Page 32 of Ravenous

“Is that all life is to you? Complete one job just to chase the next—on and on, forevermore? Perhaps no amount of gold will ever be enough for you. You might die with a treasure in hand.”

She shot him a look, as if he’d just missed an obvious lesson even a child could follow. He’d never had that look turned on him before. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of thinking like that. Gold is survival—”

The air blurred. A male materialized out of a cloud of noxious smoke: black hood, corpse-pale skin, eyes rimmed red. His gaze cut from the fire bowl to Nadje, then to Ink. “Who’s he?”

“My…associate,” she said.

Ink met the stranger’s stare. “And you are?”

“Baelor the Unraveler.”

Ink had heard the name. Archwarlock. Malevolent. “Why do you want this lava, Baelor?”

Nadje stiffened at the question; the warlock’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s new,” Baelor said to her.

“I am,” Ink replied. “I’m also curious.”

“Then you won’t last long as a hiredconcierge.” Baelor laced the word with contempt. “You’re paid to turn off your memory. And your questions.”

The warlock’s barb couldn’t penetrate Ink’s own arrogance. “Then perhaps you want a different concierge.” He adjusted the staff over his shoulder.

Nadje’s smile was tight, practical. “He’ll hire the competition.Ourcompetition, Inkletter.”

Baelor stilled. “Inkletter?” Something like interest sparked. “The studious incubus. Whisperer at kings’ ears. Reduced to fetching.” He clicked his tongue. “How embarrassing.”

Ink ignored him, telling Nadje, “You know this feels wrong.”

“Know nothing of the sort.” She turned to Baelor. “Do you have the gold?”

“Of course.” A chest thumped into being at his feet. He lifted his hand and smoke swirled thicker. “I have bound your teleportation, incubus, so you have two choices. Leave with your gold or remain here without it. The lava goes with me.”

Ink attempted to half trace, felt an invisible snare. Frustration tensed his muscles. This warlock had just placed himself in Ink’s sights.

Nadje quickly said, “The name of the sorceress. Where do we find her?”

With another look at Ink, Baelor answered her. “Pemphre, the Queen of Questions. Highest peak in the Helter.”

TheHelter? Even Nadje blanched.

“Whoever you sell this information to must tell her I sent them. That is our covenant once you take your pay. She demands lone supplicants and an offering of the oldest gold coin one can find.”

“Fine,” Nadje said, dragging the chest out of the fumes. Over her shoulder to Ink: “You heard him.”

Ink considered fighting free with the bowl. But the calculation ended with too many ways to fail and not enough to win. Especially since his fighting style utilized tracing. When more magic began to swirl, Ink unstrapped the staff and passed the sloshing vessel to Baelor.

Hellfire glowed in the warlock’s eyes as he peered into the bowl. “Our business is concluded.” He lifted his chin toward Ink. “Formerly great Inkletter, I’ll see you soon.” He opened his portal, stepped through. The smoke imploded as if a black hole had sucked every trace of it, and he was gone.

Ink felt the binding on his teleportation snap loose. He exhaled a breath. “Are you ready to be done with this place?”

“Yes,” Nadje said, but her gaze had returned to the hanging sorceress. Sword already in hand, she marched to the tree.

Ink watched, bemused, as she hacked at the tree limb. Once, twice, thrice. The crows scattered, at least from this victim. They alighted on the rage demon, who roused even more.

“Why help her? I thought you’d exhausted your altruism.”

“Because I”—hack—“feel like it.”Hack.