“All you’re lacking is a bucket of water to prop on top of the door…” Not that she could open the door even if she had a bucket.
Now if she could convince the shaman to race into the room… That might be the hardest part, given that several minutes had passed and she hadn’t shown any inclination to do so yet. What was she waiting for? For her soldier allies to wake up and lend their assistance? If she knew she faced Sicarius, that might be exactly it.
Maybe if she thought her prisoner was escaping…
Amaranthe picked up the waste bin, strolled past Ravido, who had yet to stir, and chucked it at the window. She’d jumped through a similar window a year earlier and knew it was breakable. The waste bin didn’t shatter the panes as thoroughly as her own crazy leap had, but she finished smashing out the window with the iron poker. She thought about hollering something like, “The makarovi are all gone-let’s get Marblecrest out this way,” but knew Akstyr could tell how many people were in a room. Surely this shaman could too. Had she figured out that Sicarius wasn’t in there?
The courtyard was clear of makarovi, so far as she could tell. She thought about hoisting Ravido up to the sill and shoving him out, but it was a three-story fall, and he could break his neck. He might deserve that fate, but she’d have a hard time getting all that dead weight through the window.
Footfalls in the other room made the decision for her-rapid footfalls.
Poker still in hand, Amaranthe darted around the desk to take up position beside the door. The last thing she had time to think was that her plan was infantile and would never work. Then the door burst open and a gout of flames streamed into the office, engulfing the desk. Even off to the side, Amaranthe felt the heat searing her cheeks.
The shaman ran in behind her attack, her fingers outstretched. Her heel hit the slick patch on the floor, and both legs flew into the air. The flames disappeared.
Amaranthe swung the poker at the side of the woman’s head while she was still in midair. The heavy iron slammed into her skull harder than Amaranthe would have intended, had the flames-and the memories of what those flames could do-not been pumping fear through her veins.
The shaman landed on her back and didn’t move.
Holding the poker like a club, Amaranthe crept closer and nudged her fallen foe with a boot. The shaman didn’t twitch. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
Amaranthe stared at the poker, hardly believing she could have killed someone with the blunt weapon.
A shadow crossed the threshold. Amaranthe spun, raising the poker.
Sicarius stood in the doorway, his expression as bland as ever. “Neither your sword nor pistol were sufficient?”
If her cheeks hadn’t already been burned by the searing air, she might have blushed. “I didn’t plan on killing her.”
Sicarius rolled the shaman over and withdrew one of his throwing knives from her back. “She planned on killing you.”
Amaranthe touched her tender cheeks. “Yes, I think that may be so.”
A groan came from the window. Afraid their new prisoner might have taken some of that inferno, Amaranthe rushed around the desk. Either the furniture had shielded him, or the shaman had known he was by the window and hadn’t let her attack carry that far, Ravido was unwounded. The effects of the gas were simply wearing off.
Sicarius checked his bonds, then hoisted the general to his shoulder. “Others will be waking.”
Amaranthe nodded. Time to find Sespian and see how the rest of the team had fared. He needed to start parading himself around the Barracks soon if they were to have a chance at subduing or subverting the rest of the people.
Chapter 18
It was strange walking at Sespian’s back as he marched around the Imperial Barracks in full dress uniform. Sicarius had pictured himself in this role numerous times in the past, in particular on the day when he’d grown tired of letting Raumesys torment his son and had arranged the poisoning that would simulate a heart attack. He’d set things up for Emperor Sespian to rule as he believed right, to march about with his faithful assassin guarding his back. Too bad Sespian had fired him on his first day free of Raumesys’s shackles. Or… perhaps not. Odd how the years had changed Sicarius’s perspective of that fantasy. Not only would he find it difficult to take orders from his own son, but he’d come to realize that he’d never truly wanted the throne for Sespian. That much responsibility was nothing kind to be chained with, especially not for the young. Leadership should be given to one who’d proven himself over and over and whom the people already respected.
Sespian stopped before an unadorned door in the back of the building and adjusted his collar. “I wish your team had collected these people when they were unconscious.”
“This office was locked,” Sicarius said. “Also, they weren’t familiar with the Barracks layout and didn’t know its significance.”
“The officers inside won’t be easy to lure back.”
Sespian looked at Sicarius, expecting… what? Encouragement? Support?
“It is within your capabilities to regain their loyalties,” Sicarius said.
“And if I don’t?” Sespian eyed Sicarius’s daggers.
They hadn’t worked together privately or spoken one-on-one since Sicarius’s return to the factory. He didn’t think Sespian had been avoiding him, but perhaps he’d been reminded of his father’s ability to kill-and his willingness to do so.
“The decision is yours,” Sicarius said. “This is your milieu.”
They’d already confronted a handful of young soldiers, men who’d gasped-then squirmed in discomfort-when Sespian had appeared before them. He’d given them a chance to return to his side that night, that moment, or to resign from the service forever. He hadn’t threatened them, but the men had seen Sicarius hovering behind him and had nodded vigorously in agreement. Sespian had ordered them to form up in the courtyard with most of the rest of the team-Books, Akstyr, and Yara-and prepare to protect the city from makarovi. The young men had drawn themselves up straight and ushered an enthusiastic, “Yes, sir.” They must not have appreciated their commander’s orders to hole up in the Barracks, their tails tucked between their legs.
Amaranthe and Maldynado were questioning that commander right now. Sicarius trusted she would learn as much from Ravido using her own methods as he might using his.
Sespian pulled a key ring off his belt, selected a key, and tried the lock. It didn’t turn. “They’ve replaced it.” He lowered the ring. “Maybe we should leave this office and try again later.”
“Those who’ve been plotting against you will have time to escape then. Better to confront them now.”
Sespian’s grimace suggested he might be happier if they did escape.
“You said it yourself, Forge controls, or controlled, many of the intelligence officers in the department. It would be unwise to let them run free where they might reunite with their remaining employers and cause other trouble. You must either win them back or-” Sicarius stopped himself from using the word kill, “-imprison them.”
“I’ll let you open the door then.” Sespian stepped aside.
Sicarius didn’t try kicking it open; he remembered the office well and knew the door was reinforced. “Watch my back.” He pulled out his lock picks and knelt.
“You’ve never given me that command before.”
“I’ve given you few commands. Previously you were my emperor.”
“Hm.” Sespian pulled out a pistol, ostensibly watching the hallway, but asked, “At my fath-Raumesys’s funeral pyre, when I was officially acknowledged as his successor with Hollowcrest as my regent, were you… Well, you were there. Would you actually have served me? Obeyed my orders?”