Wine of the Gods 08: Dark Lady

by Pam Uphoff

  "Third time is enemy action." She climbed to her feet and stepped back through the gate.

  From a hundred feet away she could feel the man and woman worrying. It stopped abruptly, and she looked up at the big man.

  "You can't shield me forever."

  "Just long enough for you to get a good recognition, so you can come back any time you need to. Here. Right in front to the front doors, barely off the road. Can you feel it, or is that something you can't try yet?"

  "I've been making corridors. Yes, I see how this location stands out. I don't know anything about traveling, otherwise."

  "Teleportation, if you're feeling scientific." He touched her shoulder, and they were abruptly elsewhere. A porch of warm wood, looking over a slope down to a creek. To the left three immense trees rose into the night. She could hear the crickets chirping, and felt the man's extended shield fade.

  "It's very quiet." She could feel her tension unwinding.

  "It has always been like this, even when twice as many people lived in the Valley." The man turned and walked inside, and she followed, inhaling the fruity aroma as she wandered through the winery, into a sitting room, with three other doors. The open one led to a bedroom. "Kitchen there," he pointed left, and opened the third door. A library, with a desk, a comfortable chair with its back to a high window and one, no, two other doors. One was not easy to see, either physically or mentally. The other led to a room stuffed with even more books. Wolf eased past the tall shelves, and opened the door at the far end. A dusty room, with a sturdy table, windows and a door to the outside. Also full of books.

  "It would be quiet and private, back here. Do you want it?"

  She opened the door. Peeping of frogs, a faint sulfur smell of a hot spring bringing a sudden feeling of belonging.

  "Yes."

  "There's a hammock around the corner. Relax, and I'll move some books."

  She eyed all the books.

  "Oh, I'll scoop them into a bubble, and sort them out later."

  She chuckled and sought out the hammock.

  The morning light woke her, and she startled guiltily, nearly tipping herself out of the hammock. But Quail was sleeping peacefully right where she'd laid her before stretching out in the hammock. She herself had acquired a blanket. It was peaceful and still, and she ignored her complaining stomach to enjoy the sensation of quiet all around.

  When Quail stirred, she slaughtered the quiet with accusations of starvation. December . . . Rustle . . . fed her quickly, and then sought the indoors and dry diapers. The room had changed overnight, and was now spotlessly clean with a thick mattress directly on the stone floor, and coverings that teased her mind with familiarity, shelves, a dresser, a cradle and a table the perfect height for changing babies, piled with clean diapers, clean baby clothes and a jug of warm water and her saddle bags.

  Clean and dry, Quail nursed again, and then searched the room with curious eyes.

  "Let's go see if the Wolf's kitchen is ordinary or magic." December, Rustle, suggested.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Spring, 1376 PE

  Ash, Comet Fall

  The kitchen certainly looked magic.

  It also contained the Wolf and a boy.

  She pulled her eyes away from the glowing stick-figure numbers on what might be a stove, and took a deep breath. Next problem.

  The boy shook his head. "I'm being really quiet, I won't be a problem."

  He had shaggy brown hair in need of a haircut, deep dark blue eyes, and seemed a bit undersized for six.

  "Almost seven. Just four more months." He craned his neck and she lowered Quail.

  "Wow, she grew a whole bunch." He hopped up and leaned on her while reaching out to let the baby grab his finger.

  She sat down and the Wolf slid a plate of pastries her direction. "I brought the horses and your parents back. They promised to ask before visiting and to not check on you mentally. They are trying very hard to behave."

  "Gramps is upset and yelling." Xen said. "Gram is upset and having a quiet upset tummy. Dad told them off and threatened to strand them somewhere far away if they didn't learn some basic mental discipline. Gramps went off to be a goat for awhile."

  "Umm." She snagged a cheese pastry, still warm, and savored the rich buttery taste.

  The Wolf chuckled. "Does 'the Black Goats of Scoone' bring back any memories?"

  She nodded. "I remember both a myth and that it was recent, and the goats were really nasty."

