Reyn gave him a dubious look. “I think you offer more than you can deliver. The Fortrens aren’t the sort to listen to reason.”
The stranger stood up. “I’ll speak to them immediately. I’ll make the time. You won’t have to worry. Look for me in two days. You will be glad you waited. I will make it worth your while in more ways than one.”
And like that, without waiting for a further response from the boy, or even giving him another glance, he was out of his chair and gone.
Arcannen left the Boar’s Head quickly, anxious to wrap things up in Portlow so he could make his appointment in Sterne. He was already thinking ahead to what he would do once he got there, his plans taking shape as he mulled over his options. But now there needed to be some revisions. The boy was intrigued enough by Arcannen’s promise to reveal more about the nature of his magic that he would stay where he was for two days. Although once back again, Arcannen knew he would need more than a few promises to persuade the other to his cause.
What he would need was something the boy didn’t have but would want, even if the boy didn’t know what it was.
Fortunately, his sorcerer’s talents allowed him to divine the needs and desires of others. He had been able to do so here, and now all he needed to do was to produce what was required. The trouble this would require would be worth it in the end. Ten times worth it, if he could make the boy his ally.
But first, the Fortrens must be dealt with.
He had gleaned a little of their family history from talking to a few of the townspeople in a discreet and seemingly conversational way, so as not to cause suspicion. There was nothing very complicated about them. Their patriarch was Costa Fortren, a man nobody seemed to like and everybody feared. He was the one who could exercise control over the others, and there were plenty of others if you counted all the shirttails and hangers–on. Well over a hundred.
But Arcannen had been confronted by situations like this before, so he wasn’t at a loss to decide what needed doing.
He took his Sprint from where he had left it concealed in the surrounding forests–a modified two–man vessel that was sleek and fast. It was all that remained of his once–powerful fleet of airships, but then almost everything else was pretty much gone by now, as well. His failed attempt to subvert the Leah siblings and kill Aphenglow Elessedil had cost him everything, and he was still trying to figure out how to get it all back. The irony, of course, was that if he had just waited five years, the woman would have died anyway. Dealing with Isaturin as Ard Rhys would have been less of a challenge than dealing with Aphenglow, but the chance of gaining immediate control over the Druid Order had been too tempting. Well, it was all water under the bridge now, and he did his best not to dwell on how things had turned out.
Save for the matter of Arbrox. That was too recent, and the emotional damage he had suffered as a result felt as fresh and raw as it had on the day the atrocity had been committed. That could not be forgotten.
He flew only a short distance before reaching the Fortren compound, a sprawling complex of houses and outbuildings–some barns, some storage bins for food and what he guessed were stolen goods–sitting out in a meadow with good sight lines in all directions. He crisscrossed the area several times so that everyone could get a look at him, then he brought the Sprint down close to the main house and climbed out.
Men converged on him from all sides, many carrying portable flash rips and spring guns, others crossbows and blades. They approached cautiously but showed no signs of being intimidated. He stood where he was as they closed in, wrapping himself in protective magic in case one or more got a little careless with their weapons. He hadn’t come out here to end up the victim of some fool’s overzealous behavior.
“Costa Fortren!” he called out boldly, scanning the faces around him. “Are you willing to speak with me?”
There was momentary silence; then the front door of the main house crashed open and a huge bear of a man lumbered into view. He was wearing furs and leather, and there were blades hanging from belts and sheaths all about his body. He glared at Arcannen, then stomped down the steps of the building and came over. When he was a dozen feet away, he stopped. A handheld flash rip appeared in one great hand.
“Who are you?” he roared.
“My name is Arcannen.”
The big man shook his head. “Never heard of you. What are you doing here?”
The sorcerer ignored him. He gestured at the other’s weapon. “You seem well supplied with illegal goods. Those flash rips are meant as army issue only.”
Costa Fortren laughed, his belly shaking, his thick beard billowing out. “The army won’t miss them. You come here to try to take them back from us? You a Federation official?”
The sorcerer shook his head. “Hardly. They want me dead. They probably want you dead, too. So we have something in common.”
“We have nothing in common. You look like a Druid to me.”
“It might look that way, but I’m no Druid–though I do have the use of magic. I was passing through Portlow when I stumbled across someone I’ve been hoping to find for a very long time. Trouble is, you want to kill him.”
The other man’s eyebrows beetled together as he scowled. “You mean that boy? The one that killed Yancel and Borry? Would you be his friend, maybe? Come to beg for his life?”
Arcannen shook his head. He didn’t like all the dark looks he was getting from the rest of the assemblage. “I want to point out something before we continue. If any member of your family decides to use a weapon against me, it will end badly for them. I’m only here to talk.”
Costa Fortren glanced at the men and women surrounding them and shook his head. “Weapons down!” he roared. The response was immediate, as everyone took a step back. The big man looked at Arcannen. “No one does anything unless I tell them to. Say what you have to say. But don’t waste my time.”
“I have a request to make.” Arcannen kept the protective magic in place. “I need the boy alive because I have a use for him. My intention is to take him away with me. When I do, you will never see him again. But I need you to promise you will do nothing to him until then. Two days, maybe three from now.”
The Fortren patriarch stared at him. “He killed two of my sons. I don’t care what you want him for or why. He has to pay for what he did. I’ll never allow him to walk free.”
“I thought you might feel that way, but I have to warn you,” Arcannen continued. “He is not exactly what he appears. He is much more dangerous than you are. You or your whole family. He didn’t just kill your boys by accident. He has the use of powerful magic, and if you go after him, bad things will happen to you, too.”
“It doesn’t matter. He dies all the same.”
“There is every reason to believe that if I take him with me, he dies anyway. So why not wait and see? That way we both get what we want. If he lives through what I’ve got planned for him, you can always come after him later.”
“You talk nonsense, sorcerer! You talk like a fool.”
It wasn’t Costa Fortren who spoke this time. It was a young man who had stepped forward from the others, a flash rip lifted and pointed. The boy was young but his mean face and hard eyes suggested that he was old in other ways.
“Antriss!” Fortren snapped at him. “Did I not say to lower all weapons? Who leads this family?”
“I’ll not listen to any more of this man’s talk, Pap!” Antriss snarled. “He’s not taking that cow–dung music boy anywhere!”
He was working himself up to using the flash rip, and Arcannen was concerned that if he did so, it would set off all the others. His magic was significant, but it was not all–powerful. He had assumed something like this would happen, however, so he was prepared. He had known he would have to make an example of someone.