"It looks like a stain on the cloth," Gownick said, confused.
"It's not, for gods' sake! The circle, with the line through it. Don't tell me you don't recognize it."
"Should I?" Gownick asked.
"It doesn't mean anything to you?" Aquint feigned a dumbfounded expression.
The large elder was starting to look a little flustered. No one liked being left out of things. It was a childish impulse people never outgrew completely.
Aquint made to put the piece of cloth back into his jacket.
"Wait," Gownick said. "You say you found that on the Felk barracks door?"
"I had to report there early this morning. I saw it before anyone else did. I removed it, and didn't tell anybody about it."
"Why not?"
Again Aquint gave him an astonished look. "Because if I did then the whole garrison would know that the rebels are bold enough to leave their mark right on their very door. It would send soldiers into the streets, into people's homes. We don't need another shakeup like that last one."
He was referring of course to the garrison's violent response to the murder of one of their own by that Minstrel. But by telling Gownick this, he was siding himself with the Callahans, not the Felk.
"No," Gownick said, gravely, "we certainly don't need that." He frowned again. "Let me have another look at that."
Aquint showed him the mark on the cloth again. He himself had drawn it, naturally, using a stick of charcoal. This same slashed circle, which had been branded on numerous walls and doors throughout Callah, was, so Aquint had told Jesile, the emblem of the rebel underground.
Actually, he hadn't known if that was true or not. But at the time it was an expedient ploy, one that had helped firm up his position as an Internal Security agent fighting a real rebel network here in this city.
"I think I've seen this..." Gownick finally said.
It was quite possible he had. Whoever had been responsible for those strange brands had done a thorough job of spreading them throughout Callah. Jesile's troops had since eradicated the marks, removing doors and defacing walls where necessary.
"Well, I'm keeping it," Aquint said, finally stuffing it back into a pocket. "Hopefully, one day soon I'll make contact with someone in that rebel underground. When I do I'll use that symbol on that cloth as a kind of credential, to show I know who they are."
Gownick shook his head. "Why do you want to contact them?"
Aquint blinked at his former business rival. "To join them, of course."
With that he got up from the table, and left the cafe.
* * *
By the time he rendezvoused with Cat later in the day, Aquint was feeling much better. His mood had improved as well.
"You look pleased with yourself," the boy said, as they ducked beneath the flamboyant eaves of a building.
"And why not?"
"It went as you planned?"
"It did." Aquint nodded. "How about you?"
Cat shrugged. "Tracking is time-consuming work. There's lots of places that group could've gone, if they didn't just scatter individually."
Aquint was feeling magnanimous. "There there, lad. We'll find those motley rebels, one way or the other."
The boy shrugged again.
They stood there a moment, watching the foot traffic pass. Occupied or not, life still went on in Callah for its native inhabitants.
Aquint was indeed pleased. He had confided in three others besides Gownick, all just as big-mouthed. Word would get around about both the rebels nailing their mark on the barracks door, and about Aquint wanting to contact the underground. The first gambit would lend even more credence to a potential rebel uprising, which would secure Aquint's position even further, so long as he eventually turned the culprits over to Abraxis.
The second ploy just might put him in contact with the rebels. It depended on how seriously they took themselves. They had started as a sort of semifictional group, which Aquint himself had encouraged the Felk to believe in. Now, they might just become real, and might start accepting recruits.
If that happened, then they could be infiltrated.
Aquint was smiling, but his smile faded after a moment, as he considered the bigger picture. Suppose these ragtag rebels did rise up against the Felk. Suppose, somehow, they defeated Jesile's troops here in Callah. Did Aquint really want to be responsible for undoing a rebellion like that?
"What's wrong?" Cat asked, as always sensitive to Aquint's mood.
"Nothing." Aquint waved dismissively. "Tell me, do you think it's too early for a drink?"
DARDAS (1)
The milk-white unreality played havoc with one's senses. It moved like a fog and offered no convenient points of reference. It left one without any sure sense of distance or depth. But the instructions of the Far Movement mage were clear. Walk straight ahead and don't linger.
Weisel acknowledged the wizard's warnings. They were in a chamber of the Palace. He waited patiently for the spell to be completed. It had to be coordinated with the mages at the far end, via Far Speak.
This portal was being opened between the city of Felk and the army in the field near Trael. Matokin had ordered Weisel to return to his troops, now that the matter of Raven's resurrection had been settled. That girl had sacrificed herself for him, and he had demanded that a host body be found for her, and her spirit returned to life. Matokin had complied.
I think, Lord Weisel, that you find this type of journeying just as unsettling as I do.
I don't recall saying I found it unsettling.
You needn't say it, of course. Thinking it will do.
Ah, but we can't spy freely on each other's thoughts. There are limitations.
It was a stunning reversal, and Dardas was still adjusting. Just a few days ago, he had been the one operating this body. He had been the dominating personality and will. Then, unexpectedly, Weisel had seized control. Now Dardas was the one pushed to the remote mental corners, unable to move these limbs, or work this mouth. He was, effectively, disembodied.
