Time seeped by like molasses. The footsteps finally started up again. They padded away and moved beyond the range of her ears.
For several long moments, she and Sicarius hunkered there, between the wall and the ice. The cold bit through Amaranthe’s night clothes. Her teeth chattered and she shivered. She held her hands close to the lantern, but it gave off little heat.
“Is it gone?” she asked.
“Impossible to tell,” he said.
“Well, I’m freezing. Either one of us is going to have to check or we’ll have to start cuddling.”
Sicarius climbed the ladder. He opened the grate, peered out, then disappeared over the edge.
“There’s something wrong with a man who chooses to face death over cuddling with a woman.” Amaranthe grabbed the lantern and followed him out. “Of course, there may be something equally wrong with a woman who goes after him instead of waiting in safety.”
Once up top, she left the grate open in case they needed to jump back down in a hurry. She looked for Sicarius, but her light did not illuminate much of the icehouse. Snow falling outside the broken-down door caught her eye. The body had been dragged to the side, and only an arm remained in view. Amaranthe swallowed.
“It’s not inside,” Sicarius said.
He stepped out from behind the ice stacks carrying a couple of boards. He resealed the door as much as the warped hinges would allow. The splintered wood did not make a reassuring barrier. Sicarius threw the old bar-now snapped in half-to the side and replaced it with the boards.
“Maybe we should go out and check on that man. See if…” He’s dead Amaranthe. You were too late to help.
“I wouldn’t,” Sicarius said.
He was as cool and emotionless as ever, but his unwillingness to leave the building concerned her. If, with all his skill, he did not want to confront whatever stalked the streets, who else could?
Chapter 10
A maranthe woke to Sicarius saying, “Lokdon,” from the doorway of the tiny icehouse office.
She dropped her legs over the edge of the cot, feeling the chill of the floor even through socks. “We’ve been drooled on by a horrible man-slaying beast together. I think you can call me by my first name.”
The coals had burned low in the stove, and it gave off little warmth or light. She groped for her boots.
“Your team is here,” Sicarius said, a hint of bemusement edging his voice.
Either I’m getting better at reading him or he’s starting to emote. “You sound surprised.”
“Aren’t you?”
Yes. “Of course not.”
“Huh.”
Sicarius left before Amaranthe could inquire who or how many had come. She dressed and left the office. At the bottom of the stairs, Akstyr and Books waited. Books yawned and rubbed red eyes. The bulge of a bottle sagged outward from his jacket pocket, and the sword attached to his belt looked like it hadn’t been used since his boyhood weapons classes. Akstyr slouched against the wall, his baggy clothes rumpled, his hands jammed in his pockets. Bruises and lumps splotched his face.
The men stood taller when they saw her, though the effect was not particularly inspiring. At least they had come.
As Amaranthe descended the stairs, Maldynado strolled through the broken door. He wore a jaunty sword belt with a sheathed saber hanging from his left hip. An obnoxious amount of gold gilded the hilt and scabbard. Akstyr’s gaze lingered on the valuable weapon.
When Maldynado came even with Books and Akstyr, his upper lip wrinkled. “Which one of you boys fell in a vat of cheap wine on the way over here?”
Akstyr sneered. Books glared. Unperturbed, Maldynado surveyed them further, then pulled out a case and extricated two cards.
“Your barber?” Amaranthe asked.
“Tailor. I’ve never seen two people in such need of sartorial attention.”
“Considering you were wearing a furry loincloth when we met, I’m not sure you should be offering fashion advice.”
“Ah, but it was a stylish loincloth that showed off-” Maldynado winked, “-everything.”
She could not argue.
He raised a finger. “Say, did you know there’s a half-eaten body in the street out there?”
“Yes.” Since she did not want to alarm her troops this early into the mission, lest they decide to leave, she decided on nonchalance. “It’s not the best neighborhood.”
“On that we can agree,” Books said.
Maldynado waved a hand in front of his face. “Is your breath always that rank?”
“If I offend you, you have my permission to move to the other side of the room.” Books lowered his voice. “Or the empire.”
“Since you’re the offensive one, maybe you should do the moving so the rest of us can breathe. There’s a dumpster down the block where you might feel at home.” Maldynado turned to Akstyr. “Do you believe this fellow?”
“Who cares?” That surly curl to Akstyr’s lip seemed permanent.
Amaranthe realized getting these men to come had been the easy part. Getting them to work together without blood, and business cards, flying would be the true test.
“You said you’d have food. And a place to sleep.” Akstyr eyed the towers of ice. “Figured it’d be warmer inside than outside.”
“We won’t be staying here,” she said. “As soon as Sicarius returns, he’ll show us to the place we’re going to set up. We’ll buy food then.”
“That was him, wasn’t it?” Akstyr’s tone changed for the first time. He sounded reverent. “The one who let us in? Is it true he’s a Hunter?”
A what?
“I’m not sure,” Amaranthe said. “You can ask him.”
Akstyr prodded the sawdust with his toe. “I wouldn’t want to annoy him.”
“I’ll ask him for you,” she said.
“Who asked you to?”
So much for the reverence.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” Amaranthe said dryly.
“Whatever.”
“Wait,” Maldynado said. “Are we talking about the same fellow who trounced me last night?”
“Yes,” she said.
“That was Sicarius? The Sicarius? The assassin?”
Surprised someone from the upper echelons of Turgonia’s social hierarchy had heard of him, she only said, “Yes.”
“I wish you had told me that last night before the fight. When he slaughtered me, I wouldn’t have felt so…” Maldynado’s mittened fingers flexed in the air as he groped for the word.
“Inept?” Books suggested. “Inadequate? Unmanned?”
Maldynado scowled at him. “I’m manned just fine, thank you.” He turned back to Amaranthe. “I figured he was just some random thug you picked up at the docks.”
“Not a random one,” she said.
“Is Sicarius working for you?” Akstyr asked dubiously. “Or are you working for him?”
Amaranthe hesitated. Her “team,” especially Akstyr, might be more inclined to obey her if they believed she commanded Sicarius, but his cooperation was just that, cooperation.
