Diplomats and Fugitives by Lindsay Buroker

Author:Lindsay Buroker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sword and sorcery, steampunk, epic fantasy, fantasy series, emperors edge
Publisher: Lindsay Buroker

Chapter 12

Basilard could not sense the shaman, not the way Sicarius had said he could, but he knew they were being watched long before a pair of men jogged out from behind a boulder jutting out of the side of the canyon wall. They wore buckskins instead of military uniforms, but everything from their tight braids of hair to their clean-shaven faces to the rigid way they carried themselves spoke of the Kendorian army. One carried a longbow, typical for the people, but the other had a Turgonian musket. It was an older model, but Turgonians were known for keeping their technology and their weapons inside of their country, so seeing it in the hands of a foreigner made Basilard uneasy. He doubted Starcrest was engaged in some secret Turgonian-Kendorian alliance, but there could be other factions supplying the Kendorians with aid. As if they needed it. They had far more than the Mangdorians did already.

Though the soldiers had their faces painted in camouflage colors and wore fierce expressions, Amaranthe lifted an arm, waved cheerfully, and smiled.

“Out of curiosity,” Maldynado said, keeping his hands away from his weapons as the soldiers ran up. “Did we think to bring anyone who speaks their language?”

“I know some of it,” Amaranthe said before Basilard could sign that he knew a few words.

“You do? Since when?”

“Since Sicarius and I have traveled through their land a couple of times,” Amaranthe murmured, the words barely audible. “He’s been teaching me.”

“And here I thought you two would spend all of your private time together… exercising.”

“Is that what you and Yara do?”

“Frequently. And sweatily.”

You two know you’re not talking about the same thing, right? Basilard signed, more as a way to avoid feeling nervous than because he was engaged in the conversation. He was more engaged in watching the way the musket-wielding Kendorian was rubbing the trigger with his finger.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Maldynado said. He hadn’t lowered his voice, and he kept talking as the soldiers stopped a few paces away, as if the Kendorians’ approach was nothing to worry about. “She’s eating those nasty meat bars for fertility reasons, after all.”

A rare blush colored Amaranthe’s cheeks, but she turned her attention to the guards instead of responding. That was a good thing, because the one with the firearm spoke. Basilard caught the gist. The man was demanding that they turn around and go back the way they had come from. This route was closed.

“We’re here to speak with your leader,” Amaranthe said in Turgonian. “Actually, this man is.” She gripped Maldynado’s biceps briefly. “Maldynado Montichelu Marblecrest, President Starcrest’s representative in this matter.” Apparently, she wasn’t going to demonstrate the few Kendorian words she claimed to know. Perhaps so the soldiers would speak openly around them? Basilard resolved not to let on that he understood some of their language.

“Marblecrest?” the gunman said, then spoke rapidly to his comrade, asking if that was a warrior-caste name.

“Does anyone among your people speak Turgonian?” Amaranthe asked. She had

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