"This is useless, my Lord," said Rebecca, one of the Zaatsus in Seear's team. "This is the third establishment we've checked and there is no sign of the White Bolt anywhere."
Renekom shook his head, frustrated.
"Don't worry," Obadiah said. "Fallon's businesses are stretched across the globe. We will find a trace eventually."
"Yes, but we don't have time." Rebecca ran her fingers through her hair. "And if you recall, it took us months to locate him before. Even when Master Baylis caught him, it was not before months of playing cat and mouse."
"Then I guess we should get a move on…"
The Seear moved ahead. They were standing nearly a hundred meters from one of Fallon's largest hotels in Stockholm, Sweden. "Wait, Obadiah," he said. "Fallon has hundreds of establishments around the world. It would take us months to search them all."
"So, then what's our next move, sir?"
"I've invited a few friends." He looked around at everyone once before looking away. "Some contacts from the Order have agreed to meet us here…"
Surprised, Rebecca asked, "Who?"
"A Warden, and an Archon himself…"
Some gasped while all were left stunned. Wardens, overseers who were responsible for supervising the Order's activities in different territories, liaised with operatives of the Eye all the time. But to meet an Archon, a member of the Order's ruling council, was a rarity even for the very best of the Eye.
"Let's hope they can help," Renekom mused. "We need all the help we can get."
Elsewhere, after sending his siblings off to search deeper into the market, Hugo quickly made his way to a shop at the western corner of the Moving Bazaar. It was a large tent. There was a small wooden A-frame outside.
"Weapons and more – your outlook of the world." Hugo read with a smile then looked around. There were four large tables laden with rare weapon-enhancing artifacts and Ki-enhancing charms. They were surrounded on three sides by cupboards filled with some of the finest weapons in the entire Moving Bazaar.
The Zaatsu noticed six salespersons among the many customers. 'Business sure is booming,' he thought.
Ignoring the calls of the salespersons, he moved through the crowd and reached the rear edge of the tent. There was a curtain there. He removed it and peeked inside after undoing his masking spell.
"Hey!" cried one salesman. "You can't go in there!"
There was a desk back there and a man sitting on a chair on the other side of it. He was wearing a black sweatshirt, worn-out black jeans, and a pair of old white sneakers. His long black hair was tied in a ponytail. He looked up at the Zaatsu peeking in. With a narrowed gaze he stared befuddled.
"Hello, Calitri." Hugo stepped inside. The salesman rushed and grabbed him by his shoulder.
"Baylis?" The man stood up from the table. "The hell you doin' here, man?!"
The salesman quickly let go.
The man in the black shirt walked over. Hugo moved ahead. Smiling, the two embraced.
"Niccolo," the Zaatsu quietly said, tightening his grip. "It's been an age, old friend."
"More than an age," he replied in kind. "How've you been, Hugo?"
"I've been better…"
The salesman realized the guest was someone important and left the shop owner's room quickly.
Niccolo moved back. "What brought you all the way out here?"
"There's a stench in the air." Hugo stroked back his hair. "Evil is in the wind. So, I thought – who better to approach than the ones who watched the winds themselves…"
The host smirked. "I wonder who they might be…"
Hugo smiled. "Us, old friend – the Outsiders."
Niccolo Calitri – a name briefly mentioned in old archives – was the coordinator of what little remained of the Outsiders.
"The wind is forever cursed with that stench, mate." Niccolo sighed. "Otherwise, we'd be out of business."
They both chuckled.
"So, I heard you had a big showdown in Spain recently."
"Hmm." Hugo nodded. "Do you know who we fought?"
"The Devil's Hearth." Niccolo sighed and looked away. "We've been followin' them for years."
Standing arms akimbo, Hugo's smile suddenly disappeared as his gaze narrowed. "You knew? Why didn't you come to me?"
"It wasn't goin' inward – Eye wasn't involved. So, we didn't find a reason to disturb you."
"They've been stealing remnants. Do you know?"
Niccolo's grin faltered. "Yeeeah… those remnants."
