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."