Emperor's Edge Republic (62 page)

The bullet slammed into the rifleman’s eye. He jerked, his weapon clattering free, and slumped onto the tank. Amaranthe shifted around the hatch to check on Deret’s fight, only to see him at the edge of the opening, clutching his shoulder, his hand washed in blood. The remaining rifleman was kneeling, prepared to shoot again.

Without taking time to aim, Amaranthe fired at the sniper. The bullet hammered into his chest, and he flew backward, the rifle escaping his grip. It banged on the edge of the tank and dropped off, falling to the ground twenty feet below.

Deret was trying to get to his feet, but that wasn’t a good idea, not with people firing from below.

“Stay down,” Amaranthe said and reached for him.

“I—” He jerked back to avoid someone’s fire, but he was already on the edge of the hole. His foot landed on empty air and he pitched backward.

Amaranthe had been using the hatch for cover and had to lunge around it. She didn’t reach him in time. He disappeared through the hole, banging his head on the way through. A splash came up from below—
far
below.

While she had been trying to grab him, the first of the reinforcements had climbed over the edge of the tank. There wasn’t time to leap over the hole and try to kick him off the ladder. He was already raising his pistol to shoot.

If she had been alone, Amaranthe would have thrown her weapon at him and jumped to the next tank, trying to find an escape route through the equipment-filled shadows below, but Deret might be drowning at that very second.

She grabbed the hatch and jumped into the hole, pulling it shut behind her. The resonating clang came at the same time as utter darkness swallowed her.

Chapter 24

O
ne of the front doors of the
Gazette
building stood open, creaking in the breeze. The lanterns on either side of the entryway had either burned out or had never been lit. Sicarius’s first impression was that the building had been abandoned as part of the evacuation, but would the newspaper employees have left that door open? He doubted they could have cleared out all of the printing presses and supplies in the hours since the evacuation had been announced. They should have locked up to protect against looting.

After ensuring he was alone on the street, he jogged up the stairs and slipped past the partially open door. Darkness waited inside as well, though a number of odors lingered, suggesting recent occupancy. The scents of kerosene mingled with those of stale sweat, lemongrass incense, and—he wandered into the big office area a few paces, sniffing gently—apple brandy. A bottle had been left open on one of the desks, a desk with two chairs beside it instead of one. One had been tipped over and the other pushed back crookedly. Sicarius ran a hand lightly over the standing seat and found a strand of hair caught in one of the metal fasteners. He hadn’t lit a lantern and couldn’t discern color, but it was the right length to belong to Amaranthe.

So, she and Deret had been drinking when some of those robed priests had come in the front door. Or perhaps only Deret had been drinking. Unless Amaranthe was trying to woo someone to her cause, she wasn’t the type to swig from a bottle with another.

Sicarius examined the other chair, but it did not give any clues. He surmised that the priests had burst in and kidnapped Amaranthe and Deret, but where would they have been taken? He walked around the rest of the floor and checked the basement as well, but determined that the group had merely passed through. The back door wasn’t flapping in the breeze, but it
was
unlocked.

The night air had swept away the scents of those who might have walked across the loading dock and into the alley, but he found a manhole cover ajar. He fetched a lantern from the building before heading into the tunnels, knowing the strong underground scents would similarly hide the subtler nasal clues. He would have to rely on sight and perhaps touch to track people through the subterranean passage, but he would do it. That many men would leave a sign, a scrap of cloth on a jagged wall stone, a patch of mildew smeared by a boot print, a discarded cigarette stub. He would follow them, he would find Amaranthe, and if he found out Deret had in anyway facilitated this kidnapping, he would kill the man.

• • • • •

Sespian pulled two blasting sticks out of his shirt where he had insanely elected to store them while he had fought with the priests. Though Ms. Sarevic’s explosives seemed more stable than many, he felt fortunate he hadn’t taken a serious hit to the chest.

