Amaranthe Lokdon sharpened the last pencil. She placed it in a holder on the desk and knelt to compare its height with the seven others in the cup. A hair too high still. She removed it, twisted it through the sharpener a couple more times, and checked the height again.
“Better,” she murmured.
A steam whistle pierced the air. In the factory outside the office, the fleet of sewing machines stopped. A hundred women and children grabbed brooms and dustpans, hastily cleaning their areas so they could go home.
“Finally,” Amaranthe said. “Maybe Ms. Klume will deign to meet with us now.”
“Likely,” Sicarius said, laconic as usual.
Clad in fitted black clothing that bristled daggers and throwing knives, he stood in the shadows against the wall, his gaze covering the door and the window. Neither his angular face nor his dark eyes gave any hint of impatience, but then they rarely hinted of anything.
“Good.” Amaranthe stood. Her thighs, still rubbery after the morning’s training session, twanged in protest. “There’s nothing left to tidy.” Thanks to her restless fingers, the trash bin now housed scraps of material, windowsill dust, and pencil shavings, all of which had plagued the office when she entered. The papers and files that had scattered the desk were stacked in a tidy pile, edges aligned with the corner.
“There’s an alphabetical misfile on the bookshelf,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe gave him a startled look, more surprised he had said something than that he had noticed. His expression never changed, but she thought she spotted a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes. She crossed the office, short sword swaying on her hip, and moved Marketing to the Imperial Mind to its proper place.
A shadow fell across the threshold, and Ms. Klume walked in. She wore a cream blouse, the top buttons unfastened, and a short plaid skirt that did not seem practical given the early spring weather. Vivid ruby paint adorned her lips, and clashing rings gleamed on every finger. The woman’s gaze slid past Amaranthe, as if she were a particularly bland piece of furniture, and landed on Sicarius.
“Ms. Klume. I’m Amaranthe and this is—”
“Sicarius.” Klume’s gaze roved from his black boots to his short blond hair, taking in everything in between. “You’re just what I expected.”
“We’re here because you have work to propose,” Amaranthe said, not sure whether she was more annoyed because the woman was ignoring her or because she appeared to be three seconds away from inviting Sicarius back to her flat. Maybe less.
“Is it true you single-handedly killed a platoon of soldiers?” Klume asked him. “And walked past Lord Satrap Dargon’s fleet of household security to assassinate him? And killed the empire’s most notorious bounty hunter with the throw of a knife?”
Sicarius stared at her in stony silence. If the woman’s interest affected him in any way, he kept it hidden behind an unreadable mask. For once, Amaranthe appreciated his standoffishness. She took a deep breath, telling herself it did not matter whether Klume spoke with her or Sicarius, and gave him a single nod.
“Your offer,” Sicarius told Klume.
The woman blinked, smiled, and glided to her workspace. “Business first, yes, of course.” Confusion flashed across her face as she noticed the tidy desk, but she recovered and located a fat file. “This is all the information I have on a Kendorian woman named Telnola. She’s the new owner of Farth Textiles. She’s an old wart who strode in the day Emperor Sespian enacted those tax incentives for foreign businesses and investors.” She mimicked spitting in the waste bin. Not a fan of the policy, apparently. “She bought out Farth, promptly tripled profits, and cut my business—the business of a loyal Turgonian citizen—in half. She hasn’t been to a proper school, and I’m certain this unprecedented success has to do with some magical aid. If she is using magic, it’s completely illegal here, and the punishment is death. If she isn’t...” Klume shrugged. “Either way, her success displeases me. I want her dead. I’m paying five thousand ranmyas for the job. An extremely fair price for a night’s work.”
YOU ARE READING
The Emperor's Edge 2: Dark Currents
FantasyIt's been three months since former enforcer Amaranthe Lokdon and the notorious assassin Sicarius thwarted kidnappers and saved the emperor's life. The problem? Nobody knows they were responsible for this good deed. Worse, they're being blamed for t...
