The general, of course, was busy with the occupation of Trael. Or at least select members of his senior staff were, those who had handled the occupations of Callah, Windal, and Sook. A governor would have to be appointed for Trael, and a garrison assigned to the captured city, though maybe these things had already been seen to.
Raven hadn't met with the general since that surprising and glorious occasion the night before the invasion, when she and Weisel had... had... she still blushed a little to think about it, despite her experiences with this new body. Certainly she had always found the general attractive. He was handsome enough and had also shown her the sort of attention she couldn't seem to get from Matokin.
When he had seduced her, it was still a shock, though a pleasant one. He was a masterful lover. Even Vadya had remarked on it. He was as decisive and forceful in bed as he was on a battlefield.
She was still using the name Raven. No one in the field here would recognize the face of Lady Vadya, courtesan of Felk. Raven, after all, was a common enough name. Her recent promotion from liaison officer to head of Military Security had been very well timed, she noted. As far as anybody knew, Raven was a plump homely girl who had died saving the general's life, and this new Raven, so elegant and beautiful, was someone else entirely.
It had been explained to her that resurrection magic was a secret Matokin wanted kept. She wasn't to go about telling anyone that she was sharing this living vessel with another person's consciousness.
The bulk of the army was presently encamped just south of Trael, while fresh conscripts from that city were processed and given a fast course in soldiering.
Now was a good time to report to Matokin and Abraxis, back at Felk. Raven sought out the Far Speak mage Berkant. Like Weisel, he knew the full truth of her identity. She had contacted the wizard previously, whenever she needed to make private communications with Lord Matokin.
He ushered her into his tent. "Sit and wait," he said. "I'll arrange it."
Raven sat. She watched Berkant take up a piece of fabric, squeezing it, concentrating. A moment later, all expression washed from his face.
"Raven, what do you have to report?" Berkant's lips moved, and it was his voice that spoke, but the tone was different. Raven knew that Matokin himself was originating these words and passing them on, via the Far Speak magic.
"Lord Matokin," she said, "there have been some interesting developments..."
She went on to quickly detail her promotion and what the goals of the newly formed Military Security were. She demurely omitted the tryst she and Weisel had shared. It was something, she knew, that she should report but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do so. The event had been too private. Too special.
Matokin, speaking through Berkant, cut her off. "Military Security?" he barked. "What is he playing at? I never authorized any such agency. Does he think he can have an independent bureau, separate and autonomous from Internal Security, just because he wants it? The audacity!"
Raven was taken aback. She swallowed. "I, uh, didn't consider the implications—"
"Oh, I don't blame you, Raven. In fact, you did exactly the proper thing by accepting the position. Weisel imagines he can run the army like it's his own sovereign state? Let him try. Now we have you as the chief of his security corps. And you belong to us." Berkant, face still slack, let out an eerie laugh.
"Yes, Lord," Raven said, obediently.
"Carry on then, Raven. Lord Abraxis will find all this most amusing."
Berkant's hand opened, and the piece of fabric dropped out of it. The mage's eyes cleared. Raven reflexively thanked him for his time and exited the tent.
She was deep in thought. Matokin had said, You belong to us. Raven discovered, somewhat to her surprise, that she didn't like the way that sounded. Maybe it was just too bluntly stated. Maybe it hit too close to home. No one wanted to be owned by another person, even if that person was the most powerful man in the empire. Even if Matokin was her father. She wanted to be a part of him, yes, but...
It was complicated.
I think you're simply feeling the first real stirrings of independence, Raven.
Raven acknowledged the quiet, steady voice of wisdom and experience within her.
Perhaps I am, Raven conceded:
It's all a part of growing up, Vadya added.
Raven considered that a moment. She was nearly two tenwinters old. She had thought of herself as an adult for some while now. It was possible she had been mistaken.
It's... difficult.
Growing up always is, Vadya said.
* * *
Though Vadya had willingly ceded physical control of her body to Raven, that body still had its physical memories intact. It moved with a natural grace that Raven didn't need to consciously exert.
Even so, she had learned more than a thing or two about gait, deportment, and general appearance. Despite the relative hardships of being out here in the field, Raven was managing to maintain her appearance. She already had this borrowed beauty, to be sure, but with the application of a little consistent hygiene she could make herself look truly stunning.
Cleanliness had never meant much to her before. Her mother had once hoped she would flower into a beauty. But it hadn't happened. The body she had been born into simply wasn't made that way. Now, however, she had surpassed any expectations of loveliness her mother could have ever entertained about her daughter.
Perhaps someday she would return to the village of her birth, to show her mother what she had become, to show all those horrid people there who had been so cruel to her...
No. There was no going back. No one would recognize her. No one would believe that she was the same Raven, not even her mother.
In point of fact, she wasn't the same Raven. Not at all. She was a blond beauty who held a key position of power in the new Felk Empire. She was caught in an intrigue between the two most powerful players in that empire, Matokin and Weisel.
One man was her father. The other was her lover. Could things get more interesting than that?
