by Pam Uphoff
"And with us, you only need two more." Peter pointed out.
Phillip grinned. "And Sundo and Hed would do nicely. They're two years older than us. Their father is Edmund Vice."
"Which means they're single power gene mages. I've invited Kipp and Ras. Ras is the most experienced of us all in the mage techniques. He'll be meeting us in Ash, at the winery in about an hour."
"I think Edmund was experimenting. They really really glow." Phillip looked innocent. "I'll go get them. See you in an hour." He fled, all elbows and knobby knees.
"Right. We need to check in with the parents, tell them where we’ll be. That's the only rule they enforce." William nodded and followed his brother.
Peter grinned. "So they know where to go to rescue us." He trotted off.
"No. You are too young!" Xen shouted after him. Dropped to a grumble. "Damn it."
Orion snickered. "We'll come too, in case you need to be rescued from Trump and Hell."
So he wound up with nine young mages, four Old Gods and two glowering witches. Fortunately Trump and Rustle were mostly glowering at each other.
The hotsprings behind the Winery supplied all the heat a mage could desire, and eight of them could indeed see bubbles at a distance. Bubbles captured and pinned down. Millions of them.
Well, not millions. But the winery held a collection of nested bubbles, and it felt like there was another right over . . . "Drat, that's Lady Gisele's place. We're only getting a couple of miles." Xen swapped out Peter and Phillip for Sundo and Hed. But despite their superior age, they'd only grasped power last year. That compass couldn't even see Lady Gisele's hut.
The Old Gods stepped in. "Let us try. It's been a long time since we've tried joint dimensional work."
The Gods of War, Travelers, Love, and Just Deserts working together was amazing. Xen, Ras, Orion and Korbin joined them for a full compass.
It was like flying. The Winery, move higher, Lady Gisele's hut, higher, the Tavern. Higher. Karista, Hell's Island. A network of fine lines. Corridors. Higher, and higher. The Temple of Love in Cadent, and in Scoone . . . nothing.
"Mercy's moved." The God of Travelers murmured.
Higher. A whole spinning world. Bright spots.
"Edmund left his mansion behind . . . is that New Bombay? Yes, and there's Mercy, she always did want New Bombay for her personal fiefdom. Ah, now there's a big one . . . in Scandia? It must be under ice. Can you see through it?"
"Feels like Barry's work. It that where he's gotten to?"
"I don't see any other concentrations . . . " The Compass spun down and fell apart.
Xen rubbed his aching head. "I didn't know you guys knew how to do Mage Compasses."
His father laughed. "We invented them, before the Exile. That's how we opened the mechanical gates."
The God of Love staggered over to a bench and collapsed. "Think of what we could have done, if they just hadn't gotten greedy and paranoid."
Harry snorted. "I like it better this way."
"But it didn't do me a lot of good. Could Art have taken his museum through a gate?" Xen looked at the gods.
"Maybe. Or it could be hidden inside or close beside Mercy's, Barry's or Edmund's bubbles."
Xen nodded. "Right. So I just have to figure out how to get there."
"Mercy likes company. I'd check there first." Romeau waved casually and disappeared.
"Take the corridors to New Toyko. Then New Bombay is here." His father sent him a complex mental construct, the feel of a far distant place.
"Be careful." Harry sighed. "Mercy is poisonous. And very, very attractive."
"Call, if you need help." Dad looked worried.
Xen nodded. "I don't really want to tackle Mercy and Art both at the same time."
Lord Hell stepped in and grabbed two of the triplets. "Good job boys. Now let's go home and discuss this rule about letting us know where you are. It's beginning to look like adding 'check in at least once a week' would be a good idea."
Trump grabbed the third boy, and touched Hell's shoulder. They all disappeared.
"Dinner?" Harry caught all the nods . . . the world changed around them. They were on the doorstep of the Tavern, and something smelled delicious.
