The God of Assassins (Wine of the Gods Book 11)

by Pam Uphoff

  "One of the biggest problems is all this magic stuff." Staven took a bite of potatoes. "I expected the leader of this criminal gang to be older, experienced, with a lot of contacts in the criminal community."

  Damien frowned. "And whoever hired him, would have to have enough contacts to . . . know who to approach. Which argues for a personal motive. Not a political one, unless I'm really misjudging how little the upper-upper class rubs elbows with the criminal gangs."

  Staven shook his head. "One thing we're going to have to explore is whether the prisoners are telling the truth or not. But this lot are saying one man, boy—he's freaking eighteen years old—is a god. That someone prayed to him to kill Rebo, and so they did."

  Uncle Day sat back in alarm.

  His mother gulped. "That would . . . cut out all the middle men, the contacts."

  Uncle Day nodded. "All the avenues through which mistakes can happen, and people can say too much and the police can grab on and follow."

  "Yeah. We're left . . . without a prayer."

  After dinner, he hesitated . . . there really wasn't anything he knew that would harm the Kingdom if the Earth found out. "The problem is, while we've got all but three of the assassin gang—so far as we know—one of the ones we haven't got is the only one who knows who hired them. And I've got way too many suspects. It's ruining my digestion."

  Damien rubbed his nose. "Yeah. I don't know if I can help you. I don't know any of the suspects, so I can only say what it looks like on paper."

  Staven nodded. "Knowing them doesn't help much. I mean, the motive is clearly political, because no one with a personal grudge against Rebo would go out of their way to kill me."

  Damien bit his lip. "You are certain you weren't just . . . accidental?"

  "No. A very well trained and deadly woman very specifically did her best to . . . keep me out of the way while they dealt with Rebo, and then kill me."

  "Damn. Right. Politically . . . the set up of your government is such that you have shifting allegiances, but not organized political parties. So there's no overall, generalized 'if we get rid of them, our issues will face less opposition' sort of motive."

  "Right. It's all about inheriting the Crown and Spear."

  "So . . . no other brothers means that your two uncles, Mirk and Garit moved up the line of succession. Do either of them have contacts in either the criminal side of things or the magical?"

  "Garit has a good buddy . . . " Staven looked away. "A descendant through the female line of Rufi's. He's a wizard. In the Army, a year older than Garit, so he's a candidate for the Spear."

  "And Mirk? His reputation is as an administrator."

  "Yes. And there's a Lady Eden Gallery. Who had a sort of spoof wedding to Rebo. Which, in Rip Crossing might actually be legal. Nine months later, twin boys. The lady is the daughter of the God of Art, Matthew Gallery."

  "That's . . . worrisome."

  "Yeah. Rufi and Grandfather keep an eye on her. But Gallery? We have located him, but we have no idea what he's up to. Beyond that, I've got a herd of more distant relations. The Council will be interviewing them over the next few days. But most of them are too old. We need the Spear and Crown heirs to be significantly younger than Dad."

  "Yeah . . . and I am worried that they might try again. You must be surprising people, digging into this. So . . . I brought you something. So you can defend yourself."

  Staven raised his eyebrows as Uncle Day stepped over to pick up a package on the credenza.

  He pulled out a rolled up leather . . . something.

  And a pistol.

  "I saw the Oners' weapons . . . "

  "Probably not much different than this. It's a laser pistol, umm . . . "

  "Coherent light. Can it really burn?"

  "Oh yes. It runs on a power pack. Four shots at full power, then the strength starts dropping fast. I brought a spare power pack, so you'll have a full charge when I leave. I'll recharge the first one and bring it back. Just . . . don't let anyone, kids, adults, whatever, in the family and business see it. Because Aunt Andrei is my superior officer and she will . . . I'm not sure what she'd do if she knew how extremely compromised I am, and thus the whole mission, if it still counts as such. I don't want to find out."

  Staven picked up the weapon. Lighter than metal. Slick as glass, opaque dark grey. The handle had textured patches for a good grip.

