The Old Lodestone was Candle's favorite place to do business.  The tall,
red haired man owned a part of the bar, which meant he got free drinks.  The
bartender, a friendly old man named Tabor, was one of Candle's oldest
friends; Tabor was the first person he had talked to when Candle had come to
Evergreen those many years ago, and it was he that had given Candle his now
permanent nickname.  As a favor to Candle, Tabor had given Alcia a job
dancing every other night.  Though she was well endowed, Alcia was no dancer;
Candle had given Tabor an entire shipload of Harlequin sweet creme, a very
exotic and expensive liqour, in exchange.  Those were the sort of favors that
were exchanged in Evergreen daily.  Candle spent many days just sitting in
the old tavern, drinking slowly, and waiting for his many associates to come
see him one at a time.  Candle was quite good at arranging such favors, and
this is were he liked to do it.

   The first person to come see him that day was Jumpy.  Like Candle, Jumpy
had a real name that he had long since stopped using.  And, like Candle,
Jumpy's epithet fit him well.  Jumpy was always nervous.  The short, skinny
man was always sure that there were assassins around every corner.  As Candle
was quite fond of pointing out to Jumpy, there were in fact assassins around
every corner; but they all worked for him.  Jumpy had been with the Mafia
nearly as long as Candle had; if and when Candle ever left the organization,
Jumpy would likely take his spot as the right hand of the Don.  Of course, no
one in their position ever retired; it simply didn't happen.  Job openings in
the Mafia were exclusively caused by untimely deaths.  Candle often joked
that he should be the nervous one; but he and Jumpy had been friends for a
long time.  And besides: Candle had more killers working for him than Jumpy
did.

   "Tabor," Candle called to the bartender as Jumpy took a seat beside him.
"A red devil for my friend."

   The old bartender set a tall glass of red liquor in front of Jumpy only
moments later.

   "Thanks," Jumpy nodded to Tabor.  The short man took a few sips of his
drink.

   "How are you, Jumpy?" Candle asked.  "I haven't seen you in a while."

   "Been busy," Jumpy nodded.  "Three idiots tried to take over Mentira a
little while ago.  I went to see for myself."

   "What happened?"

   "They invoked some sort of old mystic right about challenging the current
administration to a contest...I don't know, I'm no mystic.  Anyways, they
ended up getting themselves a year of indentured servitude."  Candle
chuckled, but said nothing.  "Say," Jumpy continued, "what's this I hear
about the boss' daughter almost getting killed?"

   "Well, I don't know...can you keep a secret?" Candle grinned.

   "Don't screw with me here, Candle.  What happened?"

   "She got in a fight with some kinda army on Kantir.  Almost got herself
killed."

   "But she's alive, right?"

   "She is."

   "Good thing," Jumpy sighed, taking another sip of his drink.  "If she'd
died, the old man would have us contracting killers from here to the next
harvest festival."

   "Arranging wars is nasty business," Candle nodded his agreement.

   "Who did it, anyway?"

   "We've got people working on that now."

   "What did you want to see me about?" Jumpy asked, continuing to slowly
drain his glass.

   "I need a favor."

   "Aww," Jumpy moaned sadly between sips.  "I thought you just wanted to get
me drunk."

   "You aren't that pretty," Candle laughed.

   "And you aren't that rich," Jumpy shot back.

   The door to the tavern was suddenly slammed shut by a gust of wind.  Jumpy
nearly leapt from his seat, his drink falling from his hand and shattering on
the floor.  A boy with a mop immediately rushed over and began cleaning up.

   "Hell, Jumpy," Candle said, shaking his head.  "What is it with you?"

   "Shut up, Candle," Jumpy spat, reseating himself.  The nervous man did not
like to be teased about his condition.  "What do you want?"

   "Doe is going to be coming back soon.  Tomorrow probably."

   "Oh good.  I miss him when he's gone."

   "I'm sure you do.  I'm going to Brightsand tonight, and I won't be back
for quite a while.  I need you to pay him for me."

   "You have the money?"

   Candle reached over the bar, and produced a small sack of coins.  Jumpy
opened it, and made a quick count.

   "Doesn't look like much," Jumpy commented.

   "It's light," Candle nodded.

   Jumpy looked up at Candle with an expression of disbelief.  "You're
shorting him?"

   "He screwed up the job.  Made a mess of it."

   Jumpy immediately thrust the bag back at Candle.  "I'm not going to be
the one to short that psychopath!"

   "C'mon, Jumpy," Candle pleaded.  "You know he won't try anything in town."

   "Yeah, he'll just have to drag me into the mountains.  I don't think so.
Find somebody else to do it."

   "Jumpy, don't make me start pulling old favors with you.  Do this for me.
Have Garoko accompany you.  Even Doe would think twice about pulling a weapon 
with with Garoko around."

   Jumpy huffed.  "Fine.  Fine, I'll do it.  But now you owe me."

   "No, I'm pretty sure you still owe me," Candle laughed.  "Remember
Mantarin?"

