faced the perimeter, weapons ready. They were expecting someone.
“Time grows short, Sicarius,” a muffled female voice called. Larocka?
Surprised, Amaranthe leaned through the railing. It seemed Larocka was the worker at the base of the furnace. From Amaranthe’s angle, she could not see through the helmet’s glass faceplate, but the voice had certainly come from within. That uniform would do a fine job of protecting her from a throwing knife as well as the heat.
“You tripped one of the magical alarms Arbitan set before-before…” Larocka clanked her hand against the face shield of her helmet, as if trying to wipe her eyes or nose but forgetting about the barrier. “If you think you’ll sneak up on us, you’re mistaken.”
Uh oh. Amaranthe shifted back from the railing. What if she had tripped the trap? What if Sicarius wasn’t there at all?
She had to find out. She eased farther along her perch, but when she passed a clump of piping two men came into view. They stood on the catwalk with her, stationed between her and the front door in a place they could see the entrance and also signal to Larocka. The intervening pipes and machinery had kept Amaranthe from seeing them-and thankfully them from seeing her. But all one would have to do was decide to take a walk, and her hiding place would be very open from their point of view.
Amaranthe crept back to hunker in the shadow of the blast furnace.
“It’s time for the emperor to die,” Larocka yelled. “I thought you’d want a front row seat, but I suppose knowing you’re here is good enough.” She placed one gloved hand on a lever, and Amaranthe imagined her vengeful smile behind that glass faceplate.
Not certain what the lever controlled, Amaranthe grabbed the hot metal rail and leaned as far past the edge of the catwalk as she could.
The sight below almost made her lose her grip. Sespian lay naked and spread-eagle, wrists and ankles bound by taut chains. He was under the spout that released molten iron. If Larocka pulled that lever, the floodgate would open, and Sespian would be seared alive. Even now, he was too close to the furnace with no protective clothing. His skin was red and dry. Heat stroke. He could die from that alone, even if the molten iron never came.
Larocka turned toward the lever and started to put weight on it.
Amaranthe tried to think of something to do, anything to buy time. She opened her mouth to yell.
“Wait!”
Sicarius.
He stepped out of the shadows, palms open, arms away from his weapons. Twenty men raised swords and muskets toward him.
“Whatever for?” Larocka asked sweetly.
Indeed, what for? What could he do? What can I do?
“I need the head,” Sicarius said.
Sespian’s head lolled to the side, dark eyes focusing on Sicarius, but only briefly before his chin slumped. He did not look good.
Amaranthe pulled herself back onto the catwalk. Sicarius was buying time. She needed to do something useful with it.
“What?” Larocka asked after a stunned moment.
“The head,” Sicarius said. “My employer requires it as proof of an assignment completed.”
Amaranthe groaned as she crawled toward the ladder leading to the top of the furnace. Of all the ways Sicarius could have bought time…surely that was the most condemning. Even if they made it out of this, Sicarius would be suspect in Sespian’s eyes.
When she reached the ladder, she stuffed her hands into the gloves. They were far too large, and her fingers swam in them, but they let her grip the scorching rungs.
“You’d have me believe you’re here to ensure the emperor is killed ?” Larocka asked. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Amaranthe climbed, hoping the new position would not let the guards on the catwalk see her. Her boots protected her feet from the rungs, and she made it to the charging platform.
“My opinion of you is irrelevant,” Sicarius said. “If you kill him with lava, it’ll sear his features to the point of being indistinguishable. It matters little to me if yours is the hand to slay him, but perhaps we can negotiate an alternative method.”
“He’s your son!” Larocka blurted.
Amaranthe leaned over the platform to judge Sespian’s reaction. She was even higher now and could barely see him over the swell of the furnace. His face was too far down for her to read. The heat stroke had to be addling his mind. Maybe he was past understanding any of this.
The men watching weren’t, and this was apparently new information for them. They looked about at each other, though their weapons never ceased aiming at Sicarius.
“Because the enforcer bitch believes that story doesn’t make it so,” Sicarius said coolly. “Even if it were, a contract is a contract.”
Amaranthe studied the scant offerings of the charging platform. A shovel and the ore cart, which was about halfway unloaded.
“You should have kept the ‘enforcer bitch’ and her allies,” Larocka said. “At least they weren’t stupid enough to walk into a trap without backup.”
Amaranthe snorted as she rummaged through the ore bin. Most of the pieces were only a couple inches diameter, not large enough to make devastating projectiles.
“But my spies saw you walk away from the house alone,” Larocka said, “angry that your secret was out. You killed Arbitan, you bastard. Now you’ll watch me kill your son.”
“Arbitan was a traitor,” Sicarius said. “A Nurian spy who used you to infiltrate Forge.”
Amaranthe dug out a large piece of ore that must have weighed twelve or fifteen pounds. It would have to do.
“Nurian, yes,” Larocka said, “but not a spy. He defected. He-”
“He talked you into assassinating the emperor, didn’t he?” Sicarius said.
“No! I… You’re lying. You’re stalling, and-stay back!”
Amaranthe leaned over the rail. Sicarius had been advancing as he spoke, a fact Larocka had not missed. He was still too far away to do anything, and the team of hulking men stood between him and Sespian.
“Now you watch him die,” she snarled and turned, putting both hands on the lever.
Amaranthe aimed.
Sicarius surged forward, but the men were expecting it, and they blocked him.
Amaranthe dropped the rock.
She held her breath. Its fall seemed so slow. The lever started downward in its track.
The rock struck the top of Larocka’s helmet. Her hands flew up and she was hurled to her back. She flopped once and lay unmoving. The lever clunked back to its original position, and Amaranthe let out her breath.
Twenty sets of eyes looked up at her. A musket cracked, and a ball clanged off the metal railing.
Sicarius never paused. While everyone else was distracted, he drew a dagger and slashed the throats of the two men restraining him. He plunged through the rest and thrust the blade into Larocka’s chest, taking no chances of her coming after him again.
By then the guards had recovered, and they surged around him.
The sound of boots on metal wrenched Amaranthe’s attention from the scene below. She was about to have her own guards to deal with. The two men on the catwalk thundered toward her.
She should have felt terror, or at least a healthy dose of fear, but instead exhilaration thrummed through her. She ought to run, but she had time to get in a few more blows.
Amaranthe grabbed the shovel and threw ore over the side, taking care to aim away from Sicarius. The blond head was overwhelmed by the number of black and brown heads, but he did not try to escape. How could he? Sespian was still tied up and in danger from any of the men near the lever.
She hurled more ore. Any distraction she could provide to tilt the odds toward Sicarius she would. From this height, even the smaller pieces had to hurt when they hit flesh.
“Arwk!” came a cry from below the staging platform.
