Damien and Imogen stepped out into the bright morning light. The clean smell of growing things filled the air. After caverns and demons it was a refreshing change. The village was nearly empty, but he spotted Leah standing in her rumpled brown and green robe a little ways to the left of the entrance. She smiled and waved them over.

“Thanks again for letting us use the pool,” Damien said. “I’d hoped to thank the wise one in person, but we couldn’t find him.”

“Yes,” Imogen said. “I’ve never felt so energized.”

Leah bowed her head. “The wise one is in communion with the earth force, trying to figure out how to set the ley line back to its proper position. When he emerges I’ll pass on your thanks.”

She dug around in her robe pockets, finally coming up with a small strip of paper. “A bird of glowing energy brought this for you. It seemed unable to enter the temple and after several attempts vanished, leaving the paper behind.”

Damien accepted it with a nod of thanks. Imogen read over his shoulder. The archmage’s agents had spotted the female warlock in Port Valcane. She had the urn with her and his master wanted Damien to handle her capture.

That made sense. One on one they were equally matched. With Imogen’s help he shouldn’t have any trouble. There was an address where they were to meet the sorcerer in charge of rounding up the remaining cultists.

“Vacation’s over.” Damien glanced back at Imogen. “Ready to return to work?”

She bared her teeth. “More than ready.”

Damien bowed to Leah. “Thanks again.”

“Feel free to visit anytime. The druids you saved are doing well now that they’re free of Eleck’s influence.”

He nodded and hurtled into the air with Imogen. When they were fifty feet high Damien said, “Think you can keep up?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She shot west at a good clip. Damien grinned and raced after her.

It took them an hour and change to make the flight. Imogen’s power remained steady and strong the whole way. Damien didn’t go full blast, instead letting her set the pace. Imogen probably wouldn’t appreciate anything resembling gentle treatment, but why push her so soon after her healing?

It was just noon when they landed outside a two-story tavern called The Hungry Carp. The building sat in a quiet neighborhood, neither rich or poor, near the city center. Damien glanced left and right at the people coming and going from their lunch break. It couldn’t have been a more ordinary setting.

“Is this the right place?” he asked.

“It’s the address she provided and the tavern name is the same.” Imogen looked up at the carving of a fat carp over the door. “Let’s see if he’s here.”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Damien shrugged and followed. The inside looked like a checkerboard as the windows cast patches of light and shadow.

“There you are!” A fat bearded man stood up and rushed over. He kissed Imogen on the cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you. Please, let’s have a seat.”

He wasn’t a sorcerer, that was clear at a glance. Why had Damien thought the chief sorcerer would meet them himself? The poor guy probably had plenty to do with hunting down all the cultists that escaped.

Imogen wiped her cheek off and they followed him to a table in the corner well away from all the others. When they’d settled in he waved over a barmaid. “Drinks for my friends.”

The haggard woman nodded and headed for the bar. When she’d gone their new best friend said, “We expected you sooner. Is everything all right?”

Imogen nodded. “We were indisposed for a while. We got here as quick as we could.”

The agent looked from Imogen to Damien and back. “It doesn’t really matter. Our mutual acquaintance has settled in at the Drowned Rat. She started drinking last night and hasn’t moved or stopped since.”

The barmaid returned with three mugs of ale. The agent tossed her a royal, swatted her on the ass, and sent her on her way. He took a long pull and continued in a low voice. “She made no effort to avoid being spotted. We feared a trap so sent for reinforcements. The artifact is sitting on the table beside her. Take a drink for heaven’s sake. You both look like someone died. We’re trying to blend in here.”

“Someone did die,” Damien said, his voice low but hard. “Lots of someones, many because of her. Tell us how to get to the Drowned Rat and we’ll take care of it.”

The agent shrunk away from him and took another drink of his ale. “It’s down near the docks. We’ve turned away everyone coming and going so you can’t miss it. Try and be gentle. A solid kick to a support column might bring the place down around your ears.”

Damien and Imogen stood up.

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Imogen leaned in so their faces were only inches apart. “If you ever kiss me again I’ll rip your tongue out.”

She patted his cheek and straightened up. They left the tavern and took to the sky. Half a minute later Damien sensed the warlock’s corrupt soul force. It felt weaker, even from a distance.

“Do you feel it?”

Imogen nodded. “She’s different than before. We should still be careful in case she’s hiding her true power.”

Damien kept his relief from reaching his face. He’d had visions of her rushing in like she did back at Connor’s base. She seemed to have her self-destructive impulses under control. Thank heaven for that.