Dardas wondered who had assembled it all. Surely there had to be one driving force behind it, some individual who had rallied these sundry armies, large and small. Then again, maybe the mass need had brought them all together, the intractable awareness that the Felk were coming to conquer these lands and that these people of the southern Isthmus had better do something if they wanted to prevent that.
The soldiers of that army would be defending their homes. That would make them fierce.
Dardas grinned.
What—Weisel started, sharply surprised.
Dardas realized that he himself had just caused that grin, had made the facial muscles move, all while Weisel was fully conscious.
He decided to effect innocence. Is something wrong, General Weisel?
I just—I thought—Oh, never mind. I think I'm just a little nervous.
I understand, Dardas said sympathetically.
This was an interesting development, but it could wait for later, for him to give it more attention. At the moment more reports were arriving.
Heeding Dardas's recommendation, Weisel had slowed the Felk advancement. The daylight was definitely waning by now, and a night battle wouldn't be wise. There was still a considerable gap between the two armies' front ranks.
Weisel halted his mount, as Fergon delivered the fresh batch of field intelligence. He opened the map and studied it.
Dardas studied as well, of course. The enemy forces had solidified their positions noticeably from the last batch of scout reports. They were taking tactical shape now. Not that there had been any doubt about it, but this was definitely a hostile posture. This enemy was an enemy.
He continued to pore over the map. Those forces, arrayed as they were...
Excitement flooded suddenly through Dardas, and once more it had an effect on Weisel body, speeding the heart conspicuously.
What is it, General Dardas? Weisel asked, again aware of his emotional reaction. Was the barrier between their two consciousnesses breaking down somehow? There was no time to contemplate it.
Send your scouts east and west, Dardas said. I feel quite certain they will find enemy units moving into flanking positions.
You mean this is a trap? Weisel's fear sped his heart as well.
Yes, Dardas said, happily and confidently. It is. Once more Weisel's lips twitched in a Dardas-directed grin. And I know how to turn that trap back on our enemy.
BRYCK (4)
The crossbow had been lifted—boldly—from beside a Felk soldier who'd dozed at his post. Gelshiri had perpetrated the theft, seizing the opportunity and the valuable weapon without hesitation. She was a believer in the cause, that one. Rebellion against the Felk. Liberation for Callah. She might not be the shiniest coin in the ante, but she had been wily enough to get away with the crossbow.
Bryck had considered staging this meeting in a shadowed place, where his face would be without feature. Or simply wearing his yellow and blue face paint. But the Felk had his description, a thorough one according to Deo and Radstac; so it made no difference what this Aquint saw, regardless of what they ultimately intended to do with him.
Let the enemy see my face finally and clearly, Bryck had concluded.
Deo, as it happened, was quite handy with the crossbow. Radstac, Deo claimed, was very able with edged weapons, to say nothing of her fists. That pair, both most unexpected additions to the Broken Circle, had already proven their worth with this apprehension and delivery of Aquint, the chief Internal Security agent in Callah. That such an organization existed was interesting news to Bryck. It meant the Felk recognized the need to deliberately maintain security within their expanding empire. Or it might mean that they were experiencing general resistance significant enough to justify the agency.
The latter was a welcome thought, even if it were just fantasy. Then again, who knew? Perhaps the people were rising in Windal after all, a fiction he had maintained for some while now.
Aquint, then, wasn't just working for the Felk. He was Bryck's direct adversary, more so even than the troops of Callah's garrison. Aquint's job was to seek out rebellion within the empire.
Well, he'd found it.
Ondak had scouted out this place. It was a granary that had burned a lune or so before the Felk incursion. The burning hadn't been total. The beams still stood, as did the walls, which were thick. Portions of the roof were gone, and the day's drizzle misted down through shafts of drab daylight.
The old ash made a grimy paste where it was wet, and the interior reeked still of the burning, of scorched grain and seared wood. But there was a corner where it was dry, and it was where Bryck waited while Aquint was brought inside.
