Lindsay Buroker: Ice Cracker II

“But you’re fugitives. Isn’t the emperor the one who put the bounty on your head? Both your heads?” She flicked a glance toward Sicarius, who stood silently, scanning the camp. “Or… Oh. Are you trying to clear your name? Redeem yourself? Were you wrongfully accused?” Again Nelli’s gaze went to Sicarius, who wasn’t even looking at her. “But, no, he wouldn’t…”

No, nobody who had seen the list of dead Sicarius had left in his path would suspect him of being wrongfully accused of anything.

“It’s a long story,” Amaranthe said. “One for after-”

“Nelli,” a stern male voice said. “Who are these people?”

Sicarius was already looking at the sturdy gray-haired man walking up. He looked familiar, but Amaranthe’s gaze locked on the two pistols hung at his belt before she could place the face. She tensed, hand going to her sword. Only military men were allowed to use black-powder weapons, and a soldier was as much danger to them as a bounty hunter.

“This is the friend from school I told you about, Da, and-”

“Sicarius!” The old soldier’s eyes widened.

His hand went for a pistol, and a throwing knife appeared in Sicarius’s hand. Amaranthe lunged in front of Sicarius even as Nelli blocked her father.

“He’s here to help, Da. They both are.”

“Wait,” Amaranthe gripped Sicarius’s arm. “Please, just wait.”

“Help?” Nelli’s father roared. “He’s an assassin! An imperial criminal. He’s killed dozens-hundreds! — of the soldiers who’ve tried to catch him.”

“Which makes him an excellent person to stop whoever is killing our people,” Nelli said. “Look, he works with Amaranthe now. You remember her. We sold candy apples in front of the house for a month that one summer. Remember?”

Amaranthe recalled the man’s face now. Sergeant Tollen had not been around much, but she had seen him a couple times. Though older, he still appeared hale.

He looked back and forth from her to Sicarius, and, though a dour glare marked his face, he moved his hand away from the pistol. Sicarius lowered his throwing knife.

Amaranthe let out a slow breath, meeting Nelli’s eyes through the falling snow. Maybe her old friend was right, and she needed to start charging more.

“Emperor’s warts,” the sergeant said, “this is ludicrous, Nelli. He may have been the one to kill your uncle. Ordin led a scouting party to find this criminal and never came back. We never even found the body for a funeral pyre.”

Amaranthe looked at Sicarius. His face was a stone mask. If he had history with this man, Sicarius was not going to show it here.

“We don’t need his help,” the sergeant muttered.

“I’ll check around the camp,” Sicarius said.

Amaranthe nodded, relieved. She wanted to ask him if he had discovered anything odd about the cougar-mauled man, but now was a good time for him to leave the vicinity. The wind kicked the snow sideways, and he soon disappeared into the flurries.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on?” Amaranthe suggested.

“Yes.” Nelli released her father’s arm. “Da, could you make sure the machinery is battened down and the workers all come in? It looks like fierce weather tonight.”

Sergeant Tollen was still staring after Sicarius, but he pulled his gaze back to his daughter. His eyes softened. “Yes, all right, but be careful. Stay within my sight. Don’t trust, no, don’t even go near that man. Not for a heartbeat.”

“Yes, Da.” She gave him a mock salute.

He snorted, but touched her shoulder as he walked away. Amaranthe felt a pang, remembering similar gestures from her own father.

Nelli started walking, leading Amaranthe through the camp and out onto the ice.

“He retired two months ago,” Nelli said. “He’s been working as my operations manager this winter. It was wonderful until this all started. I hardly ever saw him when I was a girl, but we’ve finally had a chance to spend time together.”

“Sounds nice.”

They stopped before a ragged gap in the ice. Unlike the neat square blocks removed elsewhere, this hole looked like something large had simply plunged through. A thin veil of new ice had formed over the water on the bottom.

“One of our trucks is down there,” Nelli said, raising her voice to be heard above the rising wind.

“I assume that’s not the desired parking spot.”

Nelli snorted. “We drive on the ice constantly this time of year. It’s more than two feet thick right now. But the empty truck went right through.”

“Did the driver get out?”

“No.”

Amaranthe grimaced.

“This was the third incident. The first two were-”

Something black-and large-darted across the ice.

Amaranthe jerked a hand up. “Did you see that?”

Snow streaked sideways, reducing visibility to a few meters, and she squinted, trying to identify the shape.

“I-maybe,” Nelli said. “What is it?”

The wind shifted, blowing snow into Amaranthe’s eyes. Flakes gummed her lashes and stung her eyes, but she ignored them.

She slung the repeating crossbow off her shoulder and loaded five quarrels into the magazine. She had poison for the tips, but successfully applying it with the wind whipping across the lake was improbable. Besides, she had no idea what she was shooting at. Sicarius might be out here somewhere.

A screech pierced the wind, and a black creature raced toward them. Even on four legs, its head rose above theirs.

Amaranthe lifted the crossbow and fired. Yellow eyes flashed, and the black shape bounded away. It darted into the storm and vanished.

A long moment passed before she relaxed her grip on the trigger.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Nelli yelled. “You made that look easy.”

“Of course.” Amaranthe was glad the snow and her gloves hid her shaking hands. Though vaguely feline-shaped, that hadn’t been a cougar, panther, or any other animal she recognized. She readied the crossbow to fire again, but said, “Let’s get back to camp.”

When Nelli didn’t start walking, Amaranthe frowned and turned around. Heavier than ever, the snow obscured the bank. A vertiginous moment washed over her. Was camp over that way? Or that way? Somewhere the sun was setting, but the clouds smothered any light left in the sky.

She bit her lip. She couldn’t even see the hole in the ice any more. A wrong step could send one of them plummeting into the frigid lake.

A black shape loomed at Amaranthe’s elbow. She spun toward it, the crossbow ready.

A hand dropped on hers, pushing the weapon down.

“The storm is getting worse,” Sicarius yelled over the wind. “You should come back to camp.”

“We were just about to. Ah, care to lead the way?” Amaranthe shouldered the crossbow, grabbed Nelli with one hand, and put the other on Sicarius’s shoulder.

Without hesitation, he led the way. Soon, they stepped off the ice and onto a packed path through the snow. Sicarius found one of the ropes and followed it to the log cabin.

They walked inside, and relief flooded over Amaranthe. She pushed back her hood and breathed in warm air that smelled of sawdust and burning coal.

A man slammed the shutters shut on the last of four windows and locked it with a thick bar. A cast-iron stove glowed in a corner. The open cabin was parceled into an office space, a tiny kitchen and table, and a sleeping loft. Kerosene lamps hung from the walls and rafters. Several people, including Merla and Sergeant Tollen, were already hunkered inside, and Amaranthe’s relief dwindled. Great, a night stuck together in a small space with two men who would be happy to kill each other. Add, for good measure, a woman who would be thrilled to collect the bounty on either her or Sicarius’s head.