  Uncle Day unrolled the leather. "Left handed shoulder holster. Let's go outside and practice. Don't want to burn down the house."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Winter 1393, day 11

  Crossroads, Section 1, Foothills Province

  "You, boy!"

  Xen's head came up at the peremptory tones. Mercy. "Ma'am?"

  "Explain these gates to me."

  "Uh, well." Xen dredged up his humble waiter act. "Umm, Ma'am. They're gates t'other worlds. Some o'them have people, other kingdoms, on t'other side. That's why there's guards on them. The ones with no guards don't have any people over there, except for t'people who come from here, you know?"

  She frowned at him.

  "Lots o'people go through. There was a whole wagon train full just a couple of days ago. Folks from Havwee, mostly, but some Veronians too. That weird cult. They were singing songs and planning a big orgy."

  He scratched his side. "Least that's what they said. A plainer bunch o'women I've never seen. I guess maybe they have to get drunk and carried away, else none of them would ever get pregnant." He edged down the road, and she stalked after him. "I kinda tot some a'them looked a little young fer that."

  She stiffened. "I am looking for my daughter. She wouldn't have anything to do with people like that."

  He scratched elsewhere. "Is she a teenager? Sometimes they don't have much sense, you know? If you want t'look for her, that last gate on t'left there is t'one. I 'spec you're too late, though."

  Her fists clenched, and he could hear her teeth grit. "Show me!"

  He limped up the road, damned leg bones ached! He stretched his stride as she passed him. "Maybe if she's really a virgin, they'd save her for t'last. The big finally, you know?"

  "Finale." She gritted, and marched up the road.

  "Can you see t'gates? They've got 'em marked so ordinary folk kin find 'em, but I suppose you don't need. . ."

  "Shut. Up."

  Xen hunched and scampered, and pointed. "That one up there's t'one those people used."

  She marched up the hill and straight through the gate.

  "Good god!" Xen bit his lip, then sat down cross legged for a moment. :: Harry? ::

  :: Xen? ::

  :: Mercy just went through the Ring World Gate to see if Grace is at the orgy. How much Bad Karma accumulates if I hide the other side of the Gate? ::

  :: Even Mercy can follow wagon tracks. ::

  :: Drat. All right. I'm going to go scout. ::

  It couldn't be less satisfying than spending a whole day lying on rocks and catching not a single glimpse of Art.

  The huge oaks on the far side were not exactly wagon friendly, but the first explorers, probably Uncle Lefty and Aunt Question, had cut a path wide and tall enough to get wagons through and down to the more open land. The tracks were obvious, and he warped light around himself and stayed closed up mentally.

  The . . . people . . . were camped in plain sight. He kept a prudent distance behind Mercy as she stalked angrily into the midst of the drunken orgy, still going strong, although a fair number of bodies were laying around. Hopefully live bodies.

  A man lurched up to Mercy and groped her. Xen hustled down fast. Mercy dropped the man and turned away indifferently. Xen knelt. No pulse. He poured power in, started chest compressions. After a moment the man twitched, gasped for air. Xen felt his neck and found a pulse. He looked around for Mercy. She was checking the passed out bodies. Rolling the women over so she could see their faces, kicking the men. One of them said something and she touched a hand to his face, and walked on. Xen worked on the man for five minute
s, but couldn't save him. He crouched by the body and bit his lip uncertainly. Looked at his collection of spells, all neatly boxed.

  He brought out the one he'd made for Swish, all those years ago. A hurt and angry boy who hadn't much liked being used and had planned on retaliation. Then he'd seen the precious little Nighthawk in her Aunt Elegant's arms, and he couldn't harm her mother. His little daughter needed her mother. He opened the box and examined the spell carefully, with a dozen years of additional experience. It was quite good, if a bit heavy handed. Xen looked at it sadly. It was so easy. But he also remembered how badly his last magic duel with a goddess had ended.

  He made three copies, pulled out copies of the goat and purple bunny spell nets and coiled them up, ready to throw.

  A man staggered into Mercy, leering and groping. She turned on him in a fury.

  Xen hit her with his first copy of his old spell.

