The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 10 Pt. 2

Ink Alley, a frequent stop for business supply shoppers, meandered through four city blocks. Shops advertised stationery, accounting books, wax and seals, ink, and paper of various weights and sizes. Despite being a well-known destination, the ancient street was narrow, and Amaranthe had to dodge bundle-laden shoppers. Maldynado, who walked at her side, made no apologies for his broad shoulders and let others do the dodging. He did offer a smile if the person happened to be young and female.

“I gave Books a large portion of my funds,” Amaranthe told him, “so I need you to get me a good deal on paper and ink.”

“Your big plan involves blackmail and counterfeiting,” Maldynado said. “Why don’t we just steal your printing supplies?”

“And damage the livelihood of some poor businesswoman trying to make a living? I couldn’t do that.”

“You need to work on this criminal stuff.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, we don’t need to leave a trail of burglaries that would tell some enforcer investigator what we’re up to.”

Etchings in the window panes of a shop portrayed old-fashioned ink pots, quills, and scrolls of parchment. Bins of pencils and pens and myriad types of paper lay behind the glass.

“How about this place?” she asked.

“Sure. I’ll probably have greater success if you wait outside.”

“Why?”

“Because if you come in hanging on my arm, it’ll look like I’m not available. Charming women works best if they think they have a chance.”

Amaranthe hesitated, not sure whether to trust him to get the right items. But, if it meant getting a better deal... “Very well. I’ll write our needs down for you.”

“I don’t need a shopping list. I’ve got a great memory.”

“We’ll need rag paper, not pulp-based. And pay attention to the weight. We won’t find an exact match, but we want the closest we can find. Make sure to get printing press ink. Books says it’s made from soot and turpentine and nut oil. Anything else will smear. We’ll need a paper cutter too. And plates, but I’ll select those from an engraving shop.”

“Rags and what oil?” Maldynado asked.

“I’ll write it down.”

“Good idea.”

After he went inside, Amaranthe continued down the street. Newspaper articles plastered a brick wall near a window, and she stopped, wondering if any mentioned the “bear” slayings. The yellowed clippings only highlighted old stories featuring Ink Alley.

About to move on, she paused at a reflection in the window. A boy of ten or twelve watched her from across the alley.

Ensconced in numerous layers of raggedy clothing, he slouched against a wall. When she turned, he yawned and looked away.

Amaranthe wandered farther down the street. A low rail paralleling a wall offered a place to park bicycles and street skis. She propped her foot on it and peeked under her arm while pretending to adjust the fit of her boot.

The boy lurched to a stop, hunkered over a trash can, and rummaged through it.

Great, who set this child to following me? Enforcers used youngsters as informants, since adults tended to ignore them, but she could not assume he was one of theirs. Other people employed youths for similar reasons. Businesses used them to spy on other businesses. Gangs gathered intelligence on rival gangs. Even lovers sent children to watch partners suspected of cheating. Given how long it had been since Amaranthe’s last romantic relationship, she easily eliminated the last possibility.