Robert Asprin - Wartorn - Resurrection

They were the brands on the walls and doors that Cat had seen. A circle with a slash through it. Jesile called Aquint in to ask him if it meant anything to Internal Security.

Aquint had wanted to save this ploy until later, when he might find a way to profit from it. But this, at least, would firm up his authority here. Jesile was deferring to him by calling him in on this matter. It was time to capitalize.

"Governor," Aquint had said, solemnly, "that is the mark of the rebel underground that I am investigating."

The Felk governor's hard face was etched with lines of anger. "And why did you keep this fact to yourself?" he spat.

Aquint met the man head-on, not flinching. "Because I do not answer to this office, Governor. Your domain is Callah. My jurisdiction extends throughout the empire, and my immediate superior is none other than Lord Abraxis himself!"

He was proud of the display, prouder still that it seemed to work. Jesile backed off.

The very next watch, however, the governor had ordered a city wide removal of all those brands that had mysteriously appeared during Lacfoddalmendowl. It was no doubt an indicator of frustration on the governor's part more than anything. The garrison soldiers had removed doors and chopped down wood posts where necessary to carry out the Governor's orders. Also, Jesile had ordered stricter enforcement of the occupation laws, including public floggings for offenders.

Then the murder had happened, and everything went crazy.

The garrison hit the streets in force, when the word had spread. The soldiers entered homes, seized people. There wasn't much rhyme or reason to it. They were searching for the killer of one of their own, and they weren't gentle or methodical about it. Jesile eventually reined the patrols in, but not until after a number of serious injuries had been inflicted on hapless citizens.

Since that episode, a few days ago now, the Felk had instead conducted systematic searches, without undue brutality. Callah's perimeter security was tighter than ever. No fugitive was going to get out of town unless he got himself transported by a Far Movement wizard, and that wasn't likely. All civilian travel passes had been declared worthless. Slydis had no doubt manufactured a very convincing one for his accomplice.

"Are you sorry now?" Cat asked one day, apropos of nothing.

"About what?" Aquint wasn't particularly in the mood for the boy's habitual criticisms.

"About wishing for this."

"I never wished—" Aquint started, then caught himself.

Of course Cat was right. He had wanted something like this. He had even thanked the gods for sending a trouble-maker to Callah, so that Aquint's job as an Internal Security agent would stay secure.

"Shut up, boy," he grumbled.

The problem was, this might be too difficult of a problem to handle, despite the fact that Aquint didn't really know for sure if there were rebels here. According to the evidence, they only knew that the copyist had gotten the idea and the funding for a counterfeiting operation from a second, unnamed individual. That second man had murdered a Felk soldier during his attempted arrest.

But that killing might have just happened in the heat of the moment. Maybe the man was so desperate to avoid capture that he had been driven to commit the murder.

So, all they had for sure was a counterfeiting setup, with two operators. That didn't necessarily entail an uprising against the Felk. That meant two greedy, inventive men had dummied up batches of fake money. Frankly, Aquint admired the scheme.

As for those slashed circles, they could be anything. Maybe it was simple vandalism and nothing more.

Aquint and Cat returned to their rooms. It had been a long day of fruitless investigations. Aquint was too tired to even enjoy the luxuries of this apartment.

"Tell me, Cat," he said, putting his feet up, "if our mystery man has a forged civilian travel pass, does that mean he's originally from Callah, and meant to escape the city if things got too hot... or he came here, after the occupation by the Felk?"

"Why would he do that?" Cat asked from the soft chair where he had curled up.

"Well, we came back to Callah."

"Right. But we're loyal, upstanding members of the Felk Empire," the boy said archly. "I don't know who this fellow is, but he's not Felk."

Aquint nodded tiredly. This was too much like hard work.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Who, exactly, would have a civilian travel pass? I mean legitimately."

Cat was frowning. "That's a good question. I guess people from the conquered city-states who are collaborating with the Felk. Maybe former government officials who now want to lend their expertise to the new regime. Maybe experts on farming or other civic industries. They might be allowed to travel relatively freely in Felk-occupied territory."

Aquint turned to regard his young friend. "You talk smart when you want to."

"And only when I want."

Aquint considered. "No. I can't see this man being some consultant or..."

"What?" asked Cat, when Aquint trailed off.

Aquint slapped his hands together. "That stringbox!"

"How's that?"

"They found it in his room. A stringbox. By the madness of the gods, how did we miss it?" Aquint grinned. "He's a troubadour!"

"You're that sure?" Cat said.

"It fits. Name me any other category of person who has traditionally had such freedom of movement, even during wartime, as a wandering minstrel. Around these parts it's considered bad luck to turn one away. You'll get warts if you do." Aquint laughed.

"Do you really think the Felk would honor that tradition?" Cat asked.

"Why not? We've been around enough of them. They're not all monsters. This man and his 'box probably passed right through a city border checkpoint."

Cat frowned again. "Meaning he already had a travel pass, right?"

"Right. But they confiscate those at the Registry whenever somebody arrives with one," Aquint said. "Then they issue a temporary resident permit."

"How do you know that?"

Taking a haughty tone, Aquint said, "Because, my j youthful associate, I've read up on the procedures."

Cat gave him a grudging grin. "Good for you."

Aquint got to his feet, his fatigue forgotten. "So, it's a j minstrel we're looking for."

Cat stood as well. "Do we tell the governor?"

"What's Jesile done for us lately? When I make my next report to Abraxis, I'd like to be able to say that we trapped this prey all by ourselves, beating the entire garrison of Callah to him. Maybe Abraxis might put me up for a promotion. Or, better yet, an increase in pay."

AQUINT HAD MADE a couple reports already to Lord Abraxis since arriving in Callah. He spoke through a Far Speak mage attached to the garrison, updating the chief of Internal Security about events in the city.

Abraxis reasserted his claim that all he wanted were results. Aquint could have all the leeway he wanted as far as methods of operation were concerned.

"It's time to contact Tyber," Aquint pronounced.

Cat nodded, and the two of them split up to locate Aquint's former illegitimate business partner. Aquint still hadn't visited his old warehouse, leery of the sorry sight of the place boarded up and defunct.

Vahnka, Tyber's Sook merchant cousin, had been another dependable partner in crime during Aquint's short stay there. Tyber himself had been a valuable asset in unloading smuggled black market items. Aquint had simply never understood why he should hand over good money for licenses and tariffs just because he wanted to move some merchandise.

In the streets of Callah, the Felk were still conducting their searches. Jesile appeared to have called in

more troops. One could taste the fear of the people on the cooling air. But Aquint, as he made his way unmolested, sensed something more.