Children of a Foreign God

by Pam Uphoff

  “And turn off altogether if a person is in there?” Lon eyed the siblings.

  “Huh.” Xen nodded. “Yeah, that would be the easiest way to deal with it.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Q blushed. “Or anything over about five pounds. Not that I expect cats and dogs to be running around down there. But people get so attached to those nasty little dogs.”

  Andrei tapped the prints. “Note the access points, please. Manholes, we call them.”

  “Right. So, then the water mains. All the old embassies said they used to be fine, but now they are losing pressure on their top floors. So we can either make a parallel system down from the mountains and switch some of the newer embassies over to it, or enlarge the size of the pipes from the mountains and branch off sooner for some.”

  Xen flipped back and forth through maps and lists. “Havi and Ras have been doing water and sewer systems for all the little villages on Rip World. And your old partners in Oldham Engineering . . . well they mostly do houses and streets, don’t they?”

  “Yes. I’ll go talk to them about water and sewer pipes. They won’t have the overwhelming . . . Umm . . .”

  “Power? As the old guys? Maybe I can get seven people and join in so there’s some semblance of sticking to the plans . . .”

  “Yes . . . that might limit the excess.” Q bit down on a knuckle. “I’ll get Tres Ninjas to come help with the connections and . . . adjustments.”

  Xen grinned. “We didn’t have to do too much to HQ after the old guys were done.”

  “Other than the steps? Remember the artistically random blocks of basalt they thought would be fun for everyone to climb over? And sinking the front of the main assembly room into the basement, sandstone façade inside . . .” Q sighed. “How about we flag the route well ahead of them?”

  “Yeah, and, granite, do you think? Let’s get slabs and prelocate them as well.” Xen pinched his nose. “Maybe it would be better if we were both available to herd them around.”

  Q nodded. “Let me do some volume calculations . . .” She broke off as Cactus flipped the sheets and tapped a list of . . . everything.

  “Hopefully I’ve got it converted to cubic feet properly for you barbarians.” Cactus eyed them sternly. “Because somehow I was starting to get the idea that standard construction methods weren’t going to happen.”

  “Oh nice.” Xen ran a finger down the list . . . “Let’s just buy the manhole covers. We’ll mold the rock to fit. How many do we need? And when can we get them?”

  Cactus tapped at her computer. “A couple of weeks.”

  “Perfect. I’ll go talk to the Rippers about how they’ve built the village-scale systems, and be back in plenty of time for this week long camp-out get together training session.”

  “The kids are going to camp out?”

  “Well . . . I suppose I could throw something up real quick . . .”

  Cactus muttered something under her breath. Xen pretended to not hear it.

  ***

  White Granite. Nothing grim and dark and foreboding.

  Twenty-seven kids. And not a one of them who knows or cares about me.

  Xen sent an order into a company in Gate City. Furniture, mattresses, linen. Oh bathroom fixtures. Another order, then off to their usual quarry in the mountains to the far north.

  Maybe I ought to have put the magic lessons off an extra week.

  ***

  “So how do you plan out your village sewer systems? You’ve done, what? Four now?” Xen looked down at the ground, “seeing” the dense hollow pipes. “And do you do a second system for stormwater?”

  Ras snorted. “Not needed. I’ve read the old books, what they had to do to treat the sewage. Utterly gross. No, we break down everything in the pipes from each house, and then dump the, umm, mineral rich water into the storm drains. In theory you can get some serious over-fertilization problems, with large cities. Algal blooms then die offs, and fish kills from lack of oxygen in the water.”

  Xen’s Uncle Havi nodded. “You’ll have to watch that, in your city. I always figured you’d just need a mineral precipitating spell that forms balls large enough to be seriously slow dissolving, but small enough to still get washed down stream.”

  Xen nodded. “Or buried in the stream bed. Dredge it occasionally.” He pulled out his maps. “This is what we’re thinking. The ground slopes gently to the west, and just a bit to the north, so we’re going to run everything to the northwest, out to this stream.”

