The Raven looked thoughtful, as if he was actually trying to think of what his own limits might be. For the first time in his life, Adsden considered that the sentiment might not be true. Finally, the Raven released a slight breath of exasperation as he said, “Do not concern yourself with the morality of the act. It is not a true temple. It is a front. Its true purpose is to serve as a processing and distribution center for ink.”

Adsden’s brows shot up. Of course, the Raven was not referring to the ink wielded by scribes to battle their pages. Ink was the street name for the costliest and most rampant intoxicating and energizing drug. The cities had been overrun with the stuff for the past five years. The poorest wretches would simply drink a watered down version of the dark purple fluid that truly had the look of ink. The effects would last for less than a day. Those with the money and dedication to the substance, however, would use the purer compound to tattoo intricate designs on their bodies. The effects of the drug would last as long as the color, fading gradually over a week or so. It was not uncommon to see people with multiple tattoos in various stages of fade. The more one inked, the more one needed.

“So, you want us to steal the ink?” Adsden inquired. He eyed the impressive warrior again and was certain this man could not be an addict.

“No, I want you to steal the parabata leaves from which the ink is made. I have no use for the substance after it is processed. I have other uses for the leaves,” Rezkin explained. “But, let me make this very clear. No one is to use the substance. I will not have my guild fall to its destruction due to drugs. Do I make myself clear? Anyone inking will be dismissed,” he said firmly.

“Of course, Master,” Adsden said, and he could not prevent the slight thrill he felt with the use of the title. He had never seen himself as the subservient type, always dominating over his partners, but the power this young man commanded called to him in ways he had never experienced. He imagined it was nearly as intoxicating as the ink he had always avoided.

“How much do you require?” Adsden asked.

“All of it,” the Raven replied.

“Do you know how much they have in stock?” the guildmaster inquired.

“You misunderstand me. I want you to steal all of it—from every shipment—indefinitely.”

Adsden’s brows rose once again in surprise. This man was full of them. “That will be a major undertaking. It is sure to gain serious notice by whoever is manufacturing the goods.”