It was a sorry state of affairs. He hadn't been reborn after two and a half centuries just to ride around passively in this effete Felk nobleman's skull. No, he must have an active role again. He was a general. He was meant to lead an army.
Limitations? I suppose, Lord Weisel.
It's interesting you refer to me as Lord, since you demanded to be addressed as General when you had full use of my identity.
Do you fancy yourself a general? Do you really intend to lead the Felk army on your own?
I'm not on my own.
You still expect me to help you? Dardas was shocked.
That was what you were resurrected for. To instruct and assist me in the techniques of warfare.
It was almost beyond belief. Could this fop be so deluded? Those had been the terms that Weisel had originally agreed to when Matokin arranged for Dardas's resurrection. But it seemed evident that Matokin had expected all along that Dardas would swiftly assume control of the host body, which was what had happened.
Then again, Weisel was the one holding sway now. Maybe he was in fact in a position to dictate terms.
"The portal is ready, General Weisel," the Far Movement mage said.
"Very good."
Weisel stepped into the breach that opened before him.
See? That wizard isn't too proud to call me General.
You may have a point.
Dardas sensed surprise. It wasn't as easy to detect emotions as it was to hear deliberately directed thoughts.
I'm glad to hear you finally talking some sense.
I have always been a man who could adjust to new situations.
From what I know of history, that's always meant trouble for your enemies.
They were past the portal now. Weisel obeyed the instructions and put one foot in front of the other, aiming for the exit portal, which was just visible in the misty distance.
Tell me something.
Yes? Weisel asked.
&nb
sp; If you are so eager for my advice and expertise, why did you thwart my strategy of opening those portals around the city of Trael?
Quite suddenly, Weisel stopped walking. He stood still, deliberately, hands on hips.
What are you doing? Dardas asked.
But Weisel was silent, directing no thoughts Dardas's way. This wasn't a Weisel that Dardas was familiar with. This was some different version, someone other than the weak-willed Felk lord that Dardas had once so easily overpowered. This Weisel seemed confident and decisive.
Maybe Weisel had been taking lessons from him, Dardas thought wryly. Then he considered the thought more seriously. It had some plausibility. It might be that Weisel, during that time when Dardas thought him completely suppressed, had instead been learning how Dardas conducted himself. Dardas was an assured, resolute leader. It was what Weisel aspired to be.
Why have you stopped? Dardas felt a twinge of unease now, on top of the general anxiety of traveling by way of this portal. He had been honest earlier when he'd said this type of travel unsettled him.
Wait. Listen. Watch. Weisel's thoughts were composed.
Dardas could only borrow Weisel's senses now, not direct them in any way. Through the Felk lord's eyes, he scanned the surrounding fog as it eddied and flowed according to no perceivable pattern.
With Weisel's ears, he listened. Suddenly, he heard something, or thought he did. It was as vague and ill-defined as everything else about this terrible place. As Dardas tried to sort the sound he became aware of a growing feeling of being watched. He tried to dismiss it as childish, but it wouldn't go away. In fact, it got worse. At the same time, the sound was getting louder... or getting nearer.
Actually, sounds was more like it. Dardas was nearly able to pick apart the individual parts of it. It was almost like they were voices!
It was an awful thought, one that chilled Dardas's disembodied being.
Let's get going, he urged.
Are you in such a hurry? Weisel asked archly.
Let's get to the exit, Weisel!
Amid the roiling mist, Dardas thought he perceived shapes now, just the vaguest silhouettes. The voices were definitely louder.
Whatever point you mean to prove, this isn't the way to do it.
Oh, I think it's a very effective means.
Enough. Please. We have to get moving.
Weisel at last relented, and moved with hurtling steps toward the far portal. Dardas felt certain that whatever was gathering in the fog would seize this body before Weisel could get to the exit. He was happy to find himself mistaken when they charged through the second breach, into a large tent where two mages waited.
The magicians were startled to find the general bursting through so suddenly.
"Are you all right, sir?" one wizard asked.
"Was there any difficulty in the transit, General?" asked the other.
Weisel drew a calming breath, smiled, and said, "Nothing to speak of. You both did your jobs just fine. Dismissed." He waved.
They exited the tent.
What was the meaning of that? Dardas demanded.
Meaning of what? Weisel mentally retorted.
That misguided display back there. People who put themselves deliberately and uselessly in jeopardy aren't heroes, you know.
Were you frightened? Because I was. What do you imagine those things were, moving so eerily in that white mist?
I don't know, Dardas admitted.
Neither do I. That's the point. They might be illusions. They might be creatures. They might be gods know what, considering how strange that place is. They might even be the restless spirits of the dead.
That gave Dardas pause. He had extracted information about the nature of portal magic from one of the mages in this very army. He had been compelled to do so because of Matokin's orders regarding secrecy about all things magical. The Felk leader meant to keep Dardas ignorant about such matters, probably so the general wouldn't become too powerful.
What Dardas had learned was extraordinary. It seemed that all magic in this world was derived from another world, the same alien plane of existence that the portals employed. This, Dardas was told by the Far Movement mage he'd questioned, was called the Wellspring. It was a sort of antireality, a metaphysical opposite. Where this world was life, that place was death.
