The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic, #2)

by Patrick Weekes

When a lock needed picking or someone needed to be distracted with fast words and a good, solid line about their mothers, Kail knew it was his time to shine. A heavily armored Imperial guy with a magical ax who subsequently turned out to be a severely defaced corpse being controlled by the magical ax, along with a dozen or so crystal golems? Not one of those times.

“You were bred to serve, Urujar,” Arikayurichi said, and Loch could hear the sneer in its voice. “You belong in the fields, tilling the soil to grow crops for the more important servants.” It lunged in, and Loch blocked one blow, slapped aside another, and then rolled away from its furious onslaught. “Oh, no,” she called back, “not racism. How will I ever keep my feelings in check from that?” She laughed, spinning Ghylspwr into a guard. “But by all means, come and get me, big guy.”