Wartorn Obliteration

The two of them exited the office, a numb silence between them.

* * *

There was nothing even remotely amusing about that giant symbol now. It glared down menacingly as Aquint led Cat quickly away from the Registry.

Aquint's thoughts were moving fast. He had anticipated that Jesile would react militantly. But he hadn't expected the Felk governor to take these measures. Ten innocent Callahans were going to be killed. They were going to be beaten to death. Aquint nurtured no illusions that any self-sacrificing member of the Broken Circle was going to actually come forward to stop it. Things didn't work that way.

He looked back, almost involuntarily, at the receding north wall of the Registry. Whoever had managed the escapade had surely used a rope secured to the roof. What that must have been like, dangling there in the night, slapping black paint against stone, swinging gradually across the wall to complete the huge circle and slash, all while the Registry guards milled about obliviously below.

Yes, a bold and audacious feat, Aquint brooded. And one that was going to have dire consequences.

'Who do these godsdamned rebels think they are?' he suddenly exploded, there in the street.

Cat cautioned him to keep his voice down.

Aquint continued, more quietly but just as intently, 'This Broken Circle, what good do they think they're doing?'

'I believe they're rebelling against the Felk,' Cat said.

Aquint ignored the droll tone this time. 'They're rebelling, are they? Then they should rebel. What have they accomplished so far? They've killed one Felk soldier. One! And that was as likely an accident as a premeditated act. They're just stirring up trouble for everybody else.'

'What would you have them do?' Cat asked.

Aquint glanced at the boy and saw that he wasn't being facetious now. He considered the lad's question.

He sighed, 'I just wish they could find some way to resist the Felk that wouldn't... wouldn't...'

'Wouldn't cause any trouble,' Cat supplied quietly.

It pointed out the ridiculousness of Aquint's argument. The Broken Circle was a rebel organization. You couldn't have rebellion without conflict, and conflict had inevitable repercussions.

They walked awhile in tense silence.

Finally Cat asked, 'Where are we going?'

Aquint tasted something unpleasant in the back of his throat. From the moment Jesile had made his pronouncement about the public floggings, Aquint had known in his bones what he had to do. It was a ghastly thing. But it was also a lesser evil. He recalled his days of keeping the ledgers of the hauling company he had first gone to work for. He had juggled figures. He had made the numbers balance. It was a talent he had.

Now he was being indirectly saddled with this burden. He couldn't allow ten fellow Callahans to die... not when it was within his power to prevent those deaths.

'Where are we going?' Cat repeated.

They were some distance from the Registry by now. Aquint abruptly halted. He looked about, recognizing the street. There was a drug den of some sort hereabouts. Narcotics had never interested Aquint. Alcohol was so much simpler a recreational stimulant.

Drugs, he understood, were difficult to come by these days, what with the general suspension of trade and the closed roads between the cities. But Aquint wagered the den would still be operating in some shape or form.

He turned to Cat and laid a hand on the boy's bony shoulder.

'We're going to procure ourselves a rebel, Cat,' he said solemnly.

* * *

Drug addicts could generally be relied on to abuse their habits, more so even than drunks with their liquor.

The place stank like a latrine. Aquint had gone in through the front door, flashing a fistful of scrip notes and purporting to be a buyer. He named the first narcotic he could think of, phato blossoms, and was told he could purchase some inside.

The den smelled of more than just human waste and neglectful hygiene, of course. It smelled of a trap. Aquint was unarmed. He had never been much for weapons, anyway. Even during his stint in the Felk infantry, when he had helped in the slaughter of U'delph, he had felt no ease with a sword. Such an awkward implement.

U'delph... he still hated thinking about it. It was a disgrace, and he was ashamed he'd had any part in it.

Then again, this was pretty shameful as well. But it was also necessary, in order to save those ten innocent lives.

The man who had admitted Aquint now led him into a dimly lit cavernous room, where there were quite a number of people lying about in various states of stupefaction on the floor. Aquint breathed through his mouth, but that only caused him to taste the foul human stench.

'We have blossoms of high quality, my friend.' The man grinned, teeth appearing in the dimness. 'The more you spend, the better they will be.'

Aquint was looking around. The specimens on display here were quite poor. Many were huddling under blankets, presumably to block out any and all traces of light. Aquint studied the bodies. Some looked half-starved. When one was only interested in the procurement and ingestion of one's preferred narcotic, then luxuries like food probably became a low priority.

It was disgusting. But Aquint kept up his search, ignoring the man standing beside him. Finally he crossed toward a figure who was sitting cross-legged and bare-chested, head lolling.

'Where are you going?' the man said behind him, startled.

Aquint looked down on the sitting figure. It was a male, relatively young, though still too old to have been swept up by the Felk conscription. He had a reasonably healthy muscle tone, with enough flesh on his bones that he didn't appear too sickly.

Mostly though there was something about the planes and angles of his face. His cheekbones were sharp, and his bleary eyes had a vaguely sinister cast. He looked like he might be a rebel. He would fulfill the role nicely.

'I'll take him,' Aquint said. 'How much do you want?'

The man had caught up to him. 'What...? But you wanted phato blossoms.'

'I've changed my mind. I'll buy him instead. Here, take these. Is it enough?' Aquint stuffed notes into the man's hand.

'This isn't a brothel,' the man said, summoning a faint righteous tone, even as he accepted Aquint's money. 'But, perhaps two or three more bronze notes...'

Aquint handed them over. Then he reached down and hauled the sitting man up onto his feet. He moved bonelessly, head still lolling. Aquint started him back the way they had come, toward the front door.

'Just a moment,' said the den's proprietor, hurrying after them. 'I've changed my mind, too. He'll cost you an extra—yeeowchhh!'

Aquint had been expecting the shriek. Greed was a vile trait. Cat of course had crept in here ahead of Aquint, unseen in the dimness, and had watched out to make sure Aquint wasn't waylaid. If the proprietor had just let Aquint go without pressing him for more money, Cat wouldn't have had to jam that needle-shaped little knife he carried into the man's backside. The wound wouldn't be fatal, but it would allow Aquint to vacate the premises without any further bother.

Vacate he did, his arm around the addict's shoulders, propping him up and leading him onward on unsteady feet. Cat joined Aquint a moment later on the street, and they took the man back to their apartment.

The midday watch was approaching. He and Cat worked fast. They rustled up some decent clothing for the man. They groomed him until he looked relatively presentable. That was the easy part. All the while, the man remained only scarcely aware of his surroundings, eyes blinking in druggy stupor.

Aquint leaned close to him and said in a steady tranquil voice, 'I am a member of the Broken Circle. I am a member of the Broken Circle. Say it. Say it back to me. I am a member of the Broken Circle. I am—'