Aquint blinked. "How's that, Governor?"
"They chose the north wall," Jesile said, as if pointing out something obvious.
"So they did," said Aquint.
"You don't find that significant?"
"More significant than the fact that the perpetrator or perpetrators managed the deed at all?" Aquint didn't see what the colonel was getting at.
Jesile drummed his fingers among the opened scrolls on his desk. "You're not a Felk native."
It wasn't a question but Aquint answered anyway, "No, I am not." Then he added, with just a slight edge to his voice, "I'm a Callahan by birth." It was information Jesile surely already knew.
"If you were of Felk," the governor said, "you'd understand why those rebel bleeders painted that offense on the north wall."
Suddenly, Aquint did understand. Felk was to the north. It was, in fact, the northernmost city-state of the Isthmus. The Broken Circle had no doubt chosen the northern face of the Registry deliberately for this operation, as a way of demonstrating their most poignant defiance.
"So they've got flair," Aquint finally said, realizing as he did that he was being as drolly aggravating as Cat had been with him earlier.
"Flair?" Jesile said, spearing Aquint with his eyes. For a moment he seemed on the edge of an angry retort. Then he said, maintaining his calm manner, "Very well. We'll agree they've got... flair. I hope you'll also agree that this crime cannot go unanswered."
Aquint, even with his first reaction of stunned laughter, had known this. He had feared it.
"You're quite right," he said to Jesile. He felt Cat giving him a long, subtle sidelong look.
Jesile nodded. "Good. There will have to be visible punitive measures. Can you, at this time, locate any members of the so-called Broken Circle, which is currently operating against the lawful Felk occupation of Callah?"
It was a withering, formal question, and Aquint almost sagged under the weight of it.
"No," he said at last, voice suddenly hoarse, "I can't."
Colonel Jesile nodded again. He made a notation on one of the scrolls on his desk.
"Very well," Jesile said. "I suggest that you and your associates in the Internal Security Corps continue—and perhaps, if I might advise, step up—your efforts to locate the rebel underground here in Callah. In the meantime, I am forced to take actions more aggressive and severe than I would normally be inclined to take. The matter is out of my hands. What occurred last night wasn't merely an act of vandalism. It was a formal declaration of war, as far as I'm concerned."
Aquint nearly interrupted, but caught himself and held silent, dreading what was coming.
"If these people of Callah don't want the peace we've brought them," Jesile said, "then they can experience the alternative. Ten citizens will be rounded up at random. They will be flogged at the top of the watch, starting today at midday, in the public square. At the start of each subsequent watch, they will receive another regulation flogging. It will continue until the ten victims are all dead... or until at least one member of the Broken Circle comes forward and surrenders to this command."
Jesile waved the back of his hand at Aquint and Cat.
"That's all. Dismissed."
The two of them exited the office, a numb silence between them.
There was nothing even remotely amusing about that giant symbol now. It glared down menacingly as Aquint led Cat quickly away from the Registry.
Aquint's thoughts were moving fast. He had anticipated that Jesile would react militantly. But he hadn't expected the Felk governor to take these measures. Ten innocent Callahans were going to be killed. They were going to be beaten to death. Aquint nurtured no illusions that any self-sacrificing member of the Broken Circle was going to actually come forward to stop it. Things didn't work that way.
He looked back, almost involuntarily, at the receding north wall of the Registry. Whoever had managed the escapade had surely used a rope secured to the roof. What that must have been like, dangling there in the night, slapping black paint against stone, swinging gradually across the wall to complete the huge circle and slash, all while the Registry guards milled about obliviously below.
Yes, a bold and audacious feat, Aquint brooded. And one that was going to have dire consequences.
"Who do these godsdamned rebels think they are?" he suddenly exploded, there in the street.
Cat cautioned him to keep his voice down.
Aquint continued, more quietly but just as intently, "This Broken Circle, what good do they think they're doing?"
"I believe they're rebelling against the Felk," Cat said.
Aquint ignored the droll tone this time. "They're rebelling, are they? Then they should rebel. What have they accomplished so far? They've killed one Felk soldier. One! And that was as likely an accident as a premeditated act. They're just stirring up trouble for everybody else."
"What would you have them do?" Cat asked.
Aquint glanced at the boy and saw that he wasn't being facetious now. He considered the lad's question.
He sighed, "I just wish they could find some way to resist the Felk that wouldn't... wouldn't..."
"Wouldn't cause any trouble," Cat supplied quietly.
It pointed out the ridiculousness of Aquint's argument. The Broken Circle was a rebel organization. You couldn't have rebellion without conflict, and conflict had inevitable repercussions.
They walked awhile in tense silence.
Finally Cat asked, "Where are we going?"
Aquint tasted something unpleasant in the back of his throat. From the moment Jesile had made his pronouncement about the public floggings, Aquint had known in his bones what he had to do. It was a ghastly thing. But it was also a lesser evil. He recalled his days of keeping the ledgers of the hauling company he had first gone to work for. He had juggled figures. He had made the numbers balance. It was a talent he had.
Now he was being indirectly saddled with this burden. He couldn't allow ten fellow Callahans to die... not when it was within his power to prevent those deaths.
"Where are we going?" Cat repeated.
They were some distance from the Registry by now. Aquint abruptly halted. He looked about, recognizing the street. There was a drug den of some sort hereabouts. Narcotics had never interested Aquint. Alcohol was so much simpler a recreational stimulant.
Drugs, he understood, were difficult to come by these days, what with the general suspension of trade and the closed roads between the cities. But Aquint wagered the den would still be operating in some shape or form.
He turned to Cat and laid a hand on the boy's bony shoulder.
"We're going to procure ourselves a rebel, Cat," he said solemnly.
Drug addicts could generally be relied on to abuse their habits, more so even than drunks with their liquor.
The place stank like a latrine. Aquint had gone in through the front door, flashing a fistful of scrip notes and purporting to be a buyer. He named the first narcotic he could think of, phato blossoms, and was told he could purchase some inside.
The den smelled of more than just human waste and neglectful hygiene, of course. It smelled of a trap. Aquint was unarmed. He had never been much for weapons, anyway. Even during his stint in the Felk infantry, when he had helped in the slaughter of U'delph, he had felt no ease with a sword. Such an awkward implement.
U'delph... he still hated thinking about it. It was a disgrace, and he was ashamed he'd had any part in it.
Then again, this was pretty shameful as well. But it was also necessary, in order to save those ten innocent lives.