The goblin grinned at her. “Have you?”
The halfling shrugged. “I just wanna know why it’s so hard to pin down these loyalists and finally stop them. All of them.”
“That’s why you’re trying to get in with the colonel, right?” Ember tossed her hair out of her face and floated gracefully beside them. “If he’s the one with connections to the Bull’s Head, you’ll find them through him.”
“He’s the one, Em.” Cheyenne pulled off the activator and stuck it back in her pocket. “I’m waiting for proof from Major Sir Carson. If I’m gonna nail Colonel Thomas, I gotta do it the right way. Take the right steps.”
“Listen to you.” Maleshi fought back a laugh. “Cheyenne Summerlin’s going by the books to root out the thorn in all our sides.”
Ember chuckled. “Yeah, but there isn’t a book for dealing with traitors in the FRoE.”
Cheyenne laughed. “I’m making it up as I go along.” So far, it’s taking way too much time. Sir better not be screwing around.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
“This is too weird.” Ember lifted her burger to her mouth with both hands but couldn’t stop staring at Venga, who was sitting at the table next to them. “Just sitting here like this. In public. With everyone.”
Cheyenne took a bite of her own burger, leaning forward as sauce and chunks of fried jalapeños hit the paper wrapper. “Just as long as the necromancer doesn’t do anything crazy in public, I think we’re good.”
Ember closed her mouth and lowered her burger to the table as she stared at the halfling. “Sorry, it sounded like you said ‘necromancer.’”
“Yep.” Cheyenne took another bite and stared at the table.
“Yeah, that makes me feel so much better.” The fae eyed Venga, who’d devoured two double cheeseburgers and was now on a third, ignoring his illusion goatee covered in ketchup and mustard. “Well, he sure is eatinglike someone who came back from the dead.”
Maleshi chuckled as she sat across from them with her tray of food. “That’s not quite how it works.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Ember abandoned her burger for the paper cup she’d filled with iced tea and took a long drink. “I’m just trying to talk myself into pretending any of this is normal.”
“It isn’t.” Corian sat beside Maleshi, grabbed a handful of fries, and jammed them all into his mouth at once. “Neither is necromancy, but Venga is one of the best.”
“I’d go so far as to say the best.” The general snatched a handful of fries off Corian’s tray and dropped them on hers. “Which made him that much worse when he served the Crown.”
“L’zar said she wasn’t a fan of necromancers.”
“Ba’rael?” Maleshi snorted. “She’s not, but she appreciated what he could do.”
Ember set her drink down with a grimace and eyed Venga, her nostrils flaring at the sound of him gobbling his burger and chewing madly with an open mouth and satisfied grunts. “What, she made him talk to the dead for her or something?”
“Ha.” Venga swallowed his last bite and washed it down with half his cup of root beer. Then he sighed and sat back in his chair. “The Spider never made me do anything.”
Sitting across from the escaped prisoner, L’zar clicked his tongue. “Not to your knowledge.”
“I was content to serve the Crown just like the rest of us, Weaver.” Venga gestured at Maleshi, who rolled her eyes. “Until she turned on me. Her mistake.”
“Oh, indeed.” L’zar popped a fry into his mouth and folded his hands on the table.
Sitting farther down at that table, Lumil slapped Byrd’s hand away from her tray. “If you wanted French fries, asshole, you should’ve ordered some.”
“Aw, come on.”
“No.”
Ember leaned back in her chair, already wary of the answer as she stared at Venga’s sauce-smeared goatee. “What did she do to you?”
“She sent me Earthside,” Venga grumbled and unwrapped the fourth burger on his tray. “Of course, that was only after she’d gotten what she wanted from me.”
“Which was what?” Cheyenne took another sloppy bite of burger and leaned farther forward, propping her forearms on the edge of the table.
“There is alchemy involved in my work, Aranél. Transformations and reallocation of magic. The Spider tasked me with channeling the excess magic she took from others into something that would solidify her power.”
L’zar grinned as he watched Venga digging into the last of his abnormally large meal.
Ember frowned. “You mean, like that huge glass container thing in that room full of black sludge?”
Venga swallowed and shook his head, sucking mayonnaise off his fingers. “That was a conduit.”
“Well, your conduit exploded before we left Hangivol,” Cheyenne muttered. “Spewed extra magic everywhere, and we had to—”
“Get creative in cleaning it up,” L’zar finished for her. He shot his daughter a warning glance as he sat back in his chair. Then his grin returned.
Oh, of course. Don’t tell the necromancer about the Sorren Gán. That’d be going way too far. She snorted and took another bite.
Venga gulped down more root beer, then rattled the ice around in the empty cup and stared at it. “That wasn’t my work. I’m not surprised it didn’t hold the way she wanted.”
“So, what was your work?” Ember asked. “’Cause we saw a lot of messed-up crap in the capital.”
“I’m sure. No, I crafted an overflow of sustained dark magic spread as far from Ba’rael as she was willing to go. And the rest of it was left to its own devices. I’m sure by now, it also isn’t holding the way she expected.” Venga grunted at his empty cup. “There is little I enjoy more than this sweet Earthside beer. How much of this would it take to be as strong as a tankard of grog?”
Lumil snorted. “All the root beer in the world couldn’t hold up against grog, man.”
Beside her, Byrd laughed and stole another of her French fries. “You should go ahead and try it. I’d like to see that.”
“I want more.” Venga scooted his chair back and stood.
Ember pointed at him.
