"Yes," she said. "Are you going to contact Lord Abraxis and have him send in some of his agents?"
"No," Weisel snapped, looking suddenly annoyed. "I don't want that shifty mage meddling with my troops here in the field. No. What I need, Raven, is an internal security force of my own, one that will police this army. I need to be assured that these warriors are loyal. For that, I need someone in charge of security whose loyalty is unquestioned."
The full weight of it descended on Raven. She nearly staggered.
"I will make you an officer and appoint you to the head of the force," Weisel said. "Will you accept?"
She didn't hesitate. "I will serve you in any way I can, General Weisel."
"That's good." Weisel nodded. "We'll be bivouacking in a few watches, then moving into position around Trael early tomorrow. This evening, come to my pavilion. We'll discuss the details."
"Yes, General!"
"Dismissed."
Raven slipped away, her head whirling. This was a remarkable turn of events. Head of internal security for this army. The implications were stunning.
She had made the right decision. How could she have possibly turned Weisel down?
I will serve you in any way I can, General Weisel.
It was, she realized, almost exactly the same thing she had said to Matokin.
RADSTAC (2)
It was likely the Felk officer with the bored, irritable, bureaucratic air would never know how near death had been in that room. He was not interested in faces or personalities. Identity, to this meticulous creature, meant verifiable paperwork.
He was interested in official traveling orders, which neither Radstac nor Deo possessed. They had been Far Moved from the active ranks in the field to this occupied city of Callah; and the arrangements had been decidedly unofficial.
This didn't sit well with the officer, who seemed to take their appearance here as a personal offense. So be it, Radstac had thought. But the officer, an undersized man with lips evidently permanently pinched, made the error of approaching Radstac, of waving a finger under her nose, of barking unpleasantries and finally—and most seriously—of jabbing that same finger into her chest. He poked her once, and every instinct called for her to unsheathe her combat sword and proceed with a fast but messy disemboweling.
It was almost beyond her to control the response. As the officer was making to stab that finger again into Radstac's leather-armored chest, Deo, surely understanding the direness of the situation, intervened.
"Sir, if there's some problem, perhaps we could speak with someone with the authority to decide what to do with us." Deo said it with perfect ingenuousness.
It earned him a pinch-mouthed sneer; but it also made it apparent that this officer did not have that authority. This was a functionary who collected and filed papers. He didn't make decisions. What authority he exerted was a bureaucrat's fussiness.
And so Radstac and Deo were led from the room where the Felk mages, who'd immediately excused themselves, had created the arrival portal.
It had been an experience like no other. Radstac didn't fear magic, but this was magic of a scope that was unfamiliar. That foggy world... it was so alien. She was a mercenary. She relied on her senses, on the power and coordination of her body. She wondered how those traits would serve her there, if she ever had to engage in combat in that deranged environment.
She further wondered what it would be like to travel under the full influence of mansid. Surely it would be a memorable experience, as the clarity that the blue leaf brought met the profound murkiness of that realm.
Radstac turned away from any thoughts of mansid. She did not even have a full leaf in her possession now, and that lack set her addict's heart speeding slightly. It made for a seeping anxiety. A buzzing background of anticipatory uneasiness. But her professionalism would see her through. Of course it would. And this was still the Isthmus, after all. It didn't matter that they were now deep inside Felk territory. She would find more leaves.
This building, they learned, was called the Registry, and the Felk garrison had evidently commandeered it. It was a place of finished stone, high-ceilinged chambers, and it exuded a sort of official atmosphere, as if it had been some local governmental seat before the arrival of the Felk.
Radstac and Deo were deposited in an empty office. The door was closed, but at least one guard was placed outside it.
"Do you—" Deo started, but she silenced him with a cautious flick of her eyes. This could all go very badly for them. It depended on how reliably these Felk could trace her and Deo's journey back through the portals. If they eventually laid hands on the leaf eater who'd arranged their escape, it would mean disaster. Arrest. Possibly execution.
All for the want of a few convincing documents.
Radstac looked around the office. There were scrolls, loose papers, writing implements. But she put any thoughts of forgery out of her mind. Falsified documents were surely worse than none at all. Besides, she had no idea what a Felk travel order looked like.
It was a windowless office, and she and Deo exercised their only option; they waited silently. She imagined someone of higher authority—and thereby, more of a danger—was being informed of the situation.
Deo remained cool during the wait. Eventually the door was opened. The man who entered was in civilian dress, of a sort apparently peculiar to this city. But he was no civilian himself. Radstac recognized something glinting in his deceptively mild-looking eyes. There was swift calculation there. It was reflexive, the kind of fast sedate judgment a professional gambler would employ.
He eyed the two of them, closing the door behind. After a moment he said, "Deserters get executed, I understand."
"That would be the tradition," Radstac said neutrally.
It quirked the man's brow. He seemed to find it amusing. He nodded. "All right. Are you two deserters?"
"Certainly not."
"Does he speak?"
"We're not deserters," Deo said, his tone as calm as Radstac's. Perhaps he, too, sensed that any show of fear before this man would be disastrous. Or maybe he was just following her lead.
