Emperor's Edge Republic (43 page)

“I thought Starcrest wasn’t making the building a priority right now,” Amaranthe said, though Sicarius had already decided he’d had enough of the conversation and was heading down the hall. Maybe he intended to start wafting his sewer cologne at Sarevic preemptively.

Maldynado shrugged. “He didn’t give me a more important job. I figure this is all tied in anyway. If I can catch the building saboteur, maybe he can lead me to the head priest you want.”

“That’s very responsible of you, Maldynado. Thank you.” Amaranthe patted his arm before jogging after Sicarius.

She couldn’t quite decipher Yara’s sarcastic grumble, but gathered she already had a lot of work to do without going along on side trips with Maldynado. Amaranthe would have to find a moment to talk to her about the job she had passed up—or maybe hadn’t yet passed up.

A soldier pressed into guard duty was standing outside of room 137 when Amaranthe arrived. The door was open, Sicarius having already gone inside. Starcrest must have sent the word down the chain of command that he was to be given free access to the hotel; either that or his glare worked as an effective key for opening guarded doors.

Amaranthe found him standing behind Sarevic, who had dumped her tools out on a desk and was sitting at the chair, using a screwdriver to clean her fingernails. She was ignoring Sicarius. Amaranthe thought about smiling at him and waving him closer, so she would catch the sewer scent, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood for teasing, not with Starcrest’s life at stake.

“Ms. Sarevic.” Amaranthe dragged a second chair over for herself. “I hope you don’t mind us interrupting your project for a moment—” she waved at the on-going fingernail cleaning, drawing a grunt from the other woman, “—but I was wondering if I could help you remember what exactly the thieves took.”

“And their current location,” Sicarius stated.

“I already told you what I know,” Sarevic said.

“And you won’t know more until you can get back to your shop and take inventory?” Amaranthe asked.

“Exactly. But I’m locked in here.”

“Perhaps if you were to give us a more complete list of what threats we might be dealing with, I could talk the president into releasing you immediately,” Amaranthe said, though she didn’t know if she had that kind of sway.

That drew a flicker of interest from Sarevic, though she promptly returned her focus to her fingernails.

“The blasting sticks have already been used against us,” Amaranthe said. “Were you working on anything else that could have... destructive uses?”

Sarevic sniffed. “Of course not.”

“I’ve purchased wares from you before. There’s no need to pretend you don’t invent items that, however handy, can be put to ruinous use.”

Sarevic peered more closely at her fingernails, then picked up a file, one designed to sand wood rather than parts of the human anatomy, but the roughness didn’t seem to bother her.

Amaranthe leaned back in her chair. Time to try another tactic. What did Sarevic want, besides to be released to go about her business? Maybe Amaranthe could make her believe she wanted something she didn’t yet
know
she wanted...

“Now that the president is aware of the special nature of your work,” Amaranthe said, “I imagine it will be harder to attract some of your more... sophisticated clientele, folks who wish to remain anonymous and might worry that your establishment is being monitored. Of course, it was only a matter of time before things grew more difficult for you. The enforcers have been aware of your second set of shop hours for a while.”

“I know,” Sarevic muttered and filed harder at her thumbnail.

Amaranthe wasn’t sure whether the comment represented acceptance over her argument or that the enforcers truly were aware of the clandestine side of the workshop’s business. She had been bluffing; she hadn’t heard about it herself until she had become an outlaw.

“But,” she went on, “as any businesswoman knows, opportunity can often be found even in catastrophe. This could be a chance to put your special talents to work in meeting the president’s needs. Working for him and those close to him would certainly come with perks, and you would no longer need to worry about watching your back for the law. I understand he has an engineering background. He might appreciate the uniqueness and quality of the items you produce.”

Sarevic laid down the file and met Amaranthe’s eyes for the first time. “You think he would hire me? As an independent contractor?”

Amaranthe wasn’t in a position to make deals on Starcrest’s behalf, but she lifted a shoulder and smiled. “If you were to help him thwart the priests who burglarized and assaulted you and who are also threatening him, I’m sure he would feel kindly toward you.” When Sarevic’s eyes narrowed, Amaranthe added, “And perhaps you could bring him some samples of your more recent work, especially if you have any ideas related to the generation of electricity. That’s his priority right now.” And he might not appreciate having some blasting-stick-creating tinkerer helping, but if it would get them the information they sought...