“There are cannons mounted on that lorry,” Mahliki whispered. She was on the other side of the lorry bed, watching the military vehicle approach. Neither of the priests Sespian had knocked out had stirred; he hoped he hadn’t killed either one. Though it was hard to muster sympathy for men who had intended to blow up the president with cannon fire, they
were
Turgonians, however misguided, not enemies from some distant land. Besides, Mahliki had clearly been uncomfortable after Sespian had killed the last man, despite her light words. He had seen through that attempt to show him she was fine. She might have experienced all sorts of dangers when roaming the world with her father and mother, but Sespian wagered Starcrest had been clever enough to extricate his family from trouble without killing people. Why couldn’t
he
be that clever? All he had been thinking was to protect her, but he dreaded the idea of her looking at him and seeing Sicarius.

“Harpoons too,” Mahliki added. “That warehouse is doomed if we can’t take over that lorry or divert it somehow.”

“I have a blasting stick here,” Sespian said. “That ought to divert it.”

“Think they’ll be smart enough to jump from the cab when they see it land in front of the lorry?”

“Yes.” Maybe.

While he didn’t
want
to kill anyone else, he wasn’t sure how sympathetic he would feel toward anyone dumb enough
not
to jump out of the way at the sight of a lit blasting stick. He was still appalled that the practitioner had roasted his own comrade. From their actions, and Mahliki’s words, Sespian suspected they were dealing with a bunch of self-taught Akstyr types.

He scraped the match along one of the rough fold-down benches, and the bulbous head flared to life. After a quick glance to make sure the vehicle had come within range, he lifted the stick to light it.

“Wait,” Mahliki blurted, lunging over to catch Sespian’s arm before he touched match to fuse. “Those aren’t priests.”

“Then who?” Dare he hope the actual
military
was driving that military vehicle?

“That’s Dak and...” Mahliki jumped to her feet. “Mother! What is she doing down here? She has her bow.”

Sespian extinguished the match and pushed aside the flap. “I hope they have a bunch of soldiers too.”

An explosion sounded, and for a crazy instant, Sespian thought he had somehow managed to light his blasting stick. He snorted at himself. “It was a little farther away than that.”

He poked his head outside and risked leaning around the corner of the vehicle, figuring that the priests would be too busy looking at the explosion to be worrying about the people in the back of their new lorry. But in the already fading light, he couldn’t see beyond the front two vehicles. The soldiers must be attacking the lorries, boxing in the warehouse from the opposite end of the street. Maybe they had figured out a way to extend the reach of their blasting sticks.

Another boom came from that direction. Glass shattered and crashed to the ground somewhere, and shouts came from the priests in the nearby lorries, though Sespian couldn’t make out the words. He hoped they were orders to retreat.

“Looks like Dak and Mother are thinking about firing in this direction,” Mahliki said. “I’m hopping down to join them. You coming?”

“If they don’t know we’re here and they’re planning to fire at us? Absolutely.” Sespian had probably already risked his neck by sticking it out there. It was dark enough that Tikaya and Dak wouldn’t be able to tell who he was by the back of his head. “Not being that smart tonight, Sespian,” he told himself and climbed outside.

Mahliki had already climbed down. After a quick check to make sure she wasn’t in anyone’s line of fire, she ran toward the approaching vehicle, waving as she went. Sespian trotted after her, making sure to keep the rifle pointed downward until he was sure he was close enough to be recognized. Tikaya pushed open the door to the cab, grabbed her daughter before she had finished swinging up, and engulfed her in a hug. Sespian climbed in behind the driver, a corporal who didn’t look any older than he, and almost tripped over Maldynado on his way to report to Colonel Starcrest.

“Ouch,” Maldynado moaned when Sespian caught a toe underfoot. Why was the man barefoot? And sitting on the floor?

“Sorry,” Sespian said.

“No, no, that was great. I
felt
that.” Maldynado beamed up at him.

Before Sespian could attempt to decipher that, Dak gripped his shoulder. “Good to see you two. Rias still in the warehouse?”

“Yes. We came out to... There were practitioners, that is, and we thought it would be a good idea to keep them busy.”

“It was my idea,” Mahliki said, pulling away from her mother’s embrace. “Sespian was good enough to come along and keep me from getting myself killed.”