  Ras nodded. “Not that we can’t make it run any direction we want, but why fight gravity?”

  Orion leaned in from the other side. “We’re going to have to do something like that in Rip Crossing. And a bunch of the towns in the New Lands are having issues.”

  Havi snorted. “Yeah, Jin Genaro’s been trying to get the little towns to do something before they have an old fashioned plague.”

  Xen grinned. “So . . . want to come practice?”

  “On a small city?”

  They exchanged glances, and grins.

  Havi twirled his mustache. “Sure. I’ll round up the rest of the Compass and we’ll pop over in a week or so.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Magic Camp

  Ryol was in the first limo to cross over to Embassy. I'm going to meet him. One! I'm actually going to meet him!

  Voyr was wide-eyed and pale. "What if I faint? "

  "Oh, buck up!" Gior was less than sympathetic.

  Yrno leered. "I'll find out what color your panties are."

  Most of the girls shrank away from him. Five girls and four boys in this group. Unfortunately they'd gotten this over-sexed bully

  Ryol, sitting in the front seat, turned and glared. "Do not even try something that stupid."

  The leer broadened. "And who's going to stop me? Your fancy aunt isn't here."

  Ryol flashed her teeth. "So your only worry is how much she taught me." She turned around. They were just turning into the corridor to Gate City, and she wasn't about to be distracted by an ass. She wanted to enjoy every second of her first ever gate transition. And perhaps savor the faint smile of approval on Princess Diuc's face.

  The decontamination station blasted the black limo with jets of water and air. Then they drove straight at a big square of . . . frosted glass? Thin smoke? Pouring rain? The other side was a long ramp to a street. The ramps helped avoid traffic jams. You couldn't stop halfway through a corridor; the effect would toss the car through, no matter what was in the way. She'd read all about it. There was also supposed to be some sort of time dilation effect to stretch out the acceleration needed to match the movement of the far side . . .

  She clenched her teeth as she was stretched, compressed, the limo was thrown out onto the ramp and spat out onto that street. It wasn't at all foggy or smoky. Clear morning light, the street a bit wet, as if it had rained overnight.

  Ryol took a deep breath. I hate corridors. Will I ever get used to them?

  Will I ever be able to make them?

  The street merged with a freeway. People talk about avoiding dumping so much traffic onto city streets, but I’ll bet there’s a heck of a traffic jam out here.

  They exited, and turned into a walled alley, stopped at a heavy gate that looked like it could stop a speeding tank. Beyond, the Secure Gate Area.

  The guard at the entrance was studying his comp. He looked up, looked them over, alert eyed and counting, before he nodded. Tapped at his comp. "Follow the yellow guide."

  Nothing high tech. A zippy little bug, yellow with a flashing yellow light. The gate rolled open. The princess followed the bug down streets and around corners and out into a wide open grassy field, laced with paved roads. Two turns and the light turned off at the end of a short line of vehicles waiting just off to the side of a big arch with a lit sign: EMBASSY.

  The gate itself was a glittering sparkly fog, spinning slowly, like a slow motion whirlpool laid on its side.

  A vehicle burst out of the glitter. A long gray van full
of people. Followed by two more.

  "Carefully spaced out." Ryol murmured.

  Diuc nodded. "They space them to avoid collisions. They aren't as bad as collisions in the old powered gates, but they can be deadly. Here comes the last one."

  Ryol wondered how she knew; the van that popped through looked just like the others. But the first car in line took off at the wave of the controllers wand. And was sucked into the fog. Pause, then a long gray van went, pause, black car, pause, van, pause, truck. And then they were facing the whirlpool themselves. The controller waved. The princess drove forward. They were sucked in, whirled, lights flashed as they shrank and expanded . . . and drove out into a stone courtyard. The limo veered right at the signal from the controller on this side.

  Ryol took a deep breath. "That was interesting." She winced internally at the squeak in her voice.

  Diuc shot her a glance, but said nothing.

  "I thought it was rather ordinary." Foyh sniffed. "Not much different from a corridor."

