by Pam Uphoff
“I hope so. I mean, Ra’d can teleport, but he’s not your average Oner.”
Xen shook his head. “No, but he’s taught Ebsa. Not sure if Paer’s got the hang of it yet.”
“Really? Dammit. Why am I having so much trouble?”
He grinned. “Come back some time and we’ll find out. For the kids, I'll send you some training aids. The kids who can see them clearly might be able to open gates—only about thirty percent of the kids with dimensional talent are actually able to open gates. They'll probably all be able to do corridors, when they’re older.
“And, umm. Tell Urfa I'll consult with my betters about lessons for my Oner kids." He pulled her closer. "Stay the night. And tomorrow. Meet some of our half-Oners, try to worm the teleportation secrets out of me . . ."
And not to say she doesn't feel what she's showing, but she wouldn't let it show without a reason, without wanting a specific response from me. Or, more likely, Urfa wanting a particular response from me. If magic lessons for kids is all, no problem.
***
“Have you met Ruff Hasty?”
Rael blinked, shook her head.
“Come along then, he’s posted here at the embassy. When I was a raw green lieutenant myself I had an interesting encounter with a woman whom I later learned was a Oner Agent of some sort by the name of Hoon.”
“Yes, a Dancer, undercover as a maid in Rior’s entourage. Whatever happened, she dropped out of sight until she contacted an exploration team across one of your gates. And was killed in the battle there.” She followed him across the bridge and out of the grotto.
“Killed by the commander of the invasion, or at any rate, the ranking officer on the ground.” Xen shrugged. “In any case, Ruff is mine and hers, but he’d bonded with a man, a musician who worked for her, and Kipp finished raising him. His younger brother, Mars, was adopted by my Aunt—have you met Obsidian? Right. His father was Marty Beta, AKA the God of Art. He’s . . . nineteen and starting his two year rotation.”
“Whatever that is.” Rael got stern looks from the soldiers on duty at the Comet Fall West embassy. I wonder when they changed the name? Probably about the time the other polities decided to open embassies here.
“Ah, young Lords are expected to spend two years rotating through four posts, to be evaluated as potential officer material. The best get recruited. Yes, I’m one of the ones they wanted.” He pointed at the young officer in charge. “As was Lieutenant Hasty. Ruff, this is Rael Withione . . .”
“Yeah, she’s on all the ‘Known Foreign Agents lists.’ I’d have to check to see if her visitor’s pass is still valid.”
“Don’t bother. She’s just curious about Oner-Fallen kids, being one herself.”
The fresh faced young man looked her over and grinned. “Bran Butcher?”
Rael slapped a hand across her face. “Arg!”
“There’s a family resemblance. Didn’t realize he’d gotten onto the One World.”
Rael dropped her hand and sighed. “My biomother was an Action Team Leader, assigned here. I believe there was wine involved.”
“Of course there was wine involved. You’re just lucky there weren’t any goats.”
Hand to face again. “I do not want an explanation of that.”
“Actually, if that pass is still valid, I should take you meet the Karista Bay witches. You can try to guess which five are half Oner.”
Ruff dimpled, suddenly looking a lot like Xen. “Do you have your pass, Miss?”
“It’s probably somewhere in my bubbled stable . . .”
Half an hour later, she trotted Carousel through the gate, right behind Xen on Pyrite.
The Karista Bay Pyramid of witches was so different from the Mount Frost Pyramid it boggled the mind.
Where Ash had sported neat vegetable gardens behind each tidy small-or-sprawling house, Hell’s Island sported a massive mansion surrounded by a barely tamed ornamental garden. The women were dressed in city fashions, rather than the shifts, over vests, and belts of the village.
They wore makeup and drooled worse than the big dogs when they caught sight of Xen.
At least the dogs were friendly—as soon as Xen spoke to them.
The witches, on the other hand . . .
“Ooo! Look who showed up on our doorstep!” A gorgeous woman with jet black hair, eyes gleaming with amusement.
“This is Inky, the archetype of Little Miss Trouble Maker.” Xen looked over the approaching crowd. “Looks like everyone is here.”
