Amaranthe pulled herself back onto the catwalk. Sicarius was buying time. She needed to do something useful with it.
“What?” Larocka asked after a stunned moment.
“The head,” Sicarius said. “My employer requires it as proof of an assignment completed.”
Amaranthe groaned as she crawled toward the ladder leading to the top of the furnace. Of all the ways Sicarius could have bought time…surely that was the most condemning. Even if they made it out of this, Sicarius would be suspect in Sespian’s eyes.
When she reached the ladder, she stuffed her hands into the gloves. They were far too large, and her fingers swam in them, but they let her grip the scorching rungs.
“You’d have me believe you’re here to ensure the emperor is killed ?” Larocka asked. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Amaranthe climbed, hoping the new position would not let the guards on the catwalk see her. Her boots protected her feet from the rungs, and she made it to the charging platform.
“My opinion of you is irrelevant,” Sicarius said. “If you kill him with lava, it’ll sear his features to the point of being indistinguishable. It matters little to me if yours is the hand to slay him, but perhaps we can negotiate an alternative method.”
“He’s your son!” Larocka blurted.
Amaranthe leaned over the platform to judge Sespian’s reaction. She was even higher now and could barely see him over the swell of the furnace. His face was too far down for her to read. The heat stroke had to be addling his mind. Maybe he was past understanding any of this.
The men watching weren’t, and this was apparently new information for them. They looked about at each other, though their weapons never ceased aiming at Sicarius.
“Because the enforcer bitch believes that story doesn’t make it so,” Sicarius said coolly. “Even if it were, a contract is a contract.”
Amaranthe studied the scant offerings of the charging platform. A shovel and the ore cart, which was about halfway unloaded.
“You should have kept the ‘enforcer bitch’ and her allies,” Larocka said. “At least they weren’t stupid enough to walk into a trap without backup.”
Amaranthe snorted as she rummaged through the ore bin. Most of the pieces were only a couple inches diameter, not large enough to make devastating projectiles.
“But my spies saw you walk away from the house alone,” Larocka said, “angry that your secret was out. You killed Arbitan, you bastard. Now you’ll watch me kill your son.”
“Arbitan was a traitor,” Sicarius said. “A Nurian spy who used you to infiltrate Forge.”
Amaranthe dug out a large piece of ore that must have weighed twelve or fifteen pounds. It would have to do.
“Nurian, yes,” Larocka said, “but not a spy. He defected. He-”
“He talked you into assassinating the emperor, didn’t he?” Sicarius said.
“No! I… You’re lying. You’re stalling, and-stay back!”
Amaranthe leaned over the rail. Sicarius had been advancing as he spoke, a fact Larocka had not missed. He was still too far away to do anything, and the team of hulking men stood between him and Sespian.
“Now you watch him die,” she snarled and turned, putting both hands on the lever.
Amaranthe aimed.
Sicarius surged forward, but the men were expecting it, and they blocked him.
Amaranthe dropped the rock.
She held her breath. Its fall seemed so slow. The lever started downward in its track.
The rock struck the top of Larocka’s helmet. Her hands flew up and she was hurled to her back. She flopped once and lay unmoving. The lever clunked back to its original position, and Amaranthe let out her breath.
Twenty sets of eyes looked up at her. A musket cracked, and a ball clanged off the metal railing.
Sicarius never paused. While everyone else was distracted, he drew a dagger and slashed the throats of the two men restraining him. He plunged through the rest and thrust the blade into Larocka’s chest, taking no chances of her coming after him again.
By then the guards had recovered, and they surged around him.
The sound of boots on metal wrenched Amaranthe’s attention from the scene below. She was about to have her own guards to deal with. The two men on the catwalk thundered toward her.
She should have felt terror, or at least a healthy dose of fear, but instead exhilaration thrummed through her. She ought to run, but she had time to get in a few more blows.
Amaranthe grabbed the shovel and threw ore over the side, taking care to aim away from Sicarius. The blond head was overwhelmed by the number of black and brown heads, but he did not try to escape. How could he? Sespian was still tied up and in danger from any of the men near the lever.
She hurled more ore. Any distraction she could provide to tilt the odds toward Sicarius she would. From this height, even the smaller pieces had to hurt when they hit flesh.
“Arwk!” came a cry from below the staging platform.
Amaranthe’s lips flattened in a grim smile. One of the guards must have tried to grab the metal ladder with his bare hands.
Boots striking the rungs told her the men were coming up despite the discomfort. She abandoned the ore cart and took up a position at the top of the ladder, shovel raised over her shoulder.
One hand grabbed the top of the platform. She stomped on it with her heel. The man howled and let go but did not fall off the ladder. She swung the shovel. The metal head struck him in the nose. That time he let go.
He bounced off the railing and missed the catwalk, falling forty feet into the melee below. Three guards went down under him.
“What?” a voice protested in shock.
Amaranthe peered over the edge at the second man, who clung to the ladder, using his sleeves as protection from the hot metal rungs. He was still gawking at his comrade’s rapid descent.
Amaranthe hefted the shovel. “Didn’t your commander ever lecture you on the follies of assaulting a soldier with the high ground?”
The man refocused on her and threw a knife. Amaranthe jumped back, swinging up the shovel as a defense. The blade clanged off her tool, but the distraction gave the guard the time to climb to the top and lunge onto the platform with her.
Though she still had the shovel, it felt inadequate when the man yanked a double-headed axe off his back. The ringing of more boots on metal meant reinforcements were coming.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you men go to war while women mind the store?” The guard sneered and spun his axe.
Amaranthe retreated until her back bumped into the ore cart. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you there’s no point in fighting a war when your employer is dead?”
“We’ve already been paid, and we’ll collect twice when we ‘save’ the emperor and bring in Sicarius’s head.” He took a step forward.
Amaranthe glanced over the railing. “Looks like your friends are losing that fight.”
Actually, the brief look below told her little about who was wining. She did not even glimpse Sicarius, and only the seething chaos suggested he was still alive and fighting. Her words got the guard to look over the edge though.
She swung at the back of his head with the shovel.
His axe spun up and sliced through the wooden haft. The shovel head clattered onto the platform, leaving Amaranthe with a broken stick.
The guard lunged at her, axe raised for another swipe. She threw the haft at him and jumped into the ore cart. Her weight tipped it over the edge of the platform. She plunged down the steep track.
Too fast! was the only thought she had time for. Then she ran out of track.
The cart crashed into a solid bin, and she flew out. She bounced off a second bin, then smacked into the concrete floor. Her breath whooshed out, and black dots spun through her vision.
Disoriented, Amaranthe fumbled about and managed to rise to hands and knees. That’s when movement from the front door caught her eye. She squinted and struggled to focus.