Lindsay Buroker: Forged in Blood II

“What? Of course, you should,” Maldynado said. “Surely, it’s your prerogative to redecorate during your time in office.”

“It’s premature to assume I’ll be the one to take that position, but what exactly would you like redecorated?”

Sicarius stopped behind Maldynado and folded his arms across his chest, trusting him to notice eventually. Starcrest had already acknowledged him with a small wave of his hand-the other hung in a sling across his torso.

“In this case, it’d be more of an initial decorating,” Maldynado said. “We’re building a new government building to replace the Barracks, right? Stumps is known for its statues, however decapitated many of them are. Don’t you think the square in front of this new building will need a sculpture or two? Visitors from all over the world will stop by. You’d want the destination to reflect our culture and our veneration for the heroes of old. And new heroes as well. Perhaps even one of the heroes who helped bring down the pretender emperor. One of the more handsome heroes that is. After all, you wouldn’t want to scare away those tourists by sticking up some dour-faced assassin.”

Yara had noticed Sicarius standing there, and he thought she might warn Maldynado to sew his lips shut, but she merely smirked and waited.

“Not that anyone would think an assassin heroic enough for a statue anyway,” Maldynado said. “People would probably come up in the middle of the night and drape washout paper all over it. Now if you want someone that would invite visitors into the building with a warm smile and a noble pose…”

Maldynado propped one hand on his hip and lifted his other to his forehead as he gazed toward a distant horizon. In turning toward that horizon, he finally noticed Sicarius standing behind him. He skittered backward, and his heel caught on an icy patch. He slapped his arms down, legs coming up in an unarmed combat fall designed to protect the body from injury, but the commotion irritated one of the squirrels overhead, and it fled from its branch. Clumps of snow fell in its wake, one sizable ball landing on Maldynado’s forehead.

“Oh, yes,” Yara chortled. “That’ll make a fine statue.”

Sicarius gazed coolly down at Maldynado. “Washout paper?”

“Er. Uhm. Yes, to polish it of course. To make sure it stays shiny.” Maldynado scrambled to his feet and offered Yara his arm. “My lady, I need to say a few words to my fallen comrade before the pyre lighter comes to free his spirit. Will you join me?”

“I better. Someone has to keep you from offending the spirits of the dead as well as the living.”

“Sicarius,” Starcrest said by way of a greeting when they were alone. Mostly alone. His wife and children stood nearby, talking to some of the other funeral attendees, while Akstyr lurked on the edge of the group, trying to muster the gumption to chat with the younger daughter.

“Sir.” Having only intended to rescue Starcrest from Maldynado, Sicarius hadn’t planned anything grand to say to the admiral. “Have you decided to take the position of president?”

“There’s a vote to be held in a few days, and I understand there are other candidates who are scrambling to make cases for themselves, but the limited time frame will make it difficult for them to become suitably known by the populace.”

“That is good,” Sicarius said. “You are what Turgonia needs now.”

“Hm. That’ll remain to be seen. At least Tikaya has allowed that a few years living here wouldn’t be the worst fate in the world. Either that or she feels guilty about objecting to living in Turgonia after I spent all these years in her homeland. Not much of a sacrifice admittedly. A very pleasant island once the people get over wanting to kill you. We will have to watch the girls carefully here. Imperial men are more forthright than Kyattese men, and I don’t tower so fearsomely over people here, insomuch as you can tower fearsomely once all your hair turns gray.”

Sicarius did not know how to respond to this effusion of familial material. He wondered if Starcrest would like to discuss one of his texts on strategies or perhaps new work that had been published in the field. Sicarius hadn’t found time to keep up to date this last year, but he’d been reading most of the publications by notable military professors and field officers before then. Would it be rude to suggest a detour in the conversation? He’d never cared about inflicting rudeness upon people before, but Starcrest was different.

“You seemed chipper at the state funeral this morning,” the admiral said.

Sicarius stared. “Chipper.”

“By your standards. There was an uncharacteristic springiness to your step.”

This was not the new course of conversation Sicarius had had in mind. Further, he found it disheartening that others had so easily read his mood. He’d kept his face neutral, as always, but springy steps? He’d never had to worry about such betrayals from his body before.

“Do I gather that you and your lady have found yourselves, after due consideration, as compatible as you’d hoped?”

Sicarius supposed he couldn’t respond with a question of his own along the lines of, “Sir, did you read Earnestcrest’s paper on insurgencies and counter-insurgencies, and did it influence your decisions at all as you sought to take control of the capital?” Instead he reverted to his simple, “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent,” Starcrest said. “What are your plans going forward? I regret that it may be difficult to place you in employment to the thro-presidency, if that is something you desire. At least for a time. Your work for Flintcrest, however inadvertent, did add once again to your notoriety, and the general population will not understand the concept of being under a practitioner’s control.”

“I understand. I had thought to take a break-” Sicarius glanced at Amaranthe, who seemed to be getting along fine with Mancrest and the Forge woman, “-a vacation regardless.”

Starcrest smiled. “I thought that might be the case.” With his good hand, he fished in his pocket, jangling something as he pulled it out. “Allow me to facilitate.”

“Sir?” Sicarius held his hand out when Starcrest made it clear he wished to give away the item.

A set of keys dropped into his palm. “Corporal Lokdon knows where it’s berthed. You’ll need to requisition some supplies and remove my daughter’s… collections-and please take care not to kill anything she has caged, cached, or otherwise netted up in there. There’s a technical manual full of operating instructions-I have a Kyattese gentleman to thank for that, as they insist on documenting everything over there-and I’m confident that you’ll be able to master them quickly. Take as long as you like out there. There’s a journal penned in Tikaya’s hand that points out some of our favorite spots along with their latitude and longitude. Do read the entries before deciding on one. A handful would be suitable for… vacationing, but some are favorite spots because of the archaeologically significant finds she located there, beaches full of cannibals wearing finger-bone necklaces not withstanding. Ah, but I’m rambling. You’ll figure it out on your own.” He patted Sicarius on the shoulder and headed toward the bier, where more people were gathering in preparation for the ceremony.

Sicarius stared at the keys in his hand, the meaning of the admiral’s monologue sinking in.

“What’s that?” Sespian asked, walking up.

“I believe it is… a vacation.” Huh. They wouldn’t even need to find a remote beach to take advantage of privacy. Simply descend ten meters in any lake or sea, and who would bother them?

“For you and Amaranthe? That’s good. She could use it for sure.”