Emperor's Edge Republic (74 page)

“It’ll depend on the resistance, but if the rhizomes conduct electricity the way they’ve demonstrated so far, I believe there’ll be enough voltage and amps to carry the current several miles.”

“We’re ready to attack then?” Mahliki asked.

“Yes.”

“Are we going to use these batteries to make a safe area within which to work?” Sespian asked, imagining them strung together in a circle.

Starcrest nodded. “That’s the idea.”

“Can we deploy them from in here?” Maldynado asked.

“Mahliki?” Starcrest bent further and turned over the map to write on the back with a charcoal stick. “They need to be placed about ten feet apart and hooked together to make a complete circuit. Do you think you can handle that with the tools in the science station?”

“Uh, that’ll take some precision that will be hard to achieve with the grasper. It would be a lot faster if I went out there in a suit and could use my hands.”

Starcrest grimaced. “You won’t have the protection of the hull out there. You would be vulnerable.”

“Yes, but we’ve seen how fast this plant is adapting to our tactics. If it figures out what we’re doing...” Mahliki shrugged. “We’re talking about five minutes to do something by hand versus thirty minutes to
attempt
to do it with tools.”

Sespian exchanged long looks with Maldynado. He hated the idea of going out there—hated the idea of letting
Mahliki
go out there—but the situation seemed to be going that way. What else could they do? This was why he had come along.

“Try it from in here first,” Starcrest said.

“Father, are you letting the fact that I’m your daughter affect your decision? I can’t believe you would make this choice if you had a soldier to send out there. Or if it were Sespian. Or Maldynado.”

“I was contemplating sending Maldynado out earlier, to get some quiet in here,” Starcrest said, though he smiled at Maldynado as he said it, and there was no malice in his tone.

Maldynado’s snort didn’t sound offended; he must have heard similar comments countless times.

Mahliki didn’t snort or smile. She jabbed her fist against her hip and frowned.

Starcrest tugged out a kerchief and mopped his brow. Judging from the limpness of the cloth, he had done so numerous times already. Sespian wondered if it would be received poorly if he suggested to the president that he had a fever and should be drinking more.

“Try it from in here first,” Starcrest repeated, a mulish set to his jaw. A vine thumping against the viewport distracted him.

Mahliki stalked out of the navigation area. Sespian followed, finding her scowling out the porthole above the science station panel. He didn’t know what to say, so he put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll help you with the grasper,” Sespian said. “I’m fairly dexterous when it comes to manipulating tools. Real ones, not just pencils.”

“He’s not being logical,” Mahliki said. “He’s being emotional.”

“That’s a thing fathers do when their children are involved. I hear even mine got slightly illogical a couple of times when my life was in danger.” Sespian decided not to mention all the Forge people Sicarius had killed during one of his “illogical” moments. He might understand his father more now, but memories of such events still chilled him.

“Whatever.” Mahliki strode into the cabin and grabbed a reel of cable.

For the first time since Sespian had met her, she seemed sulky and... a little immature, almost reminding him of Akstyr. She was only seventeen, he reminded himself. Besides, who was he to judge? He’d had his own sulky and immature moments in the last year, especially in accepting Sicarius as his father.

He knelt beside Mahliki as she sat in the seat, preparing the batteries and cable. “You know he’s dying, right?” he murmured.

She dropped the cable. “What?”

“He probably wants to make sure
you
make it back, especially if there’s a possibility he won’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The poison, remember?”

“What? I thought that was a bluff, that...” Mahliki stared toward the navigation area, where the back of her father’s head was visible. She said a single word in Kyattese. It sounded like a curse.

Sespian picked up the cable reel. “Here. Or do you want me to do it?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She huffed in frustration and grabbed the reel. “Might as well drop this first. Father,” she called, “are we over the spot?”

“Yes.”

Boots clanked on the deck behind Sespian. It was Maldynado wearing the bottom half of the diving suit, the top bunched around his waist.

“Getting ready, just in case.” He shrugged, but his face was bleak. He expected to go out.

“You might want to get ready too,” Mahliki told Sespian, glancing at navigation again. “I’ll try to attach all the batteries from in here, but...” She shook her head and went back to work.