"There," the man said. "You're not deserters. See how simple that was? Deserters don't get themselves Far Moved to an occupied city. They sneak off in the night. And they don't abandon an army that's winning fight after uncontested fight." He no longer seemed to be addressing them. He was of medium height and build.
Was he a Felk officer? Radstac wondered. Then why no uniform? He didn't seem like the type of ranking soldier she had encountered in that Felk camp.
"Lieutenant Wesbecht was most upset that you arrived here without orders."
"He's the one with his mouth in a pinch?"
"He is. Wesbecht is an orderly individual. And you two are a couple of untidies. Why is it that you don't have any traveling orders, anyway?"
"We were never issued them," Radstac said.
"And there again. Simplicity. You were verbally ordered into the portal—"
"We were."
"—and in you went. You don't question an order, do you? Of course not. And so you arrive here in Callah without the niggling credentials you need, and whose fault is that? Not yours, obviously. Unlucky circumstances. And worst of all, you've personally done nothing wrong."
The man crossed the office, around the desk, and dropped into the chair. He casually put up his feet, folded his hands over his middle. Radstac and Deo watched and waited.
Finally he spoke again. "I like it. It requires no proof on your parts at all. You were told. You obeyed. Paperwork? You don't know anything about paperwork. I can only guess why a soldier would want to leave the field of action. Wait. That's a flagrant lie. I was in the field. I hated it. I got myself transferred to Sook, and I was much happier there. Had a bed to sleep in, decent food. No marching, no fighting. Callah's far from the action, isn't it?"
"Actually," Deo said, "I for one am not quite sure where this place is."
"This is the empire." Some
thing dark moved in the man's voice. "That's all you need to know."
"Yes, sir."
The man said, "You both give convincing details about troop units and commanding officers. It's a pity you can't name the one who ordered you to be Far Moved."
"She never identified herself," Radstac said.
"Well, that was her prerogative, wasn't it?" The man sighed. "You understand, of course, that something must be done with you. We can't just let you take up space here. Colonel Jesile... he's the governor here... he has handed the matter over to me. He's got enough on his hands. Coincidentally, so have I. I don't really have time for this. The easiest thing to do would be to send you right back where you came from."
Radstac didn't wince. They hadn't been relieved of their weapons. This office had no windows, but if they killed this man, then overpowered the guard or guards outside—
"I could also have you executed. The court-martial would consist of me signing an order. There would be a certain neatness about that. Whatever trouble you've aroused in the smooth running of operations would be over."
Deo nearly spoke up. But he caught himself, shook his head minutely, stayed silent.
"It's really all up to me. And since they've deposited this matter with me, I see no reason why I shouldn't take full advantage of it and benefit myself as best as possible. I haven't introduced myself. Now that I've made up my mind about you, I shall. I am an agent of the Internal Security Corps. It is entirely possible you have never heard of that branch of our empire's operations. I like that anonymity. But it doesn't negate the authority I bear. My job is to sniff out treason and unrest. My methods are up to me. I report to the head of the Corps. This eliminates a great deal of the fuss and nonsense of military life. Currently, here in Callah, I'm on the trail of a group of rebels who I believe are responsible, among other activities, for tampering with local water supplies. It's an important task I have. I intend to be successful at it. I have one other agent presently working with me. It occurs to me that I could use more. Say, two more."
He smiled now.
"My name is Aquint, and this is an opportunity you can't afford to pass up."
* * *
Callah didn't look familiar. Then again, Isthmus cities had a dreary sameness about them, so it was remotely possible that Radstac had visited here before. The air was decidedly chilly, and the wind stung her face.
Radstac and Deo had been relieved of their Felk uniforms. She had also given up her sword. The one called Aquint had arranged for it to be stored at the Registry. She still had her boot knives, however; and certainly no one was going to take away her left glove with the two recessed prongs. She had surrendered her leather armor, which was being kept with her combat sword. Coats had been found for her and Deo, civilian wear.
It had all been organized in the space of a single watch, and this was convincing testament of Aquint's authority. None among the Felk who issued her and Deo the proper credentials questioned Aquint's actions. Actually they seemed to regard the Internal Security agent with a certain apprehension.
Aquint had led them, in their new garb, out of the Registry, into Callah's streets. Radstac was perplexed when the agent put his arm into a sling before they departed.
"We'll need cover stories for both of you," he said now as they strode along. There was traffic in the streets, people going about their business. But there were Felk, too, here and there, armed and armored, watching these citizens. Radstac noted a wariness in their eyes, their postures.
"Cover stories?" Deo asked. He, like Radstac, had agreed immediately to Aquint's proposal to join him as agents under his authority. Plainly they'd had no choice.
"You're of fighting age," Aquint said. "Both of you. Why aren't you off at the war?"
Radstac suddenly understood the reason for the sling. They were supposed to blend with this conquered population. They needed plausible grounds for their exemption from conscription.
"You..."—Aquint glanced back at her over a shoulder—"look like you've seen a good amount of combat in your day. Can you fake a limp? With those facial scars that might be all you need." He turned round the other way. "But you... I don't know about you. You're the kind of prime meat they like to put straight into the infantry. Do you have any thoughts? You're being paid to think, not just do."
