Emperor's Edge Republic (25 page)

Amaranthe passed the jar on to Colonel Starcrest. “Meaning it’s even more potent than numbers one and two?”

Tikaya spread an open palm. “I couldn’t say. I’m not certain this plant is meant as a weapon. Though... given what I have learned about that... species over the last twenty years, it does seem likely.”

“We’re guessing some seeds or pods or something otherwise encapsulated in those disks—or produced by those disks—survived the explosion,” Mahliki said, “and fell to earth. To the lake more specifically. While the water was cold and eventually frozen over, it would have laid dormant, but once the thaw came...”

“It spread faster than gossip about a C.O.,” the colonel said.

“Essentially, yes,” Tikaya said.

“Are your troops gossiping about you, Dak?” the president asked gently, a faint humor in his brown eyes.

“Always,” the colonel grumbled. “I’m scintillating material.”

He didn’t seem to share his uncle’s humor. There was a glumness to him that reminded Amaranthe of Basilard, although Basilard seemed less glum since he had returned to Turgonia. Even now, he kept smiling over at his translator, who was watching him attentively to see if he would contribute. Amaranthe needed to find time to talk to him and see how his meeting with the family had gone. When the jar got to him, he scrutinized it. Like the others, he passed it on without comment other than a displeased lip curl. It must not have the culinary merit that so much of the bizarre foliage he picked did.

“Mother and I are going to keep studying it.” Mahliki set another jar on the table, this one with a snippet of a vine lying on the bottom with water around it. It twitched a few times. “Although keeping a live specimen is perhaps not that wise—”

“No,” Tikaya said, “it’s not.” Her tone and the look she slanted her daughter suggested they had argued over this earlier.

Mahliki lifted a shoulder and continued with, “—it’s the only way to see what affects it and what doesn’t. We’re going to have to find
something
to eradicate it, or your capital city won’t be habitable for long.”

“The way that thing’s growing, all of
Turgonia
won’t be habitable for long,” Colonel Starcrest grumbled.

“It doesn’t grow
that
fast,” one of the generals said.

Most of the other heads around the room nodded in agreement with snorts for the idea.

President Starcrest wasn’t nodding. “I’ve been down to the waterfront the last couple of days,” he said. “Based on its current growth rate, if there are no other limiting factors, it would take less than a year to spread across the entire continent.”

“What?” the general blurted. “That’s impossible. We’re talking about thousands of miles to cover.”

Starcrest’s smile was bleak. “For all the marvels that humanity can grasp, it fails again and again to comprehend the significance of the exponential function.”

The general leaned back in his chair, his expression somewhere between thoughtful and befuddled.

“It’s like the compounding copper coin, right?” Amaranthe asked. “If you’re offered a million ranmyas or the sum of a copper coin that doubles every day for a month, you’re supposed to take the coin.”

“Yes,” Starcrest said.

Amaranthe recalled from that particular math problem that the one million ranmyas looked pretty good right up until the last couple of days of the month, where the doubling copper turned into millions of ranmyas on its own. “So if we delay now, most people won’t realize exactly how much trouble we’re in until it’s far too late to do anything about it?”

“Put her on the list,” the colonel said. He was studying the jar with the live specimen in it and didn’t meet Amaranthe’s gaze when she gave him a confused look.

“The list?” she asked.

“I’m being pressured to add more civilians to government positions,” Starcrest said. “The warrior caste is already grouching about being stripped of power, or so it perceives, but there are many scholars, entrepreneurs, and common citizens who now aspire to political careers.”

“They can have our jobs when we die,” one of the generals said. “None of the up-and-coming officers are worth their weight in spit anyway.”

“Weak generation,” another grumbled.

Amaranthe resisted the urge to roll her eyes at these geriatric opinions of youth—where had
they
been when Emperor Sespian was being poisoned and plotted against?—though she caught Mahliki doing just that. She waved for the return of her sample jars and stood. “Father, if your people are finished setting up that lab in the basement, I’ll start on my experiments right away. Mother’s already translated the runes and given me what information she has on the ancient race’s horticulture methods, but if there are any experienced botanists or even limnologists in the city who could be talked into helping, I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Or expert opinions, Amaranthe wagered. The young woman appeared daunted at the task she had taken on—or, by default, been given. Amaranthe knew all about taking on impossible tasks and wished she could offer help. Well, maybe...