  Is she pretending to be sophisticated, or did she not see what I saw, feel what I felt?

  Diuc stopped by a tall distinguished gentleman. "Ambassador Ashe." Half introduction, half greeting as the ambassador opened the limo door.

  "Princess Diuc, good to see you again. They've built a 'School of Magic' and dorms for this visit." The man nudged Ryol over closer to Diuc and sat beside her. He talked while he directed them. "We’ll take the scenic route, past Disco. The school took Xen, Q and six new people about seven hours to build it all. Which included a lot of jokes about over-building, alterations, plumbing and installing an independent solar power system. Apparently they can manipulate large masses of rock as easily as we make micro-electronics. It was . . . illuminating, watching them work. At least they used granite, not more of that menacing black basalt." He nodded across the square.

  Menacing. Ryol joined them all in gawping at the big black cubist . . . building as they drove past. It's not menacing. I refuse to be menaced by architecture.

  Next was a modernistic low flat building, all windows, and sharp angles, and a low sign that said "Kitchen" in large letters and "Comet Fall Cuisine" in smaller letters below.

  A horse barn. A lanky young man brushing a shiny chestnut drew whistles from Voyr and Gior.

  "That's probably another half-brother." The Ambassador's voice was a bit dry. "The Comet Fall people seem to think that working in barns and kitchens is good for children. All the Comet Fall people pitch in. Q is an excellent cook—the Kitchen has contests. Informal, but quite fierce, between all the witches around, both at Disco and the Comet Fall Embassy.

  “Not that our offerings aren’t better, during the Fall Festivals every year. I doubt you’ll be here for it. Pity, it’s quite fun.” He grinned. “Turn left here. That white, two-story building is where we’ll be holding these classes. Once we get the school built and staffed and so forth, this building will be dorms for remote students, or it can be additional classroom space. Whatever we need."

  Ryol blinked as she recognized One Izmo, standing outside the ornate front entrance. The short priest was dwarfed by the tall man . . . Dark gray jacket, waist length, lots of pockets. Open to show the black shirt underneath, matching gray pants. Black shoes, or boots, perhaps. He looked like a foreigner, and still was instantly recognizable. Shaggy curly brown hair, instead of the straightened and streaked and professionally cut hair of the spy, Endi Dewulfe.

  Xen Wolfson.

  Her father.

  Ryol watched the tall man sweep down on the car, whip the door open. She swallowed, dry mouthed, and climbed out after the ambassador. Stiff. The other kids clumped behind her.

  His eyes were dark. Nearly black. Like mine. Studying them seriously.

  Yrno, nasty overgrown bully stepped forward first.

  "Yrno isn't it?" Wolfson put his right hand out to shake.

  Yrno took his hand, stepped in close and swung his left under the grip and punched him.

  Wolfson rocked back. Almost unbalanced, he jerked Yrno to the side and lunged forward.

  His left hand reached out . . . toward the gun in Laar's hand.

  ***

  Xen slapped the gun down, his hand closed over the weapon before he got conscious control and realized the child had no idea how to shoot, no idea there was a safety . . . he went to one knee as he took it out of her defeated grip and sighed as the tears started falling.

  "Which one are you?"

  "La . . . la . . . " Hiccupping gasps.

  Laar. No doubt pronounced with a pause in the middle. "Lala, listen to me." He leaned back and looked at the little group, all legs and elbows and big eyes. Especially the biggest one, that he'd dumped on his butt. More kids crowding in as the rest of the cars pulled up and disgorged kids. "And all of you, too. Fifteen years ago, I stopped a war the only way I saw possible. It wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to your mothers, nor the men would ought to have been your biofathers. But a war would have killed thousands, possibly millions. Do you have older brothers? Uncles or cousins? There's a good chance they'd have been drafted. Yes, the Oners would have been drafted, the war would have been fought with magic as well as guns. And a lot of them would have died. They're alive today, because we were able to stop the war.

