warren of tunnels under it. If they’re there, I need you to find them.”
“You see, Sire,” Maldynado said, “her hugs aren’t all that desirable, as they’re typically a precursor for an assignment of work.”
Sespian acknowledged this with a wiggle of his fingers, then told Amaranthe, “What about me? Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes, I have an acquaintance in Markworth who may be willing to lend us his conveyance if he knows it’s at your behest.”
“You already have acquaintances in Markworth?” Maldynado asked. “How long have you and Sicarius been here?”
Amaranthe glanced at the sky. Though gray rain clouds hid the sun, she figured it was still early morning. “Almost a day.”
“Making friends even more quickly than usual,” Maldynado said.
“This friend tried to turn us over to the enforcers.”
Maldynado winked at Sespian. “Yes, that’s usually how things start.”
Sespian’s arched eyebrow suggested Maldynado hadn’t yet succeeded in inducting him into his League of Beset Upon Brethren, but Amaranthe no longer sensed the stony mistrust that Sespian had leveled at him before.
“Didn’t I assign you a task?” She waved Maldynado toward the shore.
“Sure, boss, whatever you say.” Maldynado started past Sespian, but paused to stage-whisper, “Just don’t let her make you drive this ‘conveyance.’ If you crash it, you’ll get blamed, even though you were simply following her directions. It’s usually her fault.”
“My fault?” Amaranthe propped her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t even onboard the steamboat when you two crashed it.”
“You two?” Maldynado had been on his way to the gangplank, but he halted and turned around so quickly he almost tripped. “How did I get included? I wasn’t anywhere near the wheelhouse when the emperor crashed us.”
“Wasn’t it your failure to defend the boat that resulted in the rudder being destroyed?” Amaranthe didn’t truly blame him for any of this, but she hadn’t had much amusement in her life of late, and it was fun seeing his flamboyant protests.
Maldynado spread his arms and faced Sespian, clearly expecting the emperor to defend him.
A glint of amusement entered Sespian’s eyes. “It was the loss of tiller control that resulted in running into the island.”
For a long moment, Maldynado gaped at him. Then, shaking his head, he slouched down the deck toward the gangplank. Basilard was climbing onto the steamboat, and, when they passed, Maldynado issued a warning.
“Don’t go over there, Bas. They’re hurling blame around like artillery rounds on a battlefield.”
Basilard gave Maldynado a weary pat and kept walking. Dripping water and wearing a number of new bruises, he appeared as beleaguered as Amaranthe had felt of late. She gave him a hug as soon as he came close.
Sespian also approached Basilard and gripped his shoulder. “Thank you for fighting so hard to defend the steamboat. I know this isn’t your battle, and I appreciate your willingness to risk yourself on our behalf.”
Fortunately, Maldynado had left the boat, or he would have had a fit over seeing Basilard praised when he’d simply been teased, but Amaranthe was glad Sespian made the effort for Basilard. As far as she knew, Sespian hadn’t made him any promises in exchange for his help, so Basilard could only be hoping that his actions would result in someone eventually looking into the slavers who were targeting his people.
“We’re paying a visit to the mainland,” Amaranthe told Basilard. “Do you want to come with us or stay here with Maldynado and the others? They’re going to look for secret entrances to underground tunnels.”
Basilard ran a hand over his scarred scalp. After that fight and that swim, he looked like a man who wanted nothing more than a nap.
“Or you could rest,” Amaranthe amended.
Perhaps, Basilard signed, I could make a hot meal.
“That’s an option too.” One that instantly appealed to Amaranthe after days on the road, relying upon Sicarius’s questionable culinary skills. At least they’d run out of those awful travel bars early on. “I imagine the log palace on the hill has a comprehensive kitchen.”
Basilard brightened.
“Ready to go, Sire?” Amaranthe asked.
“Just the two of us?”
“Not exactly.” Amaranthe looked toward the beach where Sicarius was tying up prisoners. “The enforcers are aware that he’s in the area, and this crash might not have gone unnoticed. I’m not at my fighting peak right now, and it may behoove you to have someone along who can protect you.” And maybe Sicarius and Sespian could have a chat while rowing across the lake.
“If they’re looking for him, that sounds like a good reason not to bring him,” Sespian said.
“I’m not positive he’d let me go off without him right now. Actually, I’m not positive he’d let you go off with only me to keep an eye on you.” That was saying more than she should, but, now that Forge knew about Sespian’s heritage, he’d learn why Sicarius cared one way or another soon anyway.
“Do you realize that he gave me that black dagger of his, and that Forge was able to track me because of it?” Sespian asked. “I was personally attacked twice because of it. They are determined to make their newspaper article a reality.”
Chagrin weighted down Amaranthe’s shoulders. If Sicarius had given Sespian his knife, he’d surely meant it as a gift, one that might prove useful. He’d be horrified, or as close to it as he came, to learn that it had endangered his son. “He didn’t know,” Amaranthe said. “He couldn’t have. How were they able to track you?”
Sespian dug in a pocket, fished out a black egg-shaped device, and handed it to her. “I haven’t been able to ascertain how it works. Brynia knew how to use it to locate other pieces of that ancient technology.”
Amaranthe turned the seamless tool over in her hands. “I met the woman who probably taught her how to use it. I wonder if it’s how they located the Behemoth in the first place.”
“The what?”
“Oh, I named their craft before I heard the real name.” Amaranthe returned the device. “At least, if we have it now, they can’t use it to track the knife anymore. You do still have that, don’t you?” A jolt of alarm ran through her at the thought of Sicarius’s faithful dagger lost forever on the bottom of the river hundreds of miles back.
“It’s in one of the cabins.” Sespian waved dismissively toward the upper decks.
Amaranthe felt stung on Sicarius’s behalf. He would probably be too practical to care, but it hurt her to think of Sicarius making a gift of his most valued belonging, only to have the recipient shun it.
“It’s a handy blade,” Amaranthe said. “If you’re not going to use it, I’m sure he’d like it back.”
“I’ll get it then.” It was only in Sespian’s eyes that he said “good riddance,” but the words hung in the air nonetheless. “I don’t know why you worry about him, Am-Corporal Lokdon. About what he thinks. If you knew half of what he’d done, you wouldn’t choose to spend time with him. He’s heartless and inhuman.”
Amaranthe wanted to argue Sicarius’s merits, but she doubted Sespian was ready to hear them. Instead she opted for, “Nobody’s born inhuman. But some people… the world sculpts with a cruel hand. Perhaps they’re the ones who most need us to spend time with them.”
Sespian’s shoulders sagged, and Amaranthe sensed that she’d made him feel guilty. It wasn’t exactly what she wished to do, but perhaps it was a start down the right path.
Chapter 20
The oars rose and dipped in an easy rhythm that belied the tension that had to be lurking behind the rower’s mask. Amaranthe tried, every time Sicarius met her eyes, to give him significant now-would-be-a-good-time-for- your-private-conversation looks. She, Sicarius, and Sespian were the only ones in the boat. The craggy forest- shrouded rocks of Marblecrest Island were falling behind, and the beaches near Markworth had yet to come into
