Wartorn: Resurrection

otherness there.

Yet, very strangely and despite its alienness, something about that realm had seemed ... familiar. It was as if he recognized the place without having any memory of it at all, as if he was remembering something from a dream. It made no sense.

Yes, a strange war this was. But it was war, nonetheless. And war was the environment in which Dardas thrived. It was, in fact, the only state of reality in which he felt at home. That was why he had risen to such heights as a military commander in his first incarnation. The Northland had provided him with a virtually endless series of adversaries, peoples, and rival armies to be conquered.

He loved war. And he would do anything to preserve it. He had never wanted a final victory, never wanted to see the end of all hostilities.

Naturally, he did not wish to see the end of this war. But if war was to continue, he needed a foe, some force to stand against his growing army.

U'delph's ruthless destruction had real purpose. It was meant to horrify the remaining Isthmus states, yes, just as he'd told Matokin. But Dardas didn't want to provoke surrender. No. He wanted to goad the remaining city- states into action.

Perhaps you could requisition a student directly from the Academy.

Weisel caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered, assured that the Felk nobleman hadn't overheard his thoughts.

What's that you say?

You were wondering about magic and magicians. Someone straight from that Academy in Felk where they train them might be able tell you what you want to know.

Dardas considered. It was, he had to admit, a sound plan.

That's afine idea. My thanks.

Glad to help.

There was no mistaking the preening tone of the thought. Weisel was an idiot, but Dardas wasn't one to reject a good scheme simply because he didn't like where it came from.

He finished his drink. Then he called again for his aide and told the officer what he wanted. The comely young woman was brought to him immediately. She was different than the one he'd had last time, which was good. Life offered many possibilities, and Dardas, now that he was alive again, meant to enjoy as many of those possibilities as he could.

AQUINT (2)

'STAND EASY . . . AQUINT, is it?'

'Sir?'

Aquint maintained his rigid stance, unsure of what the order meant. He was still getting used to this

military lingo. It was ironic that, though he still didn't really consider himself a soldier, he had nonetheless

been promoted. • 'Relax,' the officer expanded, waving at the seat opposite his desk. 'Sit down. You

make me tired just watching you. We're not as spit and polish here in the quartermaster's as they are out

there in the field. Make yourself comfortable while I read these orders.'

Aquint did as he was instructed and peered curiously about as the officer pored over the scroll he had

just been handed. Aquint had been ordered to report to this warehouse in the city of Sook. Not much of

a city-state, he judged. Shabby, in fact, compared to Callah. But it was now a part of the growing Felk

Empire, owing to its recent unequivocal surrender. Apparently spines didn't grow strong among the

people of Sook. Callah, at least, had put

up a decent, if inadequate, resistance before giving in to the Felk.

The warehouse looked pretty much like any other warehouse he had been in, including his own. There

were stacks of materials with aisles running between them, and men and women wandering about in

seemingly aimless patterns loading and unloading wagons. Much of the material was more war- oriented

than he was used to seeing, with stores of weapons and armor, and there were wizards present, but other

than that, he had the strange feeling of coming home.

He had been surprised by this posting, thinking a 'transportation officer' would remain in the field with the

wagons and equipment. But of course supplies had to come from somewhere, and this warehouse was

one of those places.

'Brand new officer, eh?' the man said, glancing up from the scroll. 'Well, no matter. We can use any help

we can get right now. I notice you aren't wearing an officer's uniform. Why is that?'

'I was told I was being transferred here to take a posting as a junior officer,' Aquint said. 'Nobody told

me if the new rank was effective immediately or after I started work in the new position. I thought it

better to dress the part too late rather than too early.'

'Mmm. Probably the wisest course,' the officer nodded. 'Have you had any previous experience?'

'Not in being an officer. No, sir,' Aquint responded.

'Well, no matter. I was a shopkeeper in Felk myself before this war started. You'll catch on quick

enough. Tell me, what do you think the job of an officer is?'

Aquint hesitated, then shrugged. 'As near as I can figure, it's like any other manager or supervisor. You

do as little as possible by delegating everything to others ... sir.'

The officer gave a quick bark of laughter. 'Well put. And better than most answers I've heard.' Then he

sobered slightly. 'Of course, there's another side to it as well. You also get to take the blame for anything

that goes wrong in your command. I should know. I just spent the morning getting chewed out by my

own superior for something I have no control over.'

'Sir?' Aquint said, curious in spite of himself. 'Lost material,' the officer growled. 'Lost? Between here and the field?' The officer nodded. 'We send material directly, if you know what I mean.'

Ah. The wizards, Aquint thought. They were transport mages, and they sent supplies to the troops in the field through those portals. It was an impressive way to keep an army supplied.

'And still they're saying that the shipments are coming up short, despite the spot check inventories I've implemented,' the officer said unhappily. 'How much is missing?'

'According to the numbers people, about ten percent.' 'That's too much,' Aquint said thoughtfully, an idea starting to form in his mind.

'That's exactly what my superior said,' the officer said, peering closely at his new charge. 'It sounds like you know something about this kind of operation.'

'I used to run a freight and hauling outfit in Callah before the Felk came,' Aquint said. 'You expect a certain amount of loss to pilferage from the help, stuff that 'falls off the wagon.' But ten percent is too high for casual theft. It sounds like someone is running an organized ring right under your nose.'

'I see,' the officer said, rubbing his chin. 'You know, Aquint, it sounds like you can be a lot of help to me after all. Any suggestions as to what we can do?'

'Just one, at the moment,' Aquint said. 'Does anyone except you and me know I'm being assigned here as