Sometimes, though, in his better theatricals, when he was actually making an effort at what he was producing, sometimes those large and audacious characters themselves had a deeper purpose. Sometimes they turned out to be the heroes.
Tyber's face, too, was painted. One half yellow, the other blue, which were traditional carnival colors. It had the effect, at least, of covering over his many unsightly blemishes. Physical appearance, however, often meant nothing to personalities like Tyber's. They got by on the bluff and bluster of their deportment. Tyber's carnal tastes ran toward males, the younger the better, and Bryck had no doubt that the plump man with the bad teeth still drew more than his share of willing partners, presuming there were still enough young males in Callah for him to hunt among.
The Broken Circle's water-dyeing campaign had been successful, at least in that they did manage to transform all of Callah's public water supplies. The disruption during that first day, when everyone found the cisterns full of what appeared to be blood, had been exceptional. Commerce and all other activities ground to a standstill. The garrison hastily investigated. A fear overcame people, dread that the gods were intervening in a way that they were always rumored to do, but of which nobody ever had any proof.
The Felk remedied the situation with admirable speed, even as Bryck's fellows in the Broken Circle circulated the word that the water was safe for any native Callahan to drink.
In the end, Bryck conceded, the disorder it had caused probably didn't amount to much in the way of effectiveness. It hadn't tangibly loosened the Felk's grip on Callah. But perhaps it gave some among the occupiers real pause. If the water could be tampered with, next time it might be poisoned. Or maybe these rebels would do something else equally widespread but more destructive. Perhaps Governor Jesile himself had been disturbed by the possibilities the operation had raised.
As with everything else Bryck had done to undermine the Felk since arriving in Callah nearly two lunes ago, he had no reliable means to gauge the impact of these activities. He simply had to hope that these deceptions and confusions were adding up to something.
That required faith. Absent that, he always had his hatred. For the Felk. For what they had done to U'delph, to his people, to his family.
'This is impossible, you say?' Tyber grinned, exposing those awful teeth. 'How did these balls light with fire? It can't be done. We were all watching. We saw nothing!'
The crowd was mesmerized, watching the flaming trajectories of the juggling balls.
'But obviously it
With that he altered the pattern. Two of the balls he kept moving in a circle, one chasing the other, around and around. The third, he tossed straight up so that it came down in exactly the same place, bisecting the circle; when it did, he caught it and tossed it straight back up, all the while keeping the other two going in their circular course.
Juggling was strictly a matter of timing. It looked beyond human capabilities, which made it a fun spectacle to watch, but Tyber had explained that you just had to keep it moving. Once you learned the pattern, it became relatively easy.
This particular pattern had purpose. The crowd, gathered here at this street corner, continued to watch. As they did, Bryck detected the first sharp inhalations. He saw recognition light the eyes.
'Nothing is impossible!' Tyber cried.
Bryck gave him the signal, and he let the leather balls drop one by one. It had rained earlier, and the ground was still damp. The juggling balls extinguished themselves with tiny hisses.
The audience cheered and applauded. Tyber took a great exaggerated bow, grinning happily, soaking up the adoration as if it was his unquestionable due. Bryck took the jauntily feathered cap from his head and circulated through the crowd. The faces were astonished, and those who hadn't noticed the Broken Circle's sigil traced out in flame were being eagerly told what they'd missed by those who had seen it.
A few people tried to put money into Bryck's cap.
'Save it,' he said softly. 'Taxes are bad enough. The Broken Circle works only to rid Callah of the Felk.'
He came back around to where Tyber was retrieving his gear.
'Time to go?' the older man asked.
'Yes, it is,' Bryck said. A policing squad of Felk was moving toward the corner, though their manner wasn't outright hostile. Still, Bryck thought he saw an anxious tension in those faces.
But the assembly was already dispersing on its own. Bryck and Tyber, in their half and half painted faces, couldn't just blend in with the crowd. The whole idea of this disguise, of course, was to hide in plain view. Bryck turned deliberately toward the patrol. His clothes were as festive as the feathers he'd added to his cap.
With the same studied flourish he'd seen Tyber use, Bryck gave the Felk soldiers a grand bow. They ignored him and passed on by.
Tyber tapped his shoulder. 'We were going?'
'Yes. We are.' But Bryck felt a small hard smile move his lips. None of those Felk had recognized him, had given him any attention beyond the flamboyancy of his appearance. This had been a fine test of the disguise's effectiveness. Now that he had freedom of movement throughout Callah's streets once more, he would have to make use of it.
He hadn't performed magic since the Lacfoddalmendowl festival, when he'd seared those sigils all over the city. This episode didn't strain him so severely as had that previous occasion, which had bedridden him with fever for two days.
Bryck was suddenly hungry, and they stopped at a tavern. When the proprietor told him how much a meal would cost, however, Tyber burst out, 'That's outrageous! For that price my friend should get a sweet damsel kneeling under the table and sucking his stump while he eats.'
The proprietor shrugged blandly. He looked tired, without the spirit to argue. The tavern, Bryck noted, was nearly empty.
Tyber was evidently annoyed by the lack of response to his vulgarity. He made a final stab. 'Make it your daughter, and we'll think about it.'
Bryck hauled the man out of there.
'It's the taxes,' Bryck said as they moved along down the street. Their colorful faces drew passing attention. 'They're going to inflate prices. Goods and services are going to become rather dear in Callah, I'm afraid.'
'And how will people pay for them?'
'With their money. With that scrip the Felk issued everyone when they confiscated all the hard currency. Only, they're being heavily taxed now as well, which is draining off the access paper currency already in circulation.'
'Paper you're responsible for creating,' Tyber said quietly.
Bryck gave a shallow nod. He accepted that responsibility. He had known his counterfeiting scheme, which had flooded Callah with false notes, would have consequences. That was the aim. But it was going to be a burden for more than just the Felk. These Callahans would suffer. But they were already suffering, Bryck noted. The sovereignty of their state was gone. They were a conquered people. If they wanted to change that condition, they had to risk what little comforts they had left. They had to be willing to sacrifice it all—
'Not that any of us in the group blames you,' Tyber went on, interrupting Bryck's thoughts. 'Frankly we applaud you. In my time I've been involved in quite a few, oh, less than legitimate undertakings. Some extremely profitable. Those were also, however, the same ones that were the riskiest. What my fellow Callahans have to eventually understand is that risk and reward go hand in hand.'
Bryck blinked. Tyber had just voiced Bryck's very thoughts. It was like the routine of a true carnival huckster, mental games meant to awe an audience.
'I was just thinking that,' Bryck murmured.
'Were you? Well, just shows that the minds of the magnificent all flow in one direction. Still, I must defend my fellow Callahans to some extent. They've been beaten, and had their sons and daughters conscripted into the same mighty army that conquered them. There is a loss of identity for us. Who are we now? Not the Callahans we were, living securely, prosperously, within the inviolated borders of our state. Now... we are some other