She felt an odd pang of guilt and realized that it was over her reporting to Matokin about Weisel's activities. But that was what she was supposed to do. Matokin had assigned her the task, and she was compelled, because of her loyalty, to obey.
But what of her loyalty to Weisel? Surely the general would not be pleased if he discovered that she was spying for Matokin. Then again, maybe he already knew. Both those men were very complex, very shrewd. It might be that Raven was merely a piece in a game being played between them.
She shook her head. Even if that were true, she had sufficient will and determination to make her own destiny.
Raven returned to her tent. She had a private one now, as an officer. She received a few more visits from various company commanders and explained to them how the informant system would work. All the officers were at least willing to go along with it. Some were enthusiastic about it.
She did the same thing with commanding mages from the magic-using units. She noticed that these wizards, though still reflexively wary, were more relaxed than they were when she had first joined this army. That had to be due to Weisel's ecumenical policies that didn't exclude these magicians from any of the benefits enjoyed by the regular troops.
Night was falling. Raven had been prepared to report to General Weisel all day regarding the headway she was making in getting Military Security set up and operating. But she had received no summons.
Instead, she settled down to write up a report. The general could look it over at his leisure.
You're disappointed that you haven't heard from him? Vadya asked.
Raven frowned. What makes you ask that?
Just a feeling...
I thought we weren't supposed to be able to feel each other's feelings, not unless they're very strong. That gave Raven sudden pause. Was she actually so concerned that General Weisel hadn't summoned her? Was it because she had developed passionate feelings for him after that one unexpected nigh
t?
That was childish. She shook her head sharply.
Vadya, I have a great respect for you, but kindly do not fill my head with such nonsense.
As you wish.
Raven finished writing her report, then summoned a messenger to take it to General Weisel. The messenger was a young man, nearly still a boy, with soft eyes and hair the same color as hers. Raven noticed his eyes lingering on her.
Her lips twisted slightly. "Do you find me attractive, soldier?"
He gaped, not knowing quite what to do. In the end, it was probably his youthful urges that decided for him. "Y-yes. You're very beautiful." He gulped, uncertain if he'd gone too far.
"I suppose you'd like to feel this body, to taste these lips, wouldn't you?" She hovered a step closer to him, watching his face flush.
He was very uncomfortable, but also very obviously aroused. "Oh y-yes. I would..."
Raven's features suddenly hardened, and she spat, "Well, fraternization between officers and enlisted personnel is forbidden. After you deliver that to the general, go put yourself on report." She spun away, hearing the befuddled messenger exit the tent.
She smiled to herself.
Did you enjoy that? asked Vadya.
I did. What of it?
Now, don't be terse. There's no reason you shouldn't enjoy the power that comes with this body. Believe me, I know what it can do.
Raven sat down in her chair, suddenly tired. Today had been a long and active day.
Tell me something, Vadya, Raven said.
Do you want to know about the many men I've slept with? Vadya asked.
No, Raven said firmly. I would very much like to know why you agreed to be my host. She waited. Vadya had avoided this question once already.
I think you're ready to hear it now, she finally said.
Raven listened eagerly.
Vadya said, I recognized that you were in a position of significant power. You are balanced between the emperor and the general. You can affect both men, without exposing yourself to the direct rigors of visible power. There is truly nothing worse than being the one in command, Raven. You have to answer for your mistakes, and the more power you have, the bigger those mistakes will be. But, if you're only the whispering advisor, the unofficial consultant...
Raven blinked. "Then you can make your moves without anyone being aware you are the source," she said aloud, in wonder.
Not even the person you are manipulating, Vadya added with some satisfaction.
It was a shocking revelation. Then your loyalty to Matokin is—Raven started.
Is very real, Vadya finished, firmly. I believe in Matokin's aim to unite the Isthmus. But he will make mistakes. All men do. I've seen it happen, over and over. They bumble and fumble.
But you know better? Raven asked, dubiously.
I know differently. I am a special sort of woman, Raven, and therefore you are as well. I know the carnal secrets of many men. I know how they think. I know how they compete with each other, even when cooperation would serve everyone better. I know their jealousies, their stupidities. I know that Matokin distrusts Weisel and that Weisel has misgivings about Matokin. I know this because it must be. They are both men.
Raven felt dazed. What Vadya said was of course true. Raven knew firsthand. Raven was spying on Weisel for Lord Matokin, after all; and General Weisel had spoken what amounted to outright treason against the emperor.
How do you propose to use my... our... position to affect anything? Raven asked.
There was another silent pause. Then Vadya said, If either man becomes a threat to the overall success of the empire, we will see that he dies. It's very simple.
Raven closed her eyes. She pushed away Vadya's voice, pushed herself toward a quiet corner of their shared mind. She wanted only to retreat, to give herself time to absorb this.
At that moment, however, a messenger, different from the one before, asked for entry into her tent and told her that General Weisel wished to see her. It was by now rather late.
Raven straightened up her uniform and made for the general's well-guarded pavilion. She was passed through.
"General," she said, saluting, still in something of a daze.
Weisel gave her a smile. But there was something cold and morose about it. "Raven, you've lived all your life on this Isthmus, right?"