  Her head snapped back and her knees buckled. Her hands went to her head, uncertainly. Her shield popped up, wavery and weak. She glared around, looking for the source of the attack.

  One single change of a base pair. On one pair of chromosomes. One of the few genes that would affect the victim now and any offspring later. A change to the essential gene complex on the Witch X chromosome that controlled collection of outside power. A change that messed up the whole power collecting process.

  Of course, the Goddess of Mercy probably also had the Mage Y chromosome.

  Will this drop the power she can pull? Or is this another miscalculation on my part?

  Mercy shoved the drunk away and swept an arm around, careless of the harm a wide slice would do to the people around.

  Xen threw up a shield, as wide as he could manage . . .

  The slice splattered and bounced upward, faded . . . And then there was nothing to block.

  She doesn't know how to use that mage gene specifically.

  Like anyone with lots of magical genes but lacking the Power genes, she can do magic only to the limits of the energy in her own body.

  Although I suspect she'll learn how to reach for the power in heat and motion, rather than gravity, fast enough that I'd better stay alert. Or better yet . . .

  Xen reach out and captured a bubble. Turned it inside out as he ghosted around to the side. He hesitated. The furious Goddess looked at her own hand in disbelief, and Xen dropped the bubble over her. Grabbed another bubble and doubled the time dilation. He stepped back and admired the artwork. A beautiful woman glaring at something in her hand. "Huh. And here I thought I could never be artistic."

  A loud snort, behind him. He spun, hand raised . . . "Horsie! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

  Another amused snort. :: Art uses three layers. ::

  Xen eyed Pyrite's shoulder. A faint fuzz of hair over the burned shoulder, shaggy winter coat looking a bit moth eaten, due to the heat of New Delhi, and no doubt lesser burns. He hugged the horse. "And since he's the expert . . . here's a third one. So if my math is correct . . . she'll experience one second of time roughly every, good god! Every thirty thousand years or so. Without help from the outside, she's not going to get out within my lifetime."

  Xen turned and walked away. What the "Lovers" would think of their angry statue was anyone's guess. Maybe I'll come back and find out, some day.

  Pyrite nudged him. :: That spell, please? I keep doing stupid things. I stole Cat and Stripes from the Old Dun, and did things. Then he came and beat me up. ::

  Xen snickered. "They're his daughters, he ought not be so possessive. However . . . " He tossed the proper, formal spell Nil had insisted he learn, rather than his old visualization of locking up the hormones. He added a spell to break up various hormones immediately. "That ought to take care of the problem."

  :: I'll stay at the little barn in the city. So the Old Dun doesn't get me. ::

  Xen snickered. "You're faster than he is. I suspect the problem is that you're ashamed of yourself."

  Pyrite hung his head. :: I never thought I would do something that . . . stupid and fun. I'm afraid I'll want to keep doing stupid things. ::

  Xen snorted. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

  They stepped through the gate and walked back to the Tavern. Xen straightened his nose, and let his poor leg bones start to return to normal.

  Harry came out to meet him, looking anxious.

  Xen hesitated. "Harry. She was so . . . she was killing people for being drunken sots at an orgy. I was able to revive one, but the other fellow was gone. So I umm . . . " He brought out the box and very carefully opened it to examine, not invoke, the spell. He held it up so Harry could see it.

  Harry studied it for a long moment. "Good God, Xen. Put that away. I know Mercy deserved it, but it turns my stomach, to think of doing that to . . . anyone."

  "Then I bubbled her." He eyed Harry. "I know you have a long history, but fight off the attraction and don't let her out. Go get drunk and seduce some pretty girl, instead."

  The old man shook himself. "I'll go talk to Grace and her friends. There's still Art to worry about.

  "Tell Flare there's about two dozen people coming in tonight, miners and traders from the New Lands who got on the wrong side of Genero, and had to haul their goods over the mountains the old fashioned way."