Radstac looked sidelong at Deo. This had all happened with such improbable speed.
Deo mulled it a moment. "How about this?" he suggested. He let his features go slack, his lips part. His blue eyes dulled. "It'sh a cold day today, ishn't it?" He spoke with a childish slur.
Aquint halted. He faced Deo directly. "You think you can keep that up?"
"Ash long ash I have to."
Aquint nodded. They turned down another street, narrower, less trafficked. Radstac tried out the limp, hitching her right leg slightly. It wasn't much of a chore. Like Deo, she figured she could maintain it indefinitely.
They came to a large ramshackle building that, like many others Radstac had noticed, had flamboyantly constructed eaves. Must be an architectural affectation, she thought. This Callah appeared to be a fairly sizable city, at least by Isthmus standards.
Aquint led them into a front parlor, where he haggled briefly with a plump aging woman with whom he was apparently acquainted. It didn't stop either of them from angling for the best price. When they were done, Aquint handed over a small batch of curiously colored bits of papers, which the house's proprietress accepted as if it were money.
She recited the house rules in a foreboding tone, then told them where they would find their room.
It was a rambling affair of staircases and corridors, much of it in shabby repair, though the beams appeared solid. They found the room on the third story, a nondescript little hole that nonetheless looked clean enough to inhabit.
Aquint came inside with them and closed the door. Radstac had the impression that a number of the rooms here were unoccupied.
"This room," he said, taking up a chair, "has some significance. It belonged to the Minstrel, who is a man we are seeking and who we will find."
At that moment the door opened. Radstac turned sharply, ready to free her prongs from her glove with a snap of her wrist. It was a boy who entered. He was thin and moved in a kind of quiet glide. His hair was softly colored, and his eyes didn't seem to look directly at anything. It occurred to Radstac how near to invisible this boy would be in a crowd.
"These are Radstac and Deo," Aquint said, pointing. "Ah, you have it," he added as the boy silently handed over a sheaf of papers. "This is Cat. He is also an Internal Security Corps agent."
"I don't much like you calling me that," Cat said in a soft voice.
"You can call a cat a dog, but he still won't bark at the moon. Isn't that the saying? Doesn't matter. Come now, Cat, let's be a good example to our new recruits. They were wily enough to get themselves Far Moved here, out of harm's way on the field of battle. That's admirable. And someday, over a hardy drink, maybe they'll tell us how they managed it. In the meantime there's work for all of us. This is a good job, as far as working for the Felk goes. Neither of you comes from Felk. Correct?"
"Correct," Radstac and Deo said in unison.
Aquint nodded. "I was sure of that. Native Felk, they've got a look about them. An unpleasant zealousness. Hard to describe. Can either of you read?"
"Yes," they said, again simultaneously.
Aquint blinked. "Both of you? That is impressive. In that case, here." He tossed the sheaf toward Radstac. She caught it and glanced at the papers, turning them so Deo could see. "Read that."
They read. It was a report on rebel activities here in this Felk-occupied city-state of Callah.
"So," Aquint said, after they'd finished the pages, "it's that Minstrel and his merry bunch we want. They're here, in Callah. I don't know about the Far Movement mages in the field, but here you need documents and authorizations and reauthorizations before you can get near one of those wizards at the Registry. That's where Colonel Je
sile keeps them, incidently. He doesn't like them much. Doesn't want them wandering around his city. So the Minstrel, if he's fled, hasn't gotten himself Far Moved anywhere. And Jesile's garrison has got Callah locked up tight. I don't believe anyone could get out."
"You're convinced these rebels will cause trouble?" Radstac asked. The report hadn't made a very persuasive case. Vandalism, counterfeiting, assembling after curfew and tampering with the water seemed to be the extent of their "rebel" activities. That last operation did show a real organizational talent, though, and even some flair. Changing water into "blood" had done no physical harm to anyone, but it had doubtlessly disrupted things in this city.
The most serious offense was the murder that had been committed by the one referred to as the Minstrel.
"They're already causing trouble," Aquint said. "Just by existing. But remember something..."—his eyes shifted—"while we're hunting this group, we are doing important work for the Felk Empire. We have Lord Abraxis's sanction to conduct ourselves however we see fit. We have autonomy. That's something rare during wartime." He pushed up from the chair. "Settle in here. Take this. It's scrip. You're drawing pay now as Internal Security agents. I or Cat will contact you soon, when I have specific assignments for you."
He had handed over a small bundle of those same colored papers he'd given to this house's proprietress.
"Remember—you've got a maimed leg, and you're a dullard. Behave accordingly in public."
With that Aquint exited, Cat sliding out with him. Deo looked at Radstac, his features tight with tension. Suddenly his lungs emptied, and he looked like he was about to collapse to the floorboards. Radstac felt a similar surge of emotion, as the stress of this adventure finally eased a few degrees. She felt and contained the urge to burst into wild laughter.
First she went to the door, checked the corridor outside. Empty. Nobody listening in on them. Then she sat on the room's bed.
"Did you get the feeling our new friend, Aquint, isn't entirely interested in catching these rebels?" she asked.
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