Chapter Six
Winter 1393, day 5
Karista, Kingdom of the West
King Leano, General Rufi, Crown Prince Rolo, Sword Prince Fossi, Lieutenant Garit Negue, Prince Mirk Negue and Captain Staven Negue. All the adult males of the Royal family.
On the other side of the table, Lord Fidel Iron, the President of the Council, the four Dukes who were in town, and the half dozen Lords the king had invited to the meeting.
Staven itched to be back out on the street . . . and away from the pitiless eyes of the ambitious men across the table. They are writing me out of their calculations. It's just a matter of time before they make it official. I'll probably be pressed to retire. The usual fate of a junior officer with a crippling injury.
The entire group had all agreed that, at least temporarily, a crown heir and spear heir needed to be named. The Council wanted at least a year 'to explore all possible ramifications' of the massive upheaval of one of the certainties in their lives, before permanent heirs were confirmed.
"But we will list all of the candidates. And interview those that are of an age to serve as Rolo and Fossi's successors." Old Fidel Iron frowned along the line of the Negue family. "At least ten years younger, I should think. Unfortunately the Charter requires an Heir of the Spear to be older than the Heir of the Crown, and if adult, to be a currently serving member of the military. That's . . . going to be a bit difficult. Prince Mirk, Prince Garit, my sons . . . "
The king nodded. "Yes, from your descent from Spear Heso the Iron Man, and your wife's descent from King Haro. Who has, what, five other grandsons? Kersh has a couple of grandsons. Rufi has a great grandson." He nodded toward his own half brother. "Currently serving, so he'll be a possible Spear Heir. We'll take a look through the records, be thorough."
Duke Utner frowned. "This will be a provisional list. We need to consider carefully all the Charter Provisions and the legal aspects, for all possible Heirs Tertiary."
The Council President nodded, then frowned across at Rufi. "I hadn't realized you'd ever married."
"I didn't. Local custom is that witches do not marry. By that standard, Lord Xen Wolfson is my legitimate descendant."
Staven froze. So that's the way of it. Wolfson wouldn't just be helping Garit. He'd be advancing himself. And Garit sure looks pleased.
Lord Iron shrugged it away. "There is so much of a tangle that I may recommend a two year period for consideration of all issues. At the end of that period, we ought to be able to choose two candidates. Known to the public and the Lords, and accepted by them, to be confirmed by the Council."
Lord Jalasi frowned at Iron. "We will especially be looking into allegations of bastardy, and the legal definitions according to the Charter and amending documentation." He switched his frown to Rufi.
King Leano caught everyone's attention simply by leaning forward. "We are all aware of the tangled mess the assassination has left us in. You all know Prince Mirk and Prince Garit. My daughters have given me four grandsons, whom you will no doubt consider as well. Prince Xen, however poorly known here in the City, is already established as an Officer of the Army. Prince Garit, as well. But I will refrain from any recommendations, at this point, and let you get on with your work."
There were nods all around the table.
The President noted them and nodded to the King. "The Council will vote on the process tomorrow." The Council president cleared his throat. "We will have to examine all the pertinent details of all the potential heirs."
"Thank you, Mr. President, Councilors and Lords." The King stood and the meeting was over.
First thing I need to do is reread the Charter. And investigate the two most obvious . . . He stifled the sudden stab of pain. No matter how much it hurts to even think about it, Mir
k and Garit are the obvious suspects. I will investigate them.
Staven ignored his father's attempt to help him up, and caught Garit's eye. "So, are you heading back to your post?"
Garit flung an exasperated glance toward Rufi. "No. Maybe after the funeral. Umm, I suppose you're on extended leave?"
"To be honest I haven't checked." Staven glanced back. The older men had stopped, and were talking. The only people who could hear them were the three guards who'd followed them out of the room. Excellent. "I don't know this Wolfson person they mentioned."
"Xen? Damn good fellow, and an incredible swordsman."
"Where's he from?"
"Ash. You know, Uncle Rufi's Magic Village. He's always said he was a wizard. But he never made much of a show about it." Garit grinned. "From what I've heard about the water lizard hunt, he's now convinced a whole lot of people."
