For two days, reeking black smoke billowed from the furnace as the crew worked around the clock to process the massive carcass. After several failed attempts Damien managed to conjure a filter that kept the smoke and most of the smell out of his nose, allowing him to breathe freely. If any of the process bothered either the captain or crew they gave no sign of it. In fact most of them seemed thrilled, none more so than Velco.

The captain walked up to Damien where he stood in the front of the ship. “Quite a process, isn’t it? We’ll need to kill twenty to fill all four ships.”

Damien shuddered at the thought of having to watch nineteen more whales rendered down. “The crew seems pleased, especially considering how nasty the job is.”

“Ha! Are you kidding? No one’s seen a beast that big in our old hunting grounds in twenty years. And the one we killed was small next to some of its pod. There’s a fortune in oil just swimming around out here.”

“What about the dragon?”

Velco shrugged. “It’s a big ocean and if the stories are true the monster sometimes travels to other parts of the world. It’ll show sooner or later and if it doesn’t we’ll collect four shiploads of oil for our efforts. Win-win in my eyes.”

Damien grunted. Hopefully it would be sooner rather than later. He’d come to the conclusion that the life of a sailor wasn’t for him. “What do you know about those jars the sorcerers were carrying?”

Velco’s eyes narrowed. “Noticed those, did you?”

“I’d have to be blind to miss them. They’ve got a nasty aura of corruption. You realize they’re demonic artifacts.”

“The sorcerers tell me those urns used to hold the remains of an especially powerful demon and that’s what makes them appear corrupt. I don’t really care as long as they get the job done.”

Velco returned to supervising the last of the rendering. Damien shook his head as he watched him go. Nothing good ever came from demonic artifacts. Unfortunately, short of sinking the ships and leaving the crew to drown, he couldn’t think of anything he could do to stop them from using the dangerous items.

Damien flew down to the sorcerer’s cabin. Maybe he could convince her to let him take a look at the urns. The closed door had a pentagram engraved on it. He knocked and a few seconds later the door opened a fraction. A frowning face appeared in the narrow opening. “What?”

“I’d like to take a look at the demon urn.” Damien offered his best smile.

“No.” She slammed the door in his face.

She wasn’t getting any friendlier with time. He knocked again.

The door opened the same fraction. “Can’t you take a hint? I don’t want to talk. I don’t need a friend, and I’m certainly not going to show you such a rare artifact.”

“Why not?” Damien asked before she slammed the door again.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “It’s dangerous.”

That was a weak excuse and from the twist of her lips he suspected she knew it. “Come on, I’m a sorcerer too. I’m not going to do anything foolish. I haven’t had another sorcerer to talk shop with in weeks. Please, I’m bored.”

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Her expression softened. “We can talk, but I’m not showing you the urn.”

Damien grinned. “Deal.”

She opened the door the rest of the way and he stepped inside. Her cabin wasn’t much different than his in general layout, but where his was almost empty hers was jammed full of trinkets, scrolls, books and every other bit of sorcerous paraphernalia imaginable. It almost looked like she wanted to prove how much of a sorcerer she was just with decorations.

He looked around for a place to sit, but the only places were her sea trunk and a smaller box covered in runes that he suspected held the urn. He had no intention of sitting on it and burning his ass with hellfire.

“You’ll have to forgive the mess. I seldom have company.”

Damien conjured a chair in one of the few empty spots on the floor and sat down. “No problem. Besides, it’s nice to visit a lived-in room for a change. I can’t seem to stay in one place long enough to make a room my own.”

She had a pretty smile, though it seemed she didn’t use it much. “The others tell me I’m a cluttered mess, but I like it like this.”

“I’m Damien.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated then shook with him. “Salem. I’m not very good at talking.”

“You’re doing just fine. Don’t worry, like anything else, practice makes perfect.”

Salem sat on the sea chest across from him. “You seem nice. The others said…”

“What did they say?” He guessed they’d told her all sorts of things to make her too afraid to talk to him.

She chewed her lip a moment then said, “They told me you’re a spy and that you’ll try and stop us from completing our mission.”

“I am a spy, at least in as much as it’s my job to keep an eye on you and make certain you do nothing that might threaten the kingdom. Beyond that I have no interest in what you and your companions are planning.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. We don’t have any interest in your kingdom, only in killing the dragon.”

Damien had serious doubts, but she seemed to believe it. The others were clearly not telling her everything. “In that case there’s no reason we can’t be friends, right?”

Her big, blue eyes stared at him. “You want to be friends? With me?”

“Sure. You’re a sweet, pretty girl. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you?”

Her pale skin turned pink. “I…I’ve never had any friends. Just my sister and then David. Our master lived in seclusion and we seldom saw anyone beyond the farmers that brought us food and supplies and they’d never speak.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bad luck for a normal person to speak with a sorcerer. Everyone knows that.”

Damien smiled. She spoke such absolute rubbish with complete conviction. It was sweet and sad at the same time. “How come you didn’t want to talk to me? Was it just because the others told you I was a spy?”

“That and you scared me a little, when we first met.”

“Ah, well, that was just to avoid a fight. Sometimes a little intimidation can save lives. I am sorry I frightened you. I’m a gentle soul once you get to know me.”

She smiled again and this time it reached her eyes. “I believe you. I think, perhaps, we will be friends.”

“Good. What about your sister and David? If you tell them I don’t intend to interfere they’d be willing to speak to me as well.”

“David won’t.” Her smile faded. “Sometimes he’s not so nice, but Maishi is devoted to him. She does whatever he says, no questions.”

“Does David have a last name?”

“Weks. He doesn’t use it often, but when we first met him by the docks he introduced himself with his full name.”

Damien only half heard her once she said David’s last name. It had to be the same David Weks from the headmaster’s list: Connor’s yearmate. How had he ended up in the Old Empire and then on a whale hunting ship? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Are you all right?” Salem asked.

He’d completely lost track of the conversation. “Sorry, my mind wandered. With all the smoke and stink I haven’t slept well the last several nights. I think I’ll head to my bunk and catch a nap. If you’re willing, I’d very much like to talk to you again.”

“I…I’d like that too. Perhaps I could make tea.”

“Tea sounds wonderful.” Damien rose, absorbed his construct, and bowed to Salem. “It’s been a pleasure.”

She opened the door for him and Damien took his leave. He strolled away until she shut the door. The moment she did he rushed back to his room. He needed to let his master know David Weks was here.