experiment.
With Amaranthe guiding him, Maldynado backed the concrete mixer to the pit opposite the bricks.
And then they waited.
The mixer rumbled, its cylinder spinning. Maldynado sat with his hand on the lever that would pour the wet concrete. Above, Basilard waited on the beam. The others stood on the far side of the pit, gazes transfixed on the stairs. Amaranthe chewed on her pinky nail-the only finger with more than a nub available.
“This is too obvious,” she said. “It’s not going to work.”
“The beast threw itself out a window,” Books said. “It’s not bright.”
“ I’ve thrown myself out a window recently,” Amaranthe said, remembering her fall from Hollowcrest’s office.
“Oh.”
“It’s been more than fifteen minutes, hasn’t it?” she asked.
“I believe so, yes,” Books said.
“If he doesn’t make it, one of us will have to find the creature and try to lure it back,” she said.
Akstyr snorted. “If Sicarius can’t stay ahead of it, none of us can.”
Amaranthe was dwelling on that unpleasant reality when a familiar voice shouted, “Incoming!” from the top of the stairs.
Sicarius raced down the steps five at a time, the beast riding his heels. Without slowing, he took in the scenario, sprinted through the basement, and leapt for the rope dangling over the pit.
The soul construct jumped after him. Sicarius caught and scrambled up the rope.
The beast twisted in midair to rake a massive paw across his back. Claws glinted. Sicarius kicked it in the face. Gravity caught up with the creature, and it plummeted into the pit.
“Now!” Amaranthe shouted.
Basilard cut the rope, and the bricks crashed in.
In the cab, Maldynado yanked the lever. The concrete came slower, and Amaranthe held her breath as it oozed into the pit. Below, bricks shuddered and shifted. When the mixer had dumped its load, only half the pit was filled.
The moist pile trembled. The creature was still alive…and trying to escape.
“Back the truck in too!” Amaranthe shouted.
Maldynado jammed it into reverse and jumped out of the cab. Rear first, the mixer crashed onto the top of the pile, sinking partway into the soft concrete.
Amaranthe held her breath as she watched the pit for movement. Her heartbeats felt thunderous in the sudden silence. Nothing moved.
Finally, Sicarius swung from the rope and landed in a crouch beside her, fingers pressed against the floor. Blood saturated his ravaged shirt. Three slashes across his lower back laid open the material, along with the skin and muscle beneath it.
“Watch the pit,” Amaranthe told Akstyr.
She knelt by Sicarius. “Are you…?”
“Fine.”
Despite the declaration, he did not rush to stand up. His breathing had already returned to normal, but sweat bathed his skin and drenched his hair and clothing. Blood dripped onto the floor.
“Take off your shirt,” Amaranthe told him.
“How come you never say that to me?” Maldynado asked.
“Because seeing you topless would confirm our suspicions that you’re related to yetis,” Books said.
“Actually,” Amaranthe said, as Sicarius pulled off his shirt and handed it to her, “I’ll watch the pit. Why don’t you gentlemen go look for Larocka?” She wadded up the shirt and pressed it to the wounds to stop the blood flow.
“She was standing in the doorway when we killed the wizard,” Akstyr said.
Her breath caught, and Amaranthe stared at him for a stunned moment before speaking. “How much did she see?”
“I don’t know. She ran away when I looked at her.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Sicarius was doing his big showdown with Hollowcrest.” Akstyr shrugged. “I got distracted.”
“Just go find her,” Amaranthe said.
The men trooped off, and silence returned to the basement.
“I’m sorry,” she told Sicarius.
“For what?” he asked.
“Getting you mauled.”
“This is a far better outcome than I would have guessed possible a few minutes ago.” Sicarius turned his head to regard her, a faint frown tugging at his lips. Perhaps his injuries were too distracting for him to maintain the usual facade.
“What?” she asked.
“Barring tonight, I’ve lived as long as I have because I’ve never underestimated my enemies. You keep… exceeding my expectations.”
“Thank you,” she said, more pleased than she would admit, “but not everyone is your enemy.”
“Whether realized or not,” he said, “everyone you talk to is trying to use you to further his own interests. You must always be ready to protect yourself.”
“There are such things as friends,” Amaranthe said.
“That does not negate my statement. Friendship is as selfish as any other relationship, perhaps more so because it masquerades as something noble. I am more comfortable with those who approach me with blades drawn.”
“I suppose this will disappoint you,” Amaranthe said, “but I’d rather be your friend than your enemy. I’ll try not to make you suffer too much from the association.”
He looked away. “I am not…disappointed.”
She put her free hand on his shoulder. “You’ve exceeded my expectations too.”
Amaranthe lightened her pressure on the wounds and peeled back a corner of the shirt. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but the gashes needed to be stitched.
“Sit down on the bleachers,” she said. “I’ll hunt for suturing supplies.”
Given the nature of the entertainment here, well-stocked medical kits seemed likely.
“Sicarius?” Amaranthe asked as she poked through desk drawers in the bettors’ cage. “You don’t owe me any answers or explanations, but there’s one thing I’ve been wondering since the day we met-well, since the day you didn’t kill me when you should have. Why do you care about the emperor? What are you to him?”
“An enemy.”
She frowned, considered her words, and rearranged them. “What is the emperor to you?”
Those lips stayed shut. At least he wasn’t glaring threateningly at her as he had the last time she pried into his past.
As she checked cabinets, Amaranthe mulled over Hollowcrest’s words in the parlor. Almost until the end, he had believed Sicarius would return to his side. Like a father speaking to a son he thought he knew-or perhaps an old general addressing a soldier he had supervised from the earliest days. Just how long had Sicarius worked for Hollowcrest? How long had he had access to the Imperial Barracks? Maybe Sicarius had been around when Sespian was growing up. Maybe Sicarius had developed an affection for him. Only one problem. Sicarius was about as affectionate as a freshly blooded dagger. As practical as he was, she could not imagine him forming an emotional attachment to someone just because they had passed in the halls for a few years. Look at what he had done to Hollowcrest. There had to be a greater bond.
She found bandages, suturing thread, and scissors, and returned to the bleachers. A new thought came to her, and she hesitated.
“Are you related?”
There was not an obvious resemblance, but they did have the same dark eyes. Sicarius could even draw, if dispassionately compared to the emperor.