“Basilard may be able to offer some valuable insight,” Amaranthe suggested. “His people are quite knowledgeable when it comes to plant life.”

Basilard glanced between Amaranthe, Mahliki, and the president.
I am not knowledgeable about
alien
plant life
, he signed. The woman standing across from him translated it for the room.

“Who is?” Starcrest murmured. “Basilard, why don’t you come see me in the morning, and we’ll discuss the Mangdorian concerns you’re here about? And with the rest of your time, if you’re willing...” He extended a hand toward Mahliki. “Unlike any botanists we may scrape up off the streets, you already have the clearance necessary to hear about the sensitive origins of the plant.”

Amaranthe wondered exactly how top secret any knowledge of the ancient aliens could be at this point. After all, the ship had crashed five miles from the city and been there for everyone to see for more than twenty-four hours last winter. But perhaps, in her absence, some sort of logical cover-up story had been concocted. She would have to visit Deret Mancrest at some point and get caught up with the news. Or she could stroll up and ask the president. The notion struck her as too familiar. She wasn’t even sure why she had been invited to this meeting. How could she or Sicarius help with this situation? Other than by hewing at individual plant stalks with a certain black knife.

“That’s it for now, gentlemen,” Starcrest said, and Amaranthe blushed, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention to the last minutes of the meeting. “Tikaya, Amaranthe, and Sicarius. Stay a moment, please.”

The officers filed out, along with Mahliki, Basilard, and his translator. They were already signing and talking over the clinking of Mahliki’s bag full of samples. At a hand-shooing from the president, the door guards also filtered out. The one who had ceded his position to Sicarius gave him a faintly peeved expression in passing. Not someone else who would hold a grudge against him, Amaranthe hoped. She wondered if that private would be found and questioned. Had he been some lone operator, seeing a chance to avenge some past wrong Sicarius had done him or his family? Or had he been suborned by the assassins already lurking in the city?

Maldynado lingered at the head of the table. “Ah, My Lord President? Shall I... report for work tomorrow?”

Starcrest managed to keep from looking exasperated at Maldynado, an impressive feat for many people. “Come to my office in the morning. I’ll see if anyone can use you for anything.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Maldynado looked pleased as he waved farewell to Amaranthe. Considering he had the status of errand boy so far, she wasn’t sure why, but this employment seemed to matter to him.

When Amaranthe, Sicarius, Tikaya, and Starcrest were alone, the president waved for them to join him at the head of the table. This time, Sicarius deigned to sit, taking a seat that allowed him to observe the door. Amaranthe slid in next to Tikaya. She wanted to ask the professor a question regarding Kyattese obstetricians and what they could and could not do, though only if she could find a private moment. The president probably didn’t care about her female problems.

“My friends,” Starcrest said, spreading his hands, palms up, “I have a feeling the
Explorer
can be a great asset to us in defeating this plant—even if we find a way to eradicate it on land, we don’t want the roots to remain at the bottom of the lake, waiting for an opportune time to repopulate. Thus I need it repaired. I can grab a couple of engineers and handle the mechanical aspects, but I can’t do anything about the power source.”

“Finding a Maker in the city—in all of
Turgonia
—may be impossible,” Tikaya said. “Is there no way a mundane solution could be offered?”

Starcrest stroked his chin. “I’ve done a little reading since returning home, and I see progress
has
been made in regard to refining useful fuels from petroleum, but given our time frame, a coal-fired steam engine would be the most likely possibility, and that’s not particularly feasible for a submarine. Especially that compact submarine, which, again given our time frame, is what we have available.”

“We’ve encountered practitioners in the city before,” Amaranthe said. “Aside from the ones who have traveled over just for the purpose of assassinating someone. Sicarius once found one to heal me of a disease with no mundane cure.”

“They come as refugees or to hide,” Sicarius said. “It may be possible to find a Maker.”