Sespian thought about volunteering to help again, but maybe that was arrogant of him. She had operated the tools before. She was probably the logical choice to do so now.

He stood, patting her on the shoulder before leaving.

“Prepare my suit, too, please,” Mahliki said.

This time, Starcrest was the one to glance back, but he didn’t say anything.

Sespian headed for the cabin where the suits had been dumped along with all the other gear. There were three remaining, a large, and a couple of mediums. Since Mahliki was as tall as he was, Sespian laid out one of the mediums for her and took the other for himself, as well as a helmet.

“Where’s the tubing?” he asked. “That connects us to a pump on the surface—or wherever on the sub that might be?”

“Ah.” Maldynado shuffled in after him and pointed to cylindrical tanks on the bunk. “I used ones like this before. They were from Kyatt or some place that used a little magic to make it all work. It’s all self-contained. The air is in those tanks.”

“Where did Starcrest
get
them?” They hadn’t had access to these before, and Sespian couldn’t imagine Turgonian vessels using equipment that employed magic, however handy it might be.

“I don’t know, but there have been quite a few foreign ships visiting since the change of government. Maybe he traded for them. Last time, we found them on a wrecker all kitted out for underwater treasure hunting.”

“Well, good.” Sespian grabbed a pair of boots. “I had visions of those vines sweeping in, wrapping around the tubes, and cutting off our air supply.”

“They’ll just wrap around our necks instead.”

“You’re a cheery fellow, aren’t you?” Sespian knocked on the sturdy helmet. “These should protect our necks somewhat.”

“Let’s hope so.” Maldynado tugged the upper portion of his suit over his shoulders. “I wish I had a weapon to take out there. A
useful
weapon. Think you can get that black knife back?”

“Maybe. I’m hoping that hand-held generator can work down here too. I designed the casing to be waterproof.” Sespian tugged his own suit up, feeling the weight of the heavy canvas. An unwelcome yawn cracked his mouth, and his eyes watered. A man ought to take on megalomaniacal vegetation after a full night’s sleep and a hearty meal. He hadn’t had either in some time.

“Am I forgetting anything?” Sespian waved at his ensemble. They would wait to fasten the helmets until it was time to go.

“Yeah, to kiss the girl.”

“Er, what?”

“She kissed you,” Maldynado said. “Now you kiss her back before flinging yourself into danger. That’s how it works.”

Sespian’s face heated enough that he wished he already had the helmet on to hide the flush. “She’s going to be flinging herself into danger too.”

Maldynado opened his mouth to respond, but someone else spoke first. “No, she’s not.” Starcrest stood in the hatchway.

Dear ancestors, how much of that had he heard? Sespian stepped back to the wall and sucked in his belly, not sure whether it was to make room for Starcrest to enter or to try and make himself invisible.

“Pardon, My Lord?” Maldynado asked.

Starcrest stepped into the cabin and grabbed the large suit. “I designed the equipment. I know it best. I’m going out with you.”

“Uh,” Maldynado said.

Sespian couldn’t manage anything more articulate. Even if he weren’t poisoned, wasn’t Starcrest a little...
venerable
to be cavorting around the lake floor, fending off attacks from killer plants?

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Maldynado asked. “Given your condition?”

Starcrest gave him a cool stare. Sespian stared too. Had Maldynado realized Starcrest was feeling the effects of the poison before he had? If so, Sespian felt... obtuse.

“Given my condition,” Starcrest said, “I’m probably the
only
one who should go out. But I may need someone to keep those vines off my back while I work. It’s
going
to try and stop us.”

“Did you ask Mahliki?” Sespian said before realizing how stupid that sounded. As if he needed his
daughter’s
permission.

“We discussed it and agreed I was the logical choice to go out. She’ll watch us from within the submarine and do what she can to help.”

“Did she actually agree,” Sespian asked, “or simply say ‘whatever’?”

Starcrest smiled faintly. “She said ‘whatever,’ but she handed me this and hugged me.” He held up the black dagger, then flipped it and extended it toward Sespian, hilt first. “Maldynado, take the generator.” He pointed at the box Sespian and Mahliki had used on the street. “You’re strong enough to carry it and your tank. Flip that switch to activate it.”

