Emperor's Edge Republic (51 page)

“I... suppose not.” Amaranthe shrugged at the other enforcers, who were exchanging eye rolls with each other.

“I have all your newspaper articles,” the corporal said as she climbed the steps to join him. “The ones where you’re mentioned, that is. I can’t believe one of us—” he waved at his fellow enforcers, “—helped stop those Forge people and put Fleet Admiral Starcrest on the throne.”

Amaranthe had never seen a man swoon before, but this corporal might be in danger of it. She signed his paper, and he accepted it, then shook her hand heartily. For a moment, she worried he might kiss it, but he released her with an enthusiastic, “Thank you!” and skipped back down the steps. Well, it beat being greeted with swords and muskets.

“He’s young,” the sergeant explained, then gave her a salute and moved his team on.

“You’ve become a celebrity,” came a voice from behind Amaranthe.

Deret Mancrest stood in the doorway. Wearing a green robe.

Chapter 19

M
ahliki pressed the switch and watched the tiny blue streaks arc out of the iron prod and into the severed section of green tendril. She kept an eye on the pocket watch on the table at the same time. After a few seconds, the inch-thick vine charred up and curled inward on itself. She turned off the switch and wrote a few notes. Next, she applied the electricity to a preserved pod, one of the ones that could spew those deadly spores. She was reasonably certain it wouldn’t be able to do so after it had been cut open and spent two days in a formaldehyde bath, but she was prepared to leap over the table if it so much as twitched. But the pod succumbed to the electricity at the same rate as the other piece. She recorded this, then moved onto one of the rare leaves, green flat disks with shiny surfaces that could ooze that enzyme that broke up animal flesh. It proved sturdier, withstanding the electricity for twelve seconds before withering up. Some of that enzyme oozed out of its green pores before it fully succumbed.

“Are you learning anything useful?” Sespian asked, walking over to join her. He had finished helping Father design a portable version of the electricity generator an hour or two earlier and had been working in the submarine with the engineers the last she had heard.

“About what I expected so far.” Mahliki waved at the charred samples, then fished a jar out of her bag on the floor. “
This
is the one I’m curious about.”

“That’s the root sample you risked your life to get, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s the last piece I have. I’ve already run so many experiments on it and the rest of the specimens that I’m surprised the mother plant isn’t out there plotting my demise.” She glanced at the demolished section of wall—night had fallen out there, and the plant’s infiltrations had grown less frequent, but it was still keeping the soldiers busy.

“It seemed more offended by your father’s ministrations,” Sespian said.

“Yes, I think that’s because he performed his experiment on
attached
parts of the plant. You would be more upset about someone trying to flambé your finger than a piece of hair you lost yesterday, right?”

“I imagine so. I’m comforted that it doesn’t seem to know what we’re doing to the pieces that have been severed. The way those bits can grow new plants of their own accord if they’re not stopped...” Sespian shuddered. “The whole organism has a distressing ability to thrive against all odds.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s not aware of what we’re doing in here to its severed bits.” Mahliki secured the piece of root in the vise clamped to the table. “That first big attack came when I was pulping up one of its limbs, remember. Right now, I think it’s focusing on growing big enough that it can ensure it wins when it attacks us next time.”

“How... comforting.”

“Let’s see how it likes this.” Mahliki prodded the root with the iron wand and flipped the switch. Within a second of turning on the electricity, the specimen burst into flame.

Sespian gaped. Mahliki caught herself gaping too. She
had
expected the root to be more vulnerable than the tough green flesh, but she
hadn’t
expected quite so impressive a show.

“You... ashed it,” Sespian said.

“Ashed? Is that a word in Turgonian?”

Sespian prodded the fine gray powder that was all that remained beneath the vise. “It is now. You tried burning it with flame before, didn’t you?”

“I tried applying
everything
to it earlier. And to the other pieces as well. I just didn’t have a way to make electricity at the time.” Mahliki swept the ashes into her sample jar. “I suspected the root was most vulnerable when we learned that those priests wanted the
Explorer
out of commission—even though the plant has stretched several blocks inland, the only roots that seem to be accessible are down in the muddy waters beneath the docks. Which we should be able to get to soon.” She nodded toward the submarine.

