Wartorn: Resurrection

'Rather more than that,' Abraxis said, placing the cloth in a small red carrying bag. 'It's standard procedure for students at the Academy. Also for anyone of high rank or power in the empire. Should you prove to be untrustworthy or lax in your duties, that sample of your blood will mean that we won't have to hunt you down to administer discipline.'

'I see,' Aquint said, feeling suddenly queasy.

'It was my idea,' Abraxis said with a note of pride. 'It was one of the first measures I implemented as chief of Internal Security. It's proven very effective.'

'I imagine it has, Lord. May I ask where that sample will be kept?'

'What do you want to know that for?' Abraxis said.

'Merely self-preservation,' Aquint said. 'If my well-being is tied to that sample of blood, I would like to be assured that it won't fall into the wrong hands. Though you haven't said specifically, I imagine that our work will make us unpopular in certain quarters.'

'That's reasonable,' Abraxis nodded, after a moment's consideration. 'I keep such samples with me at all times. Under the circumstances, I feel it's the safest place for them to be.'

He nodded to the scroll in Aquint's hand.

'The procedural details of your assignment are in there as well. You'll contact Colonel Jesile, Callah's governor. He will give you full cooperation.'

'Does it also detail... my new rate of payment, Lord?'

Abraxis's smile was a bit more sincere this time. 'It does. And you'll be pleased with it.'

'Yes, Lord.'

The corps chief exited the room.

Alone with his thoughts, Aquint reflected on the sudden remarkable turn his life had taken. He tried to imagine Cat's reaction to the news. He would, of course, take the boy along to Callah. They would both be going home. If Abraxis was right about his new authority as an agent, there wasn't anybody who could stop him.

Even as Aquint sorted out his reactions, though, a part of his mind was starting to piece together a plan. There must be some way to switch the sample of his blood that Abraxis carried for another, harmless substitute.

PRAULTH (3)

CLOSING HER EYES without first coupling with Xink would mean seeing lines and arrows and text maddeningly crisscrossing the backs of her eyelids. It would mean restlessness and uneasiness and a

poor sleep. Fortunately she and Xink had sexual intercourse—though she was learning to call the act by less formal, more lively names—each night without fail, oftentimes more than once. He indulged her tirelessly, never seeming sated, always hungry for her body, which she had always thought, if she thought of it at all, as sadly commonplace. He assured her she wore the shape of a passion goddess.

She had discovered that her appetites, too, were boundless, and nightly she was still learning the apparently endless variations of physical love. Xink was a marvelous instructor.

Amusing ... instructor had once meant something quite different to her, back when she'd been a mere student. Now what was she? She didn't rightly know. Her work for Master Honnis consumed her intellectually, while Xink absorbed her emotionally and physically. Her life of late was a very full thing, indeed.

Tonight she slept her usual, sublimely exhausted sleep. They did not wear any clothing in the bed they shared, the big bed with the soft mattress. They held each other, squirmed against each other, nuzzled, and nestled together even as they slumbered. Sometimes, waking a bit, she would feel Xink's rigidness pressing her —his manhood firm and warm, and he still asleep ... at least until she touched him there, and he woke—never complaining, always eager—and they chose from among the dizzying array of options just where inside her that fine fleshy pillar should be placed.

It was not desire for further intercourse that woke her tonight. It was a hand, shaking her shoulder firmly.

She went from dark dreamlessness to the brightness of their chamber in the University's Blue Annex. There was a window set into one wall, but the light wasn't coming from there; and besides, she could feel immediately that she hadn't had a sufficient amount of sleep—two watches at most. It was the dead of night... but the lamp hanging from its bronze hook burned overhead, blinding.

'Praulth—beauty, you must, you must—'

She touched Xink's shaking hand to stop it. She blinked painfully. Despite their intimate relationship, she was secretly still vastly intimidated by him, as though with a few words of criticism or disapproval he could undo everything, every change that had occurred in her, reduce her to the nothingness of... of before. That he had never said any harsh word to her or made any sign that he meant her the least hurt didn't quell the fear.

'I'm sorry to wake you,' he was saying. She could make out his face now, gorgeous as usual and framed by dark cascading hair. 'No choice, though, beauty. Come now.'

She pushed herself up. He was in his robe and holding hers out to her.

'What's ... going on?'

He looked oddly embarrassed, as if caught at something illicit. He shook his head. 'I am to take you somewhere.'

'Where?' She felt alarm now. What was this? Everything had been so stable, so steady for almost half a lune now, a seemingly interminable time, just her doing her work for Master Honnis and Xink seeing to his duties with Mistress Cestrello of the sociology council, and the two of them together every night. Why, why, why was something going wrong now? Did he mean to abandon her? Her young heart shook beneath the breasts that he and he alone had ever touched. 'Where?' she said again, but Xink looked away.

Praulth took her robe and put it on. She was quivering slightly, already feeling herself reducing, her newfound womanhood shrinking away. She gazed after him, as he led the way from the chamber into the Blue Annex corridor. Her feet felt numb as she moved, staying several steps behind him, arms folded around her chest, huddling into herself

She loved him! How could anything possibly go wrong between two people in love?

Did he still love her? He said so often enough, but...

Desperate for other, less fatal thoughts to fill her head, she pictured maps of battle, projecting military movements as she'd been doing quite some while now.

Making Master Honnis proud. Yes, that was still important. Not as important, though, as wanting to make Xink happy—happy so that they would remain together always. Yes, do old Honnis's tasks to the exclusion of all other academic work, so that she could maintain this situation forever, living with Xink

in their wonderful quarters, her days belonging to the Felk war, her nights to ... to ...

They had crossed out of the corridor, descended stairs, were walking some faintly lit underground stretch she didn't recognize; only now she had stopped. Her vision had smeared over with tears. Xink was beside her, laying his strong manly arm across her stiff shoulders and saying, softly, 'Please, beauty ... please, Praulth, you've been summoned. Honnis will be there. Come. Come.'

His breath warmed her cheek. She allowed herself to be guided onward, not looking up any longer. Everything was ending. She knew it. But she would go with him, toward whatever conclusion was waiting.

THE FLOOR WAS earth and chilly. The chamber was a dome, with arched entrances all around. It all looked extremely old. The stone was pocked and crumbling. The bowl of the dome overhead was made of shaped sheets of deeply tarnished brass. It was a wide area, without any furnishings of any kind. Many of the archways were sloppily bricked up, and even those constructions appeared ancient.

Praulth had heard that the University here at Febretree was constructed atop the ruins of some antediluvian stronghold, but she had never seen any supporting documentation and so discounted it.

They had come some distance, and her tears had dried. Xink was still at her side but was stepping back