Emperor's Edge Republic (34 page)

They managed to simultaneously glare at Maldynado and thump their fists to their chests and bow toward Sespian.

Maldynado ignored them. “Now, what were you saying, Sespian?”

“That I didn’t tell Starcrest. About the accident.”

“Oh.” Maldynado slumped. So much for having been strategically placed here. Did the president truly think him able of doing no more than shoveling dirt? “Why not?”

“He’s running back and forth between trying to salvage that submarine, trying to help his daughter with the plant research, and trying to appease the thousand and one people who want to meet with him at every hour of the day. I’m sure construction mishaps aren’t a priority for him.”

“This is going to be
his
house,” Maldynado said. “For the next five years at least. I’m sure he cares.”

“I’ll figure out what’s going on and ensure nothing more goes wrong,” Sespian said. “There’s no need to bother him.”

“Well, then I can help
you
.” Yes, that could work. And Sespian would let Starcrest know how useful Maldynado had been. “You’re a conspicuous sight around here. I, on the other hand, am—”

“Shovel Head, you’re not bothering Lord Sespian, are you?” The foreman rushed up, walking, bowing, and apologizing at the same time.

Sespian faced the man, though he looked like he would have preferred to talk with Maldynado instead. Maldynado decided to take that as a promising sign.

“Foreman Bakost, as I’ve told you, I’m not a lord anything. You can simply call me Sespian. Or Mister Savarsin if you prefer formality. And no, Maldynado is not bothering me.”

“We’ve had a little trouble this morning,” the foreman said, “but nothing that will delay the building. Are those the updates to the rear elevation? Come to my office, and we’ll take a look.” He extended his arm toward the shack on the corner of the lot. Office. Right. Maldynado had seen it. A tiny room with a desk made from used apple crates hardly qualified.

Sespian headed off with the man, but he met Maldynado’s eyes over his shoulder and nodded.

Maldynado perked up. Sespian’s words might not be tantamount to imperial orders anymore, but he had Starcrest’s ear, so doing good work for him might be noticed by the president himself. And if the boy ever opened his eyes and start paying attention to that fine young woman who was mooning after him, he could even become the president’s son-in-law.

• • • • •

Shortly after dawn, Amaranthe grew tired of pacing. She packed a bag, strapped her sword-and-pistol belt to her waist, and left her room in the hotel. Ominous black clouds marked the sky, and it scarcely seemed that daylight had come, but she could stare at the ceiling and wait no longer. Sicarius hadn’t returned to their room at any point last night. She had slept fitfully and had finally given up on trying. In most cases, she would trust that he could take care of himself, but this new assassin had her worried.

Amaranthe grabbed the first trolley and headed into town, intending to visit Ms. Sarevic’s Custom Works. She didn’t know if she could get into the fortress of a workshop uninvited, but she didn’t know where else to go. She was supposed to be looking for a Maker, but surely figuring out who had attacked the submarine in the first place was just as important. What if they got the
Explorer
fixed, only to have it be targeted again? Besides, Sicarius would have more of a clue than she as to where to find a practitioner in the city. At the moment, Sarevic was Amaranthe’s only lead for anything.

The trolley stopped at the corner of Fountain and Fifth, the construction site of the building Sespian had designed, and she spotted a familiar form strolling about amongst some debris. She jumped off on a whim. Though she had no reason to believe Sicarius would have stopped to talk to Maldynado, it would only take a few minutes to check, and another trolley would roll through soon.

By the time she picked her way past piles of earth, dumpsters, and the pieces of a cement lorry—how odd that it was spread all over in pieces, and, dear ancestors, what had happened to that boiler?—Maldynado was down on his hands and knees, his butt thrust into the air as he peered under a steam dozer.

“This is the work President Starcrest found for you, eh?” Amaranthe asked.

A clunk sounded—Maldynado’s head hitting the frame. Grumbling and grabbing his skull, he wiggled backward and sat up. “Amaranthe?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Though... I have noticed that all the other workers here are wearing those hard metal hats, perhaps designed to protect one’s head from bumps.”

“Hideous, aren’t they?” Maldynado stood up. He had something in the hand that wasn’t busy holding his head.

“But effective, I’d wager. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sicarius today?”