  "Eight wizards who rebelled against the Tyrant Wizard got turned into these really nasty goats. Dydit was actually just a young apprentice, none-the-less he spent about eight hundred years as a goat, and when he's really upset he deals with it by reverting."

  She frowned. "I threw a couple of transformation spells at that god. A goat one, and a dragon spell." She licked her fingers and eyed a donut.

  "Really? I'd figured Nil was the only one that knew them."

  Xen giggled. "I can see the goat spell when Gramps changes. It's very fancy." He looked at December . . . Rustle. "Can I change into a dragon? That would be fun."

  "I think you need to be a bit older." She frowned. "Although I really don't know how fast your magical ability is growing . . . do I know a lot of dragons?"

  Wolf nodded. "All thirteen of them. Although there may be more around now, the girls grew up pretty fast."

  "Umm. Hmm. If I don't remember pretty soon, I may start wanting some stories."

  "Can I hear them too?" Xen was all bright-eyed, and not a single leaking thought.

  "I don't suppose you could teach your grandparents how to shield like that, could you? You are very good at it." She munched the donut, and accepted a cup of hot cocoa.

  He flashed her a smug grin. "Nobody calls me slow any more."

  "Did they used to? Me?"

  "Nope, you're my Mommy. You even let me have three puppies."

  "Hmm, thus elevating myself into parental paragon."

  "Yep." He leaned over Quail and kissed her. "I have to go to school now."

  "All right. See you later."

  He ran out, leaving her blinking.

  "Can I possibly be responsible for a kid that nice? And how far away is school?"

  The Auld Wulf chuckled. "You are, and perhaps a mile. He has a horse, one of the special ones, a two year old gelding that takes him everywhere."

  He pointed. "There's a very posh bathroom over there, if you want me to take Quail for awhile."

  She wondered if the bathroom would be as baffling as this kitchen, and handed the baby over to him.

  It was pretty straightforward, Jeram style with the toilet right there, by the huge bath tub. Two knobs for the single spigot—one for hot water and one for cold. Handy. She luxuriated in water at just the right temperature, wonderful soap, marvelous shampoo, big fluffy towels, a warm robe. She checked the mirror. Uneven hair, but her ear looked . . . not too bad. Pale and untanned. A bit small, yet. She found scissors in a drawer and roughly evened up the hair on the other side. Fluffed it enough to make her uneven ears less noticeable.

  Just as well I'm too confused to be feeling romantic. I'm definitely not at my best, just now.

  A search of the furniture in her room produced clothing her size, in the same style as those she'd found in her saddlebags.

  She changed into a light shift and heavier outer gown, and went in search of the Wolf.

  Wolf walked into the sitting room, empty handed, about the same time she got there. "Can you handle Dydit, briefly?"

  "Morning inspection?" She was too relaxed to even resent an over-anxious parent. "My family. . . Perhaps he can keep his shield up?"

  "I've talked to him about it. He opens it a crack, I'm going to swat him. Hard. Your whole family is very powerful. And well trained. They've gotten sloppy, but they're tightening up fast." He strolled out the door, and she followed.

  Apparently Dydit was nearby. She patted her side, no sword. I don't need to carry a sword. The war's over. And I'm go
ing to meet my father, not an enemy.

  He was walking in the vineyard, Quail in his arms. She could see a pretty chestnut mare tied to a big tree where the small valley they were in opened up onto a grassy slope. The mare neighed and stomped about unhappily, and the reason zipped by at a gallop. An angular foal, not very old. The mare stomped and called as it whipped out of sight.

  "I should have kept your Phantom." Dydit said. "I bred mares last year, until I ran out, and now I don't have any I can ride. That one was an accident. Really, I had no idea that old dun hulk of Harry's was a stallion. I don't ever remember much in the way of foals around here, til Nil went crazy. He thinks the old fellow must gotten some wine."

  The Auld Wulf snorted. "Puberty is an evil trick to play on a horse that old." They all walked down to watch the bounding filly.

  "She's a month old, and I thought Sunny could use an outing." Dydit shrugged.

