“This’ll do,” Angel said. “How much?”

“Two Vex.”

“It’s hardly worth one,” Angel said, clicking the kit closed and raising an eyebrow. “The rust will need to be removed or it’ll interfere with the magic. These tools need to be perfectly pure to avoid accidentally interfering with your work.”

The merchant sighed. “Something about the way you carried yourself told me that you knew what you were doing, but a man can dream. One Vex is fine.”

Angel took the coin out and tossed it to the man. It vanished into his baggy clothes and he gave Angel a wide grin that told the Seeker that he’d just overpaid for the set.

“Seeker, are you?” the merchant asked before Angel could leave.

“How’d you know?”

“All the artifacts you’ve got. That board on your back is a dead giveaway, not to mention that your arm is all wrapped up. You aren’t carrying a weapon, so you aren’t a Hunter. Tinkerers barely ever even leave their workshops, and they certainly don’t come to Churning Sands. Hence – Seeker.”

“Good assessment,” Angel said. “You’ve got me. Any reason why you care?”

“Just a warning,” the merchant said, his grin fading slightly. “You might want to take a look in the Hunter’s Guild. There’s have been reports of a Great Catacomb in the area.”

Angel swallowed. “Seriously? At the edge of the Barren? I thought they were usually more localized near the center?”

“Not this one. I haven’t seen it myself, but one of my partners did. The sand collapsed, forming a massive hole nearly the size of a small city. Swallowed a party right up, then closed right after.”

“That’s dire news indeed,” Angel said. “And certainly news worth following up on. Could you direct me to the Hunter’s Guild?”

The merchant nodded over at the loud tavern beside them. “You’re standing next to it.”

“Ah,” Angel said. “Convenient. I appreciate the help.”

“No problem,” the merchant replied. “Enjoy your stay in Churning Sands, and keep it short if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Angel gave the man a nod and, after a moment of consideration, walked over to the large tent. He pushed the flap open, grimacing as the smell of strong spirits assaulted his nostrils, and stepped inside.

About a dozen people milled around the center of the tent, talking loudly. Most of them held large metal tankards in their hands. At the far end of the room, a short woman that couldn’t have been much older than Angel leaned against one of the tent’s supports. An apron marked her as either a waitress or the bartender.

Angel circled around the crowd, trying not to curl his lip in distaste. He reached the woman, who scanned him from the feet up in an instant. Her position shifted, revealing the hilt of a short blade at her side.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Angel said. “I heard rumors of a Great Catacomb?”

The woman pressed her lips together. “There have been some sightings of it. Don’t tell me – you’re a Seeker?”

“You aren’t the first person to have guessed that today,” Angel said, laughing. “And, before you ask, I don’t want to find the damn thing. I want to avoid it.”

She blinked. A grin tugged at the edge of her lips and she let out a breath. “Good. You have no idea how many stupid Seekers have come through here in the past week or two, all trying to find the Great Catacomb. It’s like watching a bunch of children run off to jump off a cliff because there might be some gold at the bottom.”

“It’s part of the job description,” Angel said with a shrug. “Normally, I’d be jumping off that cliff right along with them. Unfortunately, I’m currently preoccupied. Do you know what general area it tends to show up in? I don’t want to get caught unawares.”

“Mostly to the northeast of Churning Sands,” she replied, lowering her voice a little. “And I hope for your sake that you’re really trying to avoid it and not just tricking the answer out of me. I really don’t care either way, but it does weigh a bit on my conscience knowing how many of you idiots are going to get yourselves killed.”

“After you deal with enough Seekers, you’ll get used to us getting killed,” Angel said, his grin flickering. “As a general rule of thumb, don’t get too attached to a Seeker. It won’t end well.”

“Damn,” the woman said, brushing her apron off. “Sounds like you got something personal there.”

“Just old grievances,” Angel said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Thanks for the advice, miss. I’ll do my best to avoid the Catacomb for now.”

“No problem. Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked, pushing her blonde hair away from her face. “A drink, perhaps? Or the mail if you’re expecting any.”

“I’ll pass on the drink,” Angel said. “I’m too soft for that stuff. It would ruin my pretty boy image. As for mail – well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check. You have a telegraph here?”

“All the official Hunter’s Guild locations have a telegraph,” the woman replied. She jumped up, grabbing a small flap on the ceiling and pulling it open. A rope ladder fell down and she clambered up it. Angel followed after her.

The second floor of the Hunter’s guild was nearly empty aside from a man-sized machine sitting in the center of the room. It was a large box full of gears and pistons, with an old typewriter attached to the box’s top. A small puff of steam rose up from a valve at its side, rising up through vent holes cut into the tent above it. There was a long copper pole that extended from the top and traveled up through the vent.

“What’s your name?” she asked. Angel winced – probably not the best idea to go giving out his name. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. Silver already knew they’d gone through Churning Sands, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Angel.”

“Interesting name,” she said, walking over to the machine. Her hands played across the keyboard with a series of loud clicks.

The machine let out another puff and the woman leaned back to avoid the hot air. She pressed another key on the typewriter. It let out a rattle and a small metal plate emerged from the bottom.

“You’ve got a message from the Hunter’s Guild in Bronze city,” the barkeep said, picking the plate up.

“Really? What do they want with me?” Angel asked, stepping forward and peering down at it. His nose curled in annoyance. It was written completely in code. “I don’t suppose you can read this? They seem to have forgotten that I don’t know the Hunter Dialect.”

“I normally charge for that, but this message isn’t too long,” she replied, scanning it. “Begin message: We have located a suitable Hunter for your request, but you had already left the building by the time we found them. If you are still interested in hiring a Hunter, please return to the Bronze City Hunter’s Guild. Your deposit is non-refundable. End message.”

Angel frowned. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want me to read it again, I’m going to charge you. I’m not a glorified secretary.”

“No, it’s fine,” Angel said, waving his hand. “I understood what you said. Just… one moment, please.”

Angel went back over the words in his head, his lips pressed thin. They’d found a Hunter? That didn’t make sense – he’d gotten a Hunter through the guild already. It was possible they’d somehow botched their records, but the Guild was generally pretty good at the accuracy of their information.

“Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” Angel said, shaking his head. “I was just a bit confused, but it’s no issue. Was that all of the mail?”

“It was. I’ll wipe the letter so long as you’re done reading it,” she said with a concerned glance.

Angel nodded, still trying to piece together what was going on. The woman inserted the metal plate into a slot in the machine. A gear whirred and it let out a loud crunch as the metal was compacted and wiped clean.