The Emperor's Edge (The Emperor's Edge, #1)

by Lindsay Buroker

smug smile when he faced Tuskar again. Behind Amaranthe, men stopped talking and the room grew silent. Her skin crawled under the gazes that had to be focused on the confrontation. She resisted the desire to turn around and look. No doubt by design, Sicarius stood at an oblique angle so everything in the room fit in his peripheral vision.

“Perhaps,” she said, “if we’re done menacing each other, we can talk business.” Tuskar curled his lip at her and sniffed twice. “You smell like an enforcer.” “Is that a guess?” Amaranthe asked. “Or is olfactory career identification your special talent?” Akstyr snickered. Tuskar glared.

“Assassin.” She hid a grimace. Yes, Tuskar knew who they were, and he probably knew how much of a bounty hung over their heads. “You are good,” she said. “I bet you’re popular at parties.” Tuskar withdrew his toothpick and flicked it into a corner of the room where it landed in a pile of similar discards. He took the stack of papers off his desk, shifted through them, and pulled out two sheets. He slapped down the wanted posters for Amaranthe and Sicarius. “We like to keep track of criminals with bounties on their heads,” Tuskar said. “You never know when we’ll chance across one and have the opportunity to collect. Never had someone dumb enough to come to us before. Sure is convenient.” Tuskar perused the documents. “Looks

like you two are wanted dead. That simples things up. No need to capture

“Sicarius,” Amaranthe read. “Assassin. Crimes include but are not limited to: murdering Satrap Governor Urgaysan and burning his residence to the ground, stealing priceless documents and blowing up the First Imperial Museum, killing enforcers, sinking a navy ironclad, and slaying a platoon of imperial solders.” Amaranthe looked at Sicarius. “A whole platoon?” “Yes,” Sicarius said.

“Was that all at once?” “One night. In a swamp.” The musket men exchanged worried glances. Others in the room shifted uneasily. “Reward: one million ranmyas,” Amaranthe said. “Impressive. I imagine you get lots of would-be bounty hunters stalking you.” “Yes.” “And yet, you’re still alive. Based on what I’ve learned about you, I’m guessing those hunters are not.” “A correct surmise,” Sicarius said.

Hollowcrest print it if it wasn’t true?” Amaranthe smiled. She let Tuskar mull for a moment before speaking again. “My friend, with this many people, you could possibly take us down. But is the reward worth the lives you’ll have to sacrifice to get it?” Tuskar opened his mouth. “Including yours,” Amaranthe said. “Sicarius always goes for the leader first.” “Always,” Sicarius said. Fury leapt into Tuskar’s eyes, and his fingers snapped into a fist. He was going to let them go—Amaranthe saw that—but she did not like what else she saw. The quickest way to humiliate a leader, and make an enemy for life, was to force him to back down in front of his troops. Maybe she could let him save face. “But,” she said, “I’m sure you’ve found that it’s always smart to make powerful friends. Even more, it’s

smart to have others know you’ve made powerful friends.” She arched her eyebrows and looked Sicarius up and down. “Wouldn’t you like to brag to your associates about how you sat down and chatted with the infamous assassin, Sicarius, the last time he was in town? Drank some applejack together?

“I can see how that maybe would be a smart decision.” Tuskar plucked another toothpick off his desk and slipped it into his mouth. He eyed the men in the back of the room. A few of them nodded encouragement. “What’s the job you want done, girl?” “Two messages delivered to two different people,” Amaranthe said. “That sounds doable.” They negotiated the details, and the three of them walked away without anyone else pointing weapons at them.

Back in the alley, Akstyr said, “I can’t believe they’re going to deliver your messages for free.” Amaranthe caught Sicarius’s gaze. “I’m sorry about using you that way.” “You are not,” he said. “You’re right.” She grinned. “You’re my biggest asset. I can’t imagine not using you.” “They don’t do anything for free,”

“Is there a reason you gentleman are blocking our way?” she asked. “Not you.” One slapped the wood against his palm and pointed the weapon at Akstyr. “Him.” The two men wore brands on the backs of their hands, human eyes with Xs through them. A rival gang. “We heard you was using magic,” the bigger of the two said. “Magic ain’t allowed in the empire, and we sure not gonna stand for you Arrows using none. We gonna smash it outta you like a potato.” “This man is working for me,” Amaranthe said. “I need him fully functional, not smashed like sort of food item.” “Who talked to you, woman? You can get gone. We here for him.” Again the thug pointed at Akstyr with his club. “I’m not with the Arrows anymore,” Akstyr said. “Sure you ain’t,” the big man said.

“And that’s why you’re walking outta their territory just now.”

“It might be smart to run,” Akstyr muttere...

“Let’s be reasonable, gentlemen.” She decided not to reach for her sword. It wouldn’t deter them and might escalate the violence. “There’s nothing to be gained by—” The attack was not unexpected. The men charged, one at Akstyr, one at Amaranthe. Inspired by Sicarius’s style, Amaranthe also charged. A falter in her opponent’s step betrayed his surprise at her choice.

