Connor massaged his temples. The library was far too small for both him and the erstwhile merchant to share for long periods. He needed to find something for Mikhail to do before his clanking footsteps drove Connor to violence. It seemed he’d been listening to Mikhail pace for days. While Connor was content to wait for events to proceed, Mikhail had less patience.

Connor cocked his head and honed in on an approaching energy. One of his messenger birds was returning. A moment later the black crystal bird flew into the library and landed on the arm of his chair, a message clamped in its beak.

Connor grabbed the scrap of paper and gestured the little bird away. Mikhail clanked back to read over his shoulder.

Apparently his agent had recovered the urn, but now required transportation to a safe location. It included directions to a remote location in the woods fifteen miles from the capital. Connor smiled and stood up. At last his patience had been rewarded.

“So the spy succeeded,” Mikhail said.

“I’m not so certain. I’ve read many messages from that particular bird and the handwriting on this note was totally different. Whoever has the urn, it isn’t my spy.”

Mikhail straightened up. “You suspect a trap?”

“Doubtful. Only the spy could have sent that bird. Morana linked it to his soul force. More likely he’s injured and had someone else write it for him. An ally of some sort.”

Connor gestured the bird back from its perch on one of his shelves. It landed on his finger and he willed it to return to the spy. The bird just sat there staring at him with its black crystal eyes.

“My spy is dead.” Connor returned the bird to its spot on the shelf. Until it was linked to a new person the little messenger was useless. “I believe I’ll go see who ended up with my property.”

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“Let me go, Master. It might be dangerous.”

Connor laughed. He was by far the stronger of the two and he was curious about whoever wrote the message. If Mikhail went he’d kill whoever it was without learning anything. It wouldn’t do to cut down a potential ally. He’d just lost one spy, maybe he could pick up a new one.

“I’ll be fine. Stay here and protect the library. This shouldn’t take long.”

Mikhail bowed his head. “As you command.”

Connor flew south, swinging wide around the capital. It took him miles out of his way, but he didn’t want to risk any Crimson Legionnaires or worse, the archmage herself, sensing his passing. While he certainly didn’t fear the sorcerers in the capital, he also didn’t want to risk an unnecessary confrontation at this stage.

He landed in a clearing deep in the woods. A crude shed, its roof sunken in and its boards rotting, sat near the edge. This had to be the place described in the note. “Hello?”

A weathered old man with a satchel slung over his shoulder emerged from the shack. He took one look at Connor and flinched. “You must be the master the idiot mentioned.”

Connor raised an eyebrow at the old man’s insolence, but decided against killing him on the spot. “Indeed. I’m Connor Blackman. And you are?”

“Koran Dane. Your man led a sorcerer to my home then leveled it with this…whatever it is. I been watching the capital for better than thirty years for the cult and that bloody idiot ruined everything in a day. What am I supposed to do?”

Connor understood now. This man was a member of the original cult. Most of them were nihilists who hated everything, psychopaths that wanted to watch everything die. Connor smiled. It was so rare to meet one of the old guard.

“For someone that has served the cult so well for so long I’m certain we can find a task for you. You know Morana?”

He nodded. “The redhead. She’s been collecting my reports for the past two years. She’s a sight easier on the eyes than the last poxy son of a whore I reported to.”

“Splendid. She’s working with some other members in Valcane. I’m certain you’d be a great asset for her. Now, the urn.”

He shrugged off the satchel and handed it to Connor. “I forgot about it for a minute. Glad to be rid of the awful thing. You going to fly me to the coast?”

Connor laughed again. “Hardly. I’ll send Morana a message and she’ll come collect you in a day or two. Just wait here and stay out of sight.” He undid the ties on the satchel and looked inside. The inky black cylinder glinted in the late afternoon light.

Connor leapt into the air and powered back north with his prize. Now, once Eleck completed his task, Connor could begin the final phase of his plan.