Wartorn Obliteration

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 you 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)