“No, and if we limited ourselves to wearing headgear simply because it served some purpose, how tedious would that be? I’ve been thinking of designing these fellows something more stylish to wear on the job.” While Maldynado rambled, he squinted at the blackened metal disk in his hand, something with what might have been a switch sticking out of one side. It looked like it had survived a fire. “Does this look suspicious to you?” he asked.

“In what way?”

“Like it could have caused a boiler gauge to misread or for a boiler to heat up too quickly or... something? I don’t know. Considering how many boilers our team has blown up, you’d think I would be an expert on the topic, but I haven’t
intentionally
sabotaged that many.”

“It doesn’t look like much to me.” Amaranthe took it from Maldynado’s hand. She withdrew her kerchief, spit on the disk, and rubbed it.

“When I gave that to you, I thought you would use your enforcer investigation skills to deduce where it had come from. I didn’t expect you to
clean
it.”

“Really? You gave me something dirty and didn’t expect me to clean it?”

“Er, yes, I suppose I should have known better.”

“Maybe you did some damage when you hit your head.” Amaranthe held up the disk. Rain had started spitting from the dark sky, and there was no sun to gleam against the metal, but she believed it
would
gleam now if given the opportunity. She squinted at a tiny mark on the side opposite from the broken switch. “
That’s
interesting. And not a coincidence, I’ll wager.”

“What?” Maldynado leaned in. “Oh, I remember that little mark. Isn’t that from the shop that supplied us those blasting sticks last fall? The shop you later cleaned and organized as some form of payment—or because you simply like doing such things?”

“Ms. Sarevic’s Custom Works. I am more convinced than ever that I need to pay the place a visit. What sabotage did you say had been done? That cement lorry?”

“Yes, and another lorry yesterday, Sespian said. He’s around somewhere, talking to the foreman.”

“Is he? Maybe he’s seen Sicarius.”

“Are you going to visit that shop now?” Maldynado pointed at her short sword and pistol. “You’re dressed for war.”

“I’m not sure why Ms. Sarevic’s mark is all over the city right now—” All right, finding it in
two
places might not count as “all over the city,” but it was starting to feel like the woman was providing the other side with all too much help, “—nor am I certain why she would be putting her mark on devices being used for sabotage, but I’m guessing she won’t want to sit down and tell me about it without persuasion.”

“Then you’ll need me along. My fists can be impressively persuasive, in case our collective charms don’t work.”

In truth, Amaranthe wouldn’t mind company, especially with Sicarius missing, but she didn’t want to get Maldynado in trouble. “You’re volunteering to walk away from your new job? Have you even been working here a full day?”

“No.”

“A full morning?”

“That depends on what time it is,” Maldynado said. “I shoveled a lot of dirt in the first two hours I was here. But then that lorry blew up, and Sespian came by, and it was clear he wanted me to be his special on-the-ground investigator.”

“I see. That’s what he called it?”

“No, he didn’t call it anything.”

“What did he say, then?”

“He didn’t really say anything. He, ah, looked back at me and nodded.”

“No room for misinterpretation there, eh?” Amaranthe asked. “Why don’t we find him and make sure he won’t mind you abandoning his construction site for a shinier mission?” And she wanted to ask him about Sicarius—if there was one person in the world Sicarius would delay returning to Amaranthe for, it was Sespian, especially if someone was mucking around, sabotaging his son’s construction site. Might Sespian be a target as well? Or maybe this was meant to discredit him somehow.

“I’m sure he’ll corroborate my interpretation of the nod,” Maldynado said.

They walked across the site, with more than one shovel-toting worker glowering at Maldynado.

“Did you offend all of these people somehow,” Amaranthe asked, “or are they simply upset that they’re working hard and you’re not?”

“They’re upset that they’re wearing those ridiculous hats and I’m not,” Maldynado said.

“Ah, of course. I should have reached that conclusion.”

The rain picked up in intensity, and Amaranthe wondered how much longer anyone would be working. From the black clouds hanging over the mountains in the east, it looked like it could storm all day. Maldynado lifted a hand to knock on the door of a wooden shack. It opened first, and a man with a gray mustache and beard strode out, almost crashing into his chest.

“Shovel Head,” the man snarled. “Didn’t I tell you to get back to work?”

“Uhm,” Maldynado said.

“Explain the nod,” Amaranthe whispered.

