Wartorn: Resurrection

"Does she have cause to be?"

Xink had vanished somewhere behind her. There was no one else wearing a University robe to be seen but Ho

He took a single step her way now, his gait as assured as his voice. She guessed him to be some five tenwinters old, though he was still too far away for a good look. He seemed to exude a robust poise. Yes, a leader surely.

"Maybe she's got a right to her nervousness at that," he said, answering his own question, staring at her a moment across the intervening distance. "You claim she knows nothing?"

"Only the movements and maneuvers of the war that she has successfully predicted for some time now," Master Ho

A stirring went through the soldiers ranked behind the two older men.

A deep chuckle echoed through the dome briefly. Above, torchlight rebounded among tarnished brass.

"I daresay, elder Master, if I hadn't gone on from this place to truly make something of my life, I imagine you would now be raking me apart for ever daring to leave before achieving Thinker. As I recall, our farewell was ... I'm not sure how to quite put it."

"Enthusiastic?" Ho

"Yes. Mutually so. Couldn't wait to get apart from each other."

Praulth watched the exchange, waiting for it—waiting for this night, for everything—to make sense. She wished only that she were still asleep in bed, in the glow of Xink's warmth.

Now the two men were crossing toward her. Master Ho

He and Ho

"Thinker Praulth," said Master Ho

"Cultat of Petgrad should, I think, suffice." Those blue eyes—full of command and ruthlessness—measured her. His wasn't a kind face, but looking back into it, Praulth felt some inkling that this man might be honorable.

She uncrossed the arms that she still had folded about her chest. She bowed toward him. "Premier," she said, the first word she'd uttered since leaving her and Xink's quarters. It was chilly enough in here to raise gooseflesh beneath her robe. One or the other of those unbricked archways must lead up to the outside and the open night. Probably they were on the periphery of the campus... some secret place.

Cultat continued to scrutinize her. "You had no expectation of my arrival. You have no idea at all why I am here."

Ho

Cultat gave Ho

The field intelligence that Ho

'Taking Trael, as opposed to attacking Grat or Ompellus Prime—both also within striking distance—will drive the Felk deepest into the South. It will effectively open the second half of this war." She spoke almost numbly. She didn't understand what was happening here, and she didn't have the mental energy to try to puzzle it out. Something on a grand scale was occurring, but it was too big for her to see.

The premier's fierce blue eyes studied her. "Why doesn't General Weisel use that transport magic he has at his disposal—attack Trael right now? Why march his army at all?"

"I don't know." This was some sort of test.

Cultat shot another look at Ho

"Perhaps because Dardas didn't have such magics," Praulth added.

"Dardas?" Cultat spoke the name slowly.

"Weisel is Dardas. His tactics are a flawless match. I could cite numerous examples—"

"That won't be necessary," Ho

Cultat's eyes burned Praulth once more. He had traveled here to meet her, she realized. Somehow the war predictions she had been making for Ho

Cultat meant to stop him; but the army of Petgrad, relatively large though it was, couldn't hope to meet the Felk. Cultat had to have an edge, an advantage.

He turned slightly, lifting a hand gloved in leather. Immediately one of the torch-bearing soldiers jogged over. Out of a cloak he produced a small sheaf of papers. Cultat took them, then held the papers toward Praulth.

"Look at these, young Thinker. They are our current intelligence of the Felk advancement, collected by an elite Petgrad scouting force. We've had them in the field some while now. Tell me"—his teeth

glinted briefly in that red-gold beard—"does Weisel truly intend to conquer the entire Isthmus?"

Her hand accepted the papers, familiar-looking lines and arrows.

"Premier," she said, "I find it difficult to believe that anyone with the least inkling of a military sensibility could see it otherwise."

Cultat nodded, and in that moment some hint of his true age shone through. "Unfortunately, Thinker Praulth, military minds are in scarce supply ... now that we need them most."

"I believe that Weisel is intentionally trying to provoke resistance," she said. "That was the true purpose of the destruction of U'delph."

"So you concluded to Master Ho

"But Dardas was known to commit such actions."

"Dardas," Cultat breathed grimly. His eyes flickered to the papers he'd passed her. "You can read that well enough?"

Praulth looked at the sheets, which showed the Felk, Trael, and that city-state's outer environs. The torch-bearer remained nearby, throwing more than enough light on the pages.

"Study this here. Now." Cultat's deep voice brooked no protest.

Master Ho

"I will wait here while you do this," said Cultat. "Tell me, how can we engage Weisel successfully in battle?"

TIME HAD LOST easy definition, but she was done. Had a watch passed or only a few moments? She stood rooted where she'd been standing. The others were still there— Ho

Praulth felt herself swaying on her feet. The ground's earthy chill had bled upward to her knees. This was a new task. This wasn't analytical prophecy. She had been told to devise the countermeasures against the Felk. Against Weisel. Against Dardas. This new task was engrossing, challenging, thoroughly satisfying. Without her knowing it, she had been aching for just this sort of work.

She lifted her head, and Cultat was still there, waiting.

"Battle of Torran Rats," she said; then she explained.

'WHAT HAVE YOU to do with it?"