Another explosion rocked the street. Sespian wished he could see around the lorries in front of them to the warehouse and the vehicles beyond. Were the president’s men throwing randomly, or had someone with an exceedingly good arm come out who could reach the lorries with the sticks?

“Your father approved of that?” Tikaya frowned.

“Father... was busy in the submarine.”

Tikaya turned the frown onto Sespian, as if
he
could have stopped Mahliki from risking her life. He raised his hands, pleading... if not innocence, then an inability to sway her.

“We have no allies we have to worry about in those three lorries?” Dak pointed at the vehicle Sespian had left and the two in front of it.

The robed figures must have all ducked into the cabs at this fresh barrage of blasting sticks, for no one occupied the street around them. Except for those who had fallen to Sespian’s and Mahliki’s hands. He eyed the unmoving practitioner and the man he had burned. “No,” he said grimly. “No allies.”

“Cannons,” Dak told the driver. “Clear the way.”

The corporal reached for the switches on the weapons control panel, but hesitated, chewing on his lip. “Are you sure, sir? Those are
our
vehicles.”

“Quite sure.” Dak’s smile seemed a touch vindictive. “I’ll hand Rias the bill.” He seemed to anticipate Tikaya arching her eyebrows in his direction, for he told her, “As punishment for being late on his hourly report to me.”

The corporal paled, perhaps thanking his ancestors that
he
had never been late with a report.

“You didn’t receive a message?” Mahliki asked. “We thought one of the men might have gotten away to deliver one. How did you know we were in trouble?”

“By the
lack
of a report.” Dak tapped the back of the corporal’s chair. “Those cannons, if you please.”

“Yes, sir.” This time, the soldier didn’t hesitate to pull a lever and punch a button labeled “Ignite.”

The truck reverberated with a soft thud, and before Sespian fully realized the weapon had launched, the back of the lorry in front of them exploded in a blaze of brilliant yellow and orange so bright he had to shield his eyes.

“What was
in
the back of that lorry?” Maldynado asked. He had managed to find a standing position, though he was leaning heavily on a pole.

“A cannon,” Mahliki said.

“And several kegs of powder,” Sespian added.

Mahliki raised her eyebrows at him. “You didn’t mention that.”

“They were in the front of the bed.” Sespian would have had to lead her across another inert body and had decided she didn’t need that experience.

“Glad I won’t be the one handing the president that bill,” Maldynado said as the flames died down, revealing the utter obliteration of the vehicle.

“It was his idea to employ me here.” Dak pointed. “The next lorry, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir.”

This time, the target didn’t blow up. The ball plunged straight through, crunching metal, and disappearing into the cab. Sespian was relieved there wasn’t a big explosion, because he was certain there were people in the front of the vehicle. They ought to have a chance to surrender.

“Watch the plant.” Tikaya waved toward the shoreline, where the green swaying stalks rose so high that they blotted out the sky in that direction. “I’m sure it’s my imagination, but it almost seems like it’s being drawn to us.”

“It’s not your imagination, Mother. A huge vine smashed in the window of the warehouse and grabbed Father after he charred a lesser one with his electricity generator. The plant has been extremely feisty tonight.”

“Tell me about it,” Maldynado said, flexing his toes.

“Oh, that reminds me. I’ll be right back.” Mahliki squirmed past Maldynado and Sespian and darted into the alley where she had left the generator.

“Fire, Corporal,” Dak said, though he was watching Mahliki, leaning in that direction as if he meant to retrieve her himself if she didn’t return promptly.

Only a few seconds passed before she reappeared at the mouth of the alley. She glanced both ways before running back to the lorry and climbing into the cab. “Can’t lose Father’s prototype. He didn’t exactly approve my taking it.”

“He didn’t approve or he wasn’t
aware
of?” Dak asked as another cannonball shot away.

“It was one of those two scenarios, yes.”

Dak gave her a look that could have withered a mighty warrior.

Mahliki smiled.

Sespian bit back a smile of his own. She wasn’t daunted by much, not even the surly colonel.

“Are there any other reinforcements coming, sir?” Sespian asked.

“The rest of my men are busy putting out the fire at the hotel,” Dak said.