message meant for you?” She looked up at him, again trying to read his face, but it was still expressionless. “You’re obviously connected with him somehow. Based on the fact that Hollowcrest and Sespian both recognize your dagger, I’m guessing you were the court assassin or something of that nature, although assassination isn’t supposed to be the Turgonian way. Still, I think Hollowcrest is a sneaky old sod, and he wouldn’t have minded having someone like you around. From what I remember of Emperor Raumesys, they were similar types. Your enforcer record-your list of public assassinations-started up, what, five years ago? That was the same time as Raumesys died. Maybe Sespian, being a rather good human being, didn’t want an assassin on the payroll, and gave you the boot, so you had to go out and find other work. Of course, that doesn’t explain why…”
A warning instinct lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. She had been looking at Sicarius while she spoke but, in her musings, had stopped seeing him. Now, her focus sharpened.
His expression had not changed, but he was very, very still, and his dark eyes were colder than ice shards. Amaranthe chomped down on her flapping lip and dropped her gaze to the floorboards. He hadn’t said a word, but she could feel the threat hanging between them. She might need his help, but with her information delivered, he didn’t need anything else from her. Probing into his past was not a good idea.
“No,” Sicarius said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Hollowcrest would not send me a message.”
“Good,” Amaranthe said, trying for a bright tone and not quite achieving it. “Glad we’ve eliminated that possibility. Maybe he’s just getting old and feeling guilty over some of the choices he’s made of late. Or maybe he’s tired of his usual flunkies and wanted someone new to talk to. Or maybe,” she said with a self-deprecating eye roll, “it’s my friendly personality that got him chatting.”
“Huh,” he said. It was ambiguous, but at least his tone was a little lighter. Less dangerous.
Still, it wasn’t until he clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the window that she dared look at him again. Despite his recent workout, his black shirt was tucked in, his pants free of wrinkles, and his low boots brushed clean of dust. No hint of beard stubble softened the hard angles of his jaw. Even his fingernails were trimmed and free of dirt. Only that uncontrolled nest of blond hair did not match his fastidious appearance. At the moment, she could hardly judge cleanliness, though, not when she could smell the stale sickness clinging to her body.
She needed a bath and a change of clothing. But she still had to win him to her side. Delving into his history was apparently not the way to do it. She decided to go back to what had inveigled his assistance before.
“I mean to save the emperor,” Amaranthe said. “Not just that. I want to stop Hollowcrest from drugging him and protect him from Forge’s assassins. I can’t do it alone.”
“A monumental task.” At least he didn’t say, “What makes you think you can do it at all?”
“With my plan, we can do it.”
Sicarius faced her again. “What plan?”
If this was to be played at all, it had to be played fearlessly. She took a deep breath. “One that requires me not smelling like a ten-day-old corpse. If you can get me a bath and a couple of changes of clothing, I’ll tell you everything.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and once again Amaranthe remembered his knack for sensing deception. A long moment passed before he spoke, and it was only to say, “Agreed,” before he left the room.
She sagged against the wall with relief. That conversation had drained her more than running the whole lake once had. She wondered how long it would take him to arrange a bath. Or more precisely, she wondered how long she had to come up with a plan. She laid on her back, intending to think of something brilliant. Instead, she fell asleep.
A clank woke her. Amaranthe sat up, cursing the disease that left her so weak. Sicarius had produced a metal laundry bin. Inside, water shimmered yellow with the reflection of lamplight. He had even scrounged a towel and a bar of soap. She beamed with heartfelt pleasure for the first time in days. Sicarius dropped a nondescript set of utility clothing on her cot.
Still clutching the blanket around herself, Amaranthe shuffled over to the tub and dipped a toe in. She withdrew it with a startled squawk. “This is ice water!”
“Naturally.” Sicarius tilted his head toward the wall dividing the room from thousands of tons of ice.
Amaranthe bent over the tub and picked out the remains of a block that had not melted completely. Her shoulders slumped. It was not that she had never taken a cold bath-the single room she had shared with her father as a girl had not had plumbing much less hot water. It was just that… She sighed. It had been a rough week, and she wanted a relaxing soak.
She forced herself to thank Sicarius since he had, after all, dragged blocks of ice up there and melted them. Her expression of gratitude was somewhat muffled by the noise she made shoving the tub across the room until it was so close to the stove she would be hard-pressed to get in without searing something important.
“Are you going to watch?” Amaranthe asked when Sicarius did not leave.
“Your plan,” Sicarius said, implying he was waiting to hear it.
You too, huh?
“Well, I need to be clean before I can discuss anything of this magnitude.”
His flat stare said he knew she was stalling. He probably knew she had nothing. Nonetheless, he was still waiting. Maybe he had faith she could come up with something. Or maybe he could not think of a plan either and was desperate enough to listen to a foolish woman who had almost gotten herself killed twice in the same week.
“Fine,” Amaranthe said. “Stay and watch if you want.”
She shucked the blanket and grabbed the soap. After stepping in, she scrubbed-and thought-furiously. The emperor was threatened from two fronts: Hollowcrest, and all those who were loyal to him, and Forge, who was nameless and faceless for the time. The organization had to consist of business people and was an entity large enough to present a threat to the emperor. That implied wealth and power. Both her adversaries had power. She had none. She had…desperation. And maybe the help of a trained assassin, if she could woo him with her plan.
She shook her head. She needed to adjust her thinking. No general ever won a victory by pitting his weaknesses against the enemy’s strengths. It had to be the other way around. What were her strengths? Since she would soon be labeled a criminal, she supposed there was no need to be constrained by the law. She found that thought unsettling, but it inspired creativity. Criminals did all sorts of unorthodox things to get what they wanted from each other. What could she do? Use force? Steal? Blackmail?
Amaranthe realized she had been lathering the same shoulder with the bar of soap for some time. She switched to a leg.
Force was out. If she couldn’t bring herself to assassinate a murdering assassin, she doubted she could kill anybody else in cold blood either. Nor would stealing get her anywhere. Blackmail? What could she hold over both parties? Economic trouble? That would be a disaster for government and business alike, but she could hardly start a recession by willing one into existence. Not unless she could magically decrease the value of money. She supposed printing counterfeits would achieve that. The addition of fake paper money that was not backed by the gold in the Imperial Treasury could devalue all the real money out there, plus it would undermine people’s confidence in the ranmya. The threat alone might be enough to coerce Hollowcrest and Forge into dealing.
Amaranthe let the soap fall from her fingers and leaned on the edge of the tub. You’re not actually considering this, are you?
Deliberately sabotaging the economy. Her mind shied away from the potential for widespread devastation, the utter vileness of the idea. Of course, she would be operating on a bluff, with no intention of actually circulating the money. Forge and Hollowcrest would not know that. It would represent a tangible threat to them. In a period of hyperinflation, Forge’s fortunes would become meaningless. Hollowcrest would have to deal with the repercussions of millions of citizens terrified their savings would evaporate. Yes, she decided, it might just worry both parties enough to negotiate with her.
She looked at Sicarius. He seemed lost in thought again and was not facing her direction. She experienced a surge of indignity that he did not find her interesting enough to peep at in the bath but forced herself back to more important issues.
“I have finalized the details of my plan,” she announced.
“Really,” he said dryly.
“We’re going to produce counterfeit money.” She went on to explain her reasoning and emphasized several