"Oh? He was there?"
"He works for Janic. He was on duty, that night."
"What have you heard about what happened, what they've found out?" He switched his attention between Garit and the guards trailing them. "Were any of you in that group?"
Two of the guards nodded.
"What have they found out? Do they know the sequence of events, what happened? I really only know my part of the whole mess."
Passe braced himself. "It appears that Prince Rebo and his friend Lord Keith ditched you and headed for an orgy, already in progress. Six women, six other men. Then two more women joined them. Those last women were the ones who raised the alarm, and appeared to have nothing to do with the assassination. The others were all together, although only the one tentatively identified as Ricardo Freeson of Rip World, and the woman keeping you occupied," the poor man's face was red, "were active in the actual killing."
"At some point in the orgy, three figures wandered away from the rest. The orgy ran down and they all straggled up toward the edge of the cliff. The man tentatively identified as Ricardo came up last."
"The two women who came late—they called themselves witches—decided it was late enough in the morning to just ride home, and sent a boy out to saddle their horses. They had come with a third woman, who'd apparently chickened out of the orgy. She heard something down in the canyon and descended to find you there, injured. She yelled for help, sent one of the others to raise the alarm, and then went back to you."
Staven nodded. "I remember her tying the tourniquet . . . then running off yelling for Dusty."
One of the other guards, Epsom, nodded. "The woman they call Dusty came tearing up to the front gate, her horse all in a lather, saying you were badly injured and maybe Rebo too. That Lieutenant Wolfson came to the front gate, got her calmed down enough for directions, then grabbed the Colonel and disappeared. Captain Easterly said they'd gone ahead to that place, and sent people as fast as they showed up, set up messengers to run back and forth, then hauled out of there with the rest of us. Wolfson's horse ran off, then came back with Wolfson. Caught up with us as we were headed for the Corridor to Havwee."
"All that gang was gone, except the hotel manager, who was one of the men in the orgy."
Staven nodded. "So, tentatively we are looking at a gang of six men and seven women. With the possibility that only one man and one woman are actually assassins. Janic's got one man, and apparently we know who the rest are. The woman who tried to kill me and two others have been identified, but the last four women are strangers, possibly Veronian, possibly witches."
Garit bit his lip. "Don't give the men too much credit. Rebo's been in trouble with Heso and Zap twice that I know of, and Ricardo . . . lots. Those three were at that spoof wedding to Lady Eden."
Staven nodded. "Yes. Lady Eden . . . I was trying to get Rebo away from this really nasty . . . I set him up to meet Lady Eden."
Garit sobered suddenly. "Damn it all. Rebo . . . plenty of people with a grudge against him. I hope they find whoever did it, soon."
Staven nodded. You always bickered with Rebo. Surely it wasn't anything more than that. "I'll find him."
As Garit strode away, two of the three guards followed.
***
Staven took a quick scan around what passed, in the palace, for a casual dining room, looking for the best opportunity.
He would have preferred to eat at his mother's, perhaps take something in his rooms, but the palace dinner table was the best place to casually encounter Mirk. This uncle, the king's third son, was old enough to look like an uncle. A vigorous thirty-eight year old. Only four years younger than Dad, but probably the best bet to be his heir. But Crown or Sword? He's fit, but he hasn't been in the Army for . . . ten years, at least. I think he only did one five year enlistment, after his rotation.
The dining room could easily accommodate twice the number of people here tonight. The king at the head of the table, of course, and Dad on his right. Mirk and Princess Marie, to judge by their expressions, were arguing even as he held the chair and seated her. The other members of the family were filing in, and maneuvering away from the feuding couple. Staven caught the major domo's eye. "How about I sit beside Mirk?
The man looked relieved. Gaps are so . . . pointed. And I'm going to be ever so tactful and just talk "business." He pondered a polite greeting that wouldn't invite anything personal, then shrugged and just dived straight in.
