The bottle was passed to the sergeant. He took a generous swallow, while the soldier with the wispy mustache sulked.
Dardas furtively studied the other faces around the fire. They seemed to be on the sergeant's side. That was good. He moved on silently.
Similar conversations were taking place throughout the camp. He paused to sample them, covertly. The majority of his troops supported him, he found. Certainly there were some malcontents, but that couldn't be avoided. Dardas took note of only the most vitriolic ones. He could have them dealt with later, if he chose.
Berkant had probably already delivered his report about the scouts' positions around Trael. Dardas should get back to his tent soon.
But he had one more task.
Still hidden in his cloak, he skulked into an area of the camp where a mixed unit of wizards had their tents. It was not the same company to which Raven was attached.
Here Dardas felt a palpable tension among the encamped mages. It was the same tightly wound stress that was evident in most of the army's wizards. The general hostility between magicians and the regular troops couldn't entirely account for the anxiety and strain.
That Academy in Felk, whatever it was, was apparently turning out accomplished wizards. But it was also producing personnel who felt persecuted and paranoid.
Dardas ducked low now, moving fast. Magic was an incredible tool, and these practitioners probably deserved more respect than they got. But they were also cooperating with Matokin in that conspiracy of silence that kept any useful knowledge of magic from Dardas.
He was glad once again that Weisel kept his body fit. Weisel's consciousness hadn't made a peep in some while now, and Dardas didn't miss those mental conversations with his host.
He rolled silently on the ground, drawing a knife and slicing cleanly through the side of a small tent. He rolled right on through the rent, onto the individual lying alone inside.
The Far Movement mage tried to make a startled squawk, but Dardas jammed a hand over his mouth. He also pinned the wizard's body with his own, and touched the very sharp point of his knife to the tip of the mage's nose.
Dardas had seen the mages open portals. He knew— without understanding the meaning of the actions—that complex chants and gyrations were involved in Far Movement magic, much like that rejuvenation spell that Kumbat had performed.
This mage wasn't going to get the chance to work his magic and escape this tent. After a few moments he stopped struggling beneath Dardas. Now he began to tremble in fear.
Dardas grinned in the tent's darkness.
"Now," he whispered, "you're going to answer some questions, earnestly and wholeheartedly."
BERKANT WAS CLUTCHING a shred of fabric in one hand. It looked like it had come from a
piece of clothing. Dardas had noticed this before, whenever the mage was communicating directly with Matokin.
They were in Dardas's tent. Berkant had brought maps that indicated the locations of the scout parties. Dardas would make a few adjustments, place them just so around the city-state of Trael.
At the moment, he was explaining himself to Lord Matokin. The indignity of reporting to a "superior" chafed him.
"I am making preparations to use the portals," Dardas said. 'That's why I've halted the army."
Berkant's face was vacant. His eyes stared forward at nothing. But he was still hearing Dardas's words and relaying them magically north to distant Felk. In turn, Matokin was able to send his own messages here. It was, admittedly, an amazing feat.
Someday maybe Dardas would educate himself about the methods of Far Speak, just as he now knew much more about Far Movement magic than he had before.
"Why have you waited until you are so close to Trael to do so?" Berkant asked, in a voice that barely sounded like his own. "It seems to me that the greater the distance you cross, the more effective the portals are for a surprise attack. The people of Trael no doubt know you intend to invade there by now."
"But what defenses can they raise?" Dardas countered. "My scouts tell me it is a typical Isthmus city-state. Their army is no match for... yours."
He had nearly said "mine." He silently chided himself.
"That does not answer my question, General," Berkant/Matokin said. "Why have you waited?"
Dardas lowered his eyes. It took a great effort to make himself look humble, but he didn't know if Matokin could see through Berkant's eyes as well as hear with his ears.
"I..." he said hesitantly. "I... am not comfortable going through those portals."
"What?" The Far Speak mage conveyed Matokin's surprise.