“So, you were sure you could take care of them?” “Not really, no.” Akstyr grinned. “That’s what I thought. I was surprised you…” “What?” “Stuck around when they gave you an out. Tuskar wouldn’t have, for the same reason he backed down in his office. He doesn’t start a fight unless he’s sure he can win.” “That’s how most people are,” Amaranthe said. “It’s called a self-preservation instinct.” “Yours broken?” “I’m beginning to think so.” “Well, uhm,” Akstyr said, “thanks. For staying.”

Most of the men made it out.” He watched her as he spoke, no doubt wondering if she would yell at him again. Amaranthe could not. By now, she understood the ruthlessness of his methods and she was still using him. When people died, she could only blame herself. Besides, she was relieved he had come back at all. After reading that note, she had not been sure.

Enough medals and badges armored his uniform jacket to deflect arrows.

Please forgive my presumptuousness, but I needed to speak with all three of you together.” She paused at the edge of the light, making the third point of a triangle between herself, Hollowcrest, and the Forge duo. Sword drawn, Maldynado guarded her back. “Aren’t you dead yet?” Hollowcrest asked, sounding far more annoyed than intrigued by her declaration. “Indeed, I thought the enforcers I tipped off had slain you.” Arbitan sniffed and added, “What do you want that you didn’t find snooping around our house?” A flicker of surprise crossed Larocka’s face at Arbitan’s words, but she recovered quickly and joined the two men in glaring at Amaranthe. “I don’t think they like you,” Maldynado whispered.

of them are in Turgonia. Even global commerce would be affected. The imperial ranmya is the world’s anchor currency!” “Nothing’s going to happen,” Hollowcrest said. “I’ve read the woman’s record; she’s not going to do anything illegal.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. Good. “You’re wrong, sir,” Amaranthe said. “It’s true you have forced me to do something I would have once never considered, but I believe in what I’m doing. Illegal or not, I am committed.” “How noble

Toying with a bit of rope, Arbitan considered Hollowcrest through slitted eyes, as if thinking of taking him prisoner as well. Perhaps Arbitan regarded the odds too even, for he merely said, “I’d get out of the city before the emperor’s birthday, Hollow. We’ve already made arrangements for his capture. You’ll

just be in the way after the boy’s death. And I’m sure you know what happens to people who get in the way.” “Dungeons and death warrants,” Amaranthe growled. Hollowcrest, Arbitan, and Larocka started arguing, but the guards dragged Amaranthe away before she could hear anything vital. So glad I could set up a meeting for them….

quarrel didn’t strike him down doesn’t prove he’s a wizard with magical powers.” “Sure, it does,” Akstyr said. “That’s why I shot him.” Amaranthe shifted on the cold bench, turning toward his voice. “You fired the bolt?” “I thought it might catch him with his guard down, but even if it didn’t, it’d show everyone he was a wizard.”

“Think there’s any chance of Sicarius coming to break us out?” Akstyr asked. Amaranthe felt a similar hope, but… “Now that we’ve executed the plan and failed, he has no reason to risk himself for us. It would be more logical for him to try something on his own, and he is nothing if not logical.”

Maldynado snorted. “Why don’t you just say we’re of no more use to him, so he’s leaving us to be tortured?”

Books and Maldynado had stopped to argue. “The exit is this way.” Maldynado pointed one direction. “We can’t just leave; we have to do something.” Books pointed the other way. “I am doing something,” Maldynado said. “I’m leaving.”

Amaranthe cracked the door and peered through. Someone blurred past her narrow angle of vision. A loud crunch came from behind and she jumped. The door swung closed and almost smacked her on the nose. She turned to find Maldynado eating, practically in her ear. She glared at him. “What?” Maldynado stuck a hand out, displaying a row of crackers. “You want one?” Books grabbed the crackers out of Maldynado’s hand. “This is not the time for snacking.” “This could be my last meal,” Maldynado said. “And you chose crackers?” Akstyr said around a full mouth. They turned to find him noshing on a piece of frosting-drenched cake. “Oh, excellent,” Maldynado said. “Is there more?”

head. “I believe he is an undercover Nurian wizard, sent by their government to create chaos and plant a compliant heir on the throne.” “Amaranthe figured that out in the dungeon.” Maldynado sent a smug look at Books. “Really.” Sicarius regarded Amaranthe with…respect?

Larocka woman is a pest as well.” Amaranthe frowned at the old man. Did he think Sicarius had killed Arbitan for him? “Sicarius, you can’t help Hollowcrest,” Books said. “He’s the one who had my son killed. Amaranthe says—” “Amaranthe says?” Hollowcrest snorted. “Sicarius doesn’t take orders from street trollops. He’s always worked for the throne—” Hollowcrest nodded at Sicarius, “—and he will again.” “Perhaps so,” Sicarius said, inscrutable. His agreement gave Amaranthe a horrified start, until she realized “the throne” meant Sespian these days.

teeth clamped on his lower lip. Maldynado and Akstyr, too, seemed worried that Sicarius would take up with Hollowcrest. Their concern, etched so clearly on their faces, made Amaranthe doubt her own certainty. Am I wrong?

