“Thank you,” Amaranthe murmured, though she hesitated before going in. A bead of sweat snaked down her ribcage.
Show some fortitude, girl.
Shoulders back, she strode into the office. Her boots thudded on a cold hardwood floor. The room’s utilitarian furniture was neatly arranged, but the crooked and curling maps papering the walls made Amaranthe want to start rearranging tacks. A coal-burning stove glowed cherry in one corner. It was the only warm thing in the room.
The white-haired man behind the desk had easily seen seventy years, but he still possessed the fit frame of a soldier. His sharp features were humorless. His black eyes glittered behind glasses that did nothing to distort their iciness.
So, this is the one who teaches the Disapproving Stare class. Amaranthe dropped her gaze to the folders and papers stacked haphazardly on his desk. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep from tidying the clutter. He probably did not approve of people touching his belongings. He probably doesn’t approve of people breathing. No wonder such gloom had draped the emperor; with this man as an adviser, there were probably not many laughs at meetings.
“Corporal Lokdon,” Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good of you to come so promptly.” Spoken by another, the words might have sounded friendly, but the man’s sarcastic edge dulled the effect.
Amaranthe shifted her weight. A floorboard creaked.
“You’re wondering why I called you here,” Hollowcrest said.
“Yes, sir.”
He shuffled papers, then opened a folder. “I’ve been looking over your records. You have a halfway decent education, though you didn’t finish the last term at the Mildawn Business School for Women.” He pushed the top page over to look at another. “That’s the year your coal miner father died of Black Lung Disease. All that money he must have scrimped to send you to that school, and you didn’t finish. Instead you lied about your age, took the enforcer entrance exam, and signed up for the academy. Have I got it right, so far?”
“I couldn’t afford to finish school, sir,” Amaranthe said stiffly. “My father was sick for months before he died, and he didn’t get any pay during that time. I worked, and took care of him, and went to school until he passed away, but I couldn’t afford to pay the tuition and rent on a flat after that.”
“I see.”
Amaranthe felt as if she were balancing on the frozen lake. Might a hole open up beneath her and suck her in? It wasn’t surprising that Hollowcrest had access to all her background information, but it alarmed her that he had bothered to look into it. What had she done to warrant such scrutiny? Surely she was not here because she had lied about her age seven years ago.
“You chose a hard road,” Hollowcrest said. “A female enforcer is rare, even if it’s allowed now. Why not work for someone in business or start your own? It seems to be the trend for educated women these days.” His last sentence came with a faint sneer.
She supposed a man of Hollowcrest’s age remembered the time when women had been free of ambition beyond birthing future soldiers. She knew their growing financial clout alarmed the conservatives, but her ambitions were not business-related. Why would he bring it up now?
“I went to that school because it was what my father wanted,” she said. “I never cared much for business.”
“No? Your marks suggest otherwise.”
“I didn’t mind the lessons. Just the ultimate goal seemed…shallow. I want to serve the throne, not my own pockets. I want to be the first female enforcer chief in the empire, sir, to be somebody that history remembers.”
Hollowcrest frowned. Wrong answer, but why? Amaranthe shifted her weight again, still struggling to gain her balance in this conversation.
The old man flipped a few more pages on his desk, tendons jumping on the backs of his creased bronze hands. Coals shifted in the stove. Surreptitiously, Amaranthe wiped moist hands on the sides of her trousers.
“Would you be interested in an independent assignment?” Hollowcrest finally asked. “Something that would challenge you?”
The breath caught in Amaranthe’s throat. Had all these questions been not an interrogation but an interview? She found herself balancing on her toes. “Sir?”
Hollowcrest leaned back in his chair. “Have you ever heard of an outlaw named Sicarius?”
“Yes, sir. He’s an assassin, wanted for crimes against the empire.”
“An understatement. In the last five years, he’s been responsible for the deaths of some three hundred imperial soldiers, two hundred enforcers from various cities around the empire, half a dozen patriarchs from the warrior caste, thirteen city officials…”
As the list continued, Amaranthe’s jaw went slack. Neither the number nor depth of these crimes were listed on the wanted bulletin. Likely it was in his enforcer record, but assassins weren’t something a patroller dealt with, and she had never been asked to look him up.
“He’s suspected of collusion with both the Kendorians and the Nurians,” Hollowcrest said. “And just two months ago, he assassinated Satrap Governor Lumous.”
“I’d heard about that death, sir. The papers said it was an accident.”
“Yes, Lumous accidentally earned someone’s wrath and had a dagger stuck in his back,” Hollowcrest said. “Our enemies read our papers. Naturally we don’t confess details that could make the Turgonian Empire appear weak.”
“Naturally, sir,” Amaranthe said, trying not to look too appalled. “What was he doing before?”
“What?” Hollowcrest asked.
“You said Sicarius had done all this in the last five years. What was he doing before then? All those nefarious accomplishments don’t sound like the work of someone young and up-and-coming.”
For a moment, Hollowcrest considered her through half-lidded eyes. Perhaps deciding if she were worthy of some secret he might have to divulge? But all he said was, “I believe he’s in his mid-thirties. His origins are unknown.”
Amaranthe opened her mouth to ask another question, but Hollowcrest cut her off.
“You may have heard he’s recently arrived in the city,” he said. “He’s known to be hirable for assassinations, so his presence here is disturbing. Sespian’s nineteenth birthday celebration is coming up in a few weeks, a massive event with guests and diplomats from all over the world. I fear it might also provide a venue for a showy assassination.”
Amaranthe grimaced. The young man she had met in that shop had been so gentle and inoffensive, especially given the number of tyrannical warlords who had preceded him. He had not even had a chance to come into his own authority yet.
“Sespian set a prodigious bounty on Sicarius’s head,” Hollowcrest said, “but the more soldiers we send after him, the more he kills.”
“And enforcers. I know, sir.” What Amaranthe did not know was how this related to her. What could she do?
“Clearly, we need to pursue a new tact,” Hollowcrest continued. “You are an attractive woman, and according to your record, quite capable. All you have to do is locate Sicarius, seduce him, and lead him to some dark room. Once there a feminine smile will allow you to slip in close, draw your dagger, and accomplish what platoons of soldiers have not been able to do over the last few years.”
Amaranthe took a step back before she could catch herself. All she would have to do was seduce someone? She was an enforcer, not a prostitute. Besides, she had spent her entire adult life trying to act as tough, strong, and confident as her male counterparts. What did she know about seduction? And assassination? She captured criminals and took them to the magistrate for justice. She didn’t kill them. To deliberately seek someone out for that purpose… That was despicable.
“Sir, I’m not-” Amaranthe started.
“Such an accomplishment,” Hollowcrest interrupted, “would gain you great recognition…a promotion.”
She sucked in a breath.
“In fact,” Hollowcrest went on, “Someone who could handle Sicarius would doubtlessly be officer material.”