"To go where?" asked the spindly, apparently dimwitted lad.

Bryck nearly ignored him, but instead fixed the youngster with a dark gaze and said, "Home."

"To Udelph?" he asked, eyes widening with undisguised astonishment.

Perhaps the boy was a mascot, rather than a true minister, Bryck judged. Ah, bugger them all anyway. He turned from the table.

"You've no home to return to," came quietly from behind. "Don't you know that?"

Bryck halted before he reached the chamber door. He turned the words over in his mind, looking for whatever sense was to be made of them. It was drivel, he concluded. These ministers were idiots, the whole lot. Yet he found himself turning back toward the table.

It was the milky-eyed woman who'd spoken. Her pruned face was twisted into a look of profound commiseration. The others were staring with similar expressions. Despite the mild evening air, Bryck felt a cool fingertip tracing his backbone.

Without conscious will he found himself asking, "What do you mean?"

Silence once more; and now he recognized the tenor of the wordless pause. They were afraid to speak, as one will reflexively hesitate before imparting dire news to the individual it will most affect.

The chief minister folded his hands atop a scattering of paper, set his eyes to the table, then lifted them a moment later. His gaze was solemn.

"U'delph is no more."

Bryck did not react, outwardly or inwardly. Nonsense, was all he thought, the single word clanging through his head.

"Our scouts have informed us that the Felk overran the city last night."

Nonsense. Nonsense.

"It... has not been captured. It has been laid waste to. Likely as an example, so that other city-states will not put up resistance."

Nonsense.