Wartorn: Resurrection

'Yes, General, it is.' Color was returning to her full cheeks. Her breasts were rising and falling as her breath quickened.

This one understood how arousing a good war could be, Dardas thought with a silent cackle. On impulse, he reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. Her flesh was smooth, young.

Raven froze, then flushed heavily.

The senior staff was gathering around the front of Dardas's tent. He dropped his hand. A mage in dark robes came forward.

Now it was time to bring forth onto this Isthmus a whole new breed of warfare, thought Dardas.

I don't think I want to be remembered as the madman who allowed the dead to roam free into this world.

A huge shock went through him. This was Weisel's voice in his head. Impossible!

More impossibly, Dardas suddenly felt resistance when he tried to move his limbs. It was like someone was pulling them in another direction.

I think you have abused my hospitality long enough.

With that, Dardas felt an overwhelming mental force closing in around his consciousness, strangling him, suffocating him.

It's time you gave me back what you've borrowed.

With a last surge of effort, Dardas forced open his mouth to give the order to the mage. Whatever else happened, his plan would go ahead.

AQUINT (5)

THE GARRISON WANTED blood.

Aquint knew that Colonel Jesile was basically a reasonable man, a fair governor of Callah. But one of his own men had been murdered, clubbed brutally to death, apparently by one of the very people that Aquint had been sent here to investigate.

There was unrest in Callah, and that murder indicated that there were rebels.

Like it or not, Aquint had to act like an Internal Security Corps agent. But since that job wasn't too well defined he'd been relying on his instincts, his baser ones. In Sook, he had solved the mystery of the disappearing goods from the quartermaster warehouse simply by seeing the operation from the eyes of the pilferers.

It was something else to try to think like a rebel. But again he'd had some success.

Colonel Jesile had put him on to finding whoever was responsible for the counterfeiting scheme that had been uncovered. Aquint had personally made a few inquiries among old acquaintances and vendors in the marketplaces, people who would never have talked to anybody but a fellow Callahan, though it took some persuading to convince a few that he was still a Callahan, despite his front of being a wounded soldier on leave. Just about everyone who had a reason to know considered Slydis the best copyist in the city.

Aquint paid the dwarf scribe a visit, finding on the premises of his workshop the ingenious stamps he'd made for duplicating the Felk scrip. Simple, right?

Not quite. Slydis, under questioning, confessed readily to an accomplice. Aquint had his doubts. One way to take heat off yourself was to direct it toward somebody else, even if that somebody didn't actually exist. Slydis, however, provided a good physical description of the man, and even the location of his lodgings. It seemed the dwarf copyist had had the man followed home after one of his visits to the workshop. Probably he'd done so to ensure that if he was ever caught, he would not be solely blamed for the counterfeiting operation.

Slydis had confessed to printing unbelievable amounts of fake money. Gods knew how much he and the other man he'd implicated had put into circulation. That money made all the scrip in Callah essentially worthless. Issuing it in the first place had been a dubious experiment, Aquint thought. Then again, it wasn't his problem, it was Jesile's.

Slydis had admitted to no other criminal activities, with one exception. He had also manufactured a civilian travel pass for his partner.

The Felk governor was understandably furious. He sent soldiers to arrest this other man, but he had fled the scene, eluding capture and murdering a soldier in the process. Now he was at large somewhere in Callah. They had no name for this man, only Slydis's description. In his room they had found only one unusual possession, a musical instrument, a vox-mellifluous.

Another matter had arisen during all this turmoil.

Somebody in the Governor's Office had finally noticed the pattern of vandalism in the reports that Aquint had first requested upon arrival in the city.

They were the brands on the walls and doors that Cat had seen. A circle with a slash through it. Jesile called Aquint in to ask him if it meant anything to Internal Security.

Aquint had wanted to save this ploy until later, when he might find a way to profit from it. But this, at least, would firm up his authority here. Jesile was deferring to him by calling him in on this matter. It was time to capitalize.

'Governor,' Aquint had said, solemnly, 'that is the mark of the rebel underground that I am investigating.'

The Felk governor's hard face was etched with lines of anger. 'And why did you keep this fact to yourself?' he spat.

Aquint met the man head-on, not flinching. 'Because I do not answer to this office, Governor. Your domain is Callah. My jurisdiction extends throughout the empire, and my immediate superior is none other than Lord Abraxis himself!'

He was proud of the display, prouder still that it seemed to work. Jesile backed off.

The very next watch, however, the governor had ordered a city wide removal of all those brands that had mysteriously appeared during Lacfoddalmendowl. It was no doubt an indicator of frustration on the governor's part more than anything. The garrison soldiers had removed doors and chopped down wood posts where necessary to carry out the Governor's orders. Also, Jesile had ordered stricter enforcement of the occupation laws, including public floggings for offenders.

Then the murder had happened, and everything went crazy.

The garrison hit the streets in force, when the word had spread. The soldiers entered homes, seized people. There wasn't much rhyme or reason to it. They were searching for the killer of one of their own, and they weren't gentle or methodical about it. Jesile eventually reined the patrols in, but not until after a number of serious injuries had been inflicted on hapless citizens.

Since that episode, a few days ago now, the Felk had instead conducted systematic searches, without undue brutality. Callah's perimeter security was tighter than ever. No fugitive was going to get out of town unless he got himself transported by a Far Movement wizard, and that wasn't likely. All civilian travel passes had been declared worthless. Slydis had no doubt manufactured a very convincing one for his accomplice.

'Are you sorry now?' Cat asked one day, apropos of nothing.

'About what?' Aquint wasn't particularly in the mood for the boy's habitual criticisms.

'About wishing for this.'

'I never wished—' Aquint started, then caught himself.

Of course Cat was right. He had wanted something like this. He had even thanked the gods for sending a trouble-maker to Callah, so that Aquint's job as an Internal Security agent would stay secure.

'Shut up, boy,' he grumbled.

The problem was, this might be too difficult of a problem to handle, despite the fact that Aquint didn't really know for sure if there were rebels here. According to the evidence, they only knew that the copyist had gotten the idea and the funding for a counterfeiting operation from a second, unnamed individual. That second man had murdered a Felk soldier during his attempted arrest.