,” Amaranthe replied. “Poor advertising if that’s what it’s meant as. Maybe it was some kind of… demonstration model that the proprietor wanted to get rid of.”
“Very funny, Bas,” Maldynado said.
Tikaya looked back again, this time studying Basilard’s hand signs. Keeping an eye out for soldiers and enforcers, Amaranthe missed half of the quick comments, though she did catch something about Sicarius applying his knife to the hat much the way he had to Akstyr’s hair.
Sicarius. Amaranthe shifted her focus from the streets around them to the lake and the fields and foothills in the distance on the other side. Was Sicarius out there somewhere, even now? Still hunting the soul construct to ensure it couldn’t harm Sespian? She couldn’t help but feel he should have found it by now if he sought it, for it’d happily seek him with its claws and fangs blazing as soon as he drew close. If he was… still alive, he should have returned by now. What else could he be doing? Hunting the practitioner that had summoned the construct as well? A dangerous mission for one man, even one as formidable as he.
“What is that language?” Tikaya asked, walking backward now, watching Basilard’s half of the continuing conversation. “It reminds me of the Mangdorian hunting code, but-” Her heel slipped on the slick cement street, and she stumbled, arms flailing.
Though startled, Amaranthe reacted reflexively, catching the professor’s elbow and shifting her weight to keep her from hitting the ground. Barely. Arrows spilled from Tikaya’s quiver, and her rucksack slid halfway off her back. Maldynado and Basilard rushed forward to help right her. The soldiers, no doubt under orders from Starcrest to keep his wife safe, rushed forward, too, and Amaranthe found herself pushed out of the way.
“I’m fine,” Tikaya said, straightening her pack and waving away the small legion trying to help her. “Thank you.” The freckles and pale skin did little to hide her reddening cheeks. “I believe I’ll walk facing forward now.”
“Always a good idea when visiting a foreign nation, my lady.” Maldynado smiled at her and bowed, the felt tendrils flopping about his face.
More usefully, Basilard picked up her fallen arrows and handed them back to her.
“Thank you,” Tikaya said again, returning them to the quiver. “Good advice, yes, though I can trip when I’m facing forward too. Rias is usually around to catch me, fortunately, and I’ve yet to break any bones. Though I imagine sprains are slow to heal here without the use of-are practitioners still forbidden here?”
“Not so much forbidden as hanged when spotted,” Amaranthe said as they resumed walking. “Would you like me to carry anything?”