  "She's cute. Look at the stripes down her back and across her withers." Rustle said. "Call it a lucky accident."

  "Ha! You haven't seen the wreck that sired her."

  Rustle frowned. "Wasn't there an old dun horse, big friendly thing? He used to hang around when I read things out loud. I used to do it all the time, because it was so funny to see a horse listening to magic lessons."

  Dydit sighed. "Serves me right. You remembered Harry's cart horse before you remember me."

  The Auld Wulf was frowning at something. "At least she ought to have a good disposition. That old dun has got to be the easiest going horse I've ever known. All Harry's orphans ride him and drive him."

  Dydit snorted and jiggled Quail. "Would you like a nice horsie?"

  "She's a little young." Rustle pointed out.

  "None-the-less, she now has a horse."

  The Auld Wulf chuckled. "Good thing Nil keeps most of the horses over at his place. All of the mares, I think."

  Dydit studied the branches overhead, then grinned. "Well, you know Nil, never paid a stud fee yet. When Gre came back with a tale about something happening to Sunny when she was tied up to this tree, we figured that must be what Rustle did, to get Phantom."

  The Wolf nodded. "Exactly. But I, umm, fixed that hole."

  "Yeah. Well, Nil got all excited, grabbed three of his best mares, gave them each a slug of that wine, and hauled them up here. Waited and didn't see a stallion. Walked away, in case the horse would only come when no one was around. Came back and found that old flea bag giving the best mare his best try. Of course they all three took."

  The god laughed. "Oh, serves him right. I'll just have to ride Jet down and comment on his foals." He grinned at December . . . Rustle. "Nil has started a local tradition of sneaking breedings to good stallions. He considers your acquisition of Phantom to be an absolute coup, even though it really was an accident."

  Dydit had his shields completely and well under control, and December . . . Rustle relaxed. They kept the conversation on horses, with only a few "Do you remembers." And she almost did remember a tall dun mare, apparently Sunny's dam. The much mentioned Sun Gold was Sunny's sire.

  She blanked though, on Rusty Junk, who was apparently Phantom's dam.

  "I haven't the faintest idea where she is," Dydit said.

  "She's in Jet's bubble. I was keeping her safe from the comet, and Jet likes the company." The Auld Wulf said. "Whenever you want her, Rustle, she is, umm, subjectively about five years old, and probably in foal again."

  "If you don't mind, leave her there until I can, until I have someplace. Or at least until my head doesn't hurt every time I'm near people. No, err, father, you're doing fine today."

  Reminded, he took his leave shortly after, taking frantic Sunny and her foal home.

  "You were thinking of something." December . . . Rustle studied the Auld Wulf.

  "Harry's old dun. That horse has been around just about forever. It kind of wandered in one day, and just stuck around eating grass. It never tried to eat my vines, so I just ignored him. When Harry moved the tavern here, he put him to work every once in a while, hauling firewood and manure. The horse looked ancient then, umm, almost nine hundred years ago."

  "Nine … hundred?"

  "Yes, that's about the time I gave up on influencing Scoone, and shifted everything here. I still popped back to see what Harry and Gisele were up to, to try and help her grandson in that poisonous . . . anyway, they finally gave up too and came out here. About thirty years later Nil walked in with his sheep and goats. I don't know why it has never occurred to us that the horse has been around forever. I think I shall have to buy those three other foals."

  "Going into horse breeding?" December . . . Rustle glanced at the vineyard. It looked quite lush, and a bit wild.

  "Well, yes, I've a bit of catching up to do. But a few extra horses around might be handy. Would you like to take a look at the valley? It has been your home for most of your life."

  She followed him out of the little valley and then over to a grassy hill with a wide outlook. Ash was all pinks and greens and blues with white trim, or white with colored trim. It was a colorful little village sprawling along a road that ran out of sight to her left and right. There were two cross streets, one that ran out to a mill on the river on the far side of the village. She sat in the tall grass and listened.

