Emperor's Edge Republic (10 page)

Sespian lifted his chin. “I was told the judging was done blind, without names on the designs.”

“Sure it was.”

Some of Sespian’s sheepishness was fading. It would be childish, he supposed, to shove the sneering man into the pool, and even less acceptable to hold his head under.

“Sespian, you coming?” Maldynado called from the large pool. “I need to ask you something.”

“Good evening, Professor. Gentlemen.” Sespian was proud that he kept his tone cordial.

He was even more proud—and stunned—that he had won. He had only dared hope to make a good showing. Sure, he would have to finish his formal schooling, but maybe he could look forward to a successful career sooner rather than later. Clients might start offering him work before he finished his education. He had no delusions about becoming wealthy as an architect, but he could at least afford better scraps for Trog.

By the time he hopped into the water beside Maldynado, he had forgotten the surly architects.

“Listen, Sespian,” Maldynado said. “I could use a favor. I need to get in to see President Starcrest, and I thought if you were visiting with his daughter, well, I could come with you and sort of slip in between his appointments.”

Busy dwelling on the ramifications of his victory, Sespian almost missed Maldynado’s words. “Slip in?” he asked after a moment. “Why can’t you get an appointment on your own? He’d see you.”

“I am... less confident of that than you are. I may have tried a little too hard at Books’s funeral, going on about statues. And then there was that incident with Evrial and me barging into that office while there was a meeting going on...” Maldynado cleared his throat. “It’s possible he thinks I’m a buffoon.”

Sespian decided not to mention that he’d often thought that of Maldynado as well. “I’m not seeing Mahliki, at least not in any capacity that would cause me to call upon her at home. I, ah... might check on her though, as I’m surprised she hasn’t contacted me yet for the diving suit mission. It’s possible she’s found another. I wasn’t as... enthusiastic about helping as I might have been. At the time, I was still finishing up with—”

“Sespian, if you can help me get into see Starcrest, I’ll help you get the girl.”

“But I’m not trying to get the girl.”

Maldynado rolled his eyes. “Why
not
? She’s pretty and smart and
your age
.” He emphasized this final fact with a pointed stare.

So, everyone on the team had learned of Sespian’s past... infatuation with Amaranthe. How lovely. He was over that now, though. He had smiled at a few of the women he’d passed in the halls at the university, and some had even smiled back. Of course, every time he had chatted with someone, the conversations had ended up on such subjects as homework, tests, and overbearing parents—all trite topics after the life-and-death situations he had survived. Sespian had found himself more likely to converse with his professors, people who didn’t intimidate him the way they did the other students, not after he had grown up around sword-spitting generals. But neither fifty-year-old professors nor sword-spitting generals tended to interest him on romantic levels, so his winter had been rather... chaste.

“Actually, she’s two years younger than I am,” Sespian said, “and I think you’re mistaken that her interest lies this way. Given my... dubious heritage and current circumstances, her parents wouldn’t consider me a suitable suitor for their daughter.” Not to mention that the idea of approaching President Starcrest and asking if he could court Mahliki was terrifying. The man hadn’t said a cross word to him, but Sespian couldn’t help but feel inadequate around the war hero. He was someone who had deserved to rule a nation all along. Sespian had never been more than a pretender, a day-dreaming callow one at that.

Maldynado snorted. “First off, I don’t know what century you think you’re living in, but I highly doubt the Starcrests are going to arrange a marriage for her or have much say whatsoever in who she sees. Second, girls that age don’t pay attention to the wishes of their fathers anyway. Lastly—” Maldynado turned his head, frowning at something behind them.

A draft of cold air gusted across Sespian’s bare shoulders, and he sank lowered into the pool. Maldynado’s hand landed on his head, shoving him under. Water deluged his nostrils, his backside slipped off the seat, and he almost cracked his skull on the concrete.

Sespian swam out of Maldynado’s reach before coming up, wondering what stray boulder had knocked his ore cart off its tracks. He swiped water from his eyes, clearing his vision in time to see Maldynado’s backside as he sprinted through the steam toward the changing rooms.

