Dark Age (Red Rising Saga, #5)

by Pierce Brown

“Problem? You ask if we have a problem?” The folds of his neck twist red as he cranes his head to glare at me like a frazzled yet contemptuous owl. “Young man, you bamboozled me into helping you activate the Storm Gods under the pretense that you would use them only in a limited capacity, and instead turned a city I love into a coral reef. Any compassion I had for your cause has been drowned by the encroaching sea. Yet if I do not help you again, as you so eloquently and brutally elucidated when you browbeat me into helping you on this fool’s errand to rid you from my planet, the city of my birth will resemble little else in the known universe except the center of a G-type main-sequence star. The fact that I find catharsis in profanity while endeavoring to fit three years’ worth of research into three weeks of practical application does not reflect upon my enthusiasm for the work, which is little, nor the necessity, which is great. So, yes, we have a problem, but the particular nature of my frustration is isolated to a conundrum which you have neither the patience nor the temperament nor cognitive ability to understand.” He turns the data on its side, scrolls through it again. “Ah,” he says. “Never mind. I solved it.”

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