She blinked. "Where else would I live, sir?" She realized belatedly that her reply was a bit impertinent. The Northern and Southern Continents were, after all, well inhabited. But those cultures were so different from those of the Isthmus.
Weisel grunted. He was drinking something and looked like he had been drinking it awhile.
"What is it about the people of this Isthmus?" he wondered aloud.
"Sir?"
He fixed her with his eyes. "I mean, why don't they fight back? Why is it that all this army has ever met has been the most pitiful, most pathetic resistance in the history of warfare!"
He didn't wait for an answer. He ranted on like that for some time, asking rhetorical questions. He actually seemed upset about the lack of organized resistance his military had met. But that, Raven thought, made no sense.
You see? Vadya said as Raven patiently and silently listened to the general, knowing that afterward he would take her to his bed. They look to make trouble for themselves when there is no trouble. We will have to watch this general.
Yes, Raven conceded. We will.
RADSTAC (3)
The words became awkward in her mouth, too many, piling up, their corners bumping, so she revised them then and there. She sang the altered bridge, knowing as she heard herself croon the simpler improvised phrases that she had improved Aquint's words, while keeping their spirit.
That spirit was, of course, one of treason against the Felk, the masters of Callah.
Some of the tavern's patrons had vacated the premises immediately on hearing the nature of the songs she and Deo were performing. But the others had remained, huddling instinctively closer to the corner where they played, their eyes big, tongues anxiously licking lips as if to taste the taboo words.
Radstac thought the songs silly. Or at least trite. Deo was playing the serviceable melodies on that cumbersome vox-mellifluous, an Isthmus instrument, obviously a larger cousin to the more graceful musical implements of Southsoil.
He was certainly passable on the instrument. More than that actually. As with most things, so it seemed, Deo had a flair, a grinning gusto that was hopelessly charming, even while he was inhabiting this persona of an idiot. He kept up a dazed, mildly giddy expression, obviously happy with the music he was producing and the vocals Radstac was providing.
Radstac, for her part, had had no trouble maintaining the fiction of a maimed leg. Their pretenses excused them both from combat, in the eyes of anyone who observed them. Aquint would be pleased the ruses were working.
Aquint was plainly a dubious character. Internal Security agent he might be, yes... but he was no Felk fanatic. Radstac didn't sense in him any special loyalties, except to himself and possibly to his young companion, Cat. She had first thought the two were lovers, then had revised her opinion. They seemed more like associates in crime.
She was uncertain what their ultimate game was, though most certainly they were playing one, probably against the Felk occupying Callah. And yet their efforts to capture the Broken Circle rebels did seem genuine, at least on the surface. But Aquint also seemed intent on maintaining his position, which would become moot when the rebels were in custody and the threat was through.
So Radstac had to be concerned how she herself fit into this game. Deo, too. Internal Security agent, so far, was a far better alternative to being arrested as the attempted assassin and accomplice of General Weisel.
She sang the song to its insipidly "inspiring" end. Vocal lessons had been a part of her upbringing. Such training was customary on the vastly more civilized Southern Continent and specifically in the Republic of Dilloqi, her home state. Hynnsy was the city of her
birth, and there she had learned about art and philosophy with the same vigor with which she was taught practical matters. It was not the Southsoil way to separate such elements of life.
The patrons of the tavern applauded Radstac's finely modulated singing as well as the crowd-baiting revolutionary doggerel that she sang. Deo nodded a cheerful witless bow at their audience.
She and Deo had followed Aquint's advice and, for the most, had purloined their melodies from already existing songs, replacing the lyrics with those Aquint had concocted. The songs were all very much alike, condemning the Felk and celebrating native Callahan culture above all else.
There had been several times when Radstac had to furtively pinch her arm to keep herself from laughing in the middle of what she was singing.
The elderly man and wife who owned the tavern had at first been shocked and upset by the songs, more so when a segment of their patrons immediately evacuated. But those that had remained were apparently eating and especially drinking enough to keep the proprietors content.
They had, however, quietly pulled to the tavern's shutters and thrown the door's bolt.
The patrons clustered even closer now, scraping chairs toward Radstac and Deo's corner. They murmured in an excited hush. Radstac understood their anxious caution. If the Felk patrols raided this place and learned the sort of songs that were being played here, the consequences would be dire. Only, there wouldn't be consequences. Not for her and Deo. They were, after all, verifiable agents of the Internal Security Corps, a bureau that evidently had power over just about every other branch of the Felk Empire.
Besides, they had informed Colonel Jesile's office that they would be operating at this tavern until curfew today. They expected no interference. They had actually said this to the same pinch-faced officer who had made their arrival in Callah so difficult only a few days ago. Radstac had felt a mild satisfaction from that, though punching the man in the nose or leaving him a scar or two would have been even more gratifying.
Radstac paused to take a swallow from the jug of water sitting on the table next to her. She didn't drink wine. She did not drink spirits. If there was a faster way to turn a functional being into a driveling dimwit, she didn't know what it was.
Wartorn Obliteration w-2 Page 13