Sespian felt a twinge of disgruntlement at hearing Maldynado get the strength compliment, but admitted Maldynado was bigger and brawnier than he. Besides, he would rather wield the dagger. Whipping daggers around was in his blood, after all, wasn’t it? He wondered if it was petty of him to wish Sicarius were there with him instead of Maldynado. Or maybe it was just that Starcrest had gotten a hug from his daughter and a chance for a farewell, and Sespian... didn’t even know where Sicarius was.

The deck vibrated. The sub was ascending.

“Time for final preparations.” Starcrest waved Sespian over. “I’ll fasten your helmet.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Sespian turned around.

“By the way, son,” Starcrest said, resting a hand on Sespian’s shoulder for a moment. “No matter what happens out there... you have my blessing if you want to court my daughter.”

“Erp?”

“Or whatever your generation calls it these days.” Starcrest patted him, then worked on the fasteners.

Maldynado sniggered. “We call it—”

“Courting,” Sespian blurted, not wanting to hear Maldynado’s lewd interpretation. “Courting is good.”

“Just don’t let
him
anywhere near her,” Starcrest added.

“No, sir. I would skewer him myself, should he have any impure thoughts about her.”

“Thoughts?” Maldynado asked. “A man can’t be skewered for
thoughts
.” He stepped back, his tank bumping against the hull. “Can he?”

“We’re at the surface,” came Mahliki’s voice from navigation. “You better get going before that plant starts hurling trees onto us again.”

“Understood,” Starcrest said. “Gentlemen? It’s time.”

Chapter 29

“T
here has to be an antidote,” Amaranthe said, “or some... concoction that can nullify the effects.”

Sicarius gazed into one of the dark tunnels stretching away from the altar, his silence more alarming than that of the ancient ossuary. Had he already accepted Starcrest’s death as inevitable?

Amaranthe gripped his arm. “What about a practitioner? Like the shaman who healed me of that infection. Couldn’t someone skilled in the medical sciences cure a man of a poison?”

His gaze lowered, locking onto hers. “Possibly.”

“Then one of these priests... one of the ones who knows the Science. We can question them until we find someone suitable.”

“Their craft is crude,” Sicarius said. “It is likely they’ve always practiced in secret and only among themselves. Finding a healer—”

Amaranthe’s grip tightened. “We have to try.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Put out your lamp.”

“Uh, what?” The last thing Amaranthe wanted was to be in the dark when she was stuck in a crypt.

“Someone is coming.”

After a quick check to make sure she had matches, Amaranthe extinguished the lamp. Sicarius took her hand and led her into one of the side tunnels, one where the cobwebs had already been broken. Though she trusted him, and had grown used to his uncanny ability to navigate in the dark, she kept her other hand extended, afraid she would crash into a wall—or trip over some bone that had fallen from one of the niches.

He slowed down, let her find a corner with her groping hand, then turned around it. He stopped there, and they turned to peer back the way they had come. The dark was gray rather than absolute, and it grew lighter as they watched. A lantern appeared. It was farther back than the altar, perhaps around a corner similar to theirs. It drifted closer. Amaranthe squinted, trying to see who held it. Serpitivich? Or was someone else down here with them?

As the lantern drew closer to the altar, a sense of dread stirred within her. She wanted to speak, to ask Sicarius if her eyes were fooling her, but she dared not lest someone—or
something
—hear. The lantern was floating toward them without anyone holding it.

It paused at the altar and hovered there, then rotated in a circle, as if it were
looking
for them.

Stop your wild imagination, girl, Amaranthe told herself. It was some levitation trick by a practitioner. They had
wanted
to find a practitioner, hadn’t they? This might be
good
news. Except that if they were dealing with a practitioner, vanquishing him might be much harder than simply capturing some sixty-year-old politician.

The lantern hovered over the altar, and its glass door creaked open. It tilted, lighting each of the four candles.

Sicarius eased back from the corner. “Watch for him here,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll circle around to find the practitioner. Concentrating on that trick will be distracting him.”