Wartorn Obliteration

RADSTAC (5)

It was nearly a whole leaf she'd chewed, but the occasion was special, the need poignant. Not the addict's craving; not so much, at least. More, the needs of the moment. Sharpened senses, an acute alertness. Clarity. These things she needed.

Radstac walked side by side with Aquint, their pace steady and parallel. The pain in her teeth had peaked and passed, and the clear solid sense of things was emerging. She understood, in a profound way, the inner meanings of the patterns of traffic in the streets leading up to the Registry. She saw and comprehended the code of the sky in the lowering grey of the clouds overhead.

Sidelong, her peripheral vision stimulated and intense, she saw that Aquint despised her. It wasn't that she had betrayed him; his fealty to the Felk was quite flimsy. It was that she, by cooperating with the Broken Circle, had set in motion the events that had resulted in Cat being shot by Deo's crossbow. That was something worthy of a grudge, in his mind.

She silently acknowledged the rightfulness of his enmity.

Cat, however, wasn't dead. Or at least probably wasn't. The Broken Circle's leader, the one called the Minstrel, had sent someone back to that lot to retrieve Cat's body, per Aquint's request. But the boy wasn't there. There were bloodstains on the scene and a confusion of footprints among the mud but nothing to explicitly tell the tale of what had happened. Had Cat merely been wounded, then staggered away? Had someone come upon his corpse and hauled it off?

Deo, as she well knew, was a most excellent shot with a crossbow; but even he was unsure if the bolt had hit the boy fatally. It had happened so fast, and Deo didn't have a combatant's instincts. Radstac's feeling was that the lad was still alive and licking his wounds. And very likely seeking out his partner this very moment. Certainly there was a bond between the two males; the staunch camaraderie of thieves was her guess.

It meant she had an eye out for Cat, as well as all the other potential dangers she was alert to. She had no complaints. She simply accepted the parameters of the mission.

This was, after all, what Deo wanted, and she was still in his employ. He wanted to play at being a rebel, just as before he had tried his hand at being an assassin. The latter hadn't worked out, though Radstac conceded that Deo had made a very fine effort at it.

As to this new role of anti-Felk rebel in this occupied city... today would likely tell if he was going to succeed. In truth, if this operation was accomplished, it would have consequences of almost unimaginable scope.

They came at the Registry through the marketplace. The scene seemed brisk, but Radstac noted that very little actual transacting was taking place. The new higher taxes were evidently impacting the economy. Governor Jesile had thought he'd found a way to stabilize things after the counterfeiting debacle, which she had first read about in the report Aquint had given her and Deo when they were recruited. Instead, the Felk governor was probably worsening conditions overall—and certainly giving the people of Callah something more to grumble about.

Aquint, under the Minstrel's directions, had sent an official messenger to the Registry last night, bearing a communication meant for the garrison's Far Speak wizard. The message had since been relayed to Felk and acknowledged. Radstac was satisfied that Aquint hadn't planted some code in the communiquй that would lay a trap for herself and the others of the Broken Circle.

It wasn't too difficult to judge a person's character, particularly if mansid-inspired clarity was involved. Aquint had a thief's heart, and his interests were almost entirely selfish. But he had no love for the Felk, especially those that had subjugated this city of his birth. He specifically didn't like this war because it interfered with the comforts of his life.

"I'd like to have my sword back before things happen," Radstac said as they approached one of the Registry's entrances.

Aquint gave her a glance. It was flat, indifferent, yet she knew it was full of loathing. "That won't be a problem."

They entered the large stone building. Radstac was no longer affecting her limp. It felt good to be moving about normally. Her balance was right, her reflexes at the ready. She was primed, just as though this were a battlefield and she was preparing to face an enemy.

She had never had an opinion regarding who she favored to win a particular war. It was a pointless frill for a mercenary. But perhaps she did have a conviction about this Felk war. After all, if the Felk did manage to conquer every other state of the Isthmus, then that unified Isthmus would no longer supply her with the reliable conflicts that allowed her to earn her livelihood. Certainly the Southsoil didn't produce enough wars to keep her employed. The Southern Continent, though a shadow of its former pre-Upheavals glory, was still too civilized to engage routinely in internal hostilities.

Also, she couldn't get her mansid leaves anywhere but here.

Sentries immediately passed her and Aquint through, and they moved along chilly corridors. Radstac wondered if they would encounter that same fussy officer with the pinched lips who'd made things difficult for her and Deo when they first arrived in Callah.

Aquint led her into a room where a uniformed clerk appeared. His eyes moved rapidly between them, while his face remained bland.

"Describe the sword," Aquint said to her.

She did so, and the clerk went scurrying into a partitioned alcove, emerging a moment later bearing her sheathed combat sword. She took it, examined it, feeling that a piece of herself had been returned to her. It was nearly a sentimental experience.