Quentis waited with Bryck under the intact segment of the roof. She gave him a reassuring look as they both heard the footsteps shuffling toward the granary's entryway. And Bryck was reassured by that look. It meant that she had faith in him. It meant more than that probably, meant emotions and affections that he could not—would not—take for granted. Once, with Aaysue, he could have made assumptions; now...
He and Quentis had made love only the one time. So far. That was how it felt, that the first occasion would lead inevitably to others, that Quentis wanted it that way. The two of them might be at the start of something. But by the sanity of the gods, what did he want?
He didn't know. Or if he did, he wasn't telling himself what it was.
With a silent self-disgusted sigh and a somewhat strained return smile to Quentis, Bryck turned his attention toward the trio of figures entering the abandoned structure. The Circle had sentries watching the granary's perimeter, and Bryck had received warning that they were approaching. He had also been assured that they weren't being followed. He was pleased with the efficiency with which everyone was operating. The Broken Circle, it seemed, was becoming a tight, able little group.
As they picked their way over the interior rubble, Deo and Radstac pressing their blindfolded charge between them, Bryck's first impression of the Internal Security officer was of a man in a state of high dudgeon. His second impression was that this fellow Aquint wasn't afraid, not in the most obvious sense anyway. He was keeping cool, waiting to see what happened. Deo pulled back the hood of Aquint's cloak, and with a neat tug, undid the blindfold over the man's eyes. They had put it on him to make him less likely to offer up any resistance.
Radstac and Deo had led him here through a serpentine route of unused alleys. Now they let Aquint go, both stepping back, Deo's crossbow at the ready and Radstac no doubt set to pounce lethally if their erstwhile chief made an untoward move. Aquint blinked repeatedly but didn't lift a hand to rub his eyes.
Bryck gazed at him a long, silent moment. Water dripped in a tireless patter from the semi-demolished roof.
Aquint's pique finally won out over his cautious reserve. "You're the Minstrel." He said it, voice rasping over the name; he did not ask it.
Bryck stared levelly, standing a few paces off, glad now that he'd chosen to show this man his face. It felt proper. "Yes," he said.
"I've waited a long time to meet you," Aquint said, then let out a breath that deflated him noticeably. Just as quickly, he drew himself back up. There was fast calculation in the man's eyes. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me back there. Like you did Cat."
Bryck couldn't quite check the frown that creased his brow or the flicker of his eyes toward Deo, standing behind on Aquint's right. According to the Circle's two new recruits, Cat was Aquint's deputy or some such. Deo lifted his shoulders slightly at Bryck.
"We would have already killed you," Bryck agreed. Aquint was looking for an edge in this somewhere, he sensed.
Aquint nodded, then deliberately folded his arms across his chest, adopting a nonchalant stance. "Then—and I'm just guessing here, of course—I suppose when you finish making whatever revolutionary speech you feel compelled to make to me, one who so insidiously collaborates with the hated Felk, you might get around to telling me what in all the bleeding gods you want from me."
This time Bryck managed to check a smile. It was an impressive display of bravado, particularly under the circumstances. Bryck indulged himself with a glance toward Quentis, standing several steps away. In her amber eyes he again sought and found reassurance.
"We know about you what your two former agents know about you," Bryck said to Aquint, tone frank, not belligerent. "You've been assigned by Abraxis, a powerful Felk lord and mage, to seek out dissent in Callah. You like this assignment. You want to keep it as long as possible. You're not Felk yourself, and you have no genuine loyalty to the empire. But you'll go along with this, finding and arresting rebels here in Callah, so long as it serves your ends. You are a collaborator, but the Felk haven't won you over. You're interested only in your personal gain and well-being—and perhaps that of your youthful partner. You're not loyal to the Felk, because you have no loyalty to give."
It didn't appear to faze Aquint. But if he was the kind of man Bryck had just accused him of being, he wouldn't react to such an allegation. Bryck considered another course.
"Are you curious as to how your two associates so quickly became our confederates?" Bryck asked.