Dardas shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "I don't entirely trust that particular magic, Lord Matokin. I must admit that stepping into one of those portals, I don't know if I'll step out the other side again."
There was silence. Berkant's eyes stared dully.
Then he said, "General Weisel, that is ridiculous. Whatever fears you have, you must overcome them. I am disappointed that you have allowed this bias to affect your battle strategies in any way. I have provided you with the best mages possible to aid you in this war. You will make use of them. Is that clear?"
Contritely, Dardas said, "Yes, Lord."
A few moments later the communication ended. Dardas watched Berkant recover himself, blinking as if he were waking from a dream. The mage immediately stuffed the shred of cloth back into his robe.
"Are you all right?" Dardas asked.
"Yes, General Weisel. I—"
"You're dismissed."
Berkant exited the pavilion. Dardas didn't know if the Far Speak mage could overhear the messages he relayed, but it was shameful the way Dardas had had to abase himself before Matokin ... even if it was all a ruse.
Dardas told his aide to fetch Raven to his tent. He was informed that the special foodstuffs had arrived via Far Movement from Windal and were being distributed among the troops. He acknowledged this with a nod.
When Raven entered, Dardas's gaze lingered candidly over her. It really was a vast improvement. Groomed and decently clothed, she was decidedly attractive. Raven didn't shy from his stare, either.
"You called for me, General?" Her voice was exaggeratedly husky.
He was careful not to laugh. Let her enjoy her new-found sensuality. It was all part of the plan to attach her more firmly to him. He needed allies among his army's mages. He thought it best to start with her.
He wondered, briefly, if she would struggle under him like that Far Movement mage had. Dardas liked his bed partners to put up a bit of a fight.
Of course, that mage hadn't been a lover. Dardas had questioned the wizard, who was very forthcoming with that knife against his nose. Then, when Dardas had what he wanted, he had flicked the sharp tip of the blade across the mage's upper right arm, just a tiny cut. The poison on the blade acted fast. Dardas escaped the tent the way he'd come in, and flitted invisibly away through the falling night.
The mage, whenever he was discovered, would appear to have died from a seizure of some sort.
"Sir?" Raven was still waiting, looking a little nervous now.
Dardas favored her with a smile. "Now, don't frown, girl. I've told you how pretty your smile is. There, that's it."
She didn't blush this time, but proudly displayed her smile, even instinctively thrusting out her breasts for added effect.
"Raven," he said, quietly now, "I have need of you."
Her face went still, expectantly.
He took a step toward her, laying his hands on her shoulders and squeezing slightly. He stooped so that he could peer directly into her eyes.
"How can I serve you, General?" she asked.
"I know the secret of Far Movement," he said. "I know which world it is the portals lead into. I intend to use those portals in a way your wizards haven't yet thought of."
Raven was listening very solemnly and intently.
"And I want you to help me."
AQUINT (4)
THEY HAD MISSED the joyous f
estival of Lacfoddalmendowl, which was disappointing. But Aquint and Cat were both glad to be back in Callah, even if they were now serving the enemy that had captured the city-state.
Aquint presented his credentials to Colonel Jesile at the Registry. The Felk governor of Callah had cropped hair the color of metal and a face equally hard. Nonetheless, his manner was polite, if somewhat cold.
"I trust you had a pleasant... journey," Jesile said, looking at the scroll Lord Abraxis had given Aquint.
"As pleasant as it could be, I suppose," Aquint said ruefully.
It was the second time he had passed through that weird, milky other-reality, crossing the distance from Sook in a matter of a few dozen steps. The world those portals opened into was so strange and disorienting. He and Cat had been instructed to walk a perfectly straight line, not to dawdle or deviate in any way.
They had done just that, eyes straight ahead. And yet... all the while Aquint had the awful, uneasy feeling that someone or something in that place was watching him and Cat pass.
He shuddered, thinking about it.
Jesile grunted. "Yes. I feel the same way about being Far Moved. I supposed we'll have to get used to it. Once the Isthmus belongs entirely to Felk, we might all be moving around like that."
