Wartorn Obliteration

himself able to handle it.

Actually, he demonstrated that he was quite intelligent, in a shrewd sort of way. With no formal tutelage, Aquint was good with numbers—especially when it came to ledgers and invoices. He had a knack, which his employers soon discovered to their delight, for hiding overages and shortages. These were discrepancies that wouldn't be appreciated by the governmental agencies that handled levies and special export fees.

It got Aquint out of the heavy lifting tasks and drew him ever deeper into the managerial ranks of the enterprise. Soon he was keeping the books for the whole company and also drawing better wages.

Unbeknownst to his employers, he was also paying himself a second equally healthy wage. In all honesty, Aquint judged that he deserved it. He was also in a position to route the monies invisibly to himself. He wasn't greedy in his embezzling, recognizing that such behavior led inevitably to disaster. He kept things fair, accumulated his brasses and bronzes, and bided his time.

Eventually, he had secured enough capital to go into business for himself. He had advantages that others new to such undertakings didn't. He understood the basic deceit of employees, even the most seemingly loyal, the smilingest, the most dependable of the bunch... they could well be the ones shafting you worse than any of the others.

Aquint's personal business philosophy allowed for his workers to help themselves, here and there, now and then, to a little extra something for their troubles. Sometimes merchandise 'fell off the wagon' and sometimes payroll was slightly inflated. But as long as none of it got too far out of hand, Aquint had always been willing to turn a blind eye.

He was also equally sincere about punishing those who abused that rare and special privilege.

He'd had a fine business, hauling freight and moving smuggled goods on the side. Sometimes one line did better than the other, but on the whole he probably made as much money doing legitimate business as he did in criminal ventures, though he was loath to admit it.

And then, one day, the Felk had decided they wanted to rule the entire Isthmus, and they came and conquered Callah just to get things started, and that was that for Aquint's business, his personal life, and the sovereignty of his city-state, which hadn't been compromised in many tenwinters.

These people had all suffered the same fates, he thought as he continued through the streets, eyeing merchants and workers. Many still had the same livelihoods as before the Felk had come, true, but whatever monies they'd saved up had been confiscated and replaced by what had turned out to be truly worthless pieces of colored paper. The real money had gone into the Felk war chest.

Callah was conquered... and it felt conquered. Aquint tried not to dwell on it, but it was almost impossible.

He turned in at one of the smaller marketplaces. He sought out a particular stall. He knew the man's goods by reputation, but not the man himself.

'You honestly dare to sell such an indecent implement?' Aquint asked.

'At the price I'm giving you, I will probably have to starve myself for a quarter-lune,' the dealer said. 'Don't you have eyes to recognize a bargain?'

Aquint held the instrument and fingered its strings, trying to appear knowledgeable. It certainly seemed serviceable. He and the dealer haggled awhile more. The price the man was quoting really was quite high, but Aquint worked him down a little, mostly for the sport of it.

Finally Aquint handed over a fistful of notes and carried away his purchase. The dealer had never questioned how Aquint planned to play the thing with one arm in a sling.

Aquint crossed over several winding, disorganized streets into a shabbier district of Callah. Even these environs, however, were a pleasure to him. He had spent many happy times as a boy capering on these particular streets.

So many familiar faces were gone, sucked away by the war, but here and there he still saw people he recognized. He entered old lady Laina's hostel. She was among those people he knew.

Aquint climbed to the third floor. It had been somewhat whimsical to lodge his two new recruits in the room the Minstrel had occupied. But maybe it did have some purpose. It was nonsense, that old saw about the thief returning to the location of the crime. A thief treated his occupation professionally. Fools who committed crimes impulsively, or for reasons other than profit, however, might return.

Who knew? Maybe the Minstrel would return to this room someday.

Aquint knocked on the door. He had gotten the impression that his two new agents were something more than mere comrades to each other. He didn't want to walk in on them if they were frisking about on that bed in there.

While he waited for someone to answer his knock, Aquint acknowledged that the pair might have fled since he'd installed them here yesterday. He had recognized this risk from the start. They would find it difficult to get out of Callah though.

But the female, Radstac, answered the door. She was, in her way, a very striking woman, even with those scars on her face and her short, choppy hair. She was alluring in the way that snakes were, with their sleek shapes and gliding movements.

'Ah, Radstac.' Aquint smiled. 'You're finding the room comfortable?'

'I've slept in far worse places,' she said. There was some trace of an accent there that Aquint couldn't quite place.

'And you, Deo,' Aquint said, looking past her shoulder, 'did you get a good night's sleep?'

He nodded. 'I did.'

'Fine. Now that the pleasantries are done, does anybody know what this is?' Aquint held up the instrument he had purchased at the market.

Deo shrugged. 'Looks like a stringbox.'

'And so it is,' Aquint said. 'Do either of you know how to play it?'

Radstac just gazed flatly, but Deo said, 'I had a court tutor—uh, I've had some training.'

'Then take this.'

Aquint held it out, and Deo came forward and took the instrument into his arms. He examined it, flicked a few strings, turned the knob at one end, and nodded.

'Well,' Aquint said, a bit impatiently, 'let's hear a little something.'

Deo took a seat, wedged the vox-mellifluous against his fit body, and rang out a ditty. He faltered a couple times but recovered quickly, picking out a fast tempo. He got more confident with it as Aquint watched.

Finally Aquint lifted a hand. 'Enough. That's good. Do you know a lot of songs?'

'A fair number, I guess,' Deo said, looking a little confused. 'Why?'

Aquint ignored the question. 'Can you sing?' he asked.

Deo frowned, then shook his head and sniffed a small laugh. 'Actually, no. That they couldn't teach me, no matter how hard they tried. But if you want me to make noises like a wounded dog I can do that.' He gave Aquint a self-deprecating smile.

The man had a certain charm to him, Aquint acknowledged. He turned to Radstac. 'Can you?'

'Can I what?' she said.

'Can you sing?' Aquint asked sharply, though he didn't really imagine that this woman, so obviously built for battle, would have wasted her time learning to sing songs.

Radstac's eyes were almost free of color. They bore into Aquint a moment, then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, she drew in a breath and sang out.

Moonlit, your face becomes another, A memory sweeter, now torn asunder. Aquint blinked. Deo, too, was visibly taken aback. Radstac's voice was surprisingly gentle. Into that brief verse she had poured a tenderness that reached Aquint's heart. It was a skilled voice, nicely modulated.

'That was... impressive,' he finally said.

'Radstac,' Deo said, 'I had no idea—'

'You don't really want to know everything about me, do you?' she retorted. 'How boring would that be?'

Aquint again noticed the connection between the two. Yes, these two were definitely lovers, whatever else they were to each other.

'Now,' Aquint said, pleased with the unanticipated success of this, 'you play something on the stringbox,