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‘Why would you—?’

‘You know, on account of how the justiciars are always trying to kill you? Funny thing, though: this guy claimed the reason they’ve got it so bad for you is because you used to—’

I dropped the casket, letting the coins spill out onto the floor, then reached into the bag of cursed sand and hurled a handful into the circles. The explosion of sparks set Tenebris’ coat on fire. Within seconds, the crimson brocade was in cinders and the ivory flesh underneath was beginning to char. Tenebris yelped, batting away at the flames before they could spread. ‘All right, all right!’ he yelled. ‘I was just having a little fun! No need to get huffy.’

I kicked the pile of coins with my foot. ‘No more screwing around, Tenebris. You’re supposed to be my agent. A lot of friendly-but-not-too-friendly nuns went to a great deal of trouble to acquire these coins. What can you get me for the lot?’

The diabolic knelt down and held out a hand towards the edge of the middle circle, palm down, tilting left and right as he weighed the spiritual resonances coming off the coins to determine how much value they’d hold for the Devilish with whom he traded. ‘For my favourite client? I can probably get you a couple of those poetic injustice spells you like. Maybe throw in a dire wilting if you want to wreck somebody’s crops.’

‘I need a hellborn conjuring.’

Tenebris whistled through pointed teeth. ‘That’s serious magic, man. Can’t make that deal for you. . . unless—’ He tilted his head towards Fidick and Galass, whispering conspiratorially, ‘Either one will do, Cade. For both, I can get you somethingreallyexci—’

I showed him the sand I still had left in my bag. ‘Ask me one more time about those two, Tenebris. Go on. I dare you.’

‘Fine,’ he grumbled. ‘Then it’s the coins for the poetic injustices and maybe a couple of weeping arrows. I’ll even see if I can throw in a nightmare bloom. Best I can do.’

There was no way I was going to kill someone as highly guarded as the Ascendant with a couple of lousy distraction spells and an incantation that gave people waking nightmares. On the other hand, I was running short-handed as it was. Even if I abandoned my own plans and went along with Lucien’s attack tomorrow, I’d needsomethingto work with.

‘Deal,’ I said at last, and kicked the coins into the gap between the outer and middle circles. I was about to cast a ruination spell on them when Tenebris stopped me.

‘Please, allow me,’ he said. His eyes lost all their colour– no idea why that happens to diabolics when they use magic, but it always looks impressive. A moment later the silver coins were charred slag and a cloud of glittering silver and blue butterflies fluttered about Tenebris’ head as if each one were intent on kissing him.

I stood there contemplating the fact that an Infernal had taken pity on me to save me using the last of my spells.

‘Always a pleasure, Cade,’ he said cheerfully. He gestured to my chest, which was already itching painfully. ‘You should see the markings in the morning. Don’t use ’em up all at once.’

The tell-tale wisps of smoke that signalled his departure began to swirl around the diabolic, only to suddenly fade away, leaving him still there.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

He bit his lower lip, which, I can tell you, doesn’t look in the least bit endearing on a demon. ‘I wasn’t going to suggest this, because I know it’s not usually your thing, but you look like you’ve fallen on hard times and I hate to see a friend suffer.’

‘Tenebris. . .’

Here’s the thing with diabolics: they’re patient. Whatever my lousy agent was about to propose, he’d kept it in his back pocket the entire time. This wasn’t an afterthought; this was the show.

Tenebris put his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Look, I’ve got a gig– a big one. I’m talking premium spells up front, anything you need, and a massive pay-out at the end. It’s a seven-mage job, but I’ll put you in charge. You can write your own ticket.’

‘Not interested.’

He drifted in the air closer to the edge of the middle circle– a dangerous move for him if I decided to toss the entire bag of cursed sand at him. ‘I’m telling you, this job is a gift! There’s this town up north, beautiful little place. Fine people.’

‘What’s it called?’

‘Hmm?’

‘The town, Tenebris. What’s it called?’

‘Uh, yeah, the town. . .’ He looked up and off to my left, squinting one eye as if he were struggling to recall such a trivial detail that obviously had no bearing on our conversation. ‘Something like May-Just-Gave or—?’

‘Mages’ Grave?’

Here’s a sight you never want to see: a diabolic looking sheepish. ‘I know, I know. Who wants to travel through the Blastlands, right? I mean, all the devastation, that red haze that never goes away, the barren soil that grows nothing but those ugly poppies with the creepy texture that feels like skin?’ He gave a pretend shiver. ‘Gross.’

‘Yeah, that’s a real prime vacation spot you’re trying to get me to visit.’

‘Oh, quit being such a baby. I’m telling you, this job’s a breeze. There’s this baron, nasty fellow– oppresses his people, eats their babies, you know, the usual human stuff you all do to show you’re in charge.’