"Then," Aquint smiled wider, "we'll lead it somewhere ourselves."

IT WAS INDEED a luxurious apartment, with kitchens below that served the building's various units. Aquint ordered up hot dinners for him and Cat, plus a bottle of the best wine available. Everything was going to be billed to the Governor's Office, after all.

The next day Aquint prowled Callah's streets once more. Cat was a good eavesdropper, but Aquint was a very capable socializer. He dropped in at various taverns and cafés over the course of the day, being careful not to drink too much. Again he chanced upon old acquaintances and spent some time in casual conversation. Some at first were leery about speaking to a member of the Felk military.

Usually, without much effort, Aquint was able to convince them that despite being conscripted into the army, he was the same old Aquint and, most importantly, a Callahan above all else.

So it was that they divulged to him, often after he'd bought a round or two with the scrip that had been issued to him. It was a surer way to gather information than by simply spying.

Later, he met with Cat at a prearranged site. From there they went to the Registry.

Aquint brought the intelligence he'd garnered to Governor Jesile. Despite his important status as an agent of the Internal Security Corps, Aquint still got nervous in the presence of authority It was probably left over from his days of smuggling and black marketeering.

"It's nonsense," the governor said, resolutely. "Windal is secure. Those Far Speak mages pass messages back and forth all the time. We received one only this morning, relayed from Colonel Palo, the governor. It's business as usual in Windal."

Aquint shrugged.

"I can only tell you what people are mumbling about," he said. "Everybody in Callah is starving for news about the war, about the outside. Without it, people will simply make stories up, and pass them on as fact."

"Then this talk of an uprising in Windal," Jesile said, "the people know it's just a rumor?"

"Some. Maybe. But some believe it. Of that I'm sure."

Colonel Jesile turned his eyes toward Cat. "And you? You've heard the same?"

Cat stood mute.

"My associate is working on other matters," Aquint said.

The governor sighed.

Aquint didn't offer up news of the slashed circle brands that had appeared around Callah, evidently during the Lacfoddalmendowl celebrations. Those had already been reported by the Felk patrols. If the governor didn't understand how widespread they were, or what the brands might indicate, Aquint saw no need to play the hand now.

"Well," Jesile said, "I will not publicly deny the rumors."

"I think that's wise," Aquint said. Callah's citizens had been kept purposely isolated. A lack of knowledge about the Isthmus at large helped keep the people controlled. It would only weaken the Felk hold on the city if Jesile acknowledged the rumor's existence.

The governor gave Aquint a look that made it clear he didn't particularly care what the Internal Security agent thought about the matter.

"There's something else," Jesile continued grudgingly. "Something much more urgent."

The governor produced two notes of Felk scrip. They were the blue ones that represented gold coins. Jesile held them up, side by side.

"One of my off-duty soldiers noticed that an inordinate amount of money seemed to be changing hands in the marketplace right next to this building," Jesile said grimly. "Trade has been suspended for the duration among the city-states. Therefore, Callah is a closed economy. It was odd, then, that simple vendors should be in possession of so much money."

Aquint, confused, was peering at the blue notes the governor was still dangling.

"This is a legitimate gold note, printed by a special mint in Felk." He raised his other hand. "This is an incredibly skillful forgery."

Aquint's eyes widened. "How can you tell?" The notes looked exactly alike to him.

' Jesile sighed again. "I almost hate to admit it, but it was one of the magicians in my garrison who discovered it. She cast some sort of divining spell. Apparently it's very specialized magic."

"So," Aquint said, "if this wizard of yours can weed out the fake notes from the real—"

The governor favored him with a stony glare. "She can't very well examine every single scrip note in Callah to determine its authenticity."

Jesile suddenly crumbled both notes into a blue wad.

"Gods know how much counterfeit money is circulating out there right now," the Felk governor spat. "But I want whoever is responsible/'

Aquint managed to contain his glee until he and Cat were out of the building. It was nearing curfew.

"Well," he said to his young companion, slapping the boy's shoulders, "it looks like there's serious unrest in Callah after all."

"That sounds like work for us," Cat grumbled.

"Yes. It also means job security." Aquint chuckled as they headed along the street. Though he wasn't in the habit of praying, he paused to silently thank the gods for whoever was stirring things up here in his old home city.

PRAULTH (4)

IT WAS A large campus, but news, when it was compelling enough, could travel at impressive speed.

There was, of course, gossip; but gossip meant tawdry murmurings about romantic trysts, the exaggeratedly strange personal habits of instructors, and news—factual and otherwise—about academic advancements and demotions. The lowest-phase students, those most susceptible to dismissal from the University, existed in a kind of perpetual fear. Many were desperate to stay at Febretree, escaping unpleasant lives back home or zealously devoted to achieving the higher rankings of Thinker or even Attaché. Gossip was a cheap form of entertainment to take one's mind off one's troubles, particularly when jammed into some airless dormitory.

So, when Praulth at last irritably pushed herself from her desk to answer the hammering at her door and found the lowly first-phase pupil there, she wasn't inclined to take much heed.

The student, a boy a few years her junior, was jabbering excitedly—and not a little bit enjoying the supposedly dire news he was imparting. Among the rush of words, she heard Master Honnis's name. The watch was late. Xink was off attending Mistress Cestrello.

"Speak clearly. You're addressing a Thinker."

It was almost comical to hear herself invoking her academic rank. She rarely thought of herself as a student anymore. Her role was more active than that, she had learned. She wasn't studying the history of war any longer; she was helping create it.

The Battle of Torran Flats ...

The boy continued his breathless babbling.

It smelled of a prank, though she had not been subjected to such torments since her first-phase days. Patience, however, hadn't been with her lately, and she finally slammed shut the door, locking it.

Maps were spread over the desk. Honnis was still feeding her field reports, and she was still playing along, continuing their project of studying the Felk war. Just as she was continuing her relationship with Xink, though she knew that Honnis had arranged it, knew that the old... old devil had manipulated her. That heartless sack of bones.

She sat, examining the maps, as she had done most of the day. The Felk had abruptly halted a short distance from Trael. What was Weisel up to? She wanted to know. So did Honnis. And so doubtlessly did Premier Cultat, with whom Honnis was in contact.

A moment later Praulth heard the sound of a latchkey finding the lock that she'd insisted be installed. She wanted privacy here in the Blue Annex. She didn't shy from making demands these days. Xink entered the chamber.

He did not meet her eyes. That, too, wasn't unusual these days. Things had changed between the two of them, drastically. But something more seemed amiss now.