Surprise gave way to wariness. Just because nobody had tried to assassinate him for a while didn’t mean it couldn’t ever happen. He peered around for clues and spotted one of the grumpy architects walking over to a potted banana tree. He plucked an arrow from the dirt, its fletching bright with green and blue. Even from a distance, Sespian knew it wasn’t a Turgonian design. He peered back and forth from the pot to the changing room doors. Direct line, and his head would have been in it. He might owe Maldynado a bigger favor than getting him in to see the president.

Several other people grabbed towels and stomped in the direction Maldynado had gone, either to find the idiot shooting arrows into the baths or to get out of there before more trouble came. In Turgonia, it could go either way.

The architect tossed the arrow into the pool in front of Sespian. “I believe that was meant for you.”

“I gathered that, thank you.” Sespian squinted at the man, wondering if he was disappointed it hadn’t taken his head off, or if he might have even had prior knowledge of the attack. There wasn’t a monetary prize attached to winning the design competition, and it was hard to believe someone would kill over losing, but he had seen crazier things.

After delivering the arrow, the man merely shrugged and walked back to the other architects, grabbing a towel and pointing back and forth from the pot to the doorway, pantomiming what had happened for those who hadn’t seen it. Surely a guilty man would charge out of there as quickly as possible—and wouldn’t have drawn attention to himself by retrieving the arrow. An arrow, Sespian realized, that had paper tied around the shaft. He plucked it out, lest whatever message it contained be dissolved in the water.

Feeling vulnerable in the pool—alone now, for everyone else had retreated from the baths—Sespian climbed out. He wrapped a towel around himself and put his back to an alcove, one that would let him watch the rest of the chamber—and keep an eye on those doors—while examining the arrow more closely. More specifically, he untied the note.

In crisp, tidy penmanship, it read,
I did not have to miss. You owe me your life. I may wish to collect a favor.
It wasn’t signed, but at the bottom of the small page, the language switched for the final two lines. It reminded him of Nurian, but he would have been able to read Nurian, most of it anyway. This... was gibberish to him. As was the notion that he ought to owe someone a favor for threatening his life, though it did seem in line with what he knew of Nurian logic. He examined the fletching again. The brightness of the feathers could have been Nurian, for that culture loved its colors, but it hadn’t come off a traditional war bow—the texts said those always had crimson-feathered arrows. The arrowhead had been napped from obsidian, and when he brushed an edge with his thumb, it drew blood.

“Reinforced and sharpened with magic?” he wondered.

Akstyr would have known if he were around, but Professor Komitopis might know as well. Also, she should be able to translate the rest of the note.

The steam by the changing rooms stirred, and Sespian tensed, ready to use the arrow for a weapon if he had to. But it was Maldynado jogging back toward him, grimacing and grabbing at his foot every few steps. His hand came away bloody. He hadn’t stopped to put on any clothes or even grab a towel.

“Didn’t get him,” Maldynado said, “sorry.”

“Did you see who made the shot?” Sespian held up the arrow.

“Sort of. Not when he made it though. It was too steamy back there. But I heard the back door clang when I ran into the changing room, and I sprinted out into the alley. I wouldn’t have seen a thing if I hadn’t had a hunch and looked up. Someone lean and fast and dressed all in white with a bow on his back was climbing over the lip of the five-story building next door. I scrambled up the wall, but by the time I reached the roof, that white figure was five buildings away. He glanced back, saw me, then jumped down into the next alley. How he could have heard me following, I don’t know, because I’m not an amateur at such things, even if I wasn’t—ahem!—properly clothed. Anyway, he must have had a rope or something I couldn’t see, because nobody jumps off a five-story building.”

“All in white, you say?” Sespian asked. “I guess it wasn’t Sicarius then.”

Maldynado snorted. “I thought you’d gotten over the notion that he might try to kill you someday.”

“I have, but your description... that just sounds like him.”

Maldynado scraped wet hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I guess it does. Isn’t that just what we need? Another Sicarius in the world.”

Sespian stared at the arrow for another moment, but it didn’t offer further enlightenment. Not to
his
eyes anyway. He hoped the weapon would tell a different tale to Professor Komitopis.

