The Emperor's Edge 3: Deadly Games

The Emperor's Edge 3: Chapter 14

Though darkness had fallen hours earlier, light crept beneath the door of Deret Mancrest’s flat. No lamps burned in the hallway outside.

“He stays up late for a respectable newspaper man,” Amaranthe said.

“Maybe he’s entertaining,” Maldynado said. “Though I’d expect more thumping and moaning if that were the case.”

Books was not there to glare at him. Amaranthe had sent him and Akstyr to slip into the library and research krakens—specifically how to kill them—and check for information on underwater habitations as well, though she doubted they would find anything there. She did not think the technology existed to create something like that without the mental sciences, and the curators of the imperial libraries would never put books discussing otherworldly construction on the shelves. Not if they valued their necks.

“Be ready. He answers the door with a sword stick.” Amaranthe knocked.

“Naturally,” Maldynado said.

Shuffling sounds came from within, along with a noisy yawn that could have woken half of the building. A moment later, the door opened. Mancrest stood inside, leaning on his sword stick, his tall form limned by candlelight coming from behind him. Papers scattered a desk, as well as a couple of quills and an old-fashioned ink jar.

Mancrest gaped at them, though he dismissed Maldynado with a glance and focused on Amaranthe. She tensed, expecting a barrage of imprecations.

“Ms. Lokdon!” he blurted.

“Yes....” She tried to judge his tone, but could only read the surprise. Given the hour, that was hardly shocking.

“Hello. I didn’t expect you.” Mancrest winced. “That’s obvious, isn’t it? What time is it? After midnight?” He peered at a clock perched on a fireplace mantle. “It is. Huh.”

“Does he seem scattered to you?” Amaranthe whispered to Maldynado.

“His shirt buttons aren’t in the wrong holes, so I don’t think he’s been entertaining,” Maldynado whispered back, then he raised his voice. “Have you been drinking, Deret?”

“What? No?” Mancrest rubbed his eyes and yawned again. “Just been up. Thinking.”

Amaranthe fought back a yawn of her own.

“Come in, come in.” Mancrest shuffled to the table in sandals that slapped the wood floor with each step. The neighbors below probably loved that. “Since you’re here,” he said, “I might as well...” He poked through papers. Some were empty, some had a line or two on them, and some had more. A few crumpled balls occupied a nearby waste bin. “No, that’s awful. Ugh, what was I thinking there?” He discarded those two pages and surveyed others. “No, I was closer on a previous draft. Uhm...this one isn’t entirely horrible. It’ll have to do.”

Amaranthe exchanged eyebrow raises with Maldynado while Mancrest folded the selected page with care. He placed it in an envelope, melted the end of a wax stick over a candle, and sealed the missive with a smudge. He tugged on a golden chain around his neck, pulling a flat, oval signet out. Mancrest pressed it into the wax, leaving the image of a soldier holding a sword aloft—his family’s crest.

Amaranthe was about to interrupt letter-crafting time—they had important matters to discuss—when Mancrest straightened, marched the envelope over, and handed it to her.

“Er, what’s this?” she asked.

“It’s in the letter.”

“Did you...want me to read it now?”