Quint’s first thought was perhaps this was a setup to capture him, but if that were the case, how did they know where he lived? Fedor Danko had no idea where Quint had ended up.
He waited a few minutes and then followed a couple into the pub and noticed Sarrefo and Pozella sitting with a non-uniformed person. There was a table close to them next to a window that Quint took.
Others had kept their fashionable wide-brimmed hats on in the pub, so Quint did the same. He could hear snippets of the quiet conversation, but nothing was clear. Quint hadn’t learned any strings to enhance his hearing and he couldn’t cast a string in a restaurant without someone noticing, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, concentrating on the three’s conversation.
The server finally arrived, and Quint ordered a plate of fried potatoes and a mug of non-alcoholic beer. It was awful stuff, but Quint didn’t want to create a scene. Now he could feel free to concentrate on the conversation behind him. The men switched to the willot language, which Quint found easier to overhear.
“And Pacci is still ambivalent?” Sarrefo asked. “There is too much tension about an invasion.”
“Pacci knows that and is still formulating plans. I heard something happened in south Vinellia on his recent tour that made him turn around and head back to the Gussellian capital.”
“Do you know what it was?” Pozella asked.
There was a pause. The Gussellian spy was probably shaking his head. “Pacci only tells us what we need to know. That way if we are caught there is less, we can reveal.”
“Our participation is even more restricted than yours,” Sarrefo said. “My unit isn’t on any kind of alert. Everything appears normal, but my people know it isn’t. Whatever is happening is building up away from our sight. I’m afraid none of us will be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Pozella said. “You know how to create a strategy. Have your people come up with ones for every situation.”
“And who will convert our strategies into a battle plan?” Sarrefo said.
“I will,” Pozella said. “I’m no dummy, you know.”
“You are a master,” the spy said, “but that is for magic. Are you a general, too?”
“Closer to one than anyone under Sarrefo,” Pozella said. “I wish Quint were back. He could see through things better than any of us.”
“Why would he return to Bocarre?” Sarrefo said. “He is a wanted man.”
“He’s still a boy, but a smart, capable one,” Pozella said. “He’s creative, too, but he lacks experience, something you and I both have in abundance.”
Sarrefo laughed. “If he shows up on your doorstep, let me know.”
“You are talking about the boy wizard that Pacci is so enamored with?” the spy asked.
“Why is that?” Pozella asked.
“I don’t know,” the spy said. “We are to report if we see him, but we aren’t to capture him.”
“Doesn’t that sound strange?” Pozella said.
“Pacci considers him more than a master wizard,” the spy said.
“He is close to being one now,” Sarrefo said. “Isn’t that right, Pozella?”
Two new customers walked through the door. One of them was an officer who had shared Quint’s flat. Quint turned away from the two newcomers as the pair sat with Colonel Sarrefo and Pozella.
The risk had suddenly risen too high for Quint, so he paid and left the pub, walking in the opposite direction from the window where the others were seated. He thought he had heard enough.
Other than Pozella and Sarrefo working with Pacci Colleto, he hadn’t learned a single thing new, but that didn’t mean Pozella didn’t know more; it just hadn’t come up in the conversation. It was nice to hear Sarrefo and Pozella say nice things about him, although Quint didn’t believe most of what they said. One of the more important things to remember was that the Gussellian spies weren’t actively after him. Even without the Gussellian Empire after him, Quint didn’t feel safe in Bocarre, but still, he had no other place to go.
Quint practiced magic while he sequestered himself in the flat while he thought of his next step. Early the following morning, he woke up realizing that his first idea, to talk to Pozella was still his best move. He didn’t know where Pozella lived other than he and his wife lived close to the strategic operations building to accommodate his limp.
The following afternoon, Quint took up his post in the alley. He almost dozed in the warm darkness, but he caught Pozella walking across the street. He followed his former teacher and stopped when Pozella walked into a modest townhouse on a quiet street.
Quint knocked on the door and a woman answered.
“I’m here to see Master Pozella,” Quint said. “I’m a former student.”
The woman looked Quint up and down. “I’d say you look young enough to be a current student.”
“Show him in Valia,” Pozella said from within. “I know the boy.”
Quint stepped in.
“You are taking quite a risk coming to my house in broad daylight,” Pozella said. The friendliness that Quint had expected was missing from Pozella’s voice.
“I don’t like disgraced students like you showing up on my doorstep. There is a pub just up the block,” Pozella said. “You can say your peace there and then begone.” Pozella looked back at his wife. “I doubt if I’ll be too long.”
“Before dinner?” Valia said.
“I’ll be here,” Pozella said.
Quint followed a silent Pozella as they walked to a tiny pub converted out of a townhouse no larger than Pozella’s.
“In the back where we won’t be bothered,” Pozella said.