Hugo studied him for a moment – the once-bright apprentice who had trained under the Chief Seeker, Vincent Von Bergen himself. He had been on the path to becoming a Seeker before Ambris's slaughter ended the movement for good. The fire that the Seekers had sparked in him still burned, buried now under years of smoke and black market dust.
"Can you trace them?"
Niccolo scratched his goatee, smiling wearily. "I'm no Vincent," he replied. "I can follow their shadows when they show themselves, but they're good at stayin' hidden."
Pausing, the shop owner grabbed a chair and placed it next to Hugo. "Have a seat and tell me, what do you need?"
Hugo sat down. "I need information, Nic."
Sitting back on his chair, Niccolo shrugged. "I'll give you what I have, but these days, it ain't much."
Hugo nodded and asked, "They were using arcane enhancers – by any chance, is this the same group of collectors that started popping up after Ambris's demise?"
"Yup, we believe so."
"Shit…"
"But I can't put a finger on their motives. They're very ambiguous, you know?"
"Well, that's true. But I think you'd be interested in knowing who leads them…"
"Oh, that's anybody's guess."
"Not asking, Nic. I fought him…"
Niccolo leaned ahead in his chair. "Who?"
"Their leader."
"Where? When? How?" His gaze widened.
"In the forest… in Spain…"
"Who is he?"
"An Alchemist."
"The fuck?!"
"Oh and by the way, it's actually Derek, the tongue-man."
"Derek… Alchemist? But alchemy ended centuries ago!"
"Yup, that's what they said." The Zaatsu nodded, took a deep breath, leaned back, and crossed his arms. "But apparently, the forbidden art is still alive and well." After a pause he added, "His alchemy was basic though, but the charms these bastards have collected are worrying me."
"What did he have?"
"Charms of Zeke and the Minotaur."
"My God! You don't buy that, Hugo. He must've retrieved 'em somehow."
"In any case, I think it would've been tougher had he known more complicated alchemy."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that…" Smiling, he leaned ahead and looked at Hugo with a narrowed gaze. "You learned wizardry from Amazonians, bub. Even a high-level Alchemist would've had trouble fighting you."
Niccolo paused and then scratched his head. "I need to call this in regardless. Remnants are being stolen, scriptures are being stolen, and now this."
"What about the Dark Art Scriptures?" Hugo cleared his throat. "I was asked to pursue a bounty hunter for those."
"Ah, the White Bolt." He shook his head. "That bastard's a unique case that one."
As Niccolo paused again and dropped his head, Hugo waited as well. Somehow, the Zaatsu did not feel comfortable giving away information about the White Bolt to the Outsiders just yet.
Just then, the salesman walked in once again. This time, he came in carrying tea and biscuits.
"Oh, I already had tea," Hugo quickly explained. "No need for the formalities, Nic."
The man placed the tray on the desk and left.
"Do you think he may be on their payroll too?" Niccolo asked as he picked up one of the cups and pushed the other towards Hugo.
"White Bolt? Can't say for sure." The Zaatsu reached for a biscuit. "What do you think?"
He shrugged once more then shook his head. "We're not exactly sure about him. You have to understand we have been dealin' with a lot these days. Our entire contingent of folks down under has turned up missin'."
"How many?"
"Twenty."
"Shit…"
"Our members are bein' hunted, our allies are turnin' into enemies – times are tough, old friend."
"Did our people ever actually pursue him?"
"The White Bolt? Well, we tried." With a chuckle, he added, "I mean the guy was a little too quick for us. But didn't your team follow him and caught him?"
"Yes, we did. But did you people ever meet up with him or found a valid trace?"
"No, no." Niccolo shook his head. "No such luck at all. Why askin'?"
"He gave us the slip."
"Ah, great." The Outsider rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
"What about the Cults?"
"They don't trust us anymore, Hugo. And we can't trust them. These days, no tellin' which ones are gonna turn us in. No tellin' what's going on there. We're barely able to keep tabs on 'em."
Silence prevailed thereafter, and the Zaatsu finally picked up his teacup as well.