Eleven women, and then teenagers and little kids, appeared from all over.
Xen stepped away from several women getting quite close to him and nodded to a woman with light brown hair with a tint of red in it. “Good morning, Trump. Have I just interrupted a family get together?”
“No, we just got back from the Island, and haven’t dispersed back to wherever, yet.” Trump set an eagle eye on the crowd. “Beige, Yoderite? Take their horses and put them up.”
The two who were trying to climbed all over Xen pouted, but took the reins and led the horses away.
The pale, almost white-blonde nodded politely to Xen. “Good to see you again.” And frowned. “Keeping dangerous company, I see.” A little bitter edge to her voice.
“Yes. Rael Withione Al Media Montevideo, this is Heliotrope, and her mother Trump who is the Senior Sister of the Karista Bay Pyramid.” He threw out names while pointing. Two minerals, then colors and a familiar name and face.
“Well, three of you got colors that match your hair. Heliotrope, I’ve seen pictures of, from the infiltration. And I met Princess Mihaela, wow has it been two years?”
Mihaela grinned. “It’s been a bit busy for you. Quite the spectacular wedding for the President’s daughter, and then that mess with those tangled up worlds. Staven and I did the tour of a couple of the Barren Worlds . . . Algae Worlds? And the pattern was . . . well frightening, frankly.”
Rael giggled. “Is the dead dinosaur still stinking?”
“It’s pretty faint now, I mean, it’s been a year.” She grinned back. “I’ve gained an appreciation for vultures. It’s weird to think of all of what would be lying around putrefying without them eating most of it.”
“Eww! Really Mihaela! The things you do for that man!” The redhead—Scarlet?—looked past them. “Speaking of whom . . .”
Mihala grinned and pounced on the tall man.
That curly blond hair all the royal family sports . . . Prince Staven, Crown Heir, second in line for their crown.
“So. You’re the one who caught Xen.”
Rael turned back. “Heliotrope. Were you fishing for him?”
A snort from Inky. “Throwing herself at him. Settled for a Normal when she finally realized Xen thought she was worthless.”
Heliotrope growled faintly.
Rael giggled. “Oh you really are a troublemaker, aren’t you? How does that work anyway? Do you just walk around saying the nastiest thing that comes to mind?”
Inky glowered at her. “Yes. So tell us, how did you catch Xen?”
Rael thought that over. “I think partly because as an enemy agent I fit the femme fatale archetype for the God of Spies. And of course, being happy and enjoying life never hurts.” She giggled and bounced over to Xen who’d drifted off to talk to a very tall fellow with white-blond hair and improbably blue eyes. Who was leaking deep, deep power through substantial shields.
The God of Just Deserts.
He looked over at her with a smile. “Yep. Good and Bad. Mind you, the bad ones get the most notice. Would you like a puppy?”
“Umm . . .”
Xen shook his head. “It’s Pig’s fault. For a total of nineteen puppies.”
The Old God—who looked perhaps thirty years old—shrugged. “I keep trying to get Xen to take them away and find them homes. I’ve got them double bubbled at the cute stage, but somehow he doesn’t seem to think spreading Hell Hounds across the Multiverse is a good idea.”
“They are rathe
r . . . large and in the wrong situations, quite dangerous.” Rael bit her lip. “I’ll ask if the Exploration people, or the Presidential Guards would be interested.”
Xen snorted. “Maybe I should take Pig to Versalle for a demonstration. They’ll either take all the puppies or run away screaming.”
“Screaming, if they’ve got any sense.” Prince Staven joined them. “Prince Xen, Lord Hell. And what is the correct address these days? Warrior Rael?”
“Oh Dear. We’re trying to be low key about it. Umm, Princess, which isn’t at all your sort of princess, would probably be best.”
“The extra confusion being a desired end?”
“Oh, I think all of you know enough about us now to understand that the title means ‘lots of magic genes and good training’ or . . . well, ‘assigned watcher, prepared to kill.’” Rael shrugged. “I’m starting to gain an outsider’s view of my customs. I just hope we’re not quite as bizarre as I’m beginning to think.”
