The Emperor's Edge 3: Deadly Games

The Emperor's Edge 3: Chapter 11 Part 3

Amaranthe led Maldynado, Akstyr, and Books onto Pier Thirteen, her strides long and her chin high beneath the brim of her sunhat. It hid her face to some extent, and, on the trolley ride over, she had arranged her hair in a number of braids, then pinned them up in a creative bundle that looked nothing like the style on any of her wanted posters. She supposed she could look into cosmetics to disguise her facial features, but she wanted to be recognized when she was doing something good, something that might help her clear her name.

A massive crane belched smoke as it lifted shipping containers from the bowels of a merchant steamer and lowered them to the dock. Dozens of burly, bare-chested stevedores unloaded the cargo and ported it inside the towering warehouse. The shirtless workers seemed to be competing with each other for the role of Tattoo Emperor. Amaranthe decided the man with the kraken was the winner—its head emblazoned his neck while tentacles ran down his back, both arms, and his chest, with the largest pair disappearing beneath his trousers. Of its own wayward volition, her mind wondered how far beneath the waistband the tentacle motif might continue and what exactly it would be doing down there.

The tattooed man glanced her way before heading into the warehouse with a crate in his arms. He caught her eye and winked.

“If Deret doesn’t turn out to be your dream man,” Maldynado said, “we can always find you someone here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you dolt,” Books said. “If Amaranthe must copulate at all, it should be with a man who knows how to read and preferably how to use the Imperial Locus System to pluck appropriately intellectual books from the library shelves.”

“A skill that would be completely useless for satisfying her in bed,” Maldynado said.

“Surely, finger dexterity has crossover applications.”

“Gentlemen,” Amaranthe said, wondering when such commentary had ceased to make her blush. “Let’s go over our story.”

“You’re going to pose,” Books said, “as the owner of an escort service, with Maldynado as your employee and—”

“Star employee,” Maldynado said.

“Uh huh.” Books stepped around a man carrying a massive ceramic jar and continued. “And you’re shopping for imported silks and tapestries and such for your...office? Is that the correct term for a place where someone like Maldynado would be prostituted out?”

“Close enough,” Amaranthe said.

“Costasce called her viewing room ‘The Parlor’,” Maldynado said.

They had reached the roll-up door of the warehouse, so Amaranthe stopped. None of the men streaming in and out spared her group a glance. Maybe they could simply walk in and snoop about without anyone caring. She peeped through the doorway.

A woman in spectacles checked off items on a clipboard and directed men toward different areas in the warehouse or toward a massive lift that could deliver cargo to an upper level. The men might not care about interlopers, but she would surely notice strangers strolling through the premises. The platform sandals crossing her feet with thin straps promised she wasn’t going to wander far to do lifting or other work.

“As to our role,” Books started, but Amaranthe cut him off with a raised hand.

“Akstyr?” she asked. With his disinterest for things non-magical, she never knew how much he was paying attention. “Your role?”

“We’re your porters.” He yawned. “Me and Books.”

“Good,” Amaranthe said.

“As long as we don’t have to really port things.”