Clangs and clanks echoed from within. An hour earlier, her father had disappeared inside with as many engineers as could fit in there without anyone hitting anyone else with a hammer. Judging by the occasional yelps and cries of “ow” that came out, they might have crammed one or two too many inside. In Kyatt, most engineers would run for high ground if a man-eating plant invaded the harbor, but these people had been climbing over each other for the opportunity to work with Father.

“I’m glad the plant hasn’t managed to harm the submarine yet.” Sespian pointed to some of the broken floorboards and pushed up piles of earth around the craft and around the makeshift laboratory. Thus far, the soldiers who had come down with Father had been enough to keep the plant at bay.

“I know,” Mahliki said. “It’s our only chance at getting down there with enough weapons power to tear up the roots and electrocute them. Even if Father’s handheld generator works underwater, I wouldn’t want to send anyone out there in a diving suit.” She shivered at the memory of her experience in the plant’s grasp. “That would be a suicide mission. The plant has grown so much since then, there would be no pulling someone from its clutches.”

Sespian glanced at the pocket watch. “Must be about time for the vice president’s aide to show up again. It’s been almost an hour.”

“You’ve noticed his frequent reports today too, eh?”

“Every time he’s burst in, he’s brought up spot fires all over the nation that supposedly demand your father’s attention right now.”

“I know,” Mahliki said. “Did you hear what he said the last time Father shooed him away?”

Sespian nodded. “You’ll be sorry if you put this contraption above tending to Turgonia, the way a good president should.”

“One wonders why the vice president can’t handle some of those fires. Is he busy reading?” Maybe he was working on the report Mahliki had mentioned a few days ago. “I wonder if Serpitivich even knows his aide is coming down here. Maybe he’s the snitch Mother has been looking for.”

“I have a feeling—”

The front door slammed open, and a soldier raced inside as if a tiger were chewing on his heels. “My Lord President?” he shouted. “We have a problem!”

“The plant again?” Mahliki asked.

The soldier spun around. “Where’s the president?”

“Here.” Father thrust his head out of the hatchway, his gray hair sticking out in all directions, and his cheek smeared with grease.

Outside the walls, rifle shots blasted into the night, the soldiers firing at someone—or something. More booms erupted farther up the street. Blasting sticks? Mahliki couldn’t tell whether their people were throwing them at some distant enemy, or if some distant enemy was flinging explosives at
them
.

Pounding sounded on the rooftop. Hammers? Or maybe footfalls? Had people climbed up there?

“My Lord President!” The soldier ran up to the sub and saluted, as if Father had time to waste on ceremony. “There are armored military vehicles coming down the street from either direction, and they’re doing... doing...”

“Dump your ore cart, Private,” Father said.

A tingle ran up Mahliki’s arms and spine, stirring gooseflesh. “Someone’s using the mental sciences,” she announced.

Sespian ran to the front door to look out.

The soldier nodded vigorously. “Yes, magic. They threw flames at the ground around the building. At first, we thought they were trying to help, that someone had thrown explosives, not thrice-cursed m—magic. But it didn’t bother the plants at all.” The soldier’s voice grew faster and higher pitched as he raced on with his report. “In fact, it riled them up, so all of the sudden, they started grabbing men, trying to pull them toward the water. We’re so busy cutting them down, it’s going to be hard to keep the lorries at bay.”

“Yes, the plant has shown a propensity to defend itself when attacked,” Father said, his face and voice utterly calm. “Someone must have noticed this and hopes to take advantage.”

The soldier took a big breath and swallowed some of his hysteria. “Yes, My Lord. We’ll keep defending, of course, but I thought you should know that we’re going to have some trouble.”

That sounded like an understatement. While the soldier finished reporting, Mahliki ran up to the front to join Sespian. She peered over his shoulder to see out the door. Not ten feet from the entrance, those plants writhed and twisted like living animals. The only time she had seen them so animated was when they had attacked Father, and there hadn’t been so
many
of them then.