The man—foreman?—faced her, and she braced herself for another snarl, but he tipped his hard hat instead and asked, “Help you, ma’am?”

“They’re here to see me, I believe,” Sespian said from inside the shack. He stood before a desk propped up on crates, with unrolled blueprints stretched across the surface.

“Oh?” The fellow sighed sadly, gave Amaranthe a friendly smile, tipped his hat again, and said, “I’ll leave you, then.”

“Thank you for the use of your office,” Sespian said. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

“No hurry, boss. You’re the architect. You can use anything you wish.” The foreman had taken no more than three steps before his snarls returned, along with bellows and orders for his men to get back to work and not let cloud spittle slow them down.

As Amaranthe stepped inside, Maldynado said, “Now I understand. He’s one of those sexually frustrated types. Nice to the ladies, in hopes that one of them will take a liking to him, but grumpier than a dunked cat to those who are clearly competition.” Maldynado artfully tossed his wavy brown curls around to shed water from them.

“You’re sure he’s not bitter because he’s stuck wearing one of those hats too?” Amaranthe asked.

Maldynado snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Another valid possibility.”

Sespian watched this exchange with a bemused expression.

Amaranthe decided not to try to explain. “Good morning, Sespian. I’m looking for Sicarius. Also, Maldynado believes he should accompany me on an investigation. Can you help me on either count?”

“I haven’t seen Sicarius,” Sespian said. “As for Maldynado, I believe he’s free to do as he wishes. He volunteered to work for the president, but I don’t believe any contract was signed.”

“But I’m working for you,” Maldynado said, thrusting out the shard of metal. “Investigating, remember?”

As Amaranthe had suspected, that nod must have meant more to Maldynado than to Sespian.

“What is that?” Sespian touched the broken switch on the metal husk. “Something that fell off a lorry?”

“It’s from the same place as the blasting stick that damaged the submarine,” Amaranthe said. “Maldynado thought you’d like to send him with me to investigate.”

“The lorry explosion may be related to the submarine explosion,” Maldynado said.

“That seems... an unlikely stretch,” Sespian said, “but I have no objection to you going with Amaranthe. You may want to check with the foreman though. He seems fond of you.”

“Oh sure,” Maldynado said. “We’re closer than brothers.”

“Given your relationship with your brothers, that might actually be true,” Amaranthe murmured.

“I could come with you to the shop, too,” Sespian said. “I’m done here. I wouldn’t mind asking your opinion on something,” he told Amaranthe. “Maybe both of your opinions.”

Maldynado gave him a sly grin. “This is about the girl, isn’t it?”

“No. Definitely not.” Sespian shuffled through the papers on the desk, found a pencil, and tucked it in his satchel. “Maybe slightly.”

“Girl?” Amaranthe raised her eyebrows.

“Mah-leeee-keee,” Maldynado drawled with a wink.

“Let’s start on this errand, shall we?” Sespian sounded brisk and professional, but his cheeks were as bright as hot embers. He bumped his hip on the table, knocking it off the crate it balanced on and dumping the blueprints on the floor. Cursing under his breath, he fumbled about, trying to set everything right. Interesting, considering Sespian had previously demonstrated that he had inherited some of his father’s agility.

“Mahliki?” Amaranthe mouthed to Maldynado while Sespian pushed the table back onto its less-than-staunch legs.

Maldynado nodded once, his chin dropping all the way to his chest.

That could be a good match
, Amaranthe signed.

She thinks so
, Maldynado signed.
He’s still trying to figure it out
.

Boys can be obtuse at times.
Amaranthe smiled, thinking of Sicarius, though he hadn’t been obtuse exactly. More like reticent.

“Young ones especially,” Maldynado said.

“Hm?” Sespian asked. He had finished arranging his blueprints on the desk and turned to face them.

“Nothing,” Amaranthe said. “We’re ready to go whenever you are.”

They left the construction site, taking a side street back toward the trolley thoroughfare. Lightning flashed in the northern sky, and thunder rumbled shortly after. The intermittent rain might turn into a downpour soon. Amaranthe hoped they wouldn’t have to wait long for the trolley, a hope that faded when she spotted a crowd at the street corner. There had to be nearly fifty of them, standing, gesturing, and spilling into the street.