“You want to set foot on Darkcrest Isle?”
“Yes…” She frowned at him. He was the most unflappable man she knew. Surely, he didn’t believe the stories about the place. “Are you concerned the island is haunted?”
Sicarius gazed steadily at her, his face an unreadable mask. “Not haunted, cursed.”
If it had been anybody else, she would have laughed. “What?”
“You’re familiar with the public story, that a warrior-caste family lived there two-hundred years ago and everyone on the island was slain during a surprise attack on the city.”
“Supposedly leaving restless-and angry-ancestor spirits roaming the island. Yes, I’ve heard the…” Amaranthe frowned as she considered his words. “What do you mean public story?”
“Are you aware that forty years ago, Azon Amar, a famous warrior mage and assassin from Nuria killed Emperor Morvaktu?”
“Uhm, Emperor Morvaktu, father to Raumesys, and supposed father of current emperor, Sespian-” they both knew why she said supposed, but even out here, alone, she felt compelled to keep the details vague, “-died in a hunting accident.” Or so the history books said.
“He died in his bed in the Imperial Barracks after being poisoned by Azon Amar’s blade. An alarm went up and the assassin fled the city with platoons of soldiers on his heels. They destroyed the boat he planned to escape in, and he swam to Darkcrest Isle. He made a stand here, wielding a pair of Nurian scimitars and Science such as most of those soldiers had never seen. In Nuria he was a legend for his skills and powers, and their king hand- selected him to carry out the assassination in hopes of throwing the empire into chaos. Raumesys was still quite young then.”
Amaranthe was shaking her head through his speech. “None of this is in the history books. I’ve never even heard of Azon Am-whatever.”
“Commander of the Armies Hollowcrest, then Lord General Hollowcrest, squashed the story and kept it out of the papers. He led the charge that finally took down Azon Amar, and they kept word of the assassin’s success from reaching Nuria. For three months, they pretended Morvaktu was still alive, and claimed an illness kept him from public appearances. Finally, so the state could return to normal, they announced his death in a hunting accident, burned the body at a funeral pyre, and appointed Raumesys as emperor.”
It was the longest story Amaranthe could remember Sicarius giving her. Though he did not always answer her questions, he had never lied to her, and she could not believe he was lying now. “How do you know all this?”
“If not for this incident, I never would have been born.”
Amaranthe stared at him. She knew he had been raised since he was a babe to be the emperor’s assassin, a position he had held until Raumesys’s death six years earlier, but she hadn’t realized the old emperor and Hollowcrest might have arranged the mating that brought him into existence. “They wanted to create an assassin of their own in case the Nurians tried again? To protect the emperor?”
“More likely because they were impressed with the devastation one man could cause. Azon Amar killed dozens that night, some say hundreds, and with his dying breath, he left a curse on the island, one designed to aid any Nurians who might one day use it as a staging center to launch an attack on our capital. It’s also supposed to work against Turgonians who step foot on the beach.”
Amaranthe slumped against a nearby tree, the bark rough against her bare arm. The pair from the boat had disappeared into the foliage, and the sun was dipping below the tree line.
“I do not know how those two found out about the island,” Sicarius said. “The army sacrificed much to make sure no word made it back to Nuria.”
“Maybe this warrior mage had an ally he communicated with through some magical device. We’ve seen those ourselves.”
“It is possible.”
“How potent is this curse?” Amaranthe asked.
“Unknown.”
“Have you been on the island yourself?”
“No.”
“So it’s possible the curse is simply part of the legend?” She lifted her eyebrows hopefully.
Sicarius hesitated. “That they’re there, seeking refuge, suggests there’s something to it.”
“Let’s discuss our options,” Amaranthe said. “One of us could stay here while the other attempts to get the authorities, a proposition made difficult by the fact that the authorities have orders to shoot us on sight.”
Sicarius said nothing, and it was probably only her imagination that the look he gave her meant she was deranged for listing that as an option.
“Or,” she went on, “one of us could stay here and watch them while the other goes home to pick up the rest of the team.” It was seven miles back to town and still hot enough that she did not relish the idea of jogging the route; there was also the question of whether the men would be at the hideout or, if with the boss gone, they were out carousing. “Perhaps Books would know more about the history of the island that could prove useful, and Akstyr might be able to tell us about any magic being used.”
“Books will know no more than you did, and Akstyr is a self-taught boy. He’d be of little use.”
“The thieves probably aren’t looking to stick around for long either.” If Amaranthe had crashed a steam tramper, she’d want to be out of the area by dawn. Or before.
“Agreed.”
“If you believe we can handle it ourselves, you know I’m always game to go in and find trouble.” Amaranthe smiled, thinking that might draw a retort from him. He did have a sense of humor, albeit one dryer than the tufts of yellow grass sticking up near the dock. Sometimes, when there were no other witnesses around, he’d show it to her.
This time, he did not.
“What if you and I swim across after sunset?” Amaranthe suggested. “We can sneak up on those two, knock them out, tie them up, and retrieve whatever stolen weapons they’re toting. Then we’ll put everything in a tidy pile by the steam tramper, scrape a nice note in the dirt-something along the lines of, ‘Amaranthe and Sicarius thwarted these criminals’-and send an anonymous tip to Fort Urgot in the morning. What do you think?”
Sicarius gazed out at the island pensively.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Amaranthe asked.
“About the island or in general?”
“About the island. I know there are all sorts of things you don’t tell me in general.” She sniffed. “Despite the fact that I’m the only person I’m aware of who finds you terribly interesting and likes spending time with you.”
Though he continued to face the island, he said, with a faintly affronted tone, “Many people find me interesting.”
“No argument for the latter though?”
“No.” Sicarius nodded toward the isle. “I’ve had some training in resisting the mental sciences. Perhaps we’ll have no trouble.”
Yes, Amaranthe had seen him shrug off a Nurian wizard’s attack that left her and the rest of her team flattened, but it hadn’t been easy for him. And why did he bring that up anyway? “Do you suspect one of those two of being wizards? They could just be common thieves.”
Sicarius rose from his crouch, using the trees for cover so nobody watching from the island could see him. “Did you bring poison for your crossbow bolts?”
“A little, yes.”
“I suggest you apply it,” Sicarius said. “You may need it tonight.”
Before she could ask what exactly that meant, he walked away. At first, she thought he might simply be heading inland to settle down and rest for a while before darkness fell, but he soon disappeared into the trees, leaving Amaranthe alone.
“ Why I enjoy spending time with the man is a mystery,” she muttered and tried not to find his parting words ominous.