“They took the venom sacs out of my vault,” Sarevic said. “I think they got my acid too.”

“Your what?”

“The acid I made for dissolving metals. It works nicely, and doesn’t burn if it gets on your hands.”

Amaranthe met Sicarius’s eyes over Sarevic’s head, thinking of the submarine. Could some of this acid be stored in a small container or even under a uniform jacket and then casually dribbled onto the hull in passing? Still, if the submarine was being guarded now, someone would have a hard time getting close enough to do that. Unless one of the guards was their snitch... or working for their snitch.

“Royal water?” Sicarius asked. “President Starcrest made something similar to deal with the cubes.”

Yes, Amaranthe had seen that in action herself.

Sarevic sniffed. “
My
acid does not burn skin. It’s a groundbreaking discovery, I assure you. I also designed special containers and a launch device, so it wouldn’t leak or be released without a suitable impact.”

So someone could shoot it at the submarine from afar. That information would be important to deliver.

“I didn’t know the president was mechanically inclined,” Sarevic said, her expression growing less indignant and more thoughtful. “You say he has an engineering hobby?”

“It’s what he studied in school and went into the service for,” Sicarius said. “An early commanding officer steered him out of the engine room and onto the command deck.”

“I understand he’s built a number of submarines,” Amaranthe added, thinking that might further endear the man to Sarevic. Surely designing such a craft was a clear sign of mechanical know-how.

“That use Kyattese magic for a power source.” Sarevic’s lips flattened.

Er, perhaps that hadn’t been the best example.

“He is now seeking to find a mundane method of generating power for the crafts,” Sicarius said.

“He is?” Sarevic peered over her shoulder at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time. “Interesting. This project would appeal to me. If I am to be a prisoner here anyway, perhaps I could be of assistance.”

Amaranthe, recalling that their goal was to get all the information they could from Sarevic—not find her a new job—said, “I’m certain you would be useful on his team.” Well, she wasn’t
that
certain. “But the priority is to catch those who are conspiring against him. Are you positive you didn’t overhear them speaking about a base they were returning to or some eating house where they were meeting?”

“Nothing like that,” Sarevic said.

“Any distinctive stains on their clothing?” Sicarius asked. “Or identifying scents?”

Sarevic snorted. “They smelled better than you.”

Amaranthe gave Sicarius a twisted smile. It was a good thought, but most people weren’t as observant as he. Maybe if they went back to the workshop themselves and searched around, they could—

“Wait.” Sarevic snapped her fingers. “Now that you bring it up, I do remember that the one who bent over me to tie me up smelled like... almost like perfume. Citrusy perfume.”

“Interesting,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe raised her eyebrows. “Interesting that such a thing exists or interesting that a man would wear it?” She frowned at Sarevic. “Or
was
it a man?” Women could beat up and bind people too.

“It was a man,” Sarevic said. “I remember thinking it was strange, because his breath stunk of sardines and wine. As long as you’re slathering yourself in some scent to make you more attractive, wouldn’t you brush your teeth as well? And why does someone going out to steal weapons need to smell good anyway?”

Most of the history of perfumes had to do with covering up unwashed body scents, but Amaranthe agreed that it was a strange thing to don before heading out to brutalize tinkerers.

“Are you sure it was perfume?” Amaranthe asked. “Maybe it was—”

“Describe the citrus,” Sicarius said, his eyes intense as they bored into the back of Sarevic’s head. If he realized he had cut off Amaranthe, he didn’t show it. She didn’t take offense, since he seemed to have gotten more of a clue from this revelation than she had. “Lemon? Orange? Something else?” he prompted.

Sarevic shrugged. “I don’t shop at the fancy import markets. I’m not an expert.”

Not on perfumes, just on venom sacs.

Though Sicarius never moved, never unclasped his hands from behind his back, Amaranthe had the distinct impression he wanted to throttle Sarevic for a more precise answer.

“Have you smelled it since you’ve been in the hotel?” he asked.