She strapped it on, and Aquint led her out. The clerk had been nervous in their presence. The Registry's sentries, too, had betrayed an uneasiness. It was surely their status as Internal Security agents that prompted this reaction. Aquint had told her and Deo repeatedly that their positions overrode any normal military authority.

What measure of power, then, did this Abraxis wield? Aquint had said he was second in the empire only to Matokin. It was a formidable figure they were going to tangle with today.

They wound through a few more corridors, finally coming to a high-ceilinged chamber that Radstac recognized. A pair of robed mages was already present. They gave her and Aquint timid anxious glances. One of the wizards held a figurine of smooth purple glass in her hand, her thumb stroking it persistently. This was the Far Speak mage, Radstac concluded. Waiting for the word from Felk to open the arrival portal, which would be the job of the other wizard.

She and Aquint stood and waited. Aquint maintained a cool demeanor. For the first time Radstac spared a thought to wonder who this man had been before this war, before he had become so successful a collaborator. Surely he had engaged in some illicit enterprise. She couldn't quite imagine Aquint living an honest life. If she had to guess, she would say he'd been a black marketeer.

The message Aquint had sent to Felk had alerted Lord Abraxis that arrests of the key figures in the Callahan rebel underground were imminent. It also invited Abraxis to participate in the subsequent interrogations. Abraxis's reply indicated that he would accept the invitation.

The Far Speak wizard's grip on the glass figurine tightened, and her eyes closed. When she opened them and looked to her fellow magician, the Far Movement wizard started the busy process of conjuring the portal that linked to the one being opened at this same moment in the city of Felk.

Radstac was acutely conscious of the shifting energies in the room. She watched as the air in the center of the chamber wavered in a way that contradicted all natural principles. Magic, though, she knew, was as natural as any other precept of nature. It existed, as did those who had an innate affinity to practice it.

It was only that those users could pervert magic to their own unnatural ends that made it dangerous.

A figure—robed, tall, trim almost to the point of gauntness—emerged from the patch of disorderly air. He had a confident stride, cold and expressionless eyes. He showed no more response from materializing out of the portal than he might have if he'd merely walked across this room.

From Abraxis's right shoulder hung a small red cloth bag.

Aquint stepped forward and saluted. "Lord Abraxis, welcome to Callah." The two wizards of the garrison huddled excitedly together, sneaking looks at the mage from Felk. Radstac supposed that Abraxis was something of a celebrity to these magicians.

"Have the arrests been made?" Abraxis asked bluntly. There was no trace of friendliness in his voice. This was a man who likely associated with no one but those of comparable status and power. Underlings were not to be fraternized with.

"I have been holding the order until your arrival," Aquint said.

"My time is very valuable. Why have you delayed?"

"I thought you would enjoy seeing the rebels' downfall for yourself, Lord."

"I am interested in results, nothing more. I believe I've made mention of that fact before."

Aquint didn't flinch from the cool edge of Abraxis's tone. "You have, Lord. However, since you are here, and the operation is set, perhaps..."

Abraxis's gaze shifted past Aquint, picking out Radstac for the first time. His eyes dismissed her, and he looked again at Aquint. "Very well. I will observe. But I perceive that you are doing this to demonstrate to me how useful an agent you are. I don't especially object to that. However, if you fail in this, my disappointment will be proportionally dire."

Aquint took this without blinking. He escorted Abraxis back through the corridors, Radstac behind the two, palm atop her sword's pommel. Aquint mentioned that he had recruited other agents for this assignment, but Abraxis made no comment, evidently truly uninterested in the details.

They came out again into the marketplace that abutted the Registry. Aquint picked a path through the stalls and the bustle. They wound among the hagglers, the fast-handed merchants, the poorer patrons eyeing goods too costly for them. Quickly their tiny entourage was out of sight of the sentries at the Registry's entrance.

Ahead there was a stall with a red and yellow canvas awning. A large man with a brimmed hat pulled low over a blemished face was tending it. A few nondescript goods were on display.

Radstac let out a breath, drew another, slowly, smoothly. She fell a further deliberate step behind Aquint and Abraxis. As the pair reached the stall, she stooped and snapped the blade from her right kidskin boot. At the same moment, Tyber grabbed up a piece of pottery and stepped out from the stall, directly into Abraxis's path.

"Now, here's a person of obvious taste and refinement!" Tyber cried with the false merriment of a vendor. "Surely you, my friend, can appreciate the precious quality of this—this—this fine thing here in my hand! As to the price, well..."

Abraxis halted. Aquint stepped ahead to brush aside the impertinent merchant, but Tyber wasn't budging easily. Radstac moved forward, senses primed, the knife balanced in her hand.

