Wartorn Obliteration w-2

by Robert Asprin

  She didn't yet know if the Incident had left her pregnant. Certainly her assailant took none of the prudent precautions with which she was familiar with Xink. Again it was a matter of wait and see.

  Did she feel wounded? Did she feel invaded, violated? Naturally she did. The foul creature had robbed from her. He had knocked her to the ground and infiltrated her body in the most careless and hurtful fashion, indifferent to everything but the savage satisfaction of the moment. He had gibbered and ranted all the while, ugly broken fragments of speech propelled by repulsive breath.

  But when the fast wrenching spasms had struck him, this violator let out a frail little whine, like the sound of a hurt puppy, and leaped to his feet and went running off in a mad scramble. It was very much as if that violent and rapid climax had taken with it every last shred of maddened courage the creature possessed.

  Such was the conclusion Praulth had drawn in those first stinging instants after the Incident. Her attacker was weak, she told herself. Therefore, she would be strong. And thus she had picked herself up from the street and returned to her rooms, all on her own, without faltering, without even tears.

  She had since cried, and it had served her as a release. Xink had certainly been generous enough with his own tears, almost to the point where she felt an inkling of that old reflexive irritation; but she'd checked that. There was no point in abusing him. He, however, was going to have to find his own way to come to terms with the Incident.

  Praulth had dressed for today. She wore no uniform, though she had considered it; it was, after all, her privilege. Instead, she had picked meticulously through the clothes that had been provided with the rooms. It was quite a wardrobe. Eventually she had settled on a long coat of dark green that was trimmed with leather at the cuffs and collar. She chose a flattering shirt and trousers, accentuating with a knotted scarf of a deep red metallic fabric. She also picked out a pair of gleaming boots, ones that fit her to her knees and served to compliment the narrowness of her legs. She was very pleased with the ensemble. She was determined to wear it from here on out, for all public appearances. When she was remembered, when her portrait was painted and handed down with history, she would be dressed so. It would help seal the memory of her.

  She didn't think these details trivial. Certainly they weren't as important as her prime purpose, but she had a clear and concise picture in her mind of the full sweep of her life from this point onward. Her place at the University, once the self-contained goal of her existence, would be in hindsight only an interlude, even if in her declining years she elected to return to Febretree to take up a lofty post among the faculty. It would be nothing too demanding, merely enough to keep her mind active. More of an excuse, in truth, to receive the excited visitations of burgeoning war scholars younger than she was now who would be eager to bask in her—

  Merse, who Praulth was keeping furtively in her line of sight at all times, abruptly rose to his feet. In his hand he gripped an old bracelet she recognized as an article he used when he worked the Far Speak magic.

  Her heart quickened. She sat up straighter. The ancillary diplomat from Q'ang, who had been keeping up a steady banal patter next to her, went silent, following her gaze.

  "Is that—" he started.

  Xink was on her other side, standing behind, acting every bit the attentive aide. She felt him edge forward, near enough that she heard his breathing.

  Merse stood there a moment, silent, his features beneath the hat's brim hardened in concentration. Then it broke, and the disconnection was almost visible. He jammed the bracelet back into his coat and started up the aisle.

  "The outer fringes of the armies have just come within sight of each other," the older, wiry-limbed man announced, not addressing anyone on the dais directly, which annoyed Praulth mildly. Clearly she was the personage of highest rank present.

  The minor diplomats broke out into excited chatter. Praulth remained silent, stately, her eyes still on. Merse. She had known from the scouts' reports that the Felk had mobilized, doubtlessly alerted to the Alliance forces by their own Far Speak scouts. The Felk had come to meet the Alliance, without any apparent hesitation.

  Dardas, it seemed, wasn't about to shirk from a fight.

  This would effectively be the very first battle of this war. As yet, the Felk had ably conquered cities and villages without meeting any special resistance. Even the infamous atrocity at U'delph had been merely a one-sided slaughter.

