percussion-cap weapons.” Amaranthe found a rifle labeled D-1 and pulled it off the rack. She opened the lid on the side and peered into an empty chamber, guessing there would be room to load six or eight cartridges.
“With most of our enemies still using bows and crossbows, our existing black powder weapons already provide an advantage.”
“So, they’ve been waiting to upgrade until there’s a need?” Amaranthe asked.
“There’s also the warrior-caste mentality to deal with.”
“Ah, yes. Turgonian honor dictates it’s preferable to challenge the enemy to a sword fight rather than shooting him from afar.” She slipped a finger into the chamber, trying to figure out what role those grooves at the base of the bullet might serve. “Want to disassemble a rifle?”
She checked the desk for tools, but it seemed to be the designer’s spot, and only sketches and drawing implements occupied the drawers. Sicarius took the weapon from her and simply used his knife to unfasten a couple of screws. He proceeded to remove the stock from the barrel and disassemble the loading mechanism, as if he’d done it hundreds of times.
“How are you familiar with all of the army’s weapons developments from the last ten years?” Amaranthe asked. “Didn’t you part ways with the throne when Raumesys died? And then worked as an independent without any ties to the emperor? In fact, Sespian put that bounty on your head before he even came into legal power, right?”
Sicarius laid the pieces of the rifle out on the desk as he continued to break it down.
“For the record, I’m still not burbling. I’m just…”
“Interrogating?” Sicarius suggested.
“Maybe so, but I’m not using hot irons or other torture devices, so it shouldn’t be objectionable.” Amaranthe wriggled her eyebrows at him, though he was focused on the rifle disassembly. “If nothing else, you could tell me why you chose to assassinate a satrap governor and other important lords and diplomats when you were out there working for the highest bidder. You must have known that would give Sespian more reason to hate and distrust you.”
Sicarius laid the last pieces of the rifle on the table. “This isn’t the place for this discussion.”
“No, I suppose not, but if I’m to help argue your case when we meet Sespian-which, if things go according to plan, will be soon- I need more of the facts at some point. Or at least, your version of the truth.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Maybe that hadn’t been the most tactful word choice. Before she could fumble an apology, Sicarius said, “They were plotting against Sespian.”
“What? Who?”
“Satrap Governor Lumous, Lord Admiral Antavak, the city officials, diplomats, and two warrior-caste officers. Lumous and Antavak headed a scheme to have Sespian assassinated the year after Raumesys died, before he’d even reached his majority and come into power. I killed them first.” Sicarius picked up the bolt and firing pin assembly to study. “It’s what I was trained to do. In reflection, perhaps I should have gathered evidence, so there’d be some record. Something to show to Sespian.”
Amaranthe stared at him with wide eyes. “All along you were acting on his behalf? Trying to protect him?”
“The fact that he has no heirs has always made him a target. You know that.”
“Yes, but I thought… I guess everyone thought you were just a rogue assassin available for hire by the highest bidder.”
Sicarius gave her one of his flat looks.
“I mean, I knew it wasn’t money that drew you,” Amaranthe said. He’d had little money when she met him- just enough to hire that shaman to heal her-and he certainly didn’t seem to have any vices that would require substantial funds. He didn’t even own more than three sets of clothing, all identical. “I thought perhaps you might be motivated by the challenge factor.”
“Rarely.”
“Sicarius, this changes everything. Your methods trample all over the idea of justice and having a fair say in front of the magistrate, but all this time you were working to help Sespian? For the good of the empire? You’re practically a hero.” She grinned at him, and, blessed ancestors, she was tempted to hug him.
Sicarius snorted. “The empire is nothing to me. If Sespian were some deviant crime lord, I’d still kill those who meant him harm.”
His words failed to steal Amaranthe’s grin. “It’s all right. I won’t tell the world you’re not quite the malevolent butcher everyone thinks.”
He looked like he might glare or otherwise object to this softening of his image, but he caught himself. Instead, he said, “Just tell one person.”
“I will.” Amaranthe took the rifle’s bolt from him and studied the interior. By the poor light of the lantern, it was hard to see inside, but she thought she detected raised bumps to fit the groves in the cartridge. It seemed like an odd addition from a functionality standpoint. Why not simply keep the bullet smooth? Wouldn’t it have better aerodynamics that way? Then something clicked in her brain. “It’s a proprietary design, isn’t it?”
“What?”
Amaranthe waved to the racks of weapons and crates of ammunition. “If they made all the rifles the same way as this one, then only these particular cartridges will work in them. No smith could simply reproduce these. It’d take a sophisticated facility like this one to duplicate the design. So, the buyers of these weapons will have to continue to order ammunition from the sellers for life.” She picked up one of the bullets and rubbed it between her fingers. “Maybe this is a Forge plot after all. That seems like the sort of quasi-shady business practice one of their people might try.”
Three thumps came from behind and above them.
“Books,” Amaranthe said. “Someone must be coming.”
Sicarius started toward the door, but Amaranthe caught his arm. “Wait, you have to put the rifle back together. We don’t want anyone to know we were here. Especially not if there’s a link to Forge.”
“I opened a crate,” Sicarius said, but he returned to the table and started assembling.
“Maybe they won’t notice that right away.”
While he worked on the weapon, Amaranthe slipped a handful of the cartridges into her pocket. Being able to show someone the unique bullets later might prove useful. She tucked the ammo box back into the crate, trying to hide the fact that it had been opened, and affixed the lid. She manhandled the crate back onto the rack.
Ker-thunk!
“Uhm.” Amaranthe lifted her eyes toward the ceiling. That had been much louder than the earlier thumps, and if she had to guess where the sound had originated, she’d say above them and outside of the carriage house. “I don’t think that was Books.”
Sicarius finished reassembling the rifle and returned it to the rack. He jogged toward the door, pausing briefly to test the booby trap and make sure it had not reset.
Amaranthe waved to the cement slab. “Can we open it from in here?”
Sicarius patted about the walls, but he didn’t find a lever.
“Maybe the hoe is the only way in.” Amaranthe thought about knocking on the door, but if Books hadn’t caused that second noise, she didn’t want to alert whoever had to their presence.
A long scrape grated at the rear of the chamber, in the dark back half they had not yet explored. Tendrils of unease curled through Amaranthe’s belly. That noise hadn’t come from above. Something was down there with them.
Maybe someone already knew about their presence.
Soft whirs and clanks emanated from the darkness. A grinding followed, and Amaranthe thought it sounded like wheels or treads rolling over the cement floor.
“Oh, good, it’s been a while since I’ve been chased by a machine. It ought to be good training, right?” Amaranthe smiled.
Sicarius did not.
Chapter 5
