The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 8 Pt. 3

In the center of the throng, a young man stood locked into a pillory, wrists and neck bound by heavy timbers. Expletives flew through the air along with rotten apples. The freezing temperatures gave the fruit the authority of stones, as evinced by a number of bruises swelling on the man’s face. Hardly a man. Dressed in oversized clothing, he appeared no more than sixteen or seventeen. On one hand, he bore the circle-and-arrow brand of the Black Arrows. The last time she had seen the mark had been on one of the infected men in the dungeon. They could only be dead now, she thought darkly. Across the back of the prisoner’s shirt, someone had chalked WIZARD. That accounted for the flying fruit.

The gang brand on the young man’s hand almost made Amaranthe reject him without further consideration, but the clouds started unloading snow, and the crowd thinned in response. She edged closer.

“What’s the matter, lady?” His teeth chattered. Fat snowflakes fell and landed on his bare hands and unprotected head. “You forget your apple?”

“I’m not a lady,” she said, sympathetic to his shivers. “My name is Amaranthe.”

“Like I care.”

She withdrew her sympathy. If Maldynado had been charming, this boy was his utter opposite.

“Are you really a wizard?” She doubted it but wondered how he had been insinuated. She was surprised none of his underworld brethren had come to help him escape, or at least ward off the fruit throwers. Shattered apples lay on the ground at his feet, the scent of their rotten insides overpowering the crisp smell of snow.

“You stupid or something?” he asked. “No one in the empire would be crazy enough to practice the mental sciences. They hang you for that.”

Amaranthe’s head jerked up. He had not replied with the familiar Turgonian mantra: magic does not exist. Even more interesting, he had used the term ‘mental sciences,’ like Sicarius did when referring to magic.

“Then why are you locked up?” she asked.

“Accusations, that’s all.”

“Who did the accusing?”

A surge of hurt and anger flashed across his face before he turned it into a snarl. “Doesn’t matter. Leave me alone, lady.”

“Amaranthe,” she corrected. “Amaranthe Lokdon.”

“Still don’t care.”

Oh yes, this one would be a pleasure to work with. “Would you care if I could get you out of that contraption?”

“Don’t need your help.”

“No? Those contusions on your face suggest otherwise. I’ve seen relief maps of mountain ranges with fewer bumps.”

He snorted. “Once it gets dark and people haul out of this square, I can get out on my own. I don’t need your help.” His gaze slid to the gang mark on his hand. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Ah, betrayed by his comrades, was it? That would make one bitter.

“Planning to use magic to get free?” she asked.

“I told you, no one uses magic in the empire. Cowards here are all scared of it, and there ain’t no one you can trust to watch your back if you wanted to learn.”

“I see. And it’s important to have someone at your back?”

“Unless you’re powerful good and can conjure up a bodyguard. The mental sciences take fierce concentration, and that makes you vulnerable to enemies while you’re working your art.”

A couple bundled against the snow shuffled through the edge of the square, and Amaranthe lowered her voice. If she was not careful, she might find herself strung up next to this fellow for reasons that had nothing to do with her past actions. “Why do you call it science instead of magic?’

“That’s what it is: mastery of the mind. Using your brain to move and create things. It’s not about praying to gods or chanting no stupid rituals like ign’ant folks think. That’s just a show.”

“What if I could offer you protection?” she said.

“You? Some businesswoman who doesn’t even carry a knife?”

“I have a comrade who is gifted with weapons.” Amaranthe wondered how Sicarius would feel about her using him to sway people to her cause. Unfortunately, he was her only asset. “If you would be willing to work for me, I’ll see to it that you have food, a place to sleep, and someone to watch over you while you practice your ‘science.’”

“Like I said, I’m not a wizard. And I’m not in a hurry to trust anyone like that. Trust is for fools who don’t know any better.”

“My comrade would probably agree with you. But consider this: while you may not be able to trust people to do what’s in your best interest, you can always trust them to do what’s in their best interest. I need a couple of men to work for me, so I can reach my goals. That means I’m going to do everything I can to take care of them, because without them, I fail. I’m giving you a chance to use me, and the comrade I can supply, to reach your own goals. We both win in this situation. No unwarranted trust required.”

“Lady, you keep talking like I care.”

Amaranthe shrugged and turned away. If nothing else, she had learned something about these mental sciences everyone seemed to know more about than she.

“Who’s your friend?”

“What?” She turned back.

“The one you keep talking about. How am I supposed to know if he’s good enough to be some wizard’s bodyguard?”

“You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you his.”

“Akstyr.”

Amaranthe glanced left and right, then stepped closer to him. “Have you heard the name Sicarius?”

He tried to throw back his head and laugh, but the pillory restricted the movement. “Yes, and if you think I believe he’d be working with a nosey businesswoman, you’re dumber than the drooling lawmen who locked me up.”

She wondered if there had been a long line of Black Arrows fighting for the pleasure of turning Akstyr over to the enforcers. “The icehouse on Fourth and Wharf Street. Meet us there in the morning, and you can see if I’m lying.”

“Whatever.”

Akstyr turned his face away and stared resolutely into the falling snow. Conversation over, his set jaw declared. Amaranthe hesitated, then took off her gloves and stuffed them over his hands. She put her fur cap on his head. Even if he could free himself after nightfall, that was hours away and he was not dressed for the cold. The youth gave no indication he appreciated the gesture.

She left, wondering if she had succeeded in winning anyone’s aid or simply wasted one of the precious few days she had. At least Maldynado would help, assuming she won her bet. Her weariness and the heavy snowfall precluded further adventures, so she headed back, wondering how to convince Sicarius to take on a dueling match.