The Emperor's Edge 3: Chapter 3 Part 1

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“What are all these slagging enforcers doing here?” Akstyr slouched against a tree and glowered at the grounds where athletes mingled, roaming from the barracks to the baths and to various eating and shopping tents.

Books stood beside the tree as well, though he was scribbling something in a notebook and paying little attention to the scene before them. As far as Basilard could tell, serious training had ended for the day, but the evening was young enough that few of the athletes were heading for the barracks. More enforcers than one would expect patrolled the grounds.

“We’re not going to be able to investigate a cigar butt without getting spotted,” Akstyr went on.

In the fading light, Basilard exaggerated his signs so Books and Akstyr could read them. We’re only supposed to see if magic is being used. We don’t need to get close or talk to anyone.

“Cursed enforcers will bug me just because of my brand.” Akstyr lifted a fist to display the arrow mark scored into the skin on the back of his hand. That seemed less likely to get him harassed than the greased ridge of spiky hair bisecting his head and the baggy mismatched clothing any enforcer would assume he stole—probably correctly.

“Then keep your hands in your pockets,” Books said.

Where should we start? Basilard asked.

“I believe I’ll observe from here,” Books said. “You two lads are young enough to pass as athletes, but with my gray hairs, nobody will believe I’m in the competition.”

Basilard lifted his eyebrows, amused at being called a lad. He was close to thirty-five and had a bald spot it would take a beaver pelt to cover. All the scars made the hair on the sides grow in patchy, so he simply kept his whole head shaven.

“That and the fact you can’t walk more than ten steps without tripping over something,” Akstyr said.

“I’m not that clumsy.” Books tucked his notebook into a pocket.

A gaggle of young women Akstyr’s age walked past, their sleeveless togs displaying enough flesh to stir one’s imagination. Akstyr straightened and touched his hair, as if to ensure it was still suitably spiky.

Basilard signed a comment for Books, I’m surprised your empire lets girls compete. Larocka and Arbitan did not have women fight.

“They’re permitted to enter the running events and the Clank Race,” Books said. “Not wrestling or boxing. Women have never been allowed to fight in the empire. As to the rest, the historical precedent is interesting. In the old days, warrior caste men would come to the Imperial Games to hunt for brides. The women who won the events were presumed to be most likely to birth sons who would become superior warriors. The original awards ceremony involved interested men coming out to compete for the winners. Bloodshed was often involved. Sometimes death. I understand there are some warrior-caste men who still come with the intent of shopping for brides, but the women are less likely to be interested these days. They want to start shops or wide-ranging businesses, using the status and honor they gain from their victories to assist in their endeavors. We live in a fascinating time, I must say.”

“Look at the chest on that one.” Akstyr pointed at a woman trotting to catch up with comrades. “I’d watch her run a race anytime.”

“Fascinating for some of us anyway,” Books muttered. “Akstyr, why don’t you go look for magic. That’s why we’re here, right?”

Akstyr shrugged and ambled off.

Basilard had wanted to talk to the younger man alone and saw his chance. I’ll go, too, and see if all these enforcers are here about the missing people or Sicarius. Amaranthe had briefed Basilard, Books, and Akstyr on the morning’s events.

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