“That meeting with Starcrest you wanted,” Sespian said, “are you available tonight?”

“I can go right now.” Maldynado peered down at himself. “I might put on clothes first.”

“Yes... I believe the president’s office may have a dress code.”

Chapter 4

T
he night air smelled of jungle foliage, a strange scent for a lake bordering a city of a million people, and in a climate zone more suitable for oak and maple trees. Sicarius crouched on the hull of the submarine, the raised hatch at his back. Down below, Amaranthe was piloting the craft toward the docks. A niggling feeling made him want to tell her to veer toward another port. Though spring had come and the lake ice had melted, meaning berths on the waterfront should be accessible, dozens of ships were anchored a quarter mile or more from the shoreline, their masts and steam stacks creating a noticeable skyline against the flat, barren remains of Fort Urgot to the north.

Clouds obscured the stars, and Sicarius had only the gas streetlights of the city to rely upon to make out the waterfront. Interestingly, lamps that should have been lit along its main street were dark. The shadows held... he wasn’t sure, but more than pilings and docks rose up from the lake. Whatever lay over there, it might be the reason Starcrest had requested the return of the submarine.

“Amaranthe,” he called down. “We may want to dock to the north of the city.”

“Uhm, just a minute.”

Sicarius ducked his head through the hatchway. Amaranthe wasn’t at the controls.

“Are you cleaning again?” he asked.

“No.” A cupboard door clanged shut, the cupboard in the back—his ears told him—that contained a mop, broom, and various scrubbing implements. “Tidying perhaps.”

“The
Explorer
is sufficiently clean.”

“I know. But I want to return it in good order.” Amaranthe trotted past, heading for navigation. “Now what were you saying? Dock north? I thought you were eager to head straight into town, so we could do all the things we’ve missed out on for so long. Visit fine eating houses, see the latest plays, catch the spring wrestling matches, shop for a certain blend of tea...”

Sicarius snorted softly. On the way back, he
had
missed the intimate moments—intimate
hours
, he corrected with a measure of satisfaction—that they had enjoyed for most of the trip. But they must learn if the city was in danger before succumbing to somatic pleasures. As well, he felt compelled to promptly return the borrowed submarine. Admiral—
President
—Starcrest had been generous to loan it to them.

“If we dock in front of the old Fort Urgot grounds,” Sicarius said, “it is only a five-mile jog to the city.” He waited for her to make a comment in relation to his use of the word jog, something about his over eagerness to return to an exercise regimen so soon. Only she would say it in a humorous way.

Except she didn’t. For a long moment, Amaranthe said nothing, and a twinge of disappointment filled him. He reviewed his words to see if he could have said something that disturbed her. Ah, yes. Fort Urgot represented an immense emotional burden for her.

“That’s... not a part of the lake I want to visit again for some time. Or forever.” Her words sounded strained. She had probably wished them to sound nonchalant, but she couldn’t hide the feeling—the
pain
—behind them.

Sicarius considered alternatives that wouldn’t require them to visit that destination. “I do not believe we’ll be able to dock on the waterfront. There are piers on the other side of the lake by the ice mining camps, but that would require a much longer jog.” One that would still take them past Fort Urgot unless they took the longer route around the south end of the lake. In regard to emotional burdens, he found he did not particularly wish to revisit those ice camps. An illogical feeling, but he knew they would remind him of the night he had fought the soul construct, thought he had lost Sespian and Amaranthe forever, and had allowed himself to be enslaved by that wizard. “We could pull into a cove to the south of the city and swim to shore.”

Another long pause followed before Amaranthe responded. As they had conversed, the submarine had continued to sail closer to the city’s waterfront, and Sicarius could make out shapes in between the docks. Elongated trees growing out of the lake? That couldn’t be right. He wished he had his spyglass, but that had also been among the items the pirates stole.

“Here I wanted to head straight to a hotel for a nice evening with you, and all you can talk about is jogging and swimming,” Amaranthe said, having recovered some of her humor.

“It is my understanding that the tea takes a couple of days before it is effective,” Sicarius said. “It also seems unlikely that you could find someone to purchase it from this late at night.”