A pretty good reading, though I really don't like Steve Anderson's version of old men or females of any stripe.
I loved the idea... the world was just slightly off-kilter, just enough that we could imagine it being any generic fantasy-esque landscape without too much trouble, and then the author dropped in her little touches that made it unique.
This story lent itself to a lot of good titles throughout. I wish I could remember them all, but I heard a bunch of nice ones.
I think the story would've been a better lady/tiger ending than "Erich Zann" or... oh, what was the other lady/tiger ending on Escape Artists recently? Damned if I can remember. Anyway, when this happens:
Rafe dipped his finger into the blood that had puddled on the floor. Vermilion, almost, but congealing to a rustier red. He had repeated, as Neecer asked his questions, that there was no resistance. And there had not been. But maybe there would be.
Using his blood as paint, he began to sketch.
That would've been a really cool way to end the story. Not that I'm unhappy with how it ended, necessarily.
There were parts of the story I didn't like -- most notably the way Rafe immediately KNEW Edward was the bad guy and the way he just sat and waited for him. I felt like the rising action was on too steep a slope. And I kind of knew what was coming from the moment Edward and Verity showed up.
Overall, though, I enjoyed it.