The Emperor's Edge 3: Deadly Games

The Emperor's Edge 3: Chapter 19 Part 1

Amaranthe straightened the crimson, braided-hide band across Basilard’s chest. Following in the Turgonian style, he wore it diagonally across a crisp white shirt with silver piping. According to imperial lore, the band was symbolic of the across-the-back sword scabbards the original conquerors had worn, a throwback to the days when the size of a man’s sword had indicated...well, no man had dared carry one any less than five feet long.

How do I look? he asked when she stepped back.

“Maldynado picked out your clothes and dressed you,” Amaranthe said. “How do you think you look?”

Fabulous?

“Correct. How’s your shoulder?” They had taken him to a surgeon to remove the pistol ball, and Akstyr had applied his healing fingers, but she was still surprised he had been able to compete in the final Clank Race. Compete and win. He’d said he had realized his purpose—or perhaps remembered it—down in that laboratory and had been motivated to kill himself, if that’s what it took, to earn dinner with the emperor.

Basilard rotated his shoulder. Good enough. How is your knee?

Amaranthe grimaced. “Also, good enough. Unfortunately. I was hoping for more of a vacation from our training regimen.” She glanced toward the doorway of the rail car, though she doubted Sicarius was anywhere nearby. He had been scarce the last three days, and she wondered if there was something he had not told her about the events below.

Sicarius does not know what a vacation is.

“I’ve noticed.” She could use one though. Earlier that day, she had talked to Keisha about Fasha’s death, and the weight of that failure, along with so many others, hung heavily about Amaranthe’s shoulders.

When I get to talk to the emperor, Basilard signed, what should I say about the team?

Everything, Amaranthe wanted to blurt. Basilard should tell Sespian how much they’d done for the empire, that they were responsible for stopping his assassins, for fixing the water supply when it was poisoned, and for saving the athletes. And he should let the emperor know Sicarius wasn’t the demon he once knew.

Amaranthe exhaled slowly. “Don’t say anything about us. That’ll get you thrown in the dungeon. You didn’t enter the Imperial Games using the name you go by now, so, with luck, he won’t know you’re part of a team of criminals. Wrongfully accused criminals, but criminals nonetheless. Just talk to him about what’s important to you.”

Basilard held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. I understand.

Amaranthe waved to Books, who was sighing dramatically and repeatedly as Maldynado fiddled with his clothes. Since he no longer had a bounty on his head, Books would go with Basilard to act as a translator. Sending two members of her team to see the emperor was risky, but this was Basilard’s dream. Besides, they were the quietest and least notorious of her crew.

What if we get thrown in the dungeon? Basilard asked, as if he had been reading her thoughts.

“We’ll rescue you, of course.” She patted him on his good shoulder and debated a moment before voicing her next thought. “I’m glad you chose...to set aside the past to try to improve the future.”

He stared at her. You know? That I meant to kill...

He did not finish. He didn’t need to. Amaranthe knew.

“You’d been glowering suspiciously in his direction for months,” she said quietly, so the others would not hear, “and then suddenly you were avoiding looking his way at all. And spending an inordinate amount of time with Akstyr.”

Oh.

“You don’t have to forgive people for their past crimes, but if you believe they can do future goods, perhaps it’s worth helping them along that path.”

Perhaps. It’s hard for one man to make those kinds of choices. Normally a priestess would advise.... Basilard grimaced. It doesn’t matter. No priestess will advise me any more. Even if I avenged our people, it wouldn’t make a difference. Not for me. I have no chance at redemption.

Amaranthe blew out a slow breath. What could she say to that? “I’ve noticed...every culture has a different notion of what the afterlife entails, which makes me think nobody’s all that certain. Maybe your best bet is to find fulfillment here, in this life.”

Basilard raised a single eyebrow. You think I can find fulfillment with Sicarius?

Amaranthe smirked. “Perhaps not him specifically, but if you can get him on your side, he’s pretty useful for helping achieve goals.”

Basilard stroked his chin, and she left him like that. Considering her words, she hoped, and not dismissing them as the ravings of a Turgonian heathen.

Amaranthe headed for the doorway, but Maldynado stopped her with, “Don’t go far, boss. We’ve got to get you into your outfit and do something with your hair.”

“My outfit?” She cringed and wished she had not mentioned that she was meeting Deret that evening. She only intended to tell him her team’s side of the story, but Maldynado believed that, because this discussion was taking place in the Imperial Gardens and involved a picnic basket, it should be treated as a tryst.

“I picked out something tasteful for you,” Maldynado said.

“Tasteful?” Books said. “You? That’s doubtful.”

“You doubt my fashion sense?” Maldynado asked. “You who, most days, wear the same rumpled clothes as you slept in? And who...”

Amaranthe left them to bicker. Maybe she could sneak out of camp before Maldynado finished with Basilard and Books.

When she hopped out of the rail car, she turned and almost stepped on Sicarius’s toes. He stood by the door, his back to the rusty metal siding.

“Something you wish to discuss?” Amaranthe could not imagine him eavesdropping on a conversation about clothing.

“We should move the camp tonight. If Basilard is recognized and interrogated, he could lead the imperial guard right to us.”

Always the positive-thinking pragmatist.

“We have been here for a while,” Amaranthe said. “We can move tomorrow.”

“Tonight would be better.”

“I don’t believe Basilard would give us up, even if he were taken prisoner. Besides, tonight everyone’s busy.”

“Busy,” Sicarius said.

“Sorry, but after the last week, I think a few days of relaxing and recuperating are in order. You’re welcome to do so, too.”

“Relax.”

“Yes, it’s something most humans need to do. It involves getting one’s mind off one’s troubles, putting away one’s extensive knife collection, and not stalking about in a hyper-alert state all the time.”

“Sounds like a way to get killed,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe pointed toward the rail car doorway. “Maldynado and Akstyr do it at brothels all the time, and nobody’s bothered to stick daggers in their backs yet.” She realized how that might be construed and winced. “Not that you need to visit brothels to relax. I mean, unless that’s what you prefer, because it’s not my business if you do, but you could, uhm, take a nice moonlit stroll on the beach.” Oh, sure, like any man would choose that option. “Or play Tiles or gamble a bit, or, uh...” Dear ancestors, she could not imagine what he might do for fun or relaxation. Practice throwing knives? “Well, you should do something you’d like to do tonight, as the rest of us are, and we’ll worry about moving in the morning.”

Sicarius, as usual, regarded her with the blandness of a particularly featureless rock, then walked away.