Wartorn: Resurrection

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 Ho

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 A

"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 Ho

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 A

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 Ho

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. Ho

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 now, bowing, flourishing her way forward with his arm as if to present her to someone.

They were not alone in this large underground space that smelled of old soil and rat droppings. There were others. She saw cloaks, armor, sheathed weapons, a dozen figures, more, a few holding the torches that lit this space. And there—Master Ho

"Praulth."

Her name, spoken and echoing, Master Ho

"What's wrong with her?"

This voice was stronger, richer than Ho

Master Ho

"She is nervous," the old, dark-fleshed instructor said.