Steel Sky by Andrew C. Murphy

unalloyed truth, and it is our duty to encourage our client’s fullest expression.
    “Edward, none of us live forever. And if people allowed themselves awareness of the shortness of their lives, then maybe they would make more of them.”
    “You’ll pardon me if I don’t see things that way.”
    “Our interests are not in conflict, Edward. They are complementary. My duty begins where yours leaves off.”
     
    CONTRADICTION IN TERMS
    “Amarantha! By Koba’s eyes, you look lovely!” Second Son says, clapping his hands on Amarantha’s shoulders. Cadell takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to peel Second Son’s hands away. Fortunately, Second Son releases her before the urge becomes uncontrollable. Personal space is highly valued in the Hypogeum and is not violated lightly.
    “How are you, my dear?” he asks as she moves away a bit to click idents.
    “Cadell and I are doing quite well, thank you.”
    Second Son is wearing a gigantic cape with multicolored pinions that swing pendulously as he turns to face Cadell. “Hello,” he murmurs.
    “That’s quite a costume,” Cadell says with a smile.
    “Yes.” Second Son looks at Cadell blankly. Cadell can see that only bluster has carried Second Son this far and now he is stuck. Cadell almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
    “Where’s your fiancée?” Amarantha asks.
    “In a few days we’ll be seeing each other every day for the rest of our lives. No need to overdo it now.” Second Son smiles weakly, seemingly glad for an excuse to stare at Amarantha again. His mouth hangs open with undisguised hunger. What , Cadell wonders, did Amarantha ever see in this man, to have dated him even once?
    “We’re very happy for you, Second Son,” Amarantha says, “A good marriage is a treasure, my mother used to say.”
    “Huh. My mother used to say that a good marriage is a contradiction in terms.”
    An awkward pause follows. Cadell can almost hear Second Son trying to think of what to say next.
    A bass voice over their shoulders breaks the silence. “Thraso spotted his good friends Cadell and Amarantha,” the voice booms. “He went over to greet them.”
    Cadell steps aside to let Thraso, one of the senior Rakehells, join the circle. “He said his hellos to them both,” Thraso says, taking Amarantha’s hand in his, “lingering over the beautiful Amarantha, who was looking especially radiant.”
    “Thank you . . . I think,” Amarantha says, casting a quick, questioning look at Cadell.
    “Thraso has decided to narrate his memoirs,” Cadell explains. “Continuously.”
    “Everything they said was being recorded,” Thraso says, patting a small box clipped to his hip. Thraso has a long, unhandsome face made beautiful by sharp eyes and full, curved lips. “His friends thought it was an excellent idea. The life of one destined for greatness deserved to be meticulously documented.”
    “Oh, absolutely,” Amarantha says, smiling over her drink.
    “Thraso greeted Second Son,” Thraso says. “He complimented Second Son on his outrageous outfit, although privately he thought it was in questionable taste.”
    “Huh? What did you say?” Second Son sputters.
    “They made small talk for a while,” Thraso announces, “and then Thraso told Cadell he had some important information to discuss. In private.”
    Cadell looks questioningly at Amarantha, who shrugs.
    “The others moved away politely,” Thraso says.
    Second Son bounces forward and puts his hand on Amarantha’s shoulder. “Let’s give them a moment,” he says, turning her away. Cadell marvels at his daring. If anyone else tried to touch her like that, Amarantha would take his hand off at the wrist. She would probably do it to Second Son, too, he realizes. She is being polite for Cadell’s sake, because she knows how important it is to him that she not antagonize someone so well-connected.
    Thraso takes Cadell’s arm and they move in the opposite direction. “Amarantha is a remarkable woman,