“Excellent. Tikaya—” Starcrest gave her an apologetic smile, “—would you mind going with them if they find someone and relaying the specifications? You know the woman who Made the
Explorer’s
power source intimately.”

“Because she’s my ex-fiancé’s mother,” Tikaya explained to Amaranthe dryly. “Though she’s continued to Make models over the years because of
Rias
and not because of our relationship.”

“Pardon?” Amaranthe had always found the professor’s Turgonian flawless, but she didn’t catch the nuances here.

“It’s not important,” Starcrest said.

“The woman is one of his admirers,” Tikaya said. “She’s read every Admiral Starcrest in the Such-and-Such novel out there. She’s almost eighty now and has been retired for ages, but she continues to make submarine power sources for her special client.”

“A fanatic, eh?” Amaranthe smiled at Sicarius, knowing he had read a number of those books as well.

He said nothing, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Yes, he had been a boy at the time, but Amaranthe hadn’t noticed that adulation wearing off much. Still, he could have far worse role models.

“Yes,” Tikaya said. “It’s a shame we can’t simply arrange for her to be sent here to Make a new device. Or to send her a message, have her Make it, and then ship it. We do have that communication device to contact my mother if necessary.”

“Even if Iweue began working right away, it would take three weeks to ship the item here,” Starcrest said. “Unless you know someone who could teleport it to the capital?”

“Teleporting somewhere you haven’t been before is difficult, and to travel across oceans and continents... I’ve not heard of that being done. If it’s feasible, it’s beyond the skills of my kith and kin.”

“If someone can figure out how to ship packages from continent to continent overnight, there’s an entrepreneur waiting to make that person rich,” Amaranthe said.

“Indeed,” Starcrest said. “In the meantime, let’s see if you can find a local Maker. Some fool has given me access to Turgonia’s tax funds, so I expect I can pay the person well for his or her time.”

“Don’t you have to get withdrawals approved by your treasurer?” Tikaya asked. “That nervous little woman with the tic?”

“Yes, but Dak intimidates her. I can simply send him to get the check.”

“Intimidates her? I thought he was making moon eyes at her.”

“Yes, but
she
didn’t realize that.”

Amaranthe pushed back her chair. “If there’s nothing further, we’ll head out, My Lord.”

Tikaya stood as well. “I’ll go with you.”

“Er, we were going to check on a business in town first. The owner might be linked to the original attack on the sub.”

“Tikaya, you needn’t join them until they find a practitioner,” Starcrest said. “I know Mahliki—”

“Has everything I can give her for now,” Tikaya said. “I don’t mind tagging along with them. I may be of assistance in locating a Maker.”

Amaranthe had a feeling Tikaya wanted to go with them for more reasons than had been stated, but it would give her an opportunity to ask her personal questions, so she did not object. She glanced at Sicarius, wondering if he would mind company, but he was doing his impassive-as-a-statue routine, as he had for much of the meeting. He was probably thinking about the assassin hunt he planned for the night, rather than worrying about running errands in the city.

“You’re gazing at me in speculation,” Tikaya said to her husband.

Starcrest’s thumb was hooked under his chin, fingers to his lips, as he did indeed gaze at his wife like a man contemplating a puzzle. If Amaranthe knew Tikaya had some ulterior motive here, he had probably sensed it too.

“Are those his bedroom eyes?” Amaranthe asked; maybe she ought to help Tikaya by distracting him.

“Not exactly,” Tikaya said.

“I am contemplating whether you’re stir-crazy and eager to escape the confines of the hotel or if you have something else in mind, something I should be disgruntled over because you’re not telling me about it.”

“Dak and I are working on a little intelligence mission,” Tikaya said.

“He asked you to go out into the city?”

“No, I’m taking initiative.” Tikaya smiled.

“In that case, I had better sends guards with you.”

Tikaya’s smile turned sour. “To babysit me?”

“To protect you. As you’ll recall, someone tried to blow up my office last night. I don’t know who among my family might be targeted. Today has already been... worrisome, due to an overly aggressive plant that can’t keep its vines to itself.”