   "Yes.  You won't let me forget it, even after ten years."

   "Not a chance."

   "You gonna be back in time for the festival?"

   "I don't know," Candle shrugged.

   "I have to get going, Candle.  Have a good time in Brightsand.  I'll make
sure Alcia is well cared for." Jumpy winked slyly.

   "Not a chance, old friend," Candle laughed.

   Jumpy slapped a fairly hefty tip for Tabor on the bar, bowed to Candle,
and left.

   Candle saw many people that day.  Mostly he dealt with arrangements for
his trip: appropriate accomodations, a proper escort, and the like.  Finally,
late that afternoon, the man Candle had been waiting for walked into the
tavern; Striton.  The knight did not look very happy; Candle had fully
expected him to be a bit upset.

   "Sit down, my boy," Candle welcomed him.  "What do you drink?"

   "I'm not thirsty," Striton replied, seating himself.

   "Are you sure? Tabor makes an excellent cyclone..."

   "Quite sure."

   "Not in the mood to talk, eh?" Striton remained silent.  Candle shrugged.
"Fine by me.  Did you deliver both packages?"

   "I did," Striton nodded.

   Candle slapped a bag of coins down on the bar.  "Then I guess we're
finished.  Get on out of here."

   Striton took the coins and tucked them into the pouch on his belt.  He 
knew better than to count the money in front of Candle.  To Candle's 
surprise, however, the knight remained seated, saying nothing. 

   "Shouldn't you be going?" Candle asked after several moments of silence.

   "I'm not one of your killers, you know," Striton said coldly.

   "No, you're not.  We pay them much better."

   "Why didn't you tell me what was in those packages?"

   "You know that's not policy, Razoni."

   "I've told you, I don't do that kind of work.  The people in that building
weren't criminals."

   Candle snickered.  "Like me?"

   "Tell your boss that you won't be seeing me for a while.  I need to get
away from this."

   "Gosh.  We'll miss you so."

   Striton shot Candle a cold look, but said nothing for a moment.  "I'll see
you again if I find Diablo."

   "Word is he's up north.  You might have to beat a few of our people to 
him, though."

   With a slight nod, the knight gathered his things and headed for the door.

   "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," Candle called after him.

   The door was closed, and Striton was gone.  Candle went back to his drink,
and briefly considered having Razoni killed. 

   Not worth the money, he decided.

   Sunrise the next morning found Candle within sight of the city of
Brightsand.  After speaking with Striton, Candle had returned home and
gathered his things.  Alcia had not been home at the time; Candle had not
bothered to find her and say goodbye.  He had proceeded to the city gates,
where he had met his escort: a slender imp woman named Kolko, and a heavy set
young man named Wells.  Kolko was a member of the assassins circle; she
had pale blue skin, auburn hair, and pink eyes.  Wells, a thick jawed man
with very short black hair, was just useful to have around.  The three had
written a carraige to an small outpost on the edge of the Brightsand desert.

   Night had fallen already when they left the outpost on chocobos.  It was
always best to travel at night in the desert.

   The three dismounted their large yellow birds as they approached the gate.
The city was just beginning to wake up; shops were being opened in the plaza,
and a few eager souls were already buzzing around the streets, conducting
their affairs.  The trio was met by a few guards, apparently stationed by the
Glassworkers' Guild.  Something, Candle chuckled to himself, had made them a
bit nervous.  The three were searched, although the guards didn't actually
say what they were looking for.  Kolko was about ready to kill them all; a
stern look from Candle told her that would not be nessecary.  The search
ended, and they were admitted to the city, with the guards' apologies for the
inconvenience.  Candle noted the empty glass cells were the Glassworkers'
Guild boiled their prisoners in the hot sun as they passed by.  Candle
scowled; the Mafia generally looked down on such public displays.

   Their first stop was the most expensive inn in Brightsand.  Candle paid
for their rooms, and arranged for their chocobos to be cared for.  Kolko and
Wells he sent to find out what had happened to the Glassworkers' Guild, even
though Candle already knew.  Rather than going with them, Candle treated
himself to a bath in his very plush room.  It had been a very long journey.

   A knock on Candle's door announced Kolko and Wells return, about an hour
later.  The three seated themselves on the deck, under a large umbrella that
protected them from the harsh sun.

   "What did you find out?" Candle asked.

   "Somebody delivered a bomb to the Glassworkers' Guild yesterday," Wells
replied.  "Right to the Guildmaster's office.  Took a pretty nice chunk out
of the building."

   "Five casualties," Kolko added.

   "The Guildmaster?" Candle asked.

   "He's hurt, but alive," Wells answered.  "They're keeping him somewhere 
in the guild, under very heavy guard."

   Candle's expression soured.  Perhaps he should have had Razoni killed
after all.  "Well, you two get some rest," Candle sighed finally.  "We'll
head over to the Magician's Guild this afternoon."

   Wells and Kolko nodded, and left Candle's room.  Candle finished his
drink, a Torenian rum, before flopping onto his bed for a well earned rest.