"You think the wizards will be running everything when the war's over?" Aquint asked.
Jesile was suddenly leery. Aquint didn't understand; it had just been a casual question.
"What can we here in Callah do for Internal Security?" the Felk military governor finally said.
"I've been ordered to investigate local unrest." Next to Aquint, Cat stood silently, eyes moving. 'This is my assistant."
"Very well. How can my garrison assist you?"
Aquint had visited the Registry before, to file the licenses for his old freight hauling business. The building was large.
"I wish to see all your recent reports of arrests and disturbances," Aquint said, adopting a businesslike tone. 'Tell me, do your soldiers arrest people for speaking treason against the empire?"
Jesile pursed his lips a moment, considering. He didn't want to say the wrong thing in front of an agent of the Internal Security Corps, Aquint realized.
"My garrison," Jesile said, carefully, "is instructed to exercise a degree of latitude when dealing with these locals. The aim, I believe, is to win them over as functional citizens of the empire ... not to terrorize them into useless submission."
Aquint nodded. "That's good, Colonel. I agree." He was glad Callah was being governed by someone with some sense.
He requested a set of Callahan clothing for himself and Cat. He also procured a sling for his left arm. That way, if anyone asked why he, someone of qualified age, wasn't with the army, he could say he was on furlough after having been wounded.
He hit the streets eagerly, Cat alongside. He sucked in lungfuls of sweet, cool Callahan air, soaking up the familiar sights around him. There was evidence of the Felk occupation just about everywhere, from the patrols to the fact that there were no civilians of eligible military age around, but it didn't dampen his spirits.
"Wonderful to be home, isn't it?" he said, as they crossed through the marketplace and turned down a street.
"I was getting used to Sook, actually," Cat said.
"That place? Well, I admit I was enjoying that sweet operation we had at that army warehouse. I don't doubt Tyber's cousin Vahnka will keep it running at a profit."
"Do you plan on looking up Tyber while we're here?" Cat said.
Aquint raised his hand. "One racket at a time. Right now, I'm an Internal Security agent. You saw what pull that had just now, with our esteemed governor."
"I saw," Cat said.
"I think the possibilities of lining our pockets with this job are damned near limitless. But first, we've got to prove ourselves. Abraxis is going to want a report."
"Why not just make one up?" Cat suggested blandly.
Aquint wasn't sure if the boy was being facetious or not. "Too risky at the start. I want you to do what you do best, haunt the shadows and hear what people are saying."
"That's not what I do best," Cat said, his hand opening to reveal the brooch he'd snatched off a table in the marketplace.
"Call it one of your many talents, then, lad," Aquint said. "Jesile says people haven't been very happy about the new paper currency they've issued here. We'll start with that. Let's hope there's somebody committing treasonous crimes somewhere here. Otherwise, this Internal Security agent is going to find himself out of a job."
AS PLEASING AS it was to be home again, Aquint was hardly totally relaxed. Thoughts of Abraxis hung over him like a dark cloud. He recalled vividly the sample of his blood the mage had taken in Sook. Abraxis kept those samples on his person at all times, he had said. That meant, if he appeared here in Callah to make a snap inspection, Aquint's sample would be with him, in that small red bag.
Aquint definitely didn't like the idea of Abraxis having the power of life and death over him, which was what possession of his blood sample implied.
Damned wizards.
He avoided revisiting his old warehouse, thinking the sight would probably depress him, but he did reacquaint himself with much of the city.
Inevitably he bumped into people he knew. His "wounded" arm was effective in explaining his presence. It was good to see these old acquaintances, though many had a tired, beaten look about them. Every one of them asked him for news of the outside world. He sidestepped this by claiming he had been wounded shortly after being inducted into the Felk army, the injury serious enough to leave him virtually senseless for the past few lunes.