  Premier Cultat was leading the Alliance in the field. Petgrad's respectably sized military was by far the single largest force among the Alliance's array, and so leadership fell naturally to the man most responsible for assembling that Alliance. Cultat knew how this reenactment of the Battle of Torran Flats needed to be conducted. Praulth had seen to it that he was fully versed on the placement of troops, the tactics, every military nuance of that original campaign. If it was carried out properly, Dardas would be lured into a fatally vulnerable position, allowing the Alliance to drive straight through the Felk.

  If it was still Dardas leading that army...

  "Merse," Praulth said, "approach, if you would."

  He had halted at the foot of the aisle. Now Merse lifted his chin to give her a wry look. "What's it you want, Praulth?"

  "That's General Praulth," Xink said, storming forward a step, voice cracking off the auditorium's far walls, as the place had been acoustically designed for.

  Merse let a subtle—and all the more infuriating for it—smile touch his lips. Praulth recalled the naked contempt he'd had for the students at the University. His view was that they should all be eagerly joining the Alliance. Perhaps he still regarded her as one of those "idlers."

  But she would not respond childishly to his attitude. Her position called for a dignified bearing. She had survived the Incident. She would weather this man's opinions.

  Praulth gently but pointedly waved Xink back. He was so... so coiled these days. His anger winding him up. It was his frustration that he hadn't been there to defend her. He wanted to assuage that futile anger by finding the culprit who had assaulted her (this was unlikely, the Petgrad police had said) and by protecting and tending to her every moment (this was becoming rather intrusive, but she was determined to let him do what he needed to do).

  Merse stepped up onto the dais, taking his time, coming to the opposite side of the table where she sat.

  "Was the information you received detailed?" she asked, voice level.

  He shrugged. "Those are good scouts out there. What exactly do you mean?" She knew that those Far Speak scouts were members of Merse's own clan.

  Praulth turned a map around and pushed it across the tabletop. "Could you show where the Felk units are starting to appear?"

  Merse paused a moment, then removed his hat and dropped it beside the map. "Give me something to draw with," he said, stooping. Praulth passed him an implement. He sketched quickly and neatly, pushed the sheet back toward her. "There. That's what you want?"

  Praulth looked at the advancing Felk array. She stared. She felt her eyes glazing. She felt herself entering that physically languid, mentally dynamic state that she had assumed so often before at the University.

  Moments later she blinked her way back to the auditorium. A silence was focused on her. The Q'ang official was turned, watching her. Xink had crept back up beside her. Merse, too, was still standing before her, a frown creasing his leathery face.

  "Where did you go?" he asked, quite softly now, and a small impressed smile replaced his frown as she watched.

  It wasn't the first time she had startled others with the depth of her concentration. Fellow students at Febretree had told her it was like she was asleep with her eyes opened.

  "It is what I do," she said. "It's how I concentrate."

  Merse nodded, seeming to regard her anew. He gestured to the map. "What are you looking for?"

  She met his eyes. "A signature," she finally said, adding nothing more.

  Merse said, "I'll bring yo
u any further communications." He stepped off the dais.

  * * *

  The large municipal building that housed the auditorium was equipped with plumbing and indoor facilities. Xink followed when, later, she went to relieve herself.

  "Xink..." she said, squelching a sharply edged barb; finally saying, "I can do this alone."

  "I know." He halted there in the corridor outside the auditorium. His long dark hair fell around his face. He looked small, turned in on himself.

  Praulth let out a small sigh. "Xink, you've got to come to grips. You can't be present for every single instant of my life from this moment onward. You can't safeguard me, not completely, not forever."

  For a brief moment she thought he was going to start weeping, which would have annoyed her. Instead, he drew himself up straighter, took a step toward her. "I know," he repeated. "But what happened to you will never happen again. I swear that." His tone was hard, unyielding. But there was warmth there as well, compassion for her. He did still love her.

  Praulth ignored the increasingly insistent pangs from her bladder. Immediately following the Incident it had hurt to urinate; since, however, the discomfort had eased.