"Mirk, where's the best place to go for analyses of the Charter?"
Mirk turned away from his wife with every sign of relief. "The university library has copies of all the relevant court cases. What are you looking for? The laws about the succession?"
"Yes. What constitutes a legal marriage, and inheritance through the female line. And . . . well, I never really studied any more than I needed to pass the tutor's tests."
Mirk eyed him. "You should go back to college now. Study law and political science."
"Ugg. Yes. I'll have to buckle down and face that soon enough." Crap, crap, and damn. "But right now, I think I'll stick to more narrow research."
"Heh. Have fun. It's clear the founders intended the Charter to get the nation started, and be replaced by something else once we were established, and didn't need a, well, strongman at the helm and another strongman with an army to back him up."
"Yeah, I remember there was a section about how to replace the Charter with a permanent constitution."
Mirk picked up a spoon as a servant slid a soup plate in front of him. "The first king, King Edward, was the main organizer and the leader of the colony effort. He was a sixty year old confirmed bachelor, as was his half brother, a general in the Scoone Army, being edged into retirement."
"History. I'm going to end up studying a lot of that, as well. I remember that Jek Negue's late marriage and fatherhood had not been expected." Staven split his concentration between Mirk and left handed spooning. He managed a few slurps. Set the spoon back down before he dribbled on himself.
"Yes, that was just the start of a diversion from the envisioned future of the people who wrote the Charter. I think they thought the monarchy would die with the brothers." Mirk shrugged and dug into the next dish.
Salad. A lot of big leaves. Staven stirred it around. Tried to fold over a piece and stab it. Gave up. He tasted the dressing on the fork and abandoned the rest. "So we're stuck with a document that didn't detail the inheritance, because it wasn't expected that there'd be one, nor that the document would last much more than a generation."
"Well, no, the rest of it is written to last longer. Looking ahead to cities large enough to deserve separate representation, and crafts as well. But if they'd been a bit more rigorous in defining marriage, and legitimacy for the inheritance of titles, it would save us a lot of bother, just now."
Servants whisked away salads and replaced them with steaks. Staven gave up on holding his temper. Turned and glared at the waiter. "Take it away, and tell the cook to throw together something a man with no practice eating left-handed can manage."
The man took the plate and slunk away.
Mirk cl
eared his throat. "The interesting part of the Charter is that the Land Grant holders were named; sixty of them. They were the original financial backing for a lot of the migration. But they were nowhere referred to as Lords, nor were any Dukes named. Even the provinces were not split out, just provision for surveying the land grants. There was a provision for the Land Grant Holders to cooperate, and select an administrator for each region, to manage larger efforts."
Staven sipped wine. "Well, they were mostly coming from Scoone. Families accused, rightly or wrongly of wizardry."
"A lot of Veronians joined them. Even buying in for some Land Grants."
"Yes. The Felonis; and the Tricks were originally the Trotskis, weren't they? Who else?"
"Througus . . . well, that's all from the nobility that I can think of off the top of my head."
"Anyway, being from Scoone, they may have been expecting a democracy to develop quickly."
Mirk wrinkled his nose. "Or they may have been glad to get back to a sensible social order, and decided to stick with it."
The server scampered back with a plate of what looked like thinly sliced steak stir fried with the veggies cut into smaller pieces. Dammit.
"Thank the cook for me." Staven eyed his brother. "So, why this 'according to local custom' nonsense?"
Mirk chewed and swallowed.
Taking time to think.
"There are several different possibilities, from the reading of other documents from the time. The most commonly accepted explanation is that there was a church at the time that tried to claim that only the children of marriages performed in their church by their priests were valid proof of legitimacy for inheritance of titles, property or goods."
"That was a bit arrogant of them, wasn't it? Which God was behind that?"
Mirk snorted. "None of the Old Gods. They imagined some . . . metaphysical being that had created the entire universe, the world, and all life, including people. They tried to have the Old Gods outlawed along with the wizards."