Er, what?
“You won’t be assassinated while you’re here,” Amaranthe said, “but Sicarius is his own man, not my assassin.” After what he’d been through, the last thing she wanted to do was claim ownership of him. That was sure to make him bristle, no matter who tried it.
“Then you can’t promise he won’t kill me the way he’s single-handedly annihilated most of my sisters?” Suan frowned at Deret.
Sisters. She meant the Forge women, not Retta, but the link made Amaranthe wince nonetheless. Did Suan know about Retta yet? Or did her knowledge only extend to what had been in the latest newspapers?
You’d know, Amaranthe told herself, if you hadn’t been avoiding her.
“He will not,” came Sicarius’s voice from behind her, “kill any of Corporal Lokdon’s prisoners.”
Though his words were for Suan, he stopped beside Amaranthe, standing shoulder to shoulder with her. She’d missed that this last week, and she drew strength from his presence. Retta’s death had been regrettable, but she had to accept it, and accept whatever this woman’s reaction would be.
Suan had taken a step back at Sicarius’s approach, her fingers tightening on the railing like vise clamps. Despite Sicarius’s words, Deret shifted to stand protectively in front of her. Surprise flickered in her eyes, but, after a moment, she shifted her hand from the railing to Deret’s arm.
It occurred to Amaranthe that, however last-minute and desperate her order to have the woman kidnapped had been, she had one of the Forge founders in her hideout. Maybe she could use that-and this friendship she’d apparently developed with Deret-to put an end to the bloodshed. The Forge bloodshed, anyway. Amaranthe was happy to leave the ending of the military bloodshed to Starcrest and Sespian.
“Ms. Curlev,” Amaranthe said, “Sicarius was under a wizard’s control when he killed those people-” his lips flattened; he doubtlessly did not wish to be reminded of the fact, and she resolved to move the conversation away from it quickly, “-but that has ended. You’re safe as long as you’re here, with us. Should you choose to escape and conspire with what’s left of your comrades…”
“Was he also under a wizard’s control last month when he killed Ambree, Sia, Tabthra, and so many others?” Suan asked.
The image of Books’s notebook, the one he’d used to research Forge members, popped into Amaranthe’s mind, along with the neat checkmarks Sicarius had made beside the names of each person he’d assassinated. She didn’t know how to explain that his actions that night had been a retribution for the threat to Sespian-it wasn’t as if that fact could legitimize assassinations anyway.
“No,” Amaranthe said. “If you’re aware of his relationship to Sespian, which most of the world seems to be now, then you’ll understand why he took those actions. He doesn’t kill… whimsically.” She glanced at Sicarius, wondering if that would draw an eyebrow twitch. No, he was wearing his facade of granite, with neither his face nor body hinting at his thoughts. He’d washed and changed into a fresh set of his black clothing, but that didn’t make him appear any less dangerous. He either hadn’t been offered, or more likely hadn’t accepted, a bandage for his temple, and the fresh puckered wound only gave his visage a new degree of deadliness.
“I’ve lost so many old comrades.” The edge in Suan’s voice softened. “And… Retta? Do you know… I can only imagine she died in that explosion. But maybe…?” She lifted hopeful eyes.
“She died in the crash,” Amaranthe said. “Ms. Worgavic’s shaman friend tried to stop some deadly alien devices with fire and Retta was caught by the blast.” Leaving out the fact that Retta had only been in the line of fire because of her didn’t sit well with Amaranthe, but if Suan could be convinced that her “old comrades” were in the wrong, and she could become some conduit through which a new law-abiding business class could be created, might not the omission be acceptable? For the greater good?
“I see,” Suan said. “I feared this plot of theirs would not end well. Though I never thought…” She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I never thought Retta would end up in the middle of the fire. All she ever wanted to do was study in her field.”
Amaranthe latched onto the word “theirs,” noticing Suan hadn’t said “our plot.” Might she have disapproved all along?
“Do you think Forge will be finished with… their plot now?” Amaranthe asked. “If you’re no longer a threat to Sicarius, or those he cares about, he’ll have no reason to pursue you.”
“From what I understand…” Suan watched Sicarius, not meeting his eyes, but making sure he didn’t come closer to her. “There’s not much left of Forge anyway. What is left will have little reason to target Sespian now. As you pointed out, his heritage has been made public and will disqualify him from the throne.”
“Possibly disqualify him,” Amaranthe said. “None of the other potential candidates is doing anything to ingratiate himself with the public by marching through the city, imposing martial law, and killing members of the Company of Lords. Dead ancestors know what else they’re doing by now. You might be best served by ingratiating yourself with… someone else.”
Sicarius gave her a sharp look. She ignored it. Surely turning one’s enemies into allies was a military strategy with a long tradition.
“Ingratiating isn’t quite the word I’d use,” Suan said, “but, yes. I spoke with Lord Starcrest. I understand political changes may be in the air. If they are, it’d be wiser for me to work with the new regime rather than against it. I imagine someone who gets in early could have a substantial say in the way businesses are treated by the government going forward.”
Huh. Starcrest must have tried to plant the same seed. “I imagine that might be the case,” Amaranthe said.
“Excuse me, please.” Suan glanced at Sicarius again, then released Deret’s arm and stepped away. “I told Lord Starcrest I’d write up a proposal.” She hustled away, and Amaranthe wondered if her sudden urge to do homework had something to do with Sicarius looming nearby.
Deret gazed after her for a moment, then frowned at Amaranthe when she tried to pass him. “Are we still keeping her as a prisoner?”
“I don’t think I’m in charge here any more,” Amaranthe said. “Why don’t you ask Admiral Starcrest?”
Deret looked toward the offices at the top of the stairs. “I wouldn’t want to bother him, but…”
“Deret, old boy, hasn’t any plucky young private shot you yet?” came Maldynado’s voice as he approached from across the factory floor.
Deret’s lips flattened. “Not yet.”
His lips flattened even further when Maldynado, who was passing Suan, gave her backside a speculative eyeing.
“Given the size of your head,” Deret said, “I’d think you’d make a more appealing target.”
“I’ve been out of the city on an important mission. They can’t shoot me if they can’t find me.” Maldynado winked at Amaranthe.
Sicarius headed up the stairs, apparently disinterested in listening to the old friends banter. Remembering her own mission, Amaranthe waved to the men and followed after him.
“So,” Maldynado drawled to Deret, “that Forge girl is cute. Have you ever considered crashing your train into her bunker?”
Deret made an exasperated noise, but allowed himself to be drawn in. “Isn’t the expression gliding your train into her station?”
“Yes, but that sounds terribly sedate. I suggest something more vigorous.”
“I see. Your Yara appreciates that?”
“She’s not an inhibited woman.”
Their conversation faded from hearing as Amaranthe reached the landing. Sicarius slowed so they could walk side-by-side to the well-lit center office.
“Still think I’m crazy?” she asked.
“Did I say you were? Recently?”
“I sensed the thought in the look you gave me.”
Sicarius gripped the knob to open the door for her, but he paused. “I have occasionally dwelled upon your unique interest in attributing feelings, emotions, and thoughts to my impassive stares, stares that other people find unreadable.”