  "But it's not fair to you. You weren't the people who wanted to attack us. But the main burden has fallen on you, and for that, I'm sorry." He rocked back upright, and extended a hand to the kid on the ground. Who was still gawping at the girl. "C'mon, grab your stuff. Let me show you the school. Then we'll head for the beach, for some basic magical practice."

  They hastily pulled bags out of the limos and followed.

  He led the way past the shocked looking priest, and through the front door. "We'll change things around as needed. The builders got a bit carried away, so we won't actually need to add space, even with all of you here at once. Library over there. This side'll be the classroom. Those two hallways go to the dorm rooms."

  He eyed them to see if they were ready for a bit of humor. "I figured, boys over there and girls here on the right. Because, after all, girls are always right, aren't they?"

  They eyed him.

  "Right. That fell flat. Anyway, those three arches in the middle: despite looking like wood paneling, the right one goes to a spot in the mountains, with hotsprings, the left one to the beach, not for recreation, but because shoving sand around is one of our standard training methods. How that will work with half Oners, well, we'll find out." From all the blank looks, they didn't do much shoving of sand.

  "The middle arch doesn't go anywhere, yet. If we discover someplace we need to go to regularly, I'll stick a corridor to it, there. So, toss your stuff in your rooms—take whichever you want, the keys are in the locks—and we'll take an orientation walk around Embassy. It's warm, so you might want to change."

  Xen waved the kids away, and looked at the adult Oners. And couldn't help but grin. "You three look a bit shell shocked."

  The woman cleared her throat and straightened her back. "And you don't. How often do your children try to kill you?"

  "Well, that was a first. I, umm, was expecting some unpleasantness." He tossed a grin over at the hovering kids. Yrno was still looking overwhelmed, Laar woebegone. "Don't worry. Lala needs some lessons in how to shoot a gun, and Yrno, you need some martial arts training. I'll get you started, this week. By the time I send you home, you'll be much more dangerous."

  "Oh. One." The priest wasn't quite whimpering.

  Xen could feel his grin widening. "Yep."

  ***

  Ryol took Laar's arm and marched her into the first room.

  "Right. Like it or not, I am going to search your luggage. No. More. Weapons."

  The little drip just started crying again. Ryol grabbed her suitcase, plopped it on the bed and went through it. Removed three pill bottles. "Are these yours or your parents?"

  "M, m, f, foster mother's sleeping pills and heart m, m, medicine."

  Ryol stared
at the bottles. Swallowed queasily. "Were you going to poison him, or yourself?"

  "H, h, him. T, t, then . . . but . . ."

  Ryol stepped out and back to the main room. Held out the bottles to Princess Diuc. "I'm not sure whether she's taken anything herself, already."

  "Oy!" Wolfson strode past her, the Princess and Priest on his heels. "Lala! If you hurt yourself, you'll break my heart. Look at me."

  He cupped his hand around the girls face and looked deep into her eyes. Was he a medgician?

  He nodded. "Yes."

  Had he heard her? He nodded.

  Ryol concentrated on tightening up her shields.

  "All right. I broke down all the fancy chemicals in your system, but you'll probably feel pretty yucky for a while. "Now c’mon out and I’ll show you Disco Headquarters."

  Laar nodded, silently.

  Xen stood up and stepped back out of the room. "I'll keep track of her. And as I was about to say, up the stairs in each wing you'll find apartments for the chaperones. Take whichever you want."

  Ryol hustled down to the first unclaimed room, and threw on her most lightweight shirt and plain pants. Running shoes. It sounded like they were going to do a lot of walking today. She ignored the pistol in the suitcase. Dad insisted, but he said I’d better not shoot anyone who wasn’t trying to rape or kill me. And “Master” Xen doesn’t look like that sort of threat.

  She eyed Lala's door—the girl deserved a nickname like Lala—but didn't go in. The princess looked over the group, pressed her lips together and marched off, returning a moment later herding Lala.

  Wolfson looked them over.

  "We're going to start with a stroll past a few places of interest. This is the Northeast Diagonal Road. Not what you’d call an imaginative name.”