The Emperor's Edge (The Emperor's Edge, #1)

by Lindsay Buroker

Enforcer Headquarters frowned down at her, an ominous gray cliff of a building that glowered at the neighborhood like a turkey vulture, except with less charisma.

Second sentence of the book, and I like it.

surely there were alternatives. If she were chief, there was much she would do differently.

Her people might be peerless engineers, but great artists they were not.

He winced. The pain came every day now, a constant and loathed companion. At least the tea seemed to help.

She wrapped the blanket about herself and sloughed off the cot.

wc sloughed

He opened the grate, peered out, then disappeared over the edge. “There’s something wrong with a man who chooses to face death over cuddling with a woman.” Amaranthe grabbed the lantern and followed him out. “Of course, there may be something equally wrong with a woman who goes after him instead of waiting in safety.”

“Reserved?” Books suggested. “Dignified?” “No,” Maldynado said. “Do you think you’re a dictionary or something?” “A thesaurus perhaps,” Books said.

She decided to forgo her ambitions of creating a cohesive unit. An occasionally functional one with tendencies toward violence seemed more within reach.

rested his hand at the base of Akstyr’s neck. Though the touch was light, the meaning was unmistakable. Akstyr stood utterly still, not even breathing. In the silence that descended, Amaranthe heard the breeze bumping the buoys hanging on the outside walls. “Follow her orders,” Sicarius said softly. Akstyr closed his eyes and gulped. “Y-yes, sir.” Sicarius lowered his hand. His gaze flicked to Maldynado. “Oh, I like her orders,” Maldynado said. “Official shopper, excellent. No strenuous labor for me.” “Yes, I have no issues either,” Books said, almost as pale as Akstyr. Amaranthe’s lips stretched, though she did not know if in a grimace or a smile.

“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 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.”

After some searching, she found a closet with cleaning supplies cowering under grime dating back to the Bronze Era.

“If we’re discovered, I’ll do everything I can to make time for you and the others to escape.” “Sicarius too?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “If Sicarius is discovered, I’ll have to try and make time for the enforcers to escape.” Books snorted but did not disagree.

“Standing out here is about as exciting as watching cherries ripen.”

She had to look.

No. You do not. This does _not_ have to be the typical scary movie where you're like, "Don't you remember that there's a killer on the loose? Can't you hear the creepy music? Do Not Go through that door!"

You’re good at talking people into things.” “What makes you say that?” “Because I’m perched in the rafters of a cannery, at risk from a man-slaying magical creature, and spending time with a drunk, a gangster, and an assassin at...what time is it?”

I’m going to snoop.” “Snoop? This morning you said you were going to observe.” “Maybe it’s the enforcer in me, but I’ve always thought the terms have a great deal of overlap.”

Take advantage of the complementary drinks

complimentary

She stood and slashed her hand in exasperation. “You were married; don’t you know how this is supposed to go? The woman doesn’t want you to argue or try to solve the problem with logic. The woman wants you to commiserate with her. You don’t have to fix anything. Just stand there and nod and say ‘uh huh’ and ‘I understand.’ That’s all you’re supposed to do.”

Maldynado Monticzhelo, Wanted Dead or Alive: 250 ranmyas. “Two hundred fifty ranmyas? That can’t be right.” Maldynado raked his fingers through his soft brown curls. “My last hair cut cost more than that!”

“Now that we’ve executed the plan and failed, he has no reason to risk himself for us. It would be more logical for him to try something on his own, and he is nothing if not logical.” Maldynado snorted. “Why don’t you just say we’re of no more use to him, so he’s leaving us to be tortured?” “I think I did say that.

A railroad car with a slag ladle blocked most of her view. A shoot perched above it, though no molten material poured down at the moment.

chute