“I saw some of those vehicles this afternoon.” Sespian pointed up the street, where two broad black army lorries blocked the way. “They were commissioned to help evacuate the city.”

The tingle plucked at Mahliki’s skin, warning of another Science attack. Expecting whatever practitioner was out there to try to rile the plants further, she wasn’t ready when a ball of flame whooshed toward the front door.

Sespian reacted more quickly, hauling her away from the entrance. She almost tripped over one of the broken boards the plant had shoved upward, but Sespian kept her on her feet. Blinding flame washed over the doorway, and heat poured inside.

“Evacuate the city?” Mahliki squeaked. “It looks like they want to evacuate this
building
.”

“More like incinerate this building. Those aren’t soldiers out there. Someone snagged those vehicles somehow.” Sespian’s voice was almost as calm as Father’s, though the flames crackling outside the door were certainly cause for alarm. “The drivers are wearing those green robes. A new fashion statement in the city, it seems.”

“Mahliki,” Father called. “It will ease my nerves if you come join us inside the sub instead of playing peep-and-hide with the enemy practitioners.”

Mahliki straightened her clothing. “I’m a grown woman, Father. I
don’t
play peep-and-hide.”

“Understood,” Father said, but she realized it was to the soldier who had finished reporting. “I’ll come out and talk to Captain Eaglecrest in a moment, but tell him I want the supply lorry unloaded and those suits brought in before anything happens to them.” He beckoned for Sespian and Mahliki to join him, then ducked back into the submarine.

“Suits?” Sespian asked. “Diving suits? I thought we’d decided they would be too dangerous? Or does that mean he’s not going to have time to finish the submarine modifications?”

“I don’t know, but it’s going to be hard to finish anything with the roof on fire.” Mahliki tugged Sespian toward the side of the building the blasting stick had blown away earlier. With luck, their enemies in the vehicles would be watching the front door and not the less standard exits. “Come on. Let’s see if we can do something to stop those practitioners.”

“I’ll find a way to deal with them,” Sespian said, though the glance he threw toward the door had a daunted quality to it. “You should stay in here and help your father.”

“The
Explorer
will burst at the seams if anyone else goes inside.” Mahliki spotted the prototype generator by her table and grabbed it before veering for the hole in the wall. “We can be far more useful out there.”

“Yes, but your father—”

“Can come out and visit if he’s worried about me.” Mahliki gave Sespian a wink and ran outside.

• • • • •

“Good evening, Deret.” Amaranthe wondered if she should mention the robe. Would he know she understood the significance? Would he know she had been sent to find the leader of the organization? “I wasn’t certain if I’d find you here or if the paper would have moved.”

“It has actually. Up to the ridge.”

Deret stepped aside to let her in. As usual, he managed to imply that his swordstick was an affectation rather than a crutch, at least when she was watching. Dubious green robe not withstanding, he had changed a bit, trading his shoulder-length wavy brown hair for a military-style cut. It looked good on him, leaving less to distract from his strong jaw and aquiline nose. He had different spectacles on as well, these with thinner frames than the sturdy old pair he had worn before. Suan’s influence maybe, though Amaranthe was more concerned about the robe than his dating activities. It alone didn’t unnerve her overly much—maybe there was a legitimate reason for it—but she did note that nobody else shared the building with them. Only a couple of lanterns burned on desks near the door. Too many shadows buried the back of the open building to see if there was still a gaping hole in the floor, a vestige of her
last
visit to the Mancrest establishment.

“I had a meeting down here tonight and decided to stop by for a few forgotten items,” Deret added.

“What kind of meeting?” Amaranthe waved at his robe. “That’s not your usual expensive warrior-caste clothing.”

“Affording expensive clothing has been difficult of late. Someone demolished the
Gazette
building last winter, as you may recall, and it’s taken a lot of money to make it suitable for printing again. Only my father’s stubbornness kept the papers from being delayed. Now...” He huffed out an irritated breath in the general direction of the building. “I don’t know if I care enough to rebuild again if that plant damages the place. I’ve been thinking of selling the paper.”