Dardas had had to conduct his questioning at knifepoint. Afterward, he'd also had to kill the mage. Such necessities didn't bother him.
But he hadn't known that Weisel was aware of the episode. At the time, the nobleman's consciousness had seemingly disappeared altogether.
Yes, Dardas finally said. It might be that the dead would have emerged and overrun the city of Trael.
What powers would they have possessed, do you suppose, once they were loose in this world? And what would they have done when they'd finished with Trael? No, General Dardas, it was too risky. In fact, it was insanely so.
Dardas didn't mind the barb. He was actually somewhat moved that Weisel was addressing him by his rank.
It was a calculated risk. We take those in wars.
Weisel said, I don't see that it was calculated. Too many unknown factors. The potential for disaster was too great.
So you decided to... intervene. Dardas still had no clear idea how Weisel had managed to completely overthrow control of this body.
I am the one who will be remembered as the leader of this army, regardless of what assistance I've had. I do not wish the name of Weisel to be synonymous with a cataclysm as huge and historic as the Great Upheavals that toppled the kingdoms of the Northern and Southern Continents.
I think I can understand that.
Do you? I hope so. Because we are very literally in this together. Now, if I can rely on your good counsel it's time to gather the senior staff and discuss strategies. When I was in Felk, seeing to Raven's resurrection, I tried to get Matokin to confer with me about the war's progress, but he wasn't interested.
He's a wily wizard, that one. You never know for certain what he's thinking.
I agree. So, General Dardas, will you help me win this war, and unite the Isthmus forever under the rule of the Felk?
There was of course only one answer.
I will... General Weisel.
* * *
His detour to the city of Felk had had the effect of stranding this vast army here in the field. Weisel had ordered that they remain at this position, while he had himself Far Moved to the north.
Now it was time to get this war moving again.
The senior staff was visibly relieved to see him. Weisel assembled them in the tent.
"We shall move on the city of Trael," he announced.
The officers grew excited and agitated. At present, the army was only two days or so from Trael, if they were to march there.
"Will you be ordering the use of the portals?" one of his officers asked.
The senior mages were present at this meeting as well. The regular officers eyed them askance. The tension and prejudice between the two groups was a problem throughout the ranks, one that needed correcting.
"Yes," Weisel said, "we will use the portals."
Some among the regular officers looked uneasy at the thought.
"But not to Far Move the entire army," Weisel smiled.
Dardas, observing the proceedings through Weisel's eyes, watched the reactions. Weisel had learned something, evidently, about showmanship and panache.
"I want an elite unit assembled," Weisel said. "Special troops who can work stealthily and efficiently. The rest of our forces will surround Trael. Meanwhile, I want one of our scouting squads in the field, one outfitted with a Far Speak and Far Movement mage, to infiltrate the city. Mage Limmel, you'll pass on the order. When I give the signal we'll transport through the elite unit inside the city limits. They will locate the city's ruling council and take them hostage. We'll take this city without wasting a drop of blood on either side."
They gaped at him. Weisel was still smiling.
> Well, whatever else, they're impressed, Weisel said silently.
As I promised, Dardas said.
The plan was actually a compromise between the two men. Dardas had meant for Trael to be another example, like U'delph had been when they had razed it to the ground and slaughtered nearly every inhabitant. Weisel, however, favored a less violent approach, though he had still wanted to demonstrate his tactical flair and military abilities.
"If I may say so, General," another of the officers said after a long shocked silence, "that is a brilliant plan, sir."
For a moment, Dardas thought the group was going to break into applause. Weisel beamed.
See how well it works when we cooperate?
I do. I most certainly do, said Dardas.
* * *
It was nightfall. They would move in the morning. Weisel's aide reported, rather contritely, that the assassin with the crossbow had still not been located, despite every effort. Weisel dismissed him and lay down to sleep, exhausted by the events of the past few days.
Weisel slept. Dardas did not.
His consciousness was effectively held prisoner inside this body now. It wouldn't do. Weisel had been correct earlier when he'd pointed out that they couldn't directly spy on each other's thoughts. That was good. Dardas certainly didn't want Weisel knowing about his intention to prolong this war, to create a perpetual state of warfare, in fact.
To maintain that, one naturally had to have an enemy. As yet, the sorry peoples of this Isthmus had offered only the most pathetic resistance to the Felk. The massacre at U'delph had had real purpose. It wasn't just random bloodshed. Dardas meant to provoke resistance.
Now he was hampered in his plans not only by Matokin, but also by Weisel.
Dardas concentrated. He remembered how it had felt to control this body. He tried now to imagine himself once more in command. Memory mingled with his desire. He exerted himself, while Weisel's consciousness continued to sleep.
Suddenly, the little finger on Weisel's left hand wiggled. It was a small movement, barely noticeable. But Dardas was certain he was the one who had initiated it.
Victories could be large or small, he knew from his long career as a war commander. But almost any victory was sweet.
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