"Were it not for the completely justified but godsdamned murderous taxes imposed by our righteous Felk visitors, I might be able to offer you a true bargain. Nevertheless, you'll find the price I ask so astonishingly reasonable that a man as wise and perceptive as yourself will jump at—"

Radstac reached for the red carrying bag's strap. She would cut it, like a common sneak thief, and make off with the prize. Before she could reach the bag, however, Abraxis's tall bony frame stiffened, and the mage spun sharply about.

She had done nothing to betray herself. Her stealth had been impeccable. Magic. Some sort of protective spell cast over the bag. It made sense.

Abraxis's cold eyes came alive. Aquint was still pretending to hold off Tyber, who had cut short his spiel, seeing that Radstac's gambit had failed.

Radstac saw it all with the honed clarity of mansid. Abraxis brought a hand up out of his drab robe. The long fingers were splayed. His lips moved, rapidly, with much contorting. She still had the flat throwing blade in hand. She was in jeopardy. As with the casting of the Far Movement spell, she perceived now a fluctuation of abstract energies in the air about the scene. Abraxis was about to loose on her some brand of destructive magic.

Tyber roughly shoved aside Aquint. His brimmed hat tumbled off his head. He had insisted on having a part in this today, despite the fact that, as Radstac had learned, he was already wanted by the garrison. Something about an attempted bribing of a Felk officer. The Minstrel, initially opposed to Tyber's participation, had eventually relented.

Lifting the piece of cheap pottery the full extension of his arm, Tyber brought it slamming down on Abraxis's skull. It shattered into unrecognizable shards, and the mage staggered heavily, mouth gaping in pain, interrupting whatever incantation he was reciting.

Tyber had done it without the least hesitation, once he'd seen that Radstac was in danger.

Abraxis stumbled a further step, doubled over, trying to stay on his feet. Radstac made a second grab at the bag, but the wizard twisted out of the way with surprising litheness. There was of course nothing for it. She was going to have to kill him. Already a commotion was growing around this scene, vendors and patrons looking to see what was happening. The tumult was going to call the attention of the Felk soldiers very soon.

Radstac would swing the blade up into Abraxis's abdomen, gutting the wizard. She saw he was already bleeding from his scalp, dark droplets flecking the ground. She planted her feet, seized a handful of his robe and cocked back her arm, muscles pulling taut.

At that moment Tyber's face erupted into flame. A sharp maddened shriek accompanied this, as Tyber reeled to one side, hands clawing at the licking tongues of fire that had appeared so suddenly and impossibly, without any combustion. He blundered hard into Aquint, who in turn crashed against the stall with the red and yellow awning, tumbling the rest of its wares to the ground.

Radstac smelled the terrible cooking meat on the air.

She swung with the blade, but the fire had been an effective distraction. Abraxis took advantage of it, twisting himself once again, so that the knife sliced through the robe's fabric, glancing off flesh, then bone, but not cutting deeply enough to bring the wizard down.

She knew that she was going to be the next thing to burst into flame. She let go of the blade, rather than trying to pull it out of the tangle of Abraxis's robe. Tyber fell, his head roaring with fire, as thick and bright as the head of a torch. He writhed and made more awful noises. Aquint was trying to scramble back onto his feet.

Abraxis was grimacing, but his lips were working again, his hands in motion. Radstac felt a heat gathering over her, harsh and dry and smothering. In another eye blink, she knew, she would be enveloped in the fiery magic.

The bolt struck Abraxis in his back, just to the left of his backbone. He reared up to his full height. Deo had smuggled the crossbow into the marketplace, wrapping it in a small rug. He had taken up a sniper's vantage near the edge of the market. Radstac hadn't expected that they would require his services. She had, frankly, foreseen this episode much differently from how it was turning out. A fast cut and run. Abraxis not knowing what was happening until it was too late. She had put much faith in her own abilities.

The heat around her was climbing. But she was faster than this magic. She had survived so very many battles by simply being faster than her enemies.

Her heavy combat sword seemed to leap eagerly from its sheath into her ready hands, an ominous weight, the blade glinting sinisterly. She swung it as she had swung it many times before, a hard clean hack, backed by her sinewy strength and the tenacity of her simple philosophy. Survive. Always survive. Beat the enemy, whoever it may be.

Radstac's blade caught the mage's throat just below the ear. The metal went into the flesh, did not pause for the bone it met and came back out into the air, showering blood in a wide thick spray.

The head dropped to the ground, rolled wetly, came to a stop. The body held itself upright an instant, acting now without any directives, then collapsed gracelessly.

Radstac sheathed her sword and tore the red bag from the headless corpse's shoulder. With her other hand, she seized and wrenched Aquint onto his feet. His eyes were wide and horrified. On the ground, Tyber had gone silent.

It had all happened quite fast, as such things often did. But it was most certainly time to flee the scene.

Deo had already disappeared from the market. Radstac held the bag hard to herself as she and Aquint sprinted off. It was, quite possibly, the fate of the Felk war that was inside this bag. And Radstac found she did indeed have an opinion about that war.