  "That empty corner there is where the tavern used to be. It was facing the main road, with the stables on this side. Harry even took the stables and courtyard with him." The god sat back and studied the village. "Do you see that big barn? That was the Mage farmers' grange barn. There are four corridors and a gate anchored on the sides of it. All the mages, even their wives and children, walked through the gate, saying they weren't coming back. They invited the witches to come, and told the gods to stay away. The Mount Frost Pyramid split. There were already some defections—you and the Rip Crossing witches were the most notable. Trump, we used to call her Tromp, is living in Karista, and her old buddies Cost and Zenith joined her there.

  "There's maybe half as many witches here now as five months ago."

  "It must seem empty. What about the Wizards?"

  "They are still here, but they have talked about moving the Wizard school to another World."

  She yawned, and Quail started fussing.

  "She's been awake all morning." The Auld Wulf pulled December . . . Rustle to her feet. "She has a right to be tired." They strolled back to the winery, through the rather neglected looking vineyard.

  "I spent most of the spring either sleeping or looking for you. I have a lot of pruning and training to catch up on."

  "So . . . you strained yourself enough to need to sleep for a year?"

  "We all did. We're all having trouble staying alert, helping when we're needed. We were down south, under the comet's strike zone. Breaking off pieces of the comet, shoving them. Then you started playing with the gravity, slowed the whole, whipped the pieces completely away from the world . . . Then we were too tired to completely clean up the last pieces . . . had to fight the fires. Romeau and Logic traveled the wizards around, trying to stop huge firestorms . . . "

  "So this summer is going to be pretty quiet, for most of you?"

  The big man nodded. "It's not too bad, Harry's keeping an eye on all those gates. Romeau's recovered, and popping all over the place. Nothing much to be done, now. Maybe now that I'm not worrying about you, searching for you, I'll sleep."

  December . . . Rustle followed him into the strange kitchen, where the Wolf fed Rustle while Rustle fed Quail, and changed her diaper.

  December . . . Rustle carried her off to their back room, and opened the door and windows to the beautiful day and crawled into bed. She slept as long as Quail would allow, then admired a faintly familiar bay mare while the Auld Wulf saddled Jet and rode off to taunt this Nil-who-never-paid-stud-fees.

  "What I need, is a mental shield." She contemplated how slamming one such up in the middle of a battle had nearly knocked her out with pain. So she reached very, very carefully for that twist of the mind
that created one . . . and winced away. Not healed yet.

  She decided to explore the immediate surroundings, and avoid people altogether, at least for a few days. Maybe weeks.

  She found the hot springs behind the winery, more vine covered hills, and more of the huge trees. To the east the land got rougher and higher, and she suspected there were mountains hiding in the haze. Or maybe she was remembering.

  The grassy hills seemed very lightly grazed. No doubt the people who'd left had taken their livestock with them.

  The Auld Wulf slept a lot, and even when obviously awake, gave her space and peace. And baby sat, and tended his vineyard. Talked when she approached him, showed her how everything in the kitchen worked. Or at any rate, how to get it to give her food. The how was baffling, full of terms she no idea how to parse.

  After two weeks, she decided it was time to venture out again.

  She hitched Quail up onto her hip and marched down the hill, shoved aside doubts that she really was ready to be around people with magic.

  Time to find out who this Rustle person is.

  Chapter Thirty

  Spring, 1376 PE

  Ash, Comet Fall

  Two girls on a porch stared at her, then ran inside.

  That's not a good sign.

  The door of the house opened again. The woman who walked out was old. Stiff and straight, with fierce eyes. Her white hair was in a bun at the back of her neck, her clothing much the same as December . . . Rustle's in style. In dove gray, the woman somehow managed to look more like a hawk than a symbol of peace.

  Answer.

  The name came, bare of details.

  The old woman stalked across the road and looked down on December . . . Rustle, dammit, from a four inch advantage in height. "So, you've decided to come home, have you?"

  Or maybe a vulture. Rustle nodded. "I am not fully recovered, but I think my shields are good enough to protect me, now. Mostly." She winced under the old woman's scrutiny.