Inferno (Play to Live: Book # 4) Read Online Free

ushering the kid into the path of least resistance, suggesting the right ingredients and nudging him toward the place of power where his work on creating a new artifact would cause the least conflict with the world's logic.
    And that was the direction he had to continue in. No cookie-cutter crafting! And what if...
    "Listen," I whispered confidentially, digging gingerly into my bag for the polished adamant mirror I'd received from the Chinese Mao clan in exchange for our Shui Fong prisoners. "You think you could take this useless thingy and forge it into something useful? Like a sword or a dagger?"
    I crossed my fingers mentally. Yes, yes, of course it said "Indestructible"! And yes, I knew that only gods could handle adamant. Still, a hapless mortal unlucky enough to become a player on the gods' field could use a trump card like that up his sleeve... a trump card or even better, a pink-bladed dagger.
    I handed him the mirror, then turned, making threatening faces at a very indignant Gimmick about to expose the extent of our ignorance. Shut up, you fool! As if I don't know!
    The young shaman shook his head. "I can't forge yet. But I can shape it into whatever you want. Fancy a cube?"
    Oh. I could probably turn a cube into a small hammer. Too light, wasn't it? Just over half a pound: just good enough to dish out a few bruises among the gods, not more. I ran a mental list of the various types of steel weapons: slashing, cutting, crushing... no, that wasn't it. Yes! A stabbing one!
    "Dimka, I know what you can do! How about a sharp three-edged bayonet? I have a short staff about a meter long. If we carve the end of it into a socket and fit it with a catch, we could use it as a javelin or an icepick. A killer weapon!"
    The kid nodded his agreement as he warmed the mirror in his hands, breathing on it and incanting something. We watched as the item began to melt, losing its shape, like a gallium teaspoon in the hands of a street magician.
    Gimmick gasped. I rummaged through my inventory for my latest trophy. Our frontier raid had added quite a few top elite gear items to our armory. One day as I'd surveyed all these heaps of dangerous steel, I'd noticed this gnarly staff made from some weird wood and topped with a murky crystal emitting a weak light. Shadows had danced within the stone, reminding one of a watchful evil eye, while the staff itself had desperately tried to enshroud itself in the cover of darkness, avoiding my greedy hands.
    Ouch! There is was! Touching it in my bag felt like being whacked by an electric shock. The Staff of Hatred held an imprisoned soul of a demon and was meant to bring fear and discomfort to everyone around. On top of all the usual class restrictions and hefty summoning and intellect bonuses, this Necromancer toy had one nasty double-edged ability: when equipped, the demon syphoned life out of all warm-blooded creatures within fifty paces, friend and foe alike. The former suffered less, both in terms of pain and damage, while the latter were literally crippled in agony.
    The imprisoned monster kept some of the energy and forwarded the rest to his master, according to the agreement. You couldn't do much hunting or leveling with this kind of aura as you'd aggro every local monster onto yourself. But when it came to a large scramble — and that was all I'd seemed to be doing just lately — the artifact's owner could be looking at a quality energy fix.
    While I was busy taming the malicious staff by lashing it with my mental willpower, Dimka had finished his modeling-clay class. "There!" he produced the bayonet.
    Actually, it wasn't that bad. Not exactly straight and just a bit lopsided but very, very dangerous. I still remembered the Fallen One's face when he'd seen the adamant claws of Lloth's spider avatar. I, too, could use a weighty argument like this in case of any major incidents.
    "Thanks a bunch, Dimka. Mind getting off that seat for a bit? Gimmick, your turn. Are you comfortable? Now take