Quint spotted one other customer with a few tankards of something littered around him.
“Maybe they should turn out the drunk,” Quint said.
Pozella laughed. “He’s the owner.” Pozella ordered wine for both. “You are old enough for a sip or two, Quint.” He winked at Quint. “I couldn’t be friendly to you, or my wife would know who you were.”
“I’m the only student you were friendly with?”
“Pretty much. You are the only one with potential.”
Quint grinned and pushed his Master certificate toward Pozella.
“What’s this?”
“Something that Pacci Colleto had me do after he abducted me to Nornotta.”
“A master. I wasn’t in favor of testing you before you turned twenty,” Pozella said. “No one will take you seriously. It was hard enough for the diplomacy corps to accept a sixteen-year-old Level 3.”
“Except for Pacci Colleto. He had one of his wizards cast a portent string on me during the Gussellian border battle and found my future intriguing.”
Pozella looked interested. “Did you ask him why?”
“I don’t believe in portent strings as much as he does,” Quint said. “He thinks I have some grand destiny.”
Pozella smiled knowingly. “If you can stay alive, you have the potential and not just as a string caster, Quint. Your commanding officer at the diplomacy corps thought you were special and had you down in the basement so you wouldn’t get hurt or discouraged from all the hatred, but she used and forwarded your analysis regularly.”
Quint took a deep breath. “I always thought I was in the basement, so I couldn’t absorb any sunlight. I have some awful news. I may be the only village-grown hubite in Racellia. Someone in the army massacred the people in the villages and towns in the hubite districts where I grew up. Even the willots living with the hubites weren’t spared. It was awful and death on a huge scale.”
“Your parents?”
“Friends, family, acquaintances, and enemies. All dead.”
Pozella went silent for a moment. “I never went for the hubite hatred. People are people and you can’t blame them for something that happened centuries ago. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s when I escaped from the velvet prison where Pacci Colleto had put me.”
“Velvet prison, eh?” Pozella said. “How poetic. He trusts you more than anyone, I’d say.”
Quint shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but maybe he wants to keep a potential enemy close.”
“Perhaps. Pacci Colleto tends to be enigmatic according to my sources.”
“Who are his spies?” Quint asked. “Colleto has his tentacles entwined with the strategic operations people. I saw you yesterday with Colonel Sarrefo and one of my former flatmates.”
“You were the one in the wide-brimmed hat?” Pozella asked. “I noticed you but didn’t recognize you with your stained face and hands.” Pozella looked at the dark skin on the back of Quint’s hands. “What did you use?”
“I found a brackish pool in a peat bog. My mother used to use that kind of thing to stain wool brown. It did the trick, but it gets lighter with every washing up.”
“It looks like dirt at this point,” Pozella said. “The hat is good. It’s hard to make out your eyes. I knew you when you talked at my front door. You still have a young voice.”
Quint smiled. “I’m not going to stay in Bocarre very long,” he said. “It’s too dangerous, and I don’t feel right being at Pacci Colleto’s side.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Pozella said, “but Racellian politics are very unstable.”
“That’s why we had to talk. I have a better feeling for what is happening outside Bocarre, but my publication analysis never dwelled on the capital. I know General Baltacco and General Obellia are rivals, but there must be more undercurrents,” Quint said.
“The Racellian Council has three main factions at present. Alliances change from time to time, but for the past few weeks, it has seemed that they change every day or two with the fear of an invasion,” Pozella said. “Obellia doesn’t have a high-level sponsor, but Baltacco is thick with the Chief Councilmember.”
“Is there another army faction?” Quint asked.
“Grand Marshal Guilica is aligned with the former nobility. They have the greatest military power.”
“So they were probably the ones who carried out the atrocities in southeast Racellia. Someone with a lot of power is suppressing word of the killing,” Quint said.
“They are indeed. Sarrefo and I didn’t even know. What is your analysis?” Pozella asked.
“At some point in time, they will either pin the massacre on Pacci Colleto or on Baltacco and the Chief Councilmember. I’m not a willot and can’t figure out which would garner the most reaction from the people.”
“Most will applaud the elimination of the hubites, Quint, but I’ll get the word out. I may even pay your colonel in the diplomacy corps a visit with the rumor. I’d rather she tell Obellia than me.”
Quint nodded. “Feel free. The people of Racellia should be told the truth since whatever is going to happen will occur soon. News of hubite destruction can’t stay a secret for long, so help it along. What’s going to happen to Sarrefo and you?”
“We will ignore the fight between generals as much as we can,” Pozella said. “There are others who see the Gussellian Empire succeeding no matter what happens in Bocarre. Racellia has had their day, and it wasn’t very successful. You pointed a basic problem that contributed to that early on.”
“That there was no creativity at the battlefront?” Quint asked.
Pozella nodded.
“The problem wasn’t the motivation of Racellian soldiers.” Quint said. “It was the leaders who were and are unwilling to change. The malady isn’t restricted to the military.”