Sicarius crossed the room and stopped an arm’s-length away from Hollowcrest. His face offered no hint of malice. He reached for no weapons. “Excellent. Now…” Hollowcrest waved at Amaranthe and the others. “Kill this riffraff.”

knew it,” Maldynado muttered. Akstyr backed toward the door. Books’s shoulders slumped, as if the battle was already lost. “You’re drugging Sespian,” Sicarius said, eyes locked on Hollowcrest. Hollowcrest waved a placating hand. “Only to make him compliant to the empire’s needs. Besides, it shouldn’t matter to you. You always worked through me more than Emperor Raumesys. Nothing’s changed.” “Sicari...

“You’re not going to take orders from her, are you?” Hollowcrest squeaked. Sicarius glanced briefly her direction. “They’re more like suggestions.” Amaranthe might have smiled, remembering the time she had explained it the same way, but the tension between the two men stole her mirth.

“What drug?” Sicarius asked. “Iklya Bark,” Hollowcrest whispered, his back pressed against the window. “Why—why would you use something so potent?” Sicarius asked, his mask slipping briefly, his dark eyes stunned. “That would kill him eventually.”

repeating something. Amaranthe edged closer and knelt to listen before he finally stopped breathing. “What does armon atask ku mean?” she asked. “Return to me,” Books and Sicarius

said together. Akstyr cursed. “The soul construct. He called it back. It’s going to—” A familiar shrieking howl came from the street. Amaranthe’s stomach descended into her boots. She had assumed killing the wizard would destroy the creature as well. “Avenge its master’s death,” Akstyr finished.

Amaranthe looked at each of her men, who in turn stared back at her, as if brilliant solutions would soon flow from her lips. Only Sicarius’s gaze rested elsewhere. His expressionless mask back in place, he stared at the door, calm, accepting. He’s already given up. She clenched her jaw. Well, I’m not going to. “How do we kill it?” Amaranthe demanded. “Im...

cut it.” He opened his hand, palm up. The dagger she lost. Of course. “Go,” Sicarius said. “It’ll be after me, not you.” “Bye.” Maldynado headed for the door. “Stop,” Amaranthe said. He surprised her by obeying. She stepped over the fallen wizard and grabbed Sicarius’s arm. “You’re coming with us.” “I cannot. It will know whose h...

Maldynado, Akstyr, Basilard, and Books looked askance at Amaranthe. She could not tell them to sacrifice themselves to a hopeless fate. Besides, their mission was not over yet. Arbitan said the emperor’s assassination had a...

Sicarius. “What happens after it kills you?” “It continues doing what its master created it for,” he said. The howl came again, this time from the yard directly below. She looked outside and reeled back at the blood, dismembered bodies, and entrails spattering the snow. “Terrorizing the empire?” she asked. “Apparently.” “Un...

Claws scrabbled on the hardwood floor of the hallway. The door to the parlor shattered inward and threw Maldynado against a table. The soul construct loomed, its bulky

dun-colored body crusted with snow and gore.

The beast blazed into the room, straight at Sicarius. He shoved Amaranthe out of the way. The construct leapt at him. He ducked and rolled to the side, and it crashed through the glass window. Startled, Amaranthe jumped to her feet and stuck her head out. The three-story fall did not faze the creature. It hit the snow on its feet and twisted back toward the front door, running through the torn bodies of so...

as I have because I’ve never underestimated my enemies. You keep…exceeding my expectations.” “Thank you,” she said, more pleased than she would admit, “but not everyone is your enemy.” “Whether realized or not,” he said, “everyone you talk to is trying to use you to further his own interests. You must always be ready to protect yourself.” “There are such things as friends,” Amaranthe said. “That does not negate my statement. Friendship is as selfish as any other relationship, perhaps more so because it masquerades as something noble. I am more comfortable with those who approach me with blades drawn.” “I suppose this will disappoint

you,” Amaranthe said, “but I’d rather be your friend than your enemy. I’ll try not to make you suffer too much from the association.”

Tonight, no one else lurked on the long street paralleling the Ridge. The city felt oddly quiet, as if it was holding its breath.

“Books, come with me, please. The rest of you, a distraction would be good.” “What kind of distraction?” Maldynado asked. “The kind where you do something creative to keep the enforcers from noticing us snooping.”

“Creative, eh?” Maldynado tossed a speculative look at his comrades.

She swung at the back of his head with the shovel. His axe spun up and sliced through the wooden haft. The shovel head clattered onto the platform, leaving Amaranthe with a broken stick. The guard lunged at her, axe raised for another swipe. She threw

the haft at him and jumped into the ore cart. Her weight tipped it over the edge of the platform. She plunged down the steep track. Too fast! was the only thought she had time for. Then she ran out of track. The

She lunged to her feet and raced toward the blast furnace. She dodged track, pipes, and bins and darted into the open area she had seen from above. The first body almost tripped her. Downed men littered the floor amongst pools of blood. Where was… The lone standing figure amongst the carnage, Sicarius grabbed an axe. Black shirt ravaged, blood spattering him from hair to boots, he looked like—he was—the harbinger of death. He stepped to Sespian’s side and lifted the dripping blade overhead to hack at the chains. “Soldiers,” Amaranthe barked. “We have to get out of—”