  "He's coming," she said.

  Xink blinked, nonplussed.

  "Dardas," she said. "I know it's still him. I feel him." Her lips tightened in a smile. The sketch Merse had made on that map had provided scant clues, just the outer shapes of the advance Felk companies. Yet... she had known. She wondered what old Honnis would say to her barely logical, acutely intuitive judgment.

  Praulth turned away, hurrying a bit now, wanting to get back to the auditorium as fast as possible. She would stay there until this was done. He was coming. Dardas the Rapist. And she was ready for him.

  AQUINT (4)

  He almost let out a yelp and jumped to his feet, but restrained himself. Even so, his heart pounded as the shock of the news hit him.

  Radstac was standing inside the doorway of the apartment. It was early morning and Aquint's head was doing its usual whirl whenever he was woken up at such an early watch. He ran a hand through his hair. Cat had heard her insistent knocking and had come to shake him out of bed.

  Now, he was sitting in the outer room wondering if he had really heard her right. Cat stood off to one side. They had said little to each other since Aquint had handed over that innocent addict for Jesile to behead in the square.

  "The Minstrel," Aquint finally said, his mouth feeling pasty and his eyes smarting. "He wants to meet you?"

  Radstac, having said it once, didn't appear to feel the need to repeat herself. She gazed at him with those colorless eyes.

  Aquint shook his head, marveling at the news. He had sent out Radstac and Deo as bogus anti-Felk troubadours, hoping against all reasonable hope that the Broken Circle would be lured by their songs of rebellion. It had been a desperate gamble, frankly, with longer odds than he ever would have considered if this were a game of Dashes.

  "Where and when is the rendezvous?" he asked.

  Radstac recited it. Aquint glanced at Cat, who nodded. They both knew where this location was, a number of streets west of the city's central marketplace.

  Finally, Aquint couldn't contain himself. He stood and let out a hoarse but heartfelt whoop of happiness. The Minstrel! The troublemaker. The bleeder who had forced Aquint to make a sacrifice of that wretched drug addict.

  "We've still got several watches before it's scheduled," Aquint said. He clapped his hands together. Then he said, "Wait. Why did you wait until now to report to me?"

  "Curfew came," Radstac said.

  Aquint waved a hand. "You're an Internal Security agent. You don't have to worry about any of that. Haven't I made that clear?"

  "And if that Broken Circle contact observed us breaking curfew with total impunity?" Radstac asked.

  Aquint considered and nodded. It was an excellent point. He asked, "You're sure this person at the tavern said the Minstrel himself wanted to meet with you?"

  Radstac was sure. She managed to convey this without speaking or nodding.

  She certainly was a hard thing, Aquint thought. Those facial scars didn't make her any more cuddly. Still, that Deo fellow certainly seemed fond of her...

  Aquint frowned. There was no obvious reason why Deo should have accompanied her here this morning. This message she was conveying didn't require the pair of them. Nonetheless, Deo's absence suddenly concerned Aquint.

  "Where, may I ask, is Deo this morning?" Aquint asked, knowing by some instinct that he wasn't going to like the answer.

  He was right.

  Radstac said, just as tonelessly as before, "Deo has deserted his post. He decided he wants to join the rebels. He left me at that tavern and followed the woman out."

  It was one shock too many this early in the day. Aquint fell back into his seat.

  From his twirling thoughts, he grabbed a question. "Did Deo say anything to you before he went?"

  "He asked me if I wanted to join the rebels with him."

  "And you said...?" Aquint prompted.

  "I told him he was being an ass. I threatened to snap his arm if he talked anymore foolishness."

  "What did he say?" Aquint asked.

  "He didn't," said Radstac. "He went scurrying off."

  Silent until now, Cat suddenly asked, "You didn't follow him?"

  Radstac gave him a glance. Then she did something Aquint had never seen her do before. She looked embarrassed. She bit her lower lip and looked at the floor.

