Solon is being irksomely difficult to locate. I am endeavoring not to blame him for this, as the necessity for any Imperial agent, especially an archon, to maintain a low profile at this time is great. However, as someone who is accustomed to finding whomever I seek in short order, the fact that it has thus far taken two days to locate the fifth member of our cadre is discommoding. I was supposed to meet up with Lysimachos on Thrace yesterday, and unless my current lead proves fruitful, I shall likely not make that rendezvous until tomorrow.
Unfortunately, we need Solon if we are to attempt to infiltrate either Babylon or Alexandria. Lysimachos fears interdiction fields have been placed over both worlds, which would have distinctly unpleasant results for myself were I to attempt to teleport into them. The talent of Solon will enable us to momentarily control the operators of such fields, allowing us a brief window of ingress.
I merely have to find the man first.
Athens is in turmoil, as might be expected. Suspected agents of the diadoche are being rounded up and lynched, thus slowing my progress. Although there is nothing to distinguish me physically from a mortal, I must still be careful. Antipater has completely abandoned this planet to anarchy, and a different gang has declared sovereignty in each major city. I began my search in the astroport city of Piraeus, but the street violence there was too great. Having had no better luck in any of the other cities, I have now returned, and am attempting to reestablish contact with as many of my usual informants as have survived the purges.
Solon, it would appear, dropped out of sight the moment the unrest began, before the satrap ordered in his personal guard and then fled to Lamia when they were slaughtered by the crowd. The tight streets of the port city were quickly overrun by vigilantes and looters. Fortunately, much of the unrest has died down, although there is still no formal law in the city and the port remains closed to outbound traffic. Grain ships are being allowed to land, but not take off again, and pirate fleets allied to each of the cities violently compete in the attempt to divert cargo vessels to their own territories. Merchant ships are attempting to bypass this satrapy completely, but with Babylon closed and Memphis in the uncertain state it has become in the past days, the traditional avenues between the central and outer worlds are being slowly strangled. Such is the sad handicap of those not blessed as I and others like me are, to navigate the streams of the thalassa with the quickness of a thought passing along a neuron, able to move instantaneously between any two points in space regardless of distance.
But I must not succumb to hubris. It is a failing that I must endeavor harder to expunge from my personality. Excessive pride results in an elevated self-image, which causes spatial distortions when navigating in the thalassa and has been known to disrupt passage in both space and time. Although I admit it would be useful to be able to locate Solon and arrive back on Thrace in time to make our appointment yesterday, I do not have my student Biblia's talent for calculation to identify exactly how much I should allow my head to swell to accomplish that feat.
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I have just passed a patrol of street thugs. They look suspiciously at any person riding in a cab now, but I have had four hundred years of practice at pretending to be a senile old man, and in spite of their brutish tendencies, most of the toughs on Athens are loathe to prove their masculinity by doing harm to their elders. This indicates that the social breakdown is not yet as pronounced as we might have predicted, although the longer the Megas Basileus remains incommunicado, the worse the breakdown will be. I have not had the opportunity to study the effect upon the brain of prolonged lack of exposure to the pacifying influence of Alexandros' archon talent, and in spite of my curiosity, I would ultimately prefer not to have to do so.
My contact tells me that Solon may be located in a suite of rooms above a taverna on the southeast edge of Piraeus. To avoid leading any angry mobs to his door, I am leaving my cab driver behind and will walk the remainder of the distance. I am tempted to teleport there, but I fear my impatience may result in my being observed, and I do not wish to join the two other hanged archons in the agora. Pretending to die takes time which I cannot presently afford.
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