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 Jesile 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.
Deo was blinking, shaking his head. "I... I'm not sure what to think just now," he said dazedly.
"I think he's more concerned with maintaining his position here. He must have it good. If we go along with this, maybe we will, too."
Deo took three staggering steps, then flung himself down onto the bed, alongside her.
"I have to say," he murmured, "that my first thought is that I am interested in these rebels. And we might just be in a truly unique position to help them against the Felk."