different. In the nature of his power and his legacy, he was perhaps one of a kind.
But at the end of the day, the boy was there to be set on a course of action and made to follow through. He was just another weapon to be used against Arcannen’s enemies.
He wished suddenly that he still had someone inside the Federation government to whom he could turn. It was helpful having a highly placed collaborator working to help you realize your plans or aid you in obtaining special favors. He had no one like that these days. Sebec had been purged from the Druid Order, and he himself had eliminated Fashton Caeil, the Federation Minister of Security Against Magic.
Still, if you were on your own, you depended on no one to accomplish what needed doing, and the chances of mistakes were considerably lessened. He had learned that lesson a while back, and even though it placed a larger burden on him, it also assured that what was required would be done right.
Like now, when he was on his way to visit an old friend in the Southland city of Sterne in an effort to repay a debt.
He left his Sprint at the edge of the city airship field and walked several hundred yards to the field manager’s office to arrange for payment and a promise to watch over it. If he lost his airship, he would be in deep trouble. So a few extra credits paid to make sure that didn’t happen were credits well spent. The field manager was open to an arrangement—the pay he received from the city being less than what he believed he deserved—and a bargain was quickly struck. The Sprint would be carefully watched with an understanding that its owner would be back to claim it before dawn.
His escape route assured, Arcannen set out for the Federation barracks at the west end of the city.
He took a carriage to a place less than a quarter mile away—a shop that specialized in opiates and other mind-altering potions and plants—and stood outside until the shop had emptied of customers, checking a final time through the small glass windows to either side of the door to make certain before going in. The shop was small and cramped with shelves and bins backed up against all the available wall space and then stacked so high that a ladder was needed to reach the two top levels. A counter no more than four feet long sat well back in the shadows, its top clear of everything but a single cup and saucer and a smoking pipe resting in a bowl.
An old man sat behind the counter, eyes fixed on Arcannen. He might have been a hundred years old or a thousand. He was bent and withered, and until you looked closely you might have assumed that he had died and no one had noticed. He wore tattered gray clothes and a skullcap. Arcannen had never seen him wear anything else. His beard and hair were so wispy and thinned out, you could count the strands.
“Eld Loy,” the sorcerer greeted him, giving the old man a small bow. “All is well? Nothing has changed?”
The old man nodded.
“My friend still occupies the same quarters?”
Another nod.
“He sleeps alone?”
A shrug. A nod.
“The Red Slash do not ward him, I mean? I don’t care about the women.”
Still another nod.
Arcannen reached into his robes and withdrew a pouch filled with credits. “Yours, for your services—unless they prove inaccurate. In which case, they will pay for your burial.”
The old man didn’t blink. Arcannen bowed again and went back out the door.
He waited until close to midnight before making his way to his destination. It was a tavern set close to the barracks and frequented by the soldiers and their companions. It was the property of a retired squad leader and a few of his mates, and it catered almost exclusively to those who shared their worldview—which is to say, other soldiers. Even with midnight approaching, the tavern’s interior was well lit and filled with boisterous men and women, shouting and laughing and singing songs of army life. A few of those with too much drink and a vague notion that it was time to get home had made it as far as the front stoop before falling by the wayside.
Arcannen stepped around the bodies carefully. Because Eld Loy had given him a diagram of the tavern’s layout, he knew to go to the back door, step quickly