Aquint's lips moved sourly. He glanced behind at Deo. "I'm not entirely surprised about this one. From the start I sensed something weak in him." He turned about the other way, eyed Radstac. "But her—that is startling. I'm not disappointed, mind you. But I'd figured her for the smart one. And joining up with your wretched little band isn't a smart move." His gaze swung forward once more and settled wryly on Bryck. "You're going to be hunted down, however many of you there are, and Jesile's going to have your heads taken off. You and the gods know how many innocent Callahans. Yours is a sorry cause."
Behind him Radstac showed no response, but Deo's teeth bared in an ugly grimace.
Bryck nodded. "Well, now we've both made our speeches."
Aquint sniffed an involuntary laugh at that. They were equal adversaries. Perhaps that gave them all the common ground they needed to communicate. And Bryck did wish to communicate.
So he told Aquint how Radstac and Deo had joined with the Broken Circle.
It was, in the main, Quentis's doing. Rumors had spread about a new pair of troubadours in the city, ones very blatantly singing songs of dissent against the Felk. The songs themselves were spreading as well, rather infectious tunes with clever provocative lyrics, one or two of which Bryck nonetheless recognized as traditional songs that had been revamped to new purposes.
He dispatched Quentis to investigate. She had easily enough located the tavern where they were going to play last night—which led Bryck to wonder how this duo was operating with seeming impunity in a city where the Felk came down brutally on signs of defiance. But he wanted to meet these two. He had thoughts of persuading them to perform songs even more inflaming, calling directly for an uprising of the Callahan people. The giant sigil on the wall of the Registry—since painted over, of course—had had an effect. So had that execution in the square. The people were stirred.
Quentis had observed the performance, then approached the two musicians and proposed a rendezvous. Then she exited the tavern.
Deo followed her out. But Quentis wasn't alone. Ondak, her older cousin, had gone along and waited outside the establishment. When Deo eagerly rushed after her, Ondak stepped from his nook and seized the vox-mellifluous. Radstac had come out into the street pursuing Deo, but by then Ondak had a cleaver to his throat. It was sufficient to induce Radstac not to act hastily. Ondak quickly discovered that Deo wasn't the imbecile he was pretending to be. In fact, when the four withdrew off the street, it was found that the troubadours weren't at all what they seemed.
Deo confessed everything, immediately and earnestly; and added to it his avid desire to join the rebellion. Radstac claimed the same, though appeared to Quentis's eye to be merely following Deo's lead. Still, Quentis decided the strange pair should indeed meet the Minstrel—that night. This was too urgent to wait for the next day.
Bryck did meet the two. Deo was very convincing in his zealous desire to strike against the Felk. Convincing, too, were his reasons. He was a wayward member of Petgrad's royalty, one who wanted to make his own mark in this life. So fervent was his ambition that he'd attempted to assassinate General Weisel, the head of the Felk army. Radstac, it was revealed, was a Southsoil mercenary who was in Deo's employ.
It was too fantastic a tale to be any kind of sane covering story.
"So, after all this you contrived to capture me," Aquint said. He frowned his puzzlement. "Why?"
"You're an important figure," Bryck said.
"You could've made better use of your two new acquisitions." He didn't bother glancing behind at Deo and Radstac. "They could have gone into the Registry, with the proper access, and assassinated Governor Jesile."
"He'd be replaced. What good would that do?"
"About as much good as anything else your Broken Circle is liable to carry out."
"You don't think much of us."
"I don't."
Bryck nodded, accepting this. "What do you think of our aim, at least?"
"And it is?"
"To overthrow the Felk here in Callah, of course."
Aquint appeared to be measuring his thoughts. Finally he said, somewhat grudgingly, "To be rid of the Felk in Callah? Yes. A worthy goal." He added, with another hint of drollery, "Just between us, of course."
Bryck moved a step closer. A bead of moisture had gathered on the tip of Aquint's nose. It fell when he cocked his head. He was curious about this, Bryck judged.
"We might have an even greater goal," Bryck said quietly. "One that we could actually accomplish."