  "Right." Xen sighed. His next report was going to be so interesting. "And I need to go back to Karista, while I have, hopefully, a day or two before Art comes hunting for my hide." He ran his hands through his hair and walked off toward the grassy hills. He'd check the new horses, see how everyone was doing, and maybe borrow Stripes. He suspected that Janic actually would like this report.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Winter 1393, day 12

  Crossroads, Section 1, Foothills Province

  Lily said. "I was thinking about dining out. Come and tell me all about your very productive trip."

  Deena grinned. "Yeah, the mess hall food is . . . adequate. How about the Tavern?"

  "And your buddy Flare's cooking? Good idea."

  The barn was over flowing.

  "A bunch of miners." Nick said. "On their way home to Gemstone."

  The miners were more interested in the good food than being unruly, and Lily grabbed a table while Deena slipped into the kitchen to talk to Flare. She was slicing roast, and a hint of horseradish tickled Deena's nose.

  "Sorry. I shouldn't bother you when you're busy. Look. I'm tired of being the weak one of the party. So, to advance I've got to . . . "

  "Yep." Flare nodded. "The effect is weaker for the other sorts of Magic Users, but there it is. We're in kindergarten until we grab some guy and drag him off to bed. Hell, isn't it?"

  "Yeah. Drat. I really ought to seduce Xen."

  "Do you think so? I mean, that's going to mess up a working relationship. And if I understand the genetics, the strongest witches are the witch wizard crosses." She snickered. "You've come to the right place, tonight. I think half these Gemstone men are wizards."

  "Eww. Not a stranger. I really don't think I could." Deena shuddered. "I think I'll just eat dinner and flee."

  Harry was busy behind the bar, and a teenager she didn't know was running drinks around. Ladybug gave her a half smile as she passed with a tray full of dirty dishes.

  Lily had acquired two ales and an admirer. Deena nodded to the gorgeous big blonde and took the ale Lily shoved over as she chatted.

  " . . . so, you took the northern route. That's interesting. I hadn't realized there was an organized attempt to control the market. Deena, this is Deni, Deni, Deena."

  Nighthawk brought bread and butter, and then plates of rare roast beef and fresh vegetables, and little cups of horseradish sauce.

  "Watch that sauce," Deni warned. "It bites back." He nodded politely and left them to their meal.

  The horseradish sauce did indeed have a bite, and the meat was tender, the veggies had something slightly sweet on them in contrast. The teenager came around with a pitcher and refilled their mugs a few times, and the peach pie was wonderf
ul.

  During the dinner, Deena managed to get a good look at each of the men in the Tavern. No illusions, that she could see, and none of them that matched the descriptions and images Xen had given her.

  "Dee? Go fetch the wheelbarrow and take me home." Lily patted her tummy contentedly.

  Deena snickered. "I'll go see if the Patriarch of the Smart Horses will give you a lift."

  She stepped out to the privy, then walked out past the barn, spotted the man sitting just far enough off the crest of the hill to avoid being silhouetted.

  "Beautiful night, isn't it?" Xen asked.

  "Hey Xen. I thought you were stuck spying on those gods." She giggled, and wished she hadn't drunk so much.

  He was sitting in the grass, looking up at the stars, and she sat down beside him. Looking up was too much for her and she laid back in the grass and the stars seemed to be circling around and around and when Xen kissed her, she pulled him down to kiss him longer.

  They took their time kissing and snuggling and unbuttoning clothes. His hands stroked her and a leg found its way between hers and rubbed and kept doing it until she climaxed, thrills running up and down her body and then a second leg and a stiff shaft probing for the right spot. With a sharp pain he was in her.

  He pumped gently, pulling power out of her, and it felt delicious. She ran her hands up and down his body, and pulled in power from the Earth, and let him pull that too, as he drove harder and harder, and came in a crashing avalanche of all the power she'd given him. For a moment she thought her head would explode, but she dug her fingers into the dirt and sent the power back, sent it around her, contained and controlled the flow. The man collapsed on top of her, and she pulled power back from the Earth to send to him.

  "Ah." he breathed, and shifted his hips against her crotch. He pumped again, pulling power. In the Moonlight she could see his short hair, the pointed jaw.

  "What?" She jerked, was pinned by his weight, by the power drain.