Jesile had provided him with an apartment in one of Callah's better neighborhoods. Aquint would draw pay from Jesile's coffers of proper coin. However, for walking around money, the Governor's Office had issued him some of the new paper scrip, so he could blend in with the locals.
It was funny-looking stuff, Aquint thought. Green notes, red notes, all stamped with odd designs. The system hadn't yet been introduced in Windal or Sook. Callah, he was told, was the test case.
An anonymous messenger brought Aquint the arrest reports he'd asked for. He studied them in his new rooms. Cat was still out.
There were the expected incidents of drunken behavior. Actually, as far as Lacfoddalmendowl went, there were far fewer than normal. Of course Jesile had only allowed a toned down version of the holiday to be celebrated. But it was better that than nothing, Aquint thought.
Mixed in among the pages, he found several accounts of vandalism. He culled these, curious.
Eventually Cat reappeared, having picked the apartment's lock.
"Well," the boy said, "there's a lot of under-the-counter transactions still being made in coin. I guess when the Felk confiscated everybody's jingle, they didn't get every single coin. You're right about people not liking the paper money. But they're getting used to it anyway."
Aquint nodded. He tossed a scrap of paper to Cat. "What do you make of that?"
The lad's eyes flicked over the paper. After a moment, he said, "I've seen this."
"Where?" Aquint asked, interested. "Around," Cat said. "On walls and doors ... branded there. Just here and there around the city. None of it really registered, until now."
Aquint allowed himself a tight smile. "The Felk police patrols didn't make much of it either. But I think it means something."
Cat handed him back the scrap of paper. "What?" Aquint looked at the design he had drawn, as described in the reports. A circle cut through with a vertical slash.
"I don't know," he said. "But Internal Security is supposed to investigate unrest in Callah. This looks like it might lead somewhere." "And if it doesn't?"
"Then," Aquint smiled wider, "we'll lead it somewhere ourselves."
IT WAS INDEED a luxurious apartment, with kitchens below that served the building's various units. Aquint ordered up hot dinners for him and Cat, plus a bottle of the best wine available. Everything was going to be billed to
the Governor's Office, after all.
The next day Aquint prowled Callah's streets once more. Cat was a good eavesdropper, but Aquint was a very capable socializer. He dropped in at various taverns and cafés over the course of the day, being careful not to drink too much. Again he chanced upon old acquaintances and spent some time in casual conversation. Some at first were leery about speaking to a member of the Felk military.
Usually, without much effort, Aquint was able to convince them that despite being conscripted into the army, he was the same old Aquint and, most importantly, a Callahan above all else.
So it was that they divulged to him, often after he'd bought a round or two with the scrip that had been issued to him. It was a surer way to gather information than by simply spying.
Later, he met with Cat at a prearranged site. From there they went to the Registry.
Aquint brought the intelligence he'd garnered to Governor Jesile. Despite his important status as an agent of the Internal Security Corps, Aquint still got nervous in the presence of authority It was probably left over from his days of smuggling and black marketeering.
"It's nonsense," the governor said, resolutely. "Windal is secure. Those Far Speak mages pass messages back and forth all the time. We received one only this morning, relayed from Colonel Palo, the governor. It's business as usual in Windal."
Aquint shrugged.
"I can only tell you what people are mumbling about," he said. "Everybody in Callah is starving for news about the war, about the outside. Without it, people will simply make stories up, and pass them on as fact."
"Then this talk of an uprising in Windal," Jesile said, "the people know it's just a rumor?"
"Some. Maybe. But some believe it. Of that I'm sure."
Colonel Jesile turned his eyes toward Cat. "And you? You've heard the same?"
Cat stood mute.
"My associate is working on other matters," Aquint said.
The governor sighed.
Aquint didn't offer up news of the slashed circle brands that had appeared around Callah, evidently during the Lacfoddalmendowl celebrations. Those had already been reported by the Felk patrols. If the governor didn't understand how widespread they were, or what the brands might indicate, Aquint saw no need to play the hand now.
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