Aquint lifted a brow.
Bryck licked his lips. Aquint was their prisoner, but he might also be the key to all this. He and the renegade Felk wizard, Nievze, the practitioner of blood magic, which Deo and Radstac had told Bryck about. The long odds chafed Bryck's bygone gambler's instincts. But this was no game.
"Can you lure Abraxis here to Callah?" Bryck asked Aquint. He suddenly found himself a bit breathless. "Because if you can... we might be able to end this entire war."
* * *
There inside the scorched granary, with the drizzle finally thickening into actual rain and bringing with it an even chillier damp, Bryck explained the plan. He listened detachedly to himself as he revealed it to Aquint, and to his own ears it sounded wild, imprudent, nearly preposterous and fascinating.
It wasn't something he had ever imagined as a possible objective for this Broken Circle. It was hugely ambitious, far beyond the relatively safe and contained scope of operating covertly against the Felk garrison here in Callah. That at least was a manageable feat, more or less.
But these instruments had been seemingly placed deliberately into Bryck's hands, like a miraculous round of Dashes, where every card and dice throw has gone in one's absolute favor. He couldn't ignore the astonishing combination of all this.
It seemed... ordained. Not that Bryck put any sincere stock in the workings of the gods. To do so would be to acknowledge that those gods had permitted the annihilation of U'delph.
At last he finished. Aquint had listened without interruption, which Bryck didn't take as a sign one way or the other. Rain dribbled down onto the gummy black ashes flooring the granary's exposed interior.
Bryck let Aquint digest it. He had explained the plan to the Internal Security agent in succinct terms, without any rhetoric. Aquint didn't need to be won away from the Felk. He, too, Bryck guessed, had done some gambling in his time. He would want to weigh the odds. He would consider the gain and the risk. Both were considerable.
Quentis sneezed. Bryck looked her way as she tightened her coat across her shoulders. She was another factor in all this. She had made contact with Radstac and Deo. She had felt the ring of sincerity in Deo's wish to join the rebellion. She fit into that wonderful assembly of semi-improbabilities that had produced this fabulous scheme.
Bryck gave her a soft, tiny, candid
smile, remembering the feel of her against himself, remembering how fine it had felt, physically and on levels deeper than that. Quentis smiled back.
"I can bring Abraxis to Callah," Aquint said quite suddenly, in a tone that was almost comically conversational.
Bryck's head whipped back toward him. Behind, Deo stiffened noticeably. Radstac showed no reaction.
"You can?" Bryck heard himself ask dumbly.
A hardness came to Aquint's face. "Before we get down to that, however, you send someone back to that godsdamned lot where you waylaid me. You find Cat's body and bring it to me. I want my friend buried. Properly. Even though he probably wouldn't care about it. Understand?"
Bryck nodded. "It'll be done."
Aquint looked up at the jagged remains of the roof. "Now I'd like to get properly indoors. And if you could provide a cup of something with a little bite to it, so much the better. This has been quite a day."
RAVEN (5)
Orders had come for the halt, then for the scrambling reorganization of the lines. Something big was happening, on top of the very obvious magnitude of the enemy army they were now clearly facing in the last fading bits of daylight.
Torches were being fired all around. They lit among the enemy ranks, too, points of light neatly delineating those large opposite numbers. That was a sizable army. The massive, collective glow of torchlight beat back the emerging pinprick lights of the stars above.
Were they going to fight a night battle? From what Raven had overheard from the soldiers around her, this Felk army had never undertaken a major engagement at night during this whole campaign.
Then again, this army had never faced an enemy so large and evidently organized.
Raven's heart was racing, but not entirely from fear. This was undeniably exhilarating.
This will be Weisel's true test, Vadya said.
Raven had climbed off her horse. She looked around at the frenzied activity. You mean Dardas's test. She was still astonished by what she'd learned from Kumbat. Vadya, too, had been surprised to learn that Lord Weisel was the vessel for Dardas, a warlord of the Northern Continent who had been resurrected two and a half hundredwinters after his death.
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