Grins all around.
“I suspect, that given the multitude of cultures we’re all running into these days . . .” Staven frowned in thought. “. . . yes, I think you Oners are right out at the bizarre end of the spectrum.”
Rael giggled. “Oh. Well.”
Prince Staven looked thoughtfully at her. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you again, but I’m afraid Mihaela and I are expected at a function tonight, so the primping needs to start soon.”
A groan from Mihaela. “Already? Then you’d better sweep me away, and take me to your castle.”
Rael glanced at Xen. “So, how come you haven’t swept me away to a castle? Prince?”
“I’m working on it.”
She eyed him. “Really?”
“Yep.”
They stayed for a buffet dinner of chaotic proportions, with conversations generally centering on clothes, men, upcoming balls, and how to steal Xen from Rael.
She was feeling seriously overwhelmed by the time Xen fetched the horses.
Carousel was energetic and bouncing. Pyrite clomped along tiredly, ignoring multiple neighs behind them.
Rael looked worriedly at Pyrite.
Xen just shook his head. “I suspect Beige and Yoderite thought it would be amusing to dose them—and an opportunity to steal a few stud services themselves.”
“They gave the horses the Wine of the Gods?” Rael glanced behind. “How many mares do they have?”
“Around a dozen.” Xen patted Pyrite. “He’ll be proud of himself once he recovers.”
Rael aimed her prancing mare at the corridor. Waited until Xen and Pyrite were through. “So it’s an all-purpose, all-species potion?”
“Yep.”
“And what is Lord Hell going to say when all of his fancy carriage horses all foal at once?”
“He’ll shrug and say ‘Again?’ I’d say ‘poor fellow’ except he utterly dotes on his huge family.”
Rael ran her hands through her hair. “Good Grief. Anything further from Ash is hard to imagine. So . . . I’m going to guess Heliotrope’s part Oner, and that’s why she was part of your infiltration team.”
“Technically, it was Easterly’s team. Yes, she spotted the . . . differences in our glows, so we could adjust and look more like Oners.”
“Was she throwing herself at you?”
“Umm, school girl crush style, without a bit of insight into what attracted me, who I really was. I was a bit . . . well, I had to get bluntly, verbally, brutal to get her to stop.”
“Oh dear.”
“And she’s married to a fellow she adores, who loves her deeply and keeps her busy.” Xen glanced over at her, grinning. “Yet another reason the Ash Witches find the Karista Bay witches so appalling. Three of them have gotten married! The horror!”
Rael snickered. “And did I see a little stiffness between you and Staven?”
“Oh . . . when his brother was murdered, most of the suspects—the people who gained from it with an upward leap in the order of succession—were people he knew, respected and sometimes loved. As an outsider, I was safe to hate, to hope I was the killer. He tried really hard to find evidence I was the assassin. There’s still some defensive bristling there. No big deal.”
“Really?”
“Really. I thought his suspecting me was amusing, which really irritated him.”
Rael giggled. “Well, I can see that. Good grief, you were starting to terrify me before the assassination attempt. Don’t give me that innocent look. I feel like an idiot, never thinking you could be an actual foreign spy. We were running around in circles, going ‘Must be an Isolationist! No, a resurgent Strong Federalist! No wait! Multitude Supreme!’ Stop laughing!”
“Looking back, the whole thing was insane.” Xen tossed a grin her direction. “Worked, though. Stopped the invasion dead in its tracks.”
“No it didn’t. The assassination attempt did that.”
“Oh. Well . . . In my darkest moments I wonder if my seduction scheme didn’t trigger that. If General Akja discovered his wife was pregnant . . .”
Rael hesitated then shrugged. “I probably ought to manipulate your guilt feelings . . . but they’d set up the foundations for the assassination before you arrived. They started plotting within days of Orde’s election. Your hanky panky with their wives may have made them speed things up, before General Akja lost face. Did you know his wife Noac had triplets? Two girls and a boy.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Speaking of games with the wine.”
“What? You didn’t dose all of them?”
“Well . . .” He eyed her, looking uncertain. “I really did have to dose you. You were bleeding so much, and I could barely stop it. Couldn’t do anything else . . . had to save myself.” He looked away.
Ashamed? Why? That he didn’t give me everything, at the cost of his own life?
“You did enough. Saved us both.”
He gave a wry smile. “But I’m supposed to be perfect, god-like and omniscient. And no, I don’t believe it, but I could do better. These children I’m going to try to train . . . are probably my most shameful failure.”
Rael pondered that as the horses turned into the road through the empty field that bordered their gate to Embassy. “If . . . you ever again refer to those children who are my niece, nephew, and children as shameful failures, I will beat the crap out of you.”
She trotted Carousel ahead, and through the gate.
Xen followed shortly. “I meant a moral failure on my part.”
“I know. And I’ll still beat the crap out of you.”
Chapter Five
Public Works
Xen drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, we made the rules, so we’d best follow them. We’re going to have to let Neo Helios come and build an embassy.”
Glum nods around the table.
Lon scowled and nodded. “Right. We’ve also got petitions from Tyrant’s World, the Dispossessed Refugees World, and connecting through the Maze, probably courtesy of the Smugglers, those weird Arbolian Priests—except the servants they took with them rebelled, and now everyone is equal, and shares nicely. Until the next revolution.”
Karl shrugged. “Tyrant’s and Refugees’ probably can’t afford to buy a plot, let alone build anything. But since they’re just a gate away, no reason they can’t . . . send someone over to keep an eye on what’s happening here.”
Julianne sniffed. “I doubt the Arbolian offshoot can either.”
“We need a hotel.” Chris Hanger added.
Xen shook his head. “No one is interested. However, why don’t I reserve four plots for them, and put in a minimal sort of building on each one . . . So we know where to find them if we need to talk to them.”
“Something like that ‘Great Stone Inn’ you made a few years ago?” Sommer Albrecht looked up the table at him.
“Well, I was thinking smaller, but I do have the plans for that. So it would be easy.
“However, Lon." Xen hid a smile as the old man eyed him
suspiciously. "It occurred to me to wonder if we needed to expand some city services."
That got him a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, now, do you really need to look so skeptical? I was just looking at our overflowing school and wondering how many embassies had schools, and whether public schools, you know, letting the kids from all over mingle and get to know each other, would be a disastrous idea or not."
Inso shook his head. "Bad idea, Master of the Multiverse. When Oners start feeling the Power of the One, their control can get iffy, and they're a bit dangerous around the Multitude."
Xen frowned. "I don't recall many problems in Ash, but that was a small community, where everyone knew everyone's parents by their first names."
Everyone perked up at the mention of Ash. No doubt taking mental notes of anything he said about the near mythical "Magic Village."
Especially the new foursome. Cove Islands and Discordia, Old Gods help me!
Inso looked casual. "Oh? Thought everyone there was magical."
Xen snorted. "Three quarters, possibly a bit more. You guys can openly take notes if you want, the only people we'd want to hide it from already know where it is."
Inso and Lon both tried to look innocent. One of the other agents, from a Rain-of-Fire Book Earth, grinned. "Did Earth and One both attack it?"
"Only the Empire. Haven't you heard about the Action Teams that got eaten by dragons?" Xen sent a grin down the table. "The Earthers had moles in place—Andrei Andrews, here, plus Damien Malder and company—and they dropped in, at every possible excuse. Until they got recalled. Dear god. The idiots they put in their place. It's embarrassing. Yes, Lon. Please, please, pass that on. We keep having to rescue them from snotty nobles who don't like being talked down to. Sooner or later we'll be too late and they'll get the crap beaten out of them. Or get fresh with the wrong women and find out about witches first hand."
Andrei snorted. "Like those idiot men I was with didn't get into trouble?"
Lon sighed. "I'd tell them to send Malder back, but you had him pegged immediately too, didn't you?"
"We had people all over the gate camp. Before they ever left to infiltrate us." Xen grinned. "I probably ought not admit that we lost track of them for more than a year. Lefty says they cleverly painted their wagon, and lost all the knotheads who were supposed to be watching for them."