“Here?” Sarevic twisted in her chair to look at him again. “Why would it be here?”

Sicarius met Amaranthe’s eyes instead. “The first night we were here, I smelled lemongrass incense being burned on the third floor.”

“Lemongrass?” Sarevic nodded slowly. “That might be what it was.”

“Then one of the men on that team of hooded people might be the snitch who is living and working here in the hotel?” Amaranthe asked. “You wouldn’t expect such a person to risk being seen with those doing the dirty work.”

“Incense is strong,” Sicarius said.

It took Amaranthe a moment to figure out what he meant. “So... Sardine Breath could have simply been visiting the snitch and wandered past the burning stick?”

“Or the lemongrass incense is used widely among those of this religion.”

“Such as in a religious ceremony?” Amaranthe found herself pacing—and thinking. Yes, that seemed more likely than inviting thugs into the hotel; all guests were signed in by security. But did that mean someone in the hotel had been performing ceremonies in his or her room? And to what end?

“What is she doing?” Sarevic asked.

Amaranthe realized she had stopped in front of the tinkerer’s desk and started tidying her tool collection. Sicarius ignored the question.

Amaranthe stuck her hands into her pocket. “We need to ask Professor Komitopis if incense was used as a part of that religion. What was it called? Kriskrus?”

“Kriskrusian,” Sicarius said. “We should also search the rooms on the third floor.”

“We would have to get someone’s permission for that.”

Sicarius’s eyebrow twitched.

“Well, I guess we wouldn’t
have
to,” Amaranthe said. “It’s just that I feel like we should work on the side of the law now that we’re staunch citizens of this new republic.”

“You find the professor and ask about the religion; I’ll investigate the rooms.”

“Staunchly?”

“Yes.”

• • • • •

Maldynado plucked a turd-brown hardhat out of the bin at the edge of the construction site and placed it on his head with a sneer of distaste. If one had to don costumes, he much preferred the sort that showed off one’s finer attributes—such as chiseled muscles, a sublime facial structure, and luxurious brown locks. These workers—he picked up a shovel for further verisimilitude—needed to speak to their employer about more appealing hats and togs.

Basilard plunked a hat onto his own head without comment. Naturally he wouldn’t mind covering up that scar-filled shaven pate.

“Thanks for coming along, Bas,” Maldynado said. “I was hoping to lure Evrial out with me, but she had to go back to work.” At least that was what she had said.

Basilard signed,
I am your second choice?

“Of course not. She’s simply the one I wish to...”

Impress with that hat?

“Ha ha, you’re a one-man riot. No, I want her to see that I’m serious about working for Starcrest and getting a good job here in the city. I want her to realize it would be much better for us to stay here, rather than going back to that boring rural town she’s from. What kind of job could I do out there? We’d probably have to move in with her family.” Maldynado shuddered from boots to hat.

I heard about your first impression with them.

“You what? How—you weren’t even in the country when that happened.”

Basilard’s blue eyes twinkled.
I was on the way.

“I’m surprised you arrived so quickly when you had that pretty little translator to wake up to in the mornings.”

Basilard’s face resumed its usual morose cast. He shook his head.
She is not... we are not... not.

“It’s fascinating that the human brain can be just as ineloquent with hand gestures as with words,” Maldynado observed, not feeling bad about teasing when Basilard had started it.

Basilard took a shovel from the rack. For a moment, Maldynado thought he might be contemplating a physical response, but he merely propped it over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Do you find her attractive?” Maldynado asked.

The corners of Basilard’s lips quirked.

“I’ll take that for a yes. Have you told her you find her attractive? She seems to understand all your made up gobbledygook.” Maldynado waved at Basilard’s fingers. “You must have spent some time communicating with her.”

Yes, but she’s... she’s the chief’s daughter. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to... proposition her.

“Dear ancestors.” Maldynado lifted his eyes skyward. “It’s another Sespian. Except he’s young and as naive as a tadpole, so that’s why he’s shy. You’re older than me, Bas. And you had a wife at one point, so you can’t be that naive. Though granted, you Mangdorians sound like a wholesome bunch with your peace-loving religion and all. Are any of your people true bedroom warriors?”