  "I, uh, didn't," she hesitated. "Look, we're more than comrades, Deo and I. I didn't want him to do this stupid thing. But I just couldn't—I mean, what could I do? Arrest him?"

  Aquint raised a hand. "All right, all right. I think I understand." He put the hand to his forehead. Now he had a renegade agent to worry about. "Do you think this rendezvous with the Minstrel will still be on?"

  Radstac shrugged. "I don't know. The woman had already left the tavern. Deo may not have caught up to her."

  Aquint drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "But let's assume he did. With his new set of loyalties, would he tell her you two were with Internal Security? If he wanted to warn the Minstrel away from the rendezvous today he would have to tell that woman something. Surely he knows we'll set a trap for the Minstrel." The thought still set Aquint tingling with anticipation.

  "I'm sorry," Radstac said. "I don't know what he'll do. All this was very surprising to me."

  He looked closer at her. Did she look... sad? That, too, was unprecedented. It certainly confirmed his suspicion that she and Deo were lovers.

  Aquint was sorry to have lost one of his agents, especially like this. But if he had to lose one of these two, he was glad he still had Radstac working for him. He was also glad he didn't have to report these details to Abraxis. After all, Abraxis only wanted results.

  And Aquint had damned well better start producing results. This was a choice assignment he had here in Callah. He definitely didn't want to find himself stripped of his position and sent back to that warehouse in Sook, or much worse, sent back into the field. Being a foot soldier had not agreed with him.

  Also, he had Cat to think of.

  Aquint rose to his feet, more deliberately this time.

  "Very well," he said. "It's just the three of us. I don't want to bring Jesile's troops in on this just yet. We don't know how this is going to play out, but we do have a time and a place for the rendezvous. Radstac, you're going to be there. Understood?"

  She understood it.

  "Cat and I will be there, too," he went on, "but you won't see either of us. We'll observe what happens. Maybe nothing will happen. But it's just possible that the Minstrel will show up. We still have a decent description of him. If he's there today, he's ours."

  * * *

  He and Cat made their way to the rendezvous site well ahead of time. The place was an empty lot between two buildings, and it was fairly overgrown with weeds. The street it abutted wasn't a busy one.


  Aquint had dressed in grubby clothes, along with a cloak with a hood. He hadn't bothered wearing his arm sling. It was drizzling. With the hood up, his face was hidden. He wanted himself and Cat to appear as nondescript as possible. This was a poorer district of Callah. Cat, too, had worn more ragged attire than usual.

  Together they surveyed the scene for the best place to observe the empty lot.

  Cat was humming softly to himself. Twice Aquint had caught a glimpse of the boy smiling secretly.

  "Why're you so pleased?" Aquint asked.

  "Because we might be capturing the Minstrel today," Cat blinked back innocently at him.

  "I'm thinking it might be something else," Aquint said blandly.

  The lad shrugged. "I guess one of those agents, at least, wasn't so good a pick."

  For a moment, Aquint felt a stab of anger. This was Cat's jealousy over Deo and Radstac again. The boy had never liked those two intruding on his and Aquint's personal association.

  Then Aquint reconsidered and let out a soft chuckle. Admitting it when you were wrong wasn't always easy. And anyway, it was good that he and Cat were talking again. "Fine, lad. Deo turns out to have been a bad choice for an Internal Security agent."

  "Perhaps a very bad choice," Cat mused aloud.

  "Fine. Very bad. Now, stop gloating, and let's find ourselves a vantage point."

  That place turned out to be a recessed doorway at the corner of one of the buildings. It was a crumbling pile, and Aquint guessed the place was abandoned. From here, he and Cat could observe the whole weedy lot.

  The time for the rendezvous was creeping closer.

  Today, Aquint was armed. He had a short Felk sword under his cloak. The hard length pressed against him, bringing him no comfort. He didn't like weapons any better than he ever had, but if the Minstrel did show up, things were liable to get sticky.