When I arrived at his house the next day, I hesitated before knocking loudly, knowing this might be the last time I see Firenze alive and whole. He opened the door slowly, looking weary and tired, and waved me in with a shadow of his old hope-inducing smile. We went up to the library and he sank into a leather chair behind a small table covered in complicated-looking books. I sat in a similar chair and sighed.
"You haven't found anything, have you?" I asked him, knowing yet dreading the answer. He shook his head.
"They can create the object themselves," he said, sighing. "They do not need a wizard, and the magic is too strong to be tampered with. The only way I can stop them is by stealing a piece of that obsidian. I have been working on a plan."
He rose and crossed to a wooden desk, where a large piece of parchment was lying weighted down with silver paperweights in the shapes of various animals – an owl, a horse, a badger and a bear. I followed him and studied it.
"This is a map of Kakonatos, the building where the obsidian is being held," he explained. I nodded, understanding his worry. I had never seen Kakonatos, as it was usually obscured by mountains and clouds. I had heard the stories, though, of black spires that towered up to the sky itself and the silver-embossed gates that could incinerate intruders in the blink of an eye. It was the headquarters of the Council, and no one messed with the Council.
"Here," he said, pointing to a square on the diagram, "is where the obsidian is being held. Notice how the lines are extra thick in places? That is where the walls are reinforced to the point where almost nothing can get through them. And the walls with a red line along them are trapped. The same goes for the floors..."
I cast my eye over the diagram, dread building in my chest. In the corridors leading to the room, almost every wall was reinforced or trapped. I counted seven trapped areas in the last corridor alone.
"This is impossible," I managed to say. "You'll never manage to get in and out."
"Yes, I will. In fact, it will be extremely easy – that is, getting in. Getting out is a different matter. I am permitted access to the obsidian, provided I am under surveillance at all times, and it does not leave the room. They are paranoid about having it in their headquarters and if I find it at all dangerous, they will have it moved to a high-security vault. When it is there, there is no chance of getting to it.
I will enter under the claim that I wish to check various magical properties of the stone. When I am there, I will... dispose of the guard in a way that will not cause any alarm. Then I will take a few chunks of stone. Unfortunately, the guard must check in every five minutes. If he does not, I will be discovered... and it takes seven minutes precisely to escape from the room. Therefore, I will no doubt be seen, but hopefully not caught. Then, when I am out, I will hide the stone in a place they will never find it."
"And then what? You will return?" I asked, praying for it to be true.
"I'm afraid not. That would endanger both of us far too much. I would travel to another village, and await discovery or death." He looked steadily at me with his clear eyes.
"Mike... if I don't see you again, know this – you were the most honourable and kind friend I have ever had, if my memory proves healthy. If I fail, you must get out. Run for the hills, and do not look back.
"Finally, I must ask you – do not pursue any vendettas against the Council, no matter what they do to you. That will result in nothing but your painful death, and my own death would have been in vain. Forget me as best you can, and move on with your life. I do not want you to obsess over this. Enjoy your life – you will go far." He smiled, a single tear slipping silently down his cheek, and he turned and walked to the door.
"Farewell, Mike," he said, almost in his normal voice, as though it was the end of a normal visit. I opened my mouth to say something, but my throat felt blocked up and no sound was coming out – and there was nothing I could say that he didn't know, really. Instead I nodded and swallowed painfully. He turned and walked through the door.
It was the last time I saw Firenze like that.
A figure detached itself from the shadows by the wall, hunched over to avoid detection. It hurried after the departing figure of the wizard, wincing from the ache that set in after holding itself to the window for so long, and silently followed the man in the orange light of the setting sun. Under the hood, a mouth smiled, eyes glinting with malicious intention.