The Emperor's Edge 3: Deadly Games

The Emperor's Edge 3: Chapter 13 Part 1

No gas lamps burned near the narrow, rickety docks at the end of the shipyard. Far south of the broad, modern piers used for military ships and merchant vessels, these berths were some of the oldest in the city. Moorage was relatively cheap and apparently not enough to cover the expense of public lighting. A quarter moon hanging over the lake illuminated the silhouettes of smaller ships, a mix of old steamers, sailboats, and combinations of the two. Amaranthe questioned whether the vessels being tied to the creaking docks kept them from floating away or if it might be the other way around.

She led the men along the street, pausing at each sign to read the numbers. One might assume Pier 173 would follow Pier 172, but some docks had sunk over the years while others had expanded and branched out. They passed 169, 169B, and 169C, followed by a skip to 171.

Clothing rustled ahead of them, near a warehouse on the far side of the street. Five or six people loitered in the shadows, slouching degenerately against the wall.

“Friends of yours?” Amaranthe murmured to Akstyr, knowing this was the Black Arrows territory.

“Ain’t got no friends left in the gang,” Akstyr said.

“Your rosy personality didn’t endear you to them?” Books asked.

“Ssh,” Amaranthe whispered.

Though she could not see the eyes of those who lurked ahead, she felt the intensity of their attention. No doubt, they were calculating odds, deciding if she and her men looked like easy targets. She doubted it—Maldynado, Books, and Akstyr wore their swords openly—but, then, superior numbers and desperation could make a group brave.

A few muttered words reached her ears.

“...take them.”

“That one’s got an expensive...”

“...brandy for months.”

Amaranthe shook her head at Maldynado, knowing he was the only one with something “expensive” that would tempt thugs.

“Looks like another fight,” Books murmured, a resigned slump to his shoulders.

“Not necessarily,” she whispered, a mischievous thought sauntering through her mind. “It’s not contagious, is it?” she asked loudly.

“Huh?” Maldynado blurted.

“I touched you. We all did,” Amaranthe said. “I just want to know how contagious it is. You should have known better than to sleep with that girl. Fresh out of the tropics with emperor knows what disease plaguing her.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Maldynado played along, but he glared at her. “She looked all right to me.”

“Thank my ancestors I’m not male,” Amaranthe went on. “Did you hear what one of the customers said? Rumor is someone’s peeper rotted up and fell right off after seeing her.”

Murmurs and the sound of shuffling feet came from the posse across the street.

“I bet it’s terribly contagious,” Amaranthe said.

“Yes,” Books said. “A new strain of pizzle rot out of the Gesh Islands. Coitus isn’t required for transmission. I expect we’re all doomed just from walking beside this lout.”

The dark figures in the shadows pushed past each other in an effort to be the first to sprint away. One tripped and fell in his haste to round a corner. Nobody stopped to help him up. Cursing, he scrambled to his feet and ran after his comrades.

“That’s one way to deter bandits,” Books said, a grin in his voice.

“You would approve,” Maldynado said. “Boss, it’s not right to joke around about a man’s... Did you call it a peeper?”