“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “Sure, Larocka and Arbitan won’t be problems again, but Forge was a coalition, not a person. Doesn’t it seem likely others will pose a future threat to Sespian? And, of course, the nature of the progressive policies he wishes to instate will make him more enemies. He needs someone watching out for him. He needs…”
Amaranthe stood and paced the tiny room. As the old floorboards creaked beneath her boots, the rest of the plan formed. “The Emperor’s Edge, a small but elite unit of specialists who can slip into places and situations where an army cannot. Though they are fugitives, they work for the good of the empire, a fact that-assuming their exploits are impressive and newsworthy-cannot go unnoticed by the emperor himself.” As she imagined such future exploits, a sense of freedom came over her, something she had never felt as an enforcer. For the first time, she was crafting her own destiny instead of working within someone else’s framework. “Since the principal members of this group are the same associated with Sespian’s kidnapping and near death, he must eventually wonder if everything about that day was as it seemed. Why would people who’d meant him harm risk their lives working toward his interests? If he wants to investigate something, he has all the resources in the empire available to him. He’d find the truth eventually, all truths he sought. We just have to make him want to seek. And when he does, he should exonerate me, and I could vouch for you as…someone he should get to know. The Emperor’s Edge is the path to what we both want.”
By now she was expecting the stunned silence, and Sicarius did not disappoint her. A long moment passed before he spoke.
“To stay here in the capital, parading before enforcers, soldiers, bounty hunters, and Larocka’s vengeful colleagues would be suicidal craziness.”
“Yes. Are you in?”
He snorted and stared at her. Coals shifted in the stove. Somewhere outside, a whistle marked the end of the workday. As Sicarius’s thoughtful silence continued, Amaranthe struggled to keep her patience. It was not as if she was asking for an oath in blood. He could stick around for a while, see how the operation went, and leave if it was not to his liking. Or simply say no and be done with it.
“Yes,” Sicarius finally said. “I will follow you.”
Amaranthe started to pump an exultant fist, but her jaw dropped as the entirety of his statement sank in. Follow her? “I wasn’t looking for a subordinate, just a teammate, a co-conspirator.”
“Teams need leaders to function.” One eyebrow lifted. “Even small elite units of specialists.”
“Yes, but you… You’re more experienced, more worldly, stronger, faster, deadlier. If anybody should be leading this, it’s you.” She waved at the newspaper. “I’m just the accomplice.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“No,” Amaranthe allowed after a moment. She had been the one to get a team together to pursue her vision. She had kept them together and working toward that end. Somehow she had even inspired enough loyalty for them to get thrown in jail on her behalf.
So why balk now?
Because it was Sicarius. Leading the other men, she could see, but leading him seemed presumptuous. No, she could do presumptuous, so that wasn’t even it. It was…fear. It was walking through the world with a man-eating tiger on a leash, knowing she was accountable for its actions. One inattentive moment and that tiger could pull away and kill anytime it wanted or-worse-she could send it off to kill for her anytime she wanted. And what if she came to relish that feeling? That power? Would she become like Hollowcrest? She suppressed a shudder.
“Besides,” Sicarius said, “I would create a team of assassins, because that is what I know how to do. That would not impress Sespian. You, however, will create a team of heroes.”
She met his gaze and found only respect there. If a man who has a mantra of trusting nobody has faith in me, shall I argue?
She plopped her straw hat on her head. “We better get those future heroes out of prison then.”
• • • • •
They waited until night, when there would be fewer men on duty. Amaranthe ambled into the enforcer station with the hat slung low over her face and one hand tucked into her overalls. If she could have found a stalk of wheat to chew on, it would be dangling from her mouth. Alas, it was not the right season.
Face shadowed by his hat, Sicarius waited at her back. The lone corporal manning the desk gave her a bemused smile.
“Help you?”
Rows of steel-barred jail cells stretched beyond an open doorway behind him. Amaranthe hoped, in the aftermath of the emperor’s kidnapping, no one had found time to look up the new prisoners in the warrant book.
“Lost me a few runaways from my farm out yonder.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the lake, beyond which agriculture still dominated the lowlands. “Heard they was here.”
“Describe them.”
“Four strapping fellows, well except for old Hoss. He’s a tall gangly one. Junior looks like he ought to be an officer in the army, ‘cept the women and the drink keeps him under the table ‘til noon if he ain’t watched good. Surly used t’ run with the gangs and looks it. Then there’s Scar. Name speaks for itself, I reckon.”
“Those aren’t the names they gave me,” the corporal said.
“Well, I figger not. Would you give up yer name if you was running from a work contract? I’ve got the doc’ments right here for ‘em.” She handed four bogus papers to the corporal. “They all signed on for two years in exchange for room and board and a share of the crops. I’d be in a right bind without them four hands. Planting season ain’t that far off, y’know.”
The corporal shrugged. “I’ll get the paperwork. It’s a hundred ranmyas apiece to free them.”
“A hundred apiece! What’d they do?”
“Obstructed a crime scene investigation and stole one of our steam trucks. Then they resisted arrest. They’ve resisted everything.”
“Idiots!” Amaranthe slammed a fist into her palm and did her best to look infuriated. “Why couldn’t they just run off and get drunk like you’d expect?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.” Amusement tugged at the corporal’s lips. “Do you have the money to pay the fine?”
“No,” she said glumly. “I reckon you’ll have to keep them.”
The corporal winced. She wondered just how troublesome her men were being.
“Don’t they have anyone else who could pay the fine?” he asked. “The big one-”
“Junior,” Amaranthe supplied.
“Er, Junior implied he had some family he might be able to get to come down.”
“His family’s all dead. Junior’s so used to lying he couldn’t tell the truth if his brandy supply hung on it.”
The corporal rubbed his chin. “He did seem quite reluctant to contact his kin.”
“What happens if no one can pay the fine?” Amaranthe asked as if she didn’t know perfectly well.
The corporal slumped. “They stay here. One hundred eighty days in a cell.”
“Well, I’m just a simple farmer, sir, and I’ll never have that much money to spare, but if you’d release them and let me put them back to work, I’d sure be grateful.”
“Can’t let them go without a fitting punishment.”
“Oh, they’ll be punished.” Amaranthe smiled and pointed at the heretofore silent Sicarius. “Pa here, he’s the farm dis-ci-pli-nar-i-an. He was a soldier and he knows how to lay into a man an’ make him wish he’d never thunk of running off. Ain’t that right, Pa?” She smiled up at Sicarius.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Ma.”
Hm, she would have to remember not to put him into positions that required acting flair in the future.
“I don’t know, ma’am…” The corporal glanced over his shoulder toward the office. Wanting to get rid of the men but not sure his superiors would approve?
The enforcer that leaned through the doorway was not a superior though. He sported the rank of a raw recruit, and he had a swollen and likely broken nose.
“Want me to get those men for you, Corporal?” he asked in a nasal tone.