The Emperor's Edge 2: Dark Currents

The Emperor's Edge 2: Ch. 8 Pt. 2

A breeze blew a rumpled food wrapper across the empty street. Sidewalks that should have been busy with workers running about on lunch break were sparsely populated. More than one business had its windows shuttered or a CLOSED sign hanging on the door. Books could not believe how quickly this “epidemic” had manifested.

With few trolleys running, he and Amaranthe had to bike to the upscale urban neighborhood at the base of Mokath Ridge, a task she found difficult in her “disguise.” At least, he assumed that was what the frequent invocations to dead ancestors signified. The curses may have been for the disguise itself.

A flamboyant white-brimmed hat with a dangling tail of mink fur perched atop her braided hair. Her low-cut blouse revealed...a lot more than he was used to seeing from her. The short skirt hugged her thighs like a sausage casing, giving her legs little freedom for pedaling. The short hem caught when they parked the bikes and got off.

“Don’t say it,” she said when Books opened his mouth.

“As you wish.”

“I assure you, I already discussed the inappropriateness with Maldynado, and I pointed out my thought had been to cover up more of my body rather than less, to which he said, ‘Yes, but nobody will be looking at your face in that.’“

“Possibly true.”

“I am grudgingly trying it until I have time to shop for something more my style. I did make a modification.” She untied a sash, revealing a hidden belt with a sideways knife sheath. “A spot for my sword would be better, but so few women carry them that it’s a suspicious accoutrement.”

“Yes.” He fought to keep a smile off his lips. “I, too, believe Maldynado would say it clashes with that outfit.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” She jammed the bicycle into a rack with more force than the task required. “At least you’re armed.” She nodded to his short sword.

Lucky him. “The address is a couple of blocks down the street.”

Books led the way down an old but well-kept cobblestone lane. Tall, narrow row houses rose three stories high on either side. One or two steam carriages were parked in the street, but most houses had bicycles secured out front. An upscale neighborhood, but not as drenched-in-ostentatiousness as the ones further up the hill where people looked down upon the city from their vast estates.

“Nice area.” Amaranthe waved at early spring flowers peeping from window planters and hanging baskets.

“Nothing I could have afforded as a professor.” Books and his wife had rented a small house near campus. The empire did not pay its educators well unless one happened to be a retired officer teaching at a military academy.

“Maybe she’ll let you move in with her.”

“Premature to speculate on such things. Though...I wonder if, ah... The directory only listed her name under the address.”

“Hoping there’s no lover, eh?”

“No,” Books said. “Well. Maybe.”

Amaranthe smiled. It was a gentle, warm smile, not an amused one, and he sensed she actually cared and would root for him to find happiness, even if it meant leaving the group.

She paused on a corner and laid a hand on his arm. “I am concerned though—did Sicarius tell you about their past?”

“Their past?” Books stumbled and caught himself on the pole of a gas lantern. “They weren’t—I mean, he doesn’t even...” Dear ancestors, he did not want to think